Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sanemi never could understand what Nezuko saw in him. From the moment he recovered enough to walk around the Butterfly Mansion freely, the girl sought him out. She was freshly turned back into a human, her mind foggy as she slowly pieced together her memories from demonhood. 

It would have made far more sense if she clung to her brother, or even the blonde-haired brat who worshipped the ground she walked on—but she always wanted Sanemi. 

He couldn’t understand it, they hadn’t exactly been friends when she was a demon. In fact, they’d been the farthest thing from it. Surely she remembered the way he plunged his blade into her flesh, tossed her around in that wooden box, or offered up his bleeding arm hoping to provoke her so he could slice her head clean off.

If she did remember, she never said anything. That bothered Sanemi more than anything. He wasn’t even sure if she recalled what he’d done, but it ate at him every time he saw her. He told himself he’d just been doing his job—protecting the people from demons, even the small ones hiding in boxes. But seeing her now, fully human and treating him with a kindness he knew he didn’t deserve, drove him mad with guilt.

The girl had a reputation, even before regaining her humanity, for being similar to Tanjiro.  That unwavering optimism, the unyielding smile, and the same unbroken kindness—even to the cruelest people. Tanjiro often spoke of how level-headed Nezuko always was, the way she never faltered when others needed her, and how she kept her kind smile through it all. 

Great, Sanemi had thought, she’ll be just like her older brother. 

She certainly tried. Nezuko plastered on a bright smile every day. She entertained Inosuke’s absurd antics, didn’t complain when Tanjiro began spending more time with Kanao than with her, and endured comments from Zenitsu that made even Sanemi uncomfortable. Never once did she complain. Not once did she argue. She simply forced that smile and pushed through. He doubts the three boys ever noticed, but Sanemi had played this game before.

Kanae had acted similarly. Wearing that same facade for her family, attempting to be what they needed her to be, unable to show who she truly was. Shinobu had ended up like that, too. It must have been exhausting, if knowing those two girls was anything to go by. Kanae, at least, would let her guard down around Sanemi. He doesn’t think Shinobu ever let anyone see the real her—maybe she forgot who that even was.

Perhaps, Sanemi thinks, that was why he pushed Nezuko so hard to stop pretending. 

He had never argued with her before—there hadn’t been a reason to. But one day, as she sat beside him in the garden, hiding from Zenitsu, something in him snapped. She was smiling, as always, that same bright, practiced expression. And Sanemi had simply had enough of her fake niceties.

“Aren’t you angry?” He asked her outright, his toner sharper than he’d intended. 

Nezuko blinked, startled by the sudden question. Her smile faltered, if only for a moment, and she turned her gaze away.

“Why would I be?” She asked, carefully avoiding his question.  Sanemi rolled his eyes, letting out a soft tch in annoyance.

“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped back, “You’re telling me you’re not even a little pissed off? After everything you’ve been through? Everything we put you through?”

Nezuko's hands clenched, gripping the fabric of her kimono tightly, but she didn’t respond.

“You lost almost your entire family,” Sanemi pressed, his voice rising in his frustration, “You spent years as a demon, fighting for humanity, watching friends die. And now?”

He let out a bitter, humorless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Now you’re back and what do you wake up to? An overprotective brother, a ridiculous boar-headed idiot, and a blonde-haired brat who won’t leave you alone for five seconds. All three of them telling you who you are, what you like, who you like, and what you should do. And you’re going to tell me that doesn’t bother you?”

“Of course it does!” Nezuko shouted back, her voice raw and trembling. She turned to face him, her eyes burning with tears she hadn’t let fall since the final battle, “Of course I’m angry! But I don’t get to give into that like you. I have to be happy. I have to endure it, to be what they expect.” 

Silence hung between them for a long moment, the weight of her words lingering in the air. Sanemi watched her quietly, his arms crossed, unsure of what to say. Nezuko’s trembling hands gripped her kimono even tighter, her gaze fixed shamefully on the ground.

“Why?” Sanemi asked finally, his voice softer this time. She froze at that single word, her hands trembling slightly.

“I…” Nezuko tried to answer, but the simple question seemed to shatter everything she’d known, leaving her utterly defenseless, “You don’t understand—”

“Try me,” Sanemi interrupted, his tone turning bitter, “You think you’re the only one who’s angry? The only one who’s lost everything?”

Nezuko’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“You don’t get to pull that. Not with me,” he cut her off, his voice trembling with barely contained anger and grief, “If anyone understands, it’s me. I spent my whole life being strong for… him. And look what it got me.”

Sanemi swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he fought back tears.

“I don’t…I don’t want you ending up like me.” He muttered, his voice softening slightly. Nezuko gaped at him, her lips slightly parted. 

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t.” Sanemi interrupted again, “I don’t want apologies. I want you to be real. If not with them, then with me. I’m not your brother; I’m not gonna coddle you. You wanna scream? Scream. You wanna cry? Then cry. But don’t give me this fake shit.”

Nezuko didn’t respond, instead just staring at him, her expression a mix of emotions. Eventually, her tears dried and for the first time Sanemi saw her as she truly was. 

Raw. Angry. Vulnerable. And so very human.

With a small sigh, Sanemi reached into the pocket of his haori and pulled out a small parcel. Without meeting her eyes, he shoved it toward her unceremoniously.

“Here.” He grumbled, turning his face away. 

Nezuko’s small hands gently took the box from him, her fingers brushing against his for a fleeting moment. Sanemi listened closely as she unwrapped the package, the soft rustle of paper followed by a quiet gasp when she saw what was inside.

It was a simple gift—a pink hairpin with an intricate flower design. He’d spotted it in town weeks ago and immediately thought of her. At first, he intended to give it as an apology for how he’d treated her, but he ended up holding onto it. While he had no ill intentions, the gift towed the line of propriety, and he was painfully aware of it.

“Oh…” Nezuko breathed, her voice barely audible, “It’s…beautiful. Thank you, Shinazugawa.” 

“Sanemi.” He mumbled, finally turning back to look at her. 

The smile on her lips was genuine now, completely different from the one she wore most days. He liked it much better. 

“Thank you, Sanemi.” She corrected, her voice soft and sweet. 

He told himself the heat creeping up his neck was just the warm, summer air, certainly not the sound of his name on her lips. 

“Don’t mention it.” He said gruffly, looking away once more.

Nezuko let out a small laugh at his response, and Sanemi found himself wondering how no one else had noticed her facade before. She sounded so different now—her voice lighter, her smile brighter. It was… nice.

It became a habit after that, slipping her small gifts. They started off simple: a bag of candy one day, a sensu fan the next, then, a few days later, a pair of delicate earrings. It was to make up for everything, he’d tell himself. If she couldn’t be happy around her family, at least he could give her a few nice things. 

But he always gave them to her in secret, fully aware of how each gesture might look to others. There were no ulterior motives, he told himself repeatedly. It wasn’t anything more than wanting to make things right.

After all, he reasoned, that blonde-haired brat would probably challenge him to a duel if he found out.

When the day finally came for that band of misfits to go home, Nezuko seemed to drag her feet as much as possible. Sanemi would come by to say goodbye, only to find she’d managed to extend their stay by complaining of lingering pain in her arm, or concern over her brother’s injuries. It seemed that at every turn, she would find a reason to make them linger just a little bit longer.

Eventually, she ran out of excuses and the day came for them to make their way home. In front of everyone, Sanemi said brief goodbyes to the crew, grumbling out a wish for good luck. In private, he sought Nezuko out one last time. He handed her one final gift—by far the most improper one he’d ever given her, but this time, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 She nearly cried when she opened it, clearly surprised by the gesture. 

Inside was a custom-ordered kimono, tailored to her exact measurements, which Sanemi had quietly obtained through the Kakushi during her extended stay. The fabric was a soft green, a color he thought would bring out her eyes. Though he wasn’t particularly skilled at choosing clothing, he’d gone to great lengths to ensure it was something special. Nestled inside the giftbox, he included a matching hairpin and earrings as well. 

“Sanemi this is…” she stammered, eyes widened in shock, “I…I can’t accept this, you—”

“You can,” he interrupted, his voice gentle yet firm. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, giving a small smile, “It’s not like I can wear it.”

The words had barely left his mouth before Nezuko surged forward, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. Sanemi stiffened for a moment, startled, but eventually his arms moved almost on their own, wrapping around her and pulling her close.

“Thank you so much, Sanemi,” she murmured softly, the sensation of her lips so close to his ear sending a chill down his spine, “You’re too kind to me.”

“Nonsense” he mumbled, his cheeks beginning to heat up, “You deserve it.” 

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the moment stretching far longer than was proper. When Nezuko finally pulled back, her cheeks were tinged with a soft pink, her gaze falling shyly to the floor.

“I…have to go now,” she said reluctantly, glancing up slightly, “Will you visit sometime?” 

Sanemi swallowed hard, forcing his gaze to shift away from those rosy cheeks.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than he’d intended, “Course I will.”

A slight smile tugged at her lips, and she gave a small nod. Turning toward the door, she took a few steps before stopping, hesitating in the doorway. Sanemi opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, Nezuko spun on her heel and crossed the room in a few quick strides. She leaned up, pressing a brief, gentle kiss against his cheek.

“Goodbye, Sanemi.” She said softly, her voice bittersweet. 

Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked out, leaving Sanemi standing there, too stunned to react.

It took him a long moment to process what had just happened. When it finally hit him, his hand instinctively reached up to brush against his cheek, where the warmth of her kiss still lingered.

Chapter Text

Only a few days after Nezuko’s departure from the Mansion, Sanemi received the first letter. He had been sitting in the quiet of the Wind Estate, absently going through the motions of his day, when Tanjiro’s crow suddenly appeared, tapping insistently on his window.

Sanemi frowned at the bird, his thoughts immediately turning to the possibility of bad news. Had something happened? With slight unease, he opened the window, letting it hop inside. Tied to its leg was a small scroll, fastened with a pink ribbon. The sight of it gave him pause. Who would send him something like this?

He carefully untied the ribbon, noting the delicate handiwork, and unraveled the letter. Before he could look at it, the crow cawed loudly and flew off. Sanemi huffed in annoyance but decided it didn’t matter—he still had Sorai.

He finished unfolding the letter, noting the fine parchment and precise handwriting, and began to read:

“Dear Shinazugawa,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits. Myself and the others have returned home, and to our surprise have found it cleaned and redecorated. It would seem our neighbors heard of Tanjiro’s heroics and came together to repair our home in case we returned. I hope one day I will be able to return their kindness. 

It is strange, however, the idea of just Tanjiro and me living here. I suppose neither of us has truly lived alone. But with Shinobu gone, it seems Kanao and Aoi may end up staying here with us. Zenitsu seems to be lingering as well, though he has inherited the Thunder Estate from Kuwajima. He doesn’t seem intent on leaving.

Inosuke, however, has mentioned returning to the mountains. We have all insisted that he stay, but I am not sure he will listen. I hope, perhaps selfishly, that they will all remain. The house feels far too large and far too quiet. I want it to be filled with the laughter it has missed these past few years.

I hope that you are doing well. I know your injuries are mostly healed, but please remember to rest and refrain from pushing yourself. Though I hope to see you soon, I would prefer it not be at the Butterfly Mansion.

I want to thank you again for your gifts, as well. You will be pleased to know I wore the kimono you gave me to town yesterday. Kanao adored it, and Aoi appeared almost envious. The boys seemed to appreciate it as well, Inosuke even complimented it. I didn’t know he knew how to do that. 

I seem to have let my words run away from me. Forgive me. I hope to hear from you soon. 

Please take care of yourself,

Nezuko Kamado”

Sanemi finished reading, a quiet chuckle escaping him. Her overly formal tone threw him off at first. It reminded him of how stiff and polite she’d been when they first met at the Butterfly Mansion. By the time she’d left, though, she’d dropped the formality, and she hadn’t called him “Shinazugawa” since their encounter in the garden. Now it seemed like she’d overcorrected.

He smirked to himself, picturing Tanjiro standing over her shoulder, probably insisting she write the letter that way. It seemed like something the boy would do—nagging her about proper etiquette for a young lady writing to a man. 

“Proper, my ass,” Sanemi muttered under his breath. He didn’t like it.

Shaking his head, he combed through his estate, searching for materials to write back. When he’d finally collected everything, he sat down at his desk, ready to reply. Except as soon as he went to pick up the pen, he paused, frowning at his hand.

The minuscule bumps where his index and middle fingers had once been stared back at him. He hadn’t had any need to write since the battle, so he’d never truly considered how he even could.

He tried his left hand first. Slowly and carefully, he dragged the pen across the paper. The result was illegible, his words smeared and blurring together. Frustration bubbled up in his chest, and he crumpled the paper with a growl.

Again, he tried. And again, his attempts ended in failure. Paper after paper joined the growing pile at his feet.

At one point, Sanemi considered giving up. He thought about simply not replying at all—but every time the idea crossed his mind, an image of Nezuko’s disappointment and hurt expression spurred him on.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he managed something passable. It wasn’t clean or pretty—his writing never had been—but it was legible. And that was enough. Nezuko would understand.

Satisfied, he set the pen down and folded the paper carefully, tying it with a simple string.

“Nezuko,

Glad you made it home safe. Sounds like your neighbors did a good job cleaning up your place, that was decent of them. Though, you should remember it was not just your brother who was the hero. You saved the world too, don’t forget that. 

Don’t waste time worrying about me. I’m fine—just trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do now that the world doesn’t need saving every damn day. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full there. Can’t believe Inosuke even knows what a compliment is. 

Anyway, take care of yourself. Good luck keeping those idiots in line.

Sanemi”

After that first response, the letters between them became a regular occurrence. It felt strange to go more than a week without receiving word from Nezuko, and no matter what he was doing when her letters arrived, Sanemi would drop everything to write her back.

After the first few exchanges, her formal tone finally disappeared. Sanemi figured Tanjiro must have stopped hovering over her shoulder as she wrote. She was much more herself in these later letters—unguarded and honest. He liked her far better that way.

She began to complain openly about Zenitsu’s hysterics, Inosuke’s aversion to baths, Aoi’s attitude, even Tanjiro’s overwhelming positivity. She would always follow her annoyances by small compliments, a detail Sanemi found almost adorable, though he noticed she rarely had anything kind to say about the blonde-haired boy.

Sanemi made no effort to disguise his distaste for that brat in his own letters. When Nezuko finally scolded him for it, he only smirked to himself as he penned his next letter. He didn’t care. His words were true.

Nezuko was a lady, and Zenitsu was nearing twenty—he had no excuse for such childish antics. It was no secret Zenitsu had his heart set on marrying her, but his means of courtship were clumsy at best and outright disrespectful at worst.

Nezuko would be nineteen come winter, an age many would consider ideal for marriage or at least courtship. Sanemi couldn’t help but wonder how many men might be vying for her attention now that she was free to live among others. Tanjiro had once mentioned she was considered the prettiest girl in their village, even at sixteen. Now, with the war behind her and her beauty fully blossomed, Sanemi had no doubt she would attract plenty of suitors.

The thought left an uncomfortable knot twisting in his chest, one he couldn’t quite shake no matter how hard he tried. It wasn’t his business who Nezuko chose to marry, he knew that. And yet, the idea of someone like Zenitsu trying to claim her hand made his blood boil.

If Nezuko chose to wed—Sanemi knew Tanjiro would not force her—she deserved someone far better than that brat. Someone respectful who would treat her well; spoil her with gifts, take her to fine restaurants, treat her with respect—everything Zenitsu couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do. 

Chapter Text

Sanemi throws his sword to the ground in anger, letting out a growl of frustration. He’s been trying, stubbornly, to practice his swordsmanship, but his body just doesn’t respond the way it used to. The nerve damage sends tremors through his hands after only a few minutes, and the absence of his fingers makes gripping the hilt far more difficult than he ever imagined. Furthermore, the cold winter air worsens the phantom pains where his fingers once were. 

He sinks down onto the steps of his estate, his breath clouding in the icy air as he glares at his scarred hand. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. The world doesn’t need him anymore. The demons are gone, the fight is over. But his body doesn’t seem to understand that. It screams at him to keep moving, to keep training, as though another battle could come at any moment. Sometimes, late at night, he thinks one may. 

How the hell is he supposed to turn that off? Years of fighting and training—gone. Just like that. He’s supposed to figure out how to be normal now, with normal hobbies and a normal life. What the hell do normal people even do, anyway? 

Master Kiriya made sure the surviving swordsmen would be well off for the rest of their lives—even Uzui with his absurd salary—so it isn’t like Sanemi needs a job. He’s not one for poetry or music, and his hands aren’t much good for delicate work anymore. Martial arts might have been an option, but in reality, Sanemi knows even in his current state, he could knock anyone in a dojo flat in seconds. There’s no challenge, no purpose in that.

Sometimes it just feels like there isn’t room for him in a world without demons. Their new world doesn’t need men like him—broken, scarred, and built for violence. He doesn’t really know who he is if not a soldier. 

Genya could have forged a life, Sanemi thinks. Could have retired young, probably living with the Kamado’s band of misfits right now. He’d be happy, marry a pretty girl, have a family—all the things he should have had. He wouldn’t waste his days like Sanemi does, sitting in a too-big estate, forcing trembling hands to grip a sword for just ten minutes.

But fate doesn’t seem to care what Sanemi thinks—it never has. For some reason, he got to live. And instead of saving the one person he cared about, he had to watch his little brother disintegrate right in front of him. There wasn’t even a body to bury. Just a bloodied yukata.

The “what ifs” haunt Sanemi every night. If he’d fought harder, gotten there sooner, shoved Genya out the door—something, anything . The worst thoughts, though, are the ones that ask if being kind would have changed things. Maybe, if he’d embraced his brother, Genya wouldn’t have felt the need to push himself so hard. Maybe he wouldn’t have driven himself crazy trying to become a Hashira. Or at the very least, Sanemi could have trained him to be stronger.

Maybe, if Sanemi hadn’t hidden behind his anger, his little brother would still be here. 

A sharp caw cuts through the frigid air, saving Sanemi from his own thoughts. He doesn’t even look up before he knows—Nezuko. Matsuemon circles once before landing near him, a small scroll tied to the bird’s leg.

Nezuko. She’s the only good thing in his life these days. Sanemi doesn’t know why she tolerates him. At first, he thought it was a passing thing—a way for her to work through her anger and grief. Who else could she complain to? Certainly not her brother. Tanjiro’s an alright kid, but his relentless optimism is exhausting. 

And it wasn’t as if Sanemi had anyone to tell. Giyu is the only other person he’s really kept in contact with. The two get dinner every Thursday, making sure the other is doing well and taking care of themselves. It was an unexpected connection, but one Sanemi secretly values. Regardless though, Giyu isn’t exactly known for gossiping, and Sanemi isn’t known for oversharing.

But months have passed, and Nezuko still sends letters. And Sanemi still replies. When her letters arrive, it’s the highlight of his day—though he’ll never admit it. Hers are always long and heartfelt, full of every small detail of her life. His, on the other hand, are short and to the point.

It isn’t like he doesn’t want to write more, it’s just that writing is hard now. Even after months of practice, his missing fingers make it slow and painful. The phantom pain worsens when he grips the pen too long, and then his hand starts to shake, smearing his words and ruining the page.

A smaller part of Sanemi knows he also keeps his letters short because he’s been toeing the line of propriety more and more.

A few times, he’s let comments slip. When Nezuko writes about a new kimono she’s purchased or sewn, he’s commented on how beautiful she must look or expressed a wish to see it in person. She’s always seemed to appreciate the compliments, but Sanemi knows better. His words are improper.

Nezuko is a lady, he reminds himself, a nearly nineteen year old girl who will likely begin courting soon. Sanemi hates the way that thought makes him feel. He should be happy for her. She deserves love, deserves to find someone who will treat her like she’s the world. But when he imagines her with someone else, he doesn’t feel happy. He feels a sharp, simmering anger bubbling in his chest, no matter how hard he tries to swallow it down.

He tells himself it’s just his overprotective nature, the same way he’d reacted when Shinobu began her advances towards Giyu all that time ago. Shinobu had become like a sister to him, and he hadn’t trusted anyone with her heart. But his connection with Nezuko isn’t familial, and he knows it—even if he won’t admit it. 

As Matsuemon flies off, Sanemi shakes the thoughts from his head, focusing on the letter in his hands instead.

“Dearest Sanemi,

Thank you for your kind words in your last letter, they meant a great deal to me. I hope your training is going well. Tanjiro has also been trying to practice with his sword, though he hasn’t made much headway. 

He’s going to teach me the Hinokami Kagura this year, in case he’s unable to do it soon. I know it’s a silly thought, but I like to imagine that if I had been the Slayer instead of the demon, I might have been a Sun Breather as well. Though, I suppose, I might not have had the chance to become your friend if I were. 

On that note, I have a request for you. As you hopefully recall, my birthday is only two weeks away. Tanjiro is insisting on a celebration—I suppose he wants to make up for the years we lost. I don’t know what he’s planning, but I do know he’s invited Giyu and the Uzuis. 

If you aren’t too busy, I’d like to see you. It’s been quite some time, and it would mean a lot to me. I understand if you can’t come, but I wanted to at least ask. You can arrive whenever you would like, we have plenty of room for everyone to sleep. Giyu will be arriving next week to spend a few days with us. The Uzuis will be here the day before my birthday. 

I’d be happy to see you for as long as you’re willing to come. 

I hope to see you soon,

Nezuko”

Sanemi can practically hear her voice in the letter, the nervousness hidden beneath her polite phrasing. It’s a simple request, but it fills him with a familiar, gnawing anxiety. She’s right—it has been a long time since they last saw each other, and that’s mostly his fault.

At first, the distance was unintentional. They were both busy rebuilding their lives from scratch. But when the dust settled, Sanemi had started dodging her invitations. The idea of seeing her in person, after everything he’s said in those letters—after every word that skirted the line of propriety—makes his stomach churn.

Still, he can’t bring himself to decline this request. It’s her birthday. If he can’t show up for this, he doesn’t deserve her friendship. And the thought of her disappointment, her soft smile fading because of him, is unbearable.

With a small sigh, he returns inside, heading to his desk where his supplies are already gathered. He doesn’t bother putting them up these days. He grips the pen carefully and begins writing.

“Nezuko,

Your thoughts are not silly. I’m sure you would have been a far better Slayer than your idiot brother. I’m sure I would have liked you much better than him, too.

As for your birthday, I’ll be there. I’ll probably arrive next week around the same time as Giyu. I look forward to seeing you.

Sanemi”

The letter is short, written quickly. Before he can second-guess himself, he summons Sorai and sends it off. It’ll be fine, he tells himself. It’s just a few days. What’s the worst that could happen?

Chapter Text

A week passes much faster than Sanemi expects, the days seeming to fly by as Nezuko’s birthday draws near. He needs to leave tomorrow if he wants to arrive on the same day as Giyu. He’d sent the former Hashira a letter shortly after writing back Nezuko, practically demanding he let Sanemi know exactly when he would arrive. The idea of arriving first is daunting, but the idea of arriving late is just as dreadful. So, he settled on joining the Kamados the same day as Giyu. 

Before he leaves, though, there’s one last thing to do: pick up Nezuko’s gift.

Throwing on a haori, Sanemi quickly makes his way into town. The brisk walk clears his head as he moves with purpose, his long strides cutting through the bustling streets. When he reaches the shop, the keeper recognizes him immediately and vanishes into the back without a word. Moments later, the older man returns with a small parcel containing Sanemi’s purchase. The shopkeep opens the box carefully, allowing Sanemi to examine the item before he pays the final amount.

Sanemi’s breath hitches when he sees it again. The item is wrapped in fine silk, displayed elegantly within the box. He turns it over in his hand, his touch careful and soft as he examines every detail. It’s even more beautiful than he remembered. He hopes she likes it.

The shopkeeper clears his throat, snapping Sanemi out of his thoughts. He counts out the final payment, a sum large enough to make anyone else wince. For a moment, he thinks about his mother and how vastly different his life is now from the one he knew as a child.

He hadn’t grown up a wealthy man—quite the opposite, actually. His family was barely able to stay afloat, especially after his father died. Even as a Demon Slayer, his salary was meager until his promotion to Hashira. It wasn’t until then that he finally began earning enough to live comfortably.

But even now, Sanemi isn’t one to live extravagantly. He’s not like Tengen, who throws money around with his “flashy” lifestyle. Sanemi’s clothes are plain and practical, largely made of cotton. His home is simple, sparsely decorated, and his meals come from the local market—nothing extravagant.

This gift, however, is an exception. He hopes Nezuko understands the depth of it. He imagines the Uzuis will bring her something expensive and grand, a reflection of their normal lifestyle. For them, lavish gifts are routine. But for Sanemi, a gift like this carries a weight beyond its cost.

Tucking the parcel securely into his haori pocket, Sanemi steps out of the shop and exhales a shaky breath. His grip tightens around the package even as it sits safely in his pocket, the weight of carrying something so valuable unfamiliar to him. He knows, logically, that no one in town is aware of what he’s carrying. And if anyone were foolish enough to try something, they’d regret it within seconds.

Still, the tension in his shoulders doesn’t ease until he’s safely back at the Wind Estate. Once inside, he sets the parcel aside with great care and begins preparing for his trip. Giyu plans to stay nine days—six days before her birthday and two days after—so Sanemi does the same, careful to avoid overstaying his welcome or showing up too early.

Packing, however, is not his strong suit. He stuffs his clothing into his bag haphazardly, his hands working faster than his thoughts. By the time he finishes, his belongings are crammed inside without much rhyme or reason.

Now, all that’s left is to wait until tomorrow—and to keep his restless thoughts from driving him insane in the meantime.

Daylight fades quickly, and Sanemi spends the night in restless sleep. He wakes with a start as sunlight streams into his room, casting sharp lines across the floor. Sitting up, he shakes off the haze of sleep and begins to gather his belongings.

He tucks the gift securely in his haori pocket, keeping it close. He won’t give it to Nezuko until her birthday, but he doesn’t trust it to stay safe in his messy bag. He knows himself too well; if it’s out of reach, he’ll spend the entire journey obsessively worrying over its safety.

The path from the Wind Estate to the Kamados’ mountain takes three days on foot—though certainly much longer for someone without the stamina of a former Hashira. Sanemi pushes himself, resting only at Wisteria Houses along the way. The safe havens still offer free lodging and food to former Demon Slayers, a tradition that will remain until the last swordsman leaves this world.

Finally, Sanemi arrives at the mountain he knows houses the Kamados and their friends—and now lovers, he hears. Apparently, her brother and that wild boy have managed to win over Kanao and Aoi, respectively. The mental image makes him scoff, though a small, begrudging smirk tugs at his lips.

Tanjiro, unsurprisingly, approached courtship with all the propriety one would expect of him. According to Nezuko, he made the long journey to the Ubuyashiki mansion to pray at Kanae and Shinobu’s graves, asking for their blessing to court Kanao. Only after completing this ritual did he return home to ask the girl herself, and she happily accepted. 

Sanemi’s happy for them, really. He never got to know Kanao well—the day he gave her Kaburamaru was one of the only times they had a real conversation—-but he knows how much the girl meant to the Kochos. They would want her to forge her own happiness, so Sanemi does too. If that happiness is with Tanjiro, he wishes them luck.

Inosuke, on the other hand, took a much less conventional route. Nezuko’s amusement was barely contained in those letters, Sanemi could practically hear her laughing through the piece of paper. Apparently, the boy’s only understanding of relationships came from his mountain upbringing. 

When Inosuke realized his feelings for Aoi, he began presenting her with an array of offerings: acorns, wild fruits, and even freshly caught prey. Each gift was delivered with strange grunting noises, confusing everyone around him. It took weeks before anyone realized he was mimicking the behavior of the boars he’d grown up with, trying to prove himself as a capable provider and protector.

Shockingly, Aoi found his efforts charming and accepted his “courtship” happily. Sanemi can hardly believe the boy even understands what romance is, but if he makes Aoi happy he supposes it doesn’t matter. Still, the mental image of Inosuke grunting and shoving a dead bird toward Aoi is enough to make Sanemi snort.

The smell of burning charcoal pulls Sanemi from his thoughts, and he realizes suddenly he’s within eyeshot of the Kamados’ home. The realization makes him tense, anxiety growing in his chest. Maybe he should have said no, refused to come. How is he supposed to face Nezuko after everything he’s said? He wasn’t vulgar or anything, but he wasn’t exactly a gentleman—especially when he wrote back late at night. 

“Giyuuuu!”

The shout echoes through the trees, cutting through Sanemi’s spiraling thoughts. Relief washes over him as he realizes Giyu is already here. He’d worried he might beat the former Water Hashira to the Kamado household with how little he’d rested along the way. At least now, all eyes won’t be on him the moment he arrives.

Sanemi takes a steadying breath and resumes his approach, his steps slow and hesitant as he ascends the last stretch of the trail.

It’s Tanjiro who notices him first, just as Sanemi expected. The boy is in the middle of speaking to—or rather, at —Giyu, but he turns the second he spots Sanemi. Instantly, Tanjiro’s face lights up, a broad smile spreading across his features.

“Shinazugawa! You came!” The boy shouts out, his loud voice immediately drawing the attention of everyone nearby.

Giyu turns slightly, giving Sanemi a small nod of acknowledgment. Kanao offers a polite wave, Kaburamaru wrapped loosely around her neck, while Inosuke shouts something incomprehensible in the background. Zenitsu doesn’t seem to notice or care, which suits Sanemi just fine—he’s never liked the brat anyway. But his gaze darts around, searching for one person in particular.

Nezuko is nowhere in sight. 

“Yeah,” Sanemi mutters, his voice hardly audible, “I came.” 

Tanjiro quickly jogs over to him, his energy boundless as ever. 

“I’m so glad you could make it! Nezuko will be so happy to see you!” Sanemi’s brow furrows slightly, his mouth twitching into a small frown.

“Where is she, anyway?” He asks, trying to sound casual. But the question carries an edge of nervousness that he knows Tanjiro probably picks up on. If the boy notices, he doesn’t mention it.

“She’s inside!” Tanjiro responds without missing a beat, “She’s setting the table with Aoi. Come on in! There’s tea and snacks!”

Tanjiro gestures proudly urging Sanemi to enter the home. He gives the house a quick glance, the idea of entering makes his chest tighten. He’s not sure he’s ready to face her, but he knows he can’t just stand outside in the snow, either. Especially not with Tanjiro’s expectant grin urging him forward.

“Fine.” He grumbles, hefting his bag higher onto his shoulder and following Tanjiro inside. He gives Giyu a curt nod as he passes, hoping his friend’s calm presence might steady him.

As they step through the doorway, Sanemi is greeted by the warmth of the Kamado home. Its small, cozy interior feels oddly familiar, bearing a striking resemblance to his own childhood home. The faint aroma of freshly cooked food wafts through the air, setting his stomach rumbling. He ignores the pang of hunger, his sharp eyes scanning the room until they land on a familiar figure stepping out of the kitchen.

Nezuko comes into view, carrying a large stack of dishes in her hands. She’s focused on balancing them, her attention fixed on the task. She doesn’t notice him at first, her eyes glued on the plates. 

The sight of her leaves Sanemi breathless for a moment. She’s wearing the kimono he bought her. It looks even better on her than he imagined. Her hair is tied up loosely, shorter pieces framing her face carefully. She looks…perfect.

As if sensing his gaze, Nezuko’s head turns towards him. Her eyes widen slightly in surprise before her expression softens into a warm, genuine smile.

“San—Shinazugawa!” 

The stutter makes him smirk slightly. They’d dropped formalities long ago, but he supposes Tanjiro wouldn’t approve of that. 

Seemingly without thinking, Nezuko tries to run over to Sanemi—but the stack of plates wobbles precariously in her hands, threatening to topple. In an instant, Sanemi moves, his speed almost inhuman as he crosses the room. His hands close over hers, steadying the dishes before disaster can strike.

“Careful.” He mutters, his voice softer than usual as his gaze locks onto hers.

Her cheeks flush a delicate pink, the color spreading to her neck. She freezes, her hands still caught beneath his, and doesn’t speak for a moment.

“S…Sorry.” She finally stammers out, her gaze dropping shyly.

Sanemi chuckles slightly, shaking his head slightly. Carefully, he takes the dishes from her hands and sets them on the table. His sharp eyes flick around the room, checking to see if anyone noticed their exchange. Fortunately, the others seem preoccupied—Tanjiro’s chatting with Giyu, Inosuke is shouting about food with Kanao, and Zenitsu looks like he’s sulking in a corner.

When he turns back to Nezuko, her pink eyes are still fixed on him, wide and full of something he can’t quite place.

“You look…well.” Sanemi offers hesitantly, phrasing his complement carefully. Better words come to mind: beautiful, stunning, perfect, tempting. But he holds them in, determined to play the part of gentleman while he’s here. 

“Thank you,” Nezuko says softly, her smile making his stomach flip, “You do as well.”

“Dinner’s almost ready!” Aoi’s voice cuts through the moment, breaking the tension between them, “Nezuko, can you help me?”

Sanemi glances at Nezuko and gives her a small nod. Her expression flickers with reluctance, but she smiles faintly before following Aoi into the kitchen. Left behind, Sanemi retreats to the edge of the room, joining Giyu, who stands silently by the window. The man doesn’t look his way, but his steady presence has always been a strange source of comfort.

“Nezuko seems happy.” Giyu remarks quietly, his voice low enough that only Sanemi can hear. Sanemi snorts, leaning against the wall.

“Yeah, well. She’s got plenty to be happy about.” 

Giyu turns slightly, giving Sanemi a long, contemplative look. A small frown pulls at the corners of his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything at first. Sanemi assumes the conversation is over, but then Giyu speaks again.

“I never…” his voice wavers, cracking slightly before he clears his throat, “I never did get to tell Shinobu how I felt. Don’t make that mistake.”

The words hit Sanemi harder than he expects, leaving him stunned into silence. He’d known about Shinobu’s feelings for Giyu, but they’d both assumed they were unreciprocated. The idea that Giyu reciprocated, that he’d been carrying this grief in silence, feels like a revelation and a gut punch all at once.

Sanemi glances toward the dining area, where Nezuko and Aoi are setting out the food. She’s smiling as she works, her pink eyes bright and alive, so different from how she looked after the war. Back then, her skin was pale, and the light in her eyes had dimmed, exhaustion etched into every movement.

They all looked like that, Sanemi thinks. Beaten down. Empty. How could they not after losing so much?

“Yeah,” Sanemi finally mutters, his voice rough, “Thanks.”

There’s a million things he could say to Giyu right now, countless unspoken words between them. 

I’m sorry. I miss her, too. I wish she was here. She loved you, too.

But he knows his friend. The man doesn’t want apologies or sympathy. What Giyu wants is for Sanemi to do what he couldn’t. Grasp the chance he let slip away. Sanemi’s not sure if he can.

“Dinner’s ready!” Tanjiro calls out, blissfully unaware of Sanemi’s inner turmoil. With another small nod, the two former Hashira make their way to the table.

Chapter Text

The Kamados’ dining table is large, fitting for the large family Sanemi knows Nezuko once had. Tonight, almost every inch of it is covered with dishes: onigiri, miso soup, tempura, Chikuzen-ni, and perfectly sliced apples. 

Giyu settles into a spot across from Sanemi, and the others quickly fill the room with noise; Inosuke loudly demands more food, Zenitsu whines about something unintelligible, and Tanjiro laughs nervously as he tries to keep the peace.

Nezuko returns from the kitchen with the final dish, a bowl of steamed vegetables. Her face seems to light up when her eyes meet Sanemi’s. She places the plate on the table and takes a seat beside her brother, directly across from Sanemi. 

Almost immediately, Zenitsu slides into the spot beside her, sitting far too close for Sanemi’s liking. Nezuko stiffens slightly, her polite smile tightening. She doesn’t say anything, but the shift in her demeanor doesn’t escape Sanemi’s gaze.

“Let’s eat already!” Inosuke bellows, slamming a hand onto the dining table with enough force to make the plates rattle.

“Don’t slam the table!” Aoi snaps, smacking the back of his head.

Sanemi chuckles, unable to hide his amusement at how effortlessly the small girl keeps her wild boar in check. Tanjiro rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, shaking his head.

“Sorry about him,” he mutters, giving Sanemi and Giyu an apologetic glance, “But he’s not wrong. Aoi and Nezuko worked really hard to make this meal, so let’s enjoy it!”

Both girls blush faintly at the praise, but the others quickly nod in agreement. Without further delay, everyone begins to dig in, the table coming alive with the sounds of clinking chopsticks, laughter, and murmured compliments about the food.

Sanemi eats quietly at first, observing the chaos around him. Inosuke piles his plate impossibly high, while Zenitsu loudly proclaims that Nezuko’s cooking tastes “better than anything he’s ever had!” 

Sanemi scowls at that, the irritation bubbling in his chest only partially eased when Nezuko shifts slightly away from Zenitsu. He wouldn’t mind the brat’s grating attitude so much, he thinks, if Zenitsu wasn’t so clearly making Nezuko uncomfortable. Did he have no mother to teach him manners? 

“You should try the Chikuzen-ni,” Nezuko says suddenly, her soft voice drawing Sanemi’s attention, “I made it all by myself.”

Sanemi stares at her for a moment before reaching out to serve himself some. The food is warm and flavorful, and though he won’t admit it aloud, it’s some of the best he’s had in a long time.

“It’s…really good.” He says simply, his voice nearly drowned out by the surrounding chaos. 

Nezuko’s entire face lights up at his words, her smile so radiant it nearly knocks the air from his lungs. He quickly looks back down at his plate, pretending to focus on his food. Across the table, he catches Zenitsu shooting him a sharp, pointed glare. The brat’s obvious jealousy half-tempts him to compliment Nezuko again, if only to watch him squirm.

But Sanemi holds his tongue, settling into quiet observation as the meal continues. Giyu eats in his usual silence, occasionally throwing out a dry remark that has Tanjiro laughing far harder than it warrants. Aoi flits around the table, ensuring everyone gets enough to eat while also preventing Inosuke from devouring half the meal before anyone has a chance for seconds.

Sanemi’s gaze drifts to Kanao and Tanjiro. He notices how Tanjiro’s usual tension seems to ease whenever Kanao speaks to him, her quiet presence grounding him in a way Sanemi hadn’t expected. They make a good pair, he thinks.

Then there’s Zenitsu. As the night drags on, the boy’s attempts to gain Nezuko’s attention grow increasingly desperate before turning downright embarrassing. His exaggerated compliments, over-the-top gestures, and relentless chatter grind on Sanemi’s nerves like nothing else.

Nezuko handles it all with remarkable grace, her polite smiles never wavering, though Sanemi doesn’t miss the way her responses are far shorter and more clipped with him than anyone else.

By the time the meal nears its end, Sanemi’s fists are clenched under the table. He has half a mind to drag the brat outside and teach him a thing or two about respect—but he swallows his anger, unwilling to ruin Nezuko’s night. Instead, he keeps his focus on her, the sight of her genuine smile calming his nerves. 

As the others begin to finish their meals, Nezuko and Aoi rise to clear the dishes. Sanemi stands abruptly, taking the dishes from both of them almost forcefully.

“You two did the cooking. I’ll clean up.” Sanemi says simply, as if the idea of anything else was absurd.

“You don’t have to do that!” Aoi protests, trying to pull the dishes out of his hands.

“Please, you’re our guest,” Nezuko adds, pouting slightly, “We can clean.” 

Sanemi doesn’t budge, easily pulling the plates out of their reach. 

“I said I’ll do it,” he insists, his tone firm. When he catches Zenitsu glaring at him from the corner of his eye, he adds, “It’s what a man should do. You two just relax.” 

Both girls huff, clearly wanting to argue further, but before they can, Giyu rises from his seat and strides over to Sanemi.

“I’ll help.” Giyu says quietly, already gathering a few empty dishes from the table. He’s gotten good at balancing things with one hand, Sanemi notices. The former Water Hashira had been a mess for a long time after the war ended—constantly dropping and breaking things. Sanemi even had to cut the man’s hair for him.

Sanemi glances at him, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips in spite of himself. Together, the two former Hashira clear the table and carry the dirty dishes into the kitchen.

The cleaning is done in comfortable silence, the steady rhythm of running water and clinking plates filling the air, and Sanemi finds himself grateful for Giyu’s presence for probably the hundredth time that night. As soon as they finish, Tanjiro bursts into the kitchen, his bright smile as unrelenting as ever.

“You two must be exhausted after traveling so far!” Tanjiro exclaims, his tone cheerful but clearly nudging them toward getting some rest.

Truthfully, Sanemi isn’t tired at all. Three days of steady traveling is nothing compared to the grueling pace he’s put himself through countless times before. He doubts Giyu feels any differently. Still, neither man bothers to correct Tanjiro. Undeterred by their silence, the boy presses on.

“Why don’t we set up the zashiki for you both? You’ll sleep more comfortably there.”

Sanemi frowns slightly at the suggestion, his jaw tightening slightly. He should have known Tanjiro would have them sleep in the guest bedroom—it’s the proper thing to do, and the boy is nothing if not a gentleman. Still, a twinge of disappointment flickers through Sanemi at the arrangement. Sleeping in the zashiki means he won’t be anywhere near Nezuko tonight.

Well, he sighs inwardly, at least Giyu won’t be keeping him up with pointless chatter.

Without waiting for a response, Tanjiro leads them down the hall to the zashiki. It’s a simple, tidy space with tatami and sliding shoji doors. Tanjiro fetches two futons and begins setting them up, his movements quick and determined even with only one good arm. 

“You don’t gotta do all this.” Sanemi grumbles, snatching a futon from Tanjiro’s arms. He slept on cold, hard wooden floors for a good part of his life—he doesn’t need all this fluff. 

“It’s no trouble!” Tanjiro insists, refusing to be deterred, “You’re our guests!”

Sanemi exchanges a glance with Giyu, who remains characteristically silent but shrugs as if to say, Just let him do it. Resigned, the two men help Tanjiro set up the futons, deciding it’s easier to assist than argue.

“Thank you.” Giyu mumbles out once everything is in place. Tanjiro beams at him before gesturing for them to follow him back to the main room.

When they return, the others have already prepared for bed. The room is as chaotic as ever, even in its quiet moments. Inosuke is sprawled across two futons, prompting Aoi to smack him to reclaim her spot. Zenitsu, Sanemi notices with a frown, has chosen to sleep right next to Nezuko. He can only hope the arrangement isn’t typical for them and Tanjiro will force Zenitsu to move.

Sanemi’s gaze shifts to Nezuko and lingers a moment too long. She sits with her legs tucked neatly beneath her, laughing softly at something Kanao says. She looks much more comfortable with the girl than she’s looked all night. 

“Goodnight.” Giyu says abruptly, his voice cutting through Sanemi’s thoughts as he turns to head back toward their room.

“Goodnight.” Sanemi echoes, his gaze catching Nezuko’s for the briefest moment. Her soft smile lingers in his mind even as he follows Giyu to the guest room.

Inside, Sanemi stretches out on his futon, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He knows sleep won’t come easily tonight—if it comes at all. Across the room, Giyu has already settled in, his breathing evening out within moments. The man’s ability to fall asleep so quickly has always irked Sanemi, though he envies it now more than ever.

Sanemi huffs slightly, closing his eyes and trying to shut off his brain. But the moment he does, all he sees is Nezuko. Memories of the day replay; the feeling of his hands over hers as she nearly spilled the dishes, the rosy tint to her cheeks as they stared at each other, her smile when he complimented her chicken, the way even her neck turned red in embarrassment—he wonders how far down that blush goes. 

With a frustrated groan, Sanemi sits up, raking a hand through his hair.  He glances toward Giyu, who remains undisturbed, oblivious to the turmoil churning inside his companion.

No, Sanemi thinks bitterly, sleep isn’t happening tonight.

Chapter Text

With sleep evading him, Sanemi steps outside. The winter air bites at his skin, the chill seeping deep into his bones. His missing fingers burn with phantom pain, but he doesn’t retreat back to the warmth of the house. The pain is grounding. It’s good—it takes his mind off everything else.

The Kamado household is quiet and unassuming beneath the thick blanket of snow, a stark contrast to the chaos that always resides inside with Kamado’s band of misfits.

To his left, he spots a fairly nice training yard. Nezuko had mentioned in one of her letters that Tanjiro had it built not long after they returned home. Sanemi doubts the boy swings his sword much these days, not with his injuries, but he imagines Kanao and Inosuke put the space to good use. As for that blonde brat—Sanemi snorts, his breath clouding in the cold air—he’d bet money that Zenitsu hasn’t even looked at his sword since the final battle.

His gaze shifts to the right, where six  graves stand in the distance, their snow-covered markers barely visible in the dim moonlight. The Kamado family, he figures. His stomach knots at the sight, guilt spreading through him like poison.

He should go over there, he thinks. Kneel and pray. Apologize. Beg for their forgiveness for how he’s treated their daughter. 

But his legs don’t move. They feel like lead, frozen to the ground beneath him. Maybe it’s because, deep down, he knows he’ll do it again. Because, at the end of the day, he knows he hasn’t changed. He’s the same damn bastard he’s always been..

“Sanemi?” 

The soft voice behind him jolts him from his thoughts. He spins around, startled, to see Nezuko standing in the doorway, concern etched in her delicate features. She steps forward, her light footsteps crunching softly in the snow as she lowers herself to sit beside him on the steps.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Sanemi mutters, avoiding her gaze, “It’s cold.”

“You shouldn’t either,” she counters, her voice gentle, a small smile tugging at her lips. After a pause, she adds, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Neither could I.” Sanemi admits, stealing a glance at her.

Nezuko shifts slightly, tucking her hands into her sleeves to ward off the chill. The snow catches in her hair, glinting faintly in the moonlight, and Sanemi finds himself staring longer than he should.

“You come out here often?” He asks gruffly, mostly to distract himself.

“Sometimes,” she replies softly. Her gaze flickers to the graves in the distance, her smile fading into something bittersweet, “Mostly when I’m missing them.”

Sanemi follows her gaze, his throat tightening. He doesn’t know what to say, so he stays silent.

“Do you…” Nezuko begins, her voice cracking slightly, “Do you ever wonder about…everything? How different things could have been without demons?” 

He does—more than he’d care to admit. But he doesn’t know how to answer her, not right away. What would his life have been without demons? He isn’t sure it would have been happy. He was just a kid from the gutter, destined for nothing. Wasn’t smart like his mother, wasn’t kind like Teiko, or funny like Shuya. No, Sanemi was always his father’s son.

But Genya? Genya was supposed to be something great. The kid was brilliant, teaching himself to read and write when school wasn’t an option for them. He even tried to teach Sanemi once, but the lessons never stuck. He never did master the skill until Kanae forced him to. But Genya was a natural with everything he did. If Sanemi had been given the chance, he’d have scraped together every last coin to pay for Genya’s education, just to give his brother the future he deserved.

A soft shift beside him brings him back to the present, and Sanemi realizes Nezuko is staring at him, waiting for an answer. His cheeks heat slightly, embarrassment creeping in as he quickly averts his gaze.

“Sometimes.” He says finally, his voice low. It feels weak, like an incomplete truth, but it’s all he can offer.

“I do too,” Nezuko confesses, her gaze drifting back to the graves, “They’d still be here. Tanjiro would still be selling coal. My mother would probably be looking for a husband for me. My siblings would fill our home with laughter again.”

Nezuko pauses, clearing her throat slightly.

“But,” she continues, her voice softer, “Then I wouldn’t have everyone here. Tanjiro wouldn’t have met and fallen for Kanao. I’d never know Giyu, never hear Inosuke’s ridiculous jokes, or have Aoi’s cooking. I wouldn’t…” Her voice falters for a beat before she presses on, “I wouldn’t have you.”

Sanemi’s heart skips a beat, and he feels an uncomfortable heat rise to his face again. He glances at her, but she’s looking at the snow now, her expression unreadable.

“I…”

“What do you think you’d be doing now?” Nezuko asks abruptly, cutting off whatever he might have said. Her sudden inquiry throws him off, but he decides not to question it.

“I dunno,” he answers honestly, shrugging, “Probably working odd jobs, maybe a factory if I got lucky.” Nezuko glances at him uncertainly before her eyes flicker back to the ground.

“Do you think you’d get married?” she asks hesitantly, her gaze pointedly avoiding his, “Have a family?”

The question gives him pause. Marriage. Family. He’s never really pictured anything like that for himself—not even when he was younger. He’s imagined it for Genya, though: a pretty girl by his side, kids tugging on his pants. Even for his sisters, he used to think of himself stepping into their father’s shoes, arranging their marriages to decent men. But for himself? Nothing. The thought never even crossed his mind.

“Doubt it,” he mutters with a sigh, “Don’t know the first thing about being a husband, anyway. And I’d be a shit dad, too, just like my old man.”

“That’s not what Genya said.” 

The words hit him like a physical blow. Sanemi’s head snaps toward Nezuko, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion.

“What do you mean by that?” He asks quickly, his voice sharper than he usually speaks to her with. Nezuko hesitates, clearly put off with the sudden intensity in his tone. 

“I…” she begins, nervously fidgeting with her sleeves, “Genya used to…talk to me sometimes. Guess he thought I couldn’t really understand him, or wouldn’t remember what he said.”

Sanemi stares at her, his breath caught in his chest, as she continues. 

“He would tell me stories about you,” Nezuko continues, her voice soft and hesitant. “About how you were more like his dad than your real father ever was. He said you took care of him—how you’d spend your nights working odd jobs just to make sure you had enough money for good meals and not just rice.”

She meets his gaze for a brief moment, her eyes searching his face.

“He… really admired you, Sanemi. Even in the end. Even after your fight, he still loved you more than anything. He never said a bad word about you—not once. He wouldn’t even let anyone else speak poorly of you.”

Nezuko pauses, her lips twitching slightly before she adds, “He even broke Zenitsu’s nose once for calling you insane.”

Sanemi’s throat tightens painfully, and he can’t even muster a laugh at the memory. It sounds like Genya, though—always picking fights he shouldn’t.

“I think,” Nezuko adds after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper, “He would have wanted you to know that.”

The silence that follows is heavy, but not unwelcome for Sanemi. He doesn’t respond right away. He can’t. His mind is a whirlwind of memories, guilt, and emotions he doesn’t have the words to describe.

“Thanks.” He mutters out eventually. Nezuko glances at him, her lips forming a small, hesitant smile.

“You’re welcome.” She says gently.

They sit together a while longer, the occasional snowflake drifting down to join the growing blanket in the yard.

“We should go inside,” Nezuko suggests after a long moment, already pushing herself onto her feet, “It’s cold out.”

“Yeah.” Sanemi mumbles in agreement, pulling himself up. His movements feel automatic, his mind elsewhere, still turning over her words.

He follows her back into the house, the warmth a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. They pass by the quiet, sleeping Kamado squad, the house quiet and peaceful for the first time tonight. When they reach the guest room, Giyu is still sound asleep, the way Sanemi knew he would be. 

“Goodnight.” Nezuko murmurs softly before turning around and retreating to the main room.

Sanemi lies down on the futon, staring at the ceiling. Nezuko’s words echo in his mind, refusing to be silenced.

Genya still loved him

He closes his eyes, letting out a slow, shuddering breath. His heart aches, but, oddly, for once it doesn’t feel unbearable. With the faint sounds of the household stirring softly in the background, Sanemi drifts into a restless sleep.

Chapter Text

Morning comes slowly for the former Wind Hashira. Most of the night was spent in restless, broken sleep, his thoughts refusing to quiet. By the time sunlight begins creeping into the guest room, Sanemi is already awake, pushing himself up and moving through the house. Unsurprisingly, he finds everyone else still sleeping soundly. He makes sure his footsteps are careful and silent as he creeps back outside. 

On the steps, faint impressions remain where he and Nezuko sat last night. The sight pulls at something deep inside him, dragging his mind back to their conversation. Genya. Sanemi didn’t deserve that boy, not back then, not ever. Yet Genya loved him anyway. The thought is equally comforting and agonizing. 

The light thud of approaching footsteps catches Sanemi’s ear, the sound too subtle for anyone untrained to notice. He turns, not sure who to expect, and feels something like relief when he sees Giyu.

“Good morning.” Giyu greets simply, his voice rough with sleep.

Sanemi gives a small nod in response. Without a word, the former Water Hashira takes a seat beside him. It feels familiar—natural, even. Back on missions, Giyu was always the first to wake. Sanemi never could understand how someone could slip so easily in and out of sleep.

“You’re up early.” Giyu’s statement is simple, unassuming to most, but Sanemi hears the question behind it. What’s wrong?

It’s something he’s noticed about Giyu over the past few months—the way he packs so much meaning into so few words. What once seemed stiff and pretentious now feels deliberate, thoughtful. Giyu never forces a conversation, never presses for answers. He leaves space. It’s a quality Sanemi finds himself valuing more than he expected.

“Couldn’t sleep well,” Sanemi admits, his gaze fixed on the snow-covered yard. After a pause, he adds, “Nezuko told me a few things about…him last night.”

There’s no need to say Genya’s name. Giyu knows. He always knows. He was there for Sanemi during the worst of it, pulling him back from the edge when it seemed like the only thing Sanemi wanted was to follow Genya into the afterlife.

“He was a good kid.” Giyu says quietly. 

It’s simple, but it’s enough. There’s nothing else to say, nothing that can fix anything or bring the kid back. Giyu, perhaps more than anyone, understands this. He lost his sister and his best friend before he even became a Slayer. And after the battle with Muzan, only he and Sanemi were left standing in the ruins, their losses too heavy to count.

There’s no need for apologies, no promises of reunion in another life. Just shared understanding. A quiet leaning on one another when the grief becomes too much to carry alone.

“You know,” Giyu begins after a long moment of silence, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile as much as you did yesterday.”

Sanemi’s brows furrow at the comment, his focus snapping to Giyu. He can sense the meaning beneath the words but doesn’t want to confront it.

“What about it?” He snaps defensively, his tone sharper than it really should be.

“It suits you.” Giyu replies, unfazed, a faint, almost imperceptible smile pulling at his lips. Sanemi scoffs, looking away, his arms crossing over his chest.

“You’re one to talk.” He mutters, earning a nearly inaudible chuckle from Giyu.

“Maybe,” Giyu muses, his voice calm, “But it’s good to see you like that. You deserve it.”

The words surprise Sanemi, sparking a warmth in his chest he doesn’t know how to handle.

“Tch,” Sanemi scoffs again, trying to brush it off, “You sound like her.”

“Maybe she’s onto something.” Giyu counters easily, his lips twitching into a subtle smirk.

Silence settles between them, but it’s not uncomfortable. It never is with them—not anymore. They sit together on the steps, the morning light growing steadily brighter as the sun climbs higher in the sky. 

Eventually, the faint sounds of movement from inside draw their attention.

“They’re waking up.” Giyu states plainly, brushing off his pants as he rises to his feet. 

Sanemi lets out a sigh, following his lead. He dusts the snow from his clothes, casting one last glance at the yard before heading back into the warmth of the house.

Inside, the household begins to stir. The faint clatter of dishes and the aroma of food wafting from the kitchen signal that Tanjiro and Aoi are already at work preparing breakfast. Inosuke, unsurprisingly, is still sprawled out asleep, limbs everywhere. Nezuko is curled up beneath a blanket, undisturbed by the morning commotion, while Kanao sits nearby, brushing her hair silently. Across the room, Zenitsu is just beginning to sit up, rubbing his eyes with a yawn.

Sanemi surveys the scene, the faint hum of domesticity filling the space. Without Nezuko awake, he feels a little out of place. He doesn’t share much of a bond with Kanao, and there’s no way he’s starting his morning by talking to Zenitsu. He considers following Giyu’s lead and finding some remote corner to lurk in, but something about that feels... wrong. Too detached, even for him.

With a sigh, he decides to make himself useful and heads toward the kitchen. Cooking isn’t his strong suit, but he figures he can at least help set the table or wash dishes. Anything to keep his hands busy and his mind from wandering. As soon as he enters, Tanjiro turns, offering him a bright, welcoming smile. 

“Good morning, Shinazugawa! Did you sleep well?”

Sanemi grunts in reply, which Tanjiro seems to take as an answer. Aoi glances over briefly, acknowledging him with a slight nod before returning her focus to the pot she’s stirring.

“Need help with anything?” Sanemi asks, earning a slightly surprised look from Tanjiro.

“Actually, yes! Could you set the table? That would be a huge help.”

Sanemi nods, grabbing the stack of plates Tanjiro gestures toward. He moves to the dining area, placing dishes in front of each person’s spot. The repetitive action is calming, giving him something to focus on other than the whirlwind of emotions going through his mind.

As he finishes arranging the last of the bowls, a quiet voice startles him.

“Shinazugawa.”

He turns to see Kanao standing a few feet away, Kaburamaru coiled around her shoulders the same way the snake used to cling to Obanai. Her expression is calm and unreadable, as always. He’s reminded, fleetingly, of how Shinobu used to complain about Kanao’s quiet demeanor—ironic, considering her feelings for Tomioka.

When Kanao doesn’t speak further, Sanemi frowns slightly.

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you.” She says softly. The unexpected remark makes Sanemi blink. His frown deepens as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“For what?” He asks, almost defensively.

“For coming,” she responds simply, “It means a lot to Nezuko.”

Sanemi blinks, caught off guard by the sincerity in her tone. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say, but, eventually, he nods.

“Don’t mention it,” he murmurs, shifting uncomfortably. 

There’s a brief silence, but Kanao doesn’t leave. She stands there, quiet but steady, as if waiting for something. Sanemi clears his throat, grasping for a change of subject.

“How’s the snake been doing?” He asks, glancing at Kaburamaru.

“He’s been well,” she answers softly, her hand rising to stroke the snake’s head, “I was worried about him for a while. He seemed really depressed at first, but I think he understands what happened to Iguro—and why he’s here now.”

Sanemi nods, his throat tightening at the mention of his fallen friend. He averts his gaze, unsure how to respond.

“That’s…that’s good.” He finally manages, averting his gaze. 

“Shinazugawa,” Kanao begins, her voice quieter now, as though she doesn’t want anyone else to hear, “I wan—”

“Shinazugawa!” 

Nezuko’s voice cuts through the moment, pulling their attention. Sanemi turns, both relieved and annoyed at the interruption. Nezuko’s smile is as bright as ever, though, and he can’t bring himself to stay irritated.

Kanao steps back, giving Sanemi a small, unreadable smile before walking away, leaving him and Nezuko alone.

“Good morning.” Sanemi mutters, trying to sound casual as he turns to face her.

“How did you sleep?” Nezuko asks cheerily, her hands clasped behind her back as she rocks on her heels.

“Good,” he lies, not wanting the barrage of questions he’d likely endure if he was honest, “And you?”

“I slept great, thank you for asking!” she chirps, “Breakfast smells good! Did you help?”

Sanemi snorts softly, shaking his head.

“If I did it would be inedible,” he responds with a small grin, “I just set the table.”

“That’s still helping!” Nezuko quickly retorts, her smile widening.

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupts them, and Sanemi looks up to see Tanjiro carrying a tray of food, Aoi close behind him with another.

“Good morning, Nezuko, Shinazugawa,” Tanjiro greets warmly as he begins to set food out on the table. “Breakfast is ready!”

Aoi emerges after him, an array of food in her hands as well. Sanemi steps aside as the two finish setting the table, watching with a small smirk as Nezuko practically bounces from excitement at the meal.

Chapter Text

Breakfast passes quietly, a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous night’s dinner. The Kamado group doesn’t seem to be made up of morning people, with the room filled mostly with yawns and occasional groans rather than shouts or laughter. Sanemi can’t really complain, he’s not one for talking in the morning either—then again, he’d never been much for talking at all before Nezuko. 

The six of them linger around the table after eating, talking casually among themselves.  In the background, Aoi and Inosuke tackle the dishes—or rather, Aoi washes while Inosuke seems to do more breaking than cleaning, judging by the clattering and Aoi’s exasperated muttering.

“Shinazugawa,” Nezuko suddenly pipes up, her bright voice cutting through the low hum of conversation. Sanemi raises an eyebrow in response.

“What’s your favorite food?”

The question catches him off guard, and before he can answer, Tanjiro beats him to it.

“It’s ohagi, right?”

Sanemi blinks, surprised, before a faint scowl crosses his face as he remembers. Of course Tanjiro would know that. The kid had once tried to bribe his way into Sanemi’s good graces by making ohagi—a plan that, predictably, had backfired.

“Yeah,” Sanemi mutters grudgingly. “I guess so.”

Nezuko’s face lights up at his answer, her smile so wide it makes something warm bloom in his chest.

“We should make some!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together excitedly. “We don’t have the supplies here, but maybe you could come with me to town so we can buy them?”

The suggestion throws Sanemi off, though he does his best to keep his expression neutral. A small part of him feels unexpectedly touched at her eagerness, but before he can respond, an obnoxious wail from Zenitsu shatters the moment.

“HUHHHH?! You can’t go to town alone with HIM!” 

Sanemi grits his teeth, his jaw clenching as a sharp retort forms on his tongue. But before he can deliver it, Tanjiro steps in, smacking Zenitsu on the head with enough force to make the blond yelp.

“Quiet down!” Tanjiro scolds before turning to Nezuko with a more measured expression. “But he’s right, Nezuko. You two can’t go to town alone.”

Nezuko scoffs at that, crossing her arms in defiance.

“Tanjiro that’s—”

“Nezuko,” Tanjiro interrupts, though his tone remains gentle, “It isn’t proper.”

Sanemi rolls his eyes, barely suppressing a snort. Sleeping in the same room as Kanao probably isn’t “proper” either, nor is letting Zenitsu snore beside Nezuko every night, so why is Tanjiro only worried about propriety when it comes to him?

“Then come with us if you’re so worried!” Nezuko counters, her voice tinged with frustration. Tanjiro hesitates, clearly weighing her suggestion.

“Well…I told Inosuke I’d train with him today. Mayb—”

“I’ll go with them.” Giyu interrupts, his voice as steady as ever. Sanemi glances at him, surprised, while Tanjiro visibly brightens.

“Really? Thank you so much, Giyu!” Tanjiro says with visible relief.

Sanemi fights the urge to scoff. Of course, Tanjiro trusts Giyu and not him. How absurd. Though, as Sanemi catches Nezuko’s gaze again, a flicker of doubt creeps in. Maybe Tanjiro has a point.

“Fine,” Sanemi mutters, crossing his arms, as he avoids meeting anyone’s eyes.

Nezuko beams at the decision, her excitement palpable. Sanemi sighs inwardly. It’s going to be a long trip.

After cleaning up, the three of them prepare for their trip to town. Sanemi rummages through his bag, pulling on the first set of clothes he grabs, indifferent to how they look. Matching outfits or looking “presentable” has never been a concern for him. He misses that about the Corps sometimes, being able to just throw on a uniform and call it a day.

Giyu, in contrast, takes his time. With deliberate care, he drapes his light blue yukata over his shoulders, adjusting the fabric until it sits correctly. Sanemi watches him out of the corner of his eye, noticing how easily Giyu manages the task with just one arm now. It’s a sharp contrast to the earlier days after his injury, when frustration would flash across his otherwise composed features as he struggled to dress himself.

Sanemi’s gaze drifts away, not wanting to linger. He finishes pulling on his haori just as a soft knock sounds at the door.

“You can come in.” Giyu calls out, his voice even as he makes a final adjustment to his yukata.

Nezuko slides the door open slowly, peeking in slightly before sliding it all the way open.

“Ready to go?”

Sanemi grunts in affirmation while Giyu simply nods, and the three set off, walking down the snow-covered path toward the nearest town. 

The journey is quiet for the most part, but Nezuko chatters cheerfully to fill the silence. She points out how the snow glitters on the tree branches, and her voice lifts with excitement as she talks about her plans to make ohagi. She hasn’t tried to cook it since she was a child, but she’s confident she remembers all the steps.

After half an hour, the town comes into view, its streets bustling despite the winter chill. Vendors call out to passing customers, their stalls laden with goods, while small clusters of townspeople move between them. It’s quieter than it would be in warmer months, but the activity still feels lively compared to the solitude of the mountain.

Nezuko’s face lights up at the sight, and she quickens her pace, darting ahead of the two former Hashira toward a stand displaying colorful ribbons.

“I have to find Nezuko a gift,” Giyu states plainly, already turning to leave, “I’ll meet up with you later.” 

Sanemi finds that hard to believe—Giyu isn’t one to wait until the last minute for anything, much less an important gift.

“You’re supposed to be keeping an eye on me, remember?” Sanemi calls after him, arms crossed.

Giyu pauses briefly, glancing back over his shoulder. There’s the faintest trace of a knowing smile on his lips. 

“I trust you’ll behave,” he replies simply before continuing on his way.

Sanemi shakes his head in disbelief, chuckling slightly. Without thinking about it further, he strides forward, joining Nezuko’s side at the nearby stand.

“I thought we were here for food, not frills?” Sanemi asks sarcastically, though his tone holds no venom. Nezuko looks up at him, a mock pout on her face as she playfully swats his arm. 

“A little color wouldn’t hurt, you know.” Sanemi crosses his arms, smirking.

“Oh yeah? You gonna braid my hair? Put ribbons in it?” 

“Maybe,” Nezuko hums, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’d look good in green.” Sanemi snorts, the image of himself decked out in ribbons too ridiculous to entertain. 

“Yeah, not happening.” Nezuko giggles, holding up a bright ribbon and examining it against the light. 

“Your loss. You’d look handsome, you know.”

The casual remark catches him off guard. For a moment, he fumbles for a response, clearing his throat and glancing away. 

“Yeah, right.” He mumbles. 

Nezuko doesn’t press further, her attention returning to the ribbons. She eventually picks out three: a soft pink, a light green, and a delicate lavender. They’ll look nice on her. As Nezuko turns to him, her new purchases in hand, she glances around the market with a slight frown.

“Where did Giyu go?” She asks, scanning the crowd for any sign of him.

“Said he had to get something,” Sanemi replies with a shrug. “He’ll meet up with us later.”

Nezuko looks at him for a moment, her expression unreadable before a small smile blooms.

“Oh, okay!” she chirps, turning to look at the nearby stalls. Her eyes light up again as she spots another stand. “Ooh! Let’s go there next!”

She gestures toward a vendor selling hairpins and other delicate jewelry. Sanemi sighs dramatically but follows her without complaint.

“That’s not food either.” He points out, smirking slightly. Nezuko sticks her tongue out at him in response.

“I don’t get to go to town that often!” she protests. “I want to look around!” Sanemi chuckles under his breath, shrugging. 

“Fine,” he says quietly. “We’re not in a rush, I guess.”

Nezuko beams, already moving toward the stand. Sanemi trails after her, shaking his head in mock exasperation. She tugs him along to a variety of vendors, her eyes sparkling as she carefully examines trinkets and crafts that catch her attention. At a stand selling jewelry, she lingers longer, picking up a pair of jade bangles. Turning them over in her hands, she bites her lip, clearly torn.

“You gonna buy them?” Sanemi asks curiously, raising a brow slightly. Nezuko glances up at him shyly, a small frown on her lips.

“I don’t think so,” she says with a sigh, setting the bangles down, “They’re beautiful, but so expensive!” 

Sanemi lets out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“Don’t you and your brother get a Hashira’s salary?” 

He remembers Master Kiriya mentioning it during one of their last meetings. The Master had considered officially making Tanjiro a Hashira before disbanding the Corps but ultimately decided against it. Even so, both Kamado siblings had been granted the comfortable salary of a Hashira for their pivotal role in defeating Muzan.

“Well…yes,” Nezuko admits, pouting slightly. “But still. I just—I can’t spend that kind of money!”

Sanemi rolls his eyes dramatically and grabs the jade bangles without a word. He knows what it’s like to suddenly go from scraping by to having more money than you know what to do with. It takes time to accept that you’re allowed to spend it on luxuries and not just survival.

Before he can say anything, Nezuko flits to the next vendor—another jewelry stall with much cheaper wares. Sanemi glances at the bangles in his hand, then at her. She deserves better than cheap metal and fake stones. His decision is made in an instant.

“I’ll take these,” he grumbles to the seller, who lights up with a grin and quickly begins wrapping the purchase.

“That’ll be all?” the shopkeeper asks cheerily as Sanemi hands over the money.

“Yeah,” Sanemi replies, glancing toward Nezuko. The shopkeeper smiles warmly as they finish tying the ribbon on the package. 

“I’m sure your wife will appreciate it!”

Sanemi freezes, his brain fumbling for a response. He should correct them, explain that Nezuko isn’t his wife, but the words don’t seem to come.

“Thanks.” He mutters awkwardly, snatching the wrapped gift and heading toward Nezuko before the weight of the comment can settle any deeper. 

Nezuko turns as he approaches, her eyes immediately locking on the small package in his hands.

“Oh, did you buy something?” She asks, sounding both surprised and confused. 

Without a word, he juts the bag toward her, looking anywhere but her face. She takes it hesitantly, peeking inside. The moment she sees the contents, her eyes widen in shock.

“Sanemi!” Nezuko gasps, looking up at him, “You can’t buy me that!” 

Sanemi crosses his arms stubbornly, giving an indifferent shrug.

“I just did,” he replies casually, “It’s about to be your birthday, anyway.” 

Nezuko narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms to mirror his stance. She tries to look stern, but to Sanemi, it’s more cute than intimidating.

“And I’m sure you’ve already bought me something way more expensive than you should have!” She counters.

She isn’t wrong, but he’s not about to admit that. Instead, he shrugs again, feigning indifference. 

“Maybe. So what?” 

“Sanemi…” she begins, clearly torn, but her gaze softens as she looks at the bangles again.

“They’ll look good on you,” he says simply, his voice quieter now, “You deserve something nice.”

“You buy me nice things all the time,” she points out, though her tone is more amused than annoyed.

“Exactly,” Sanemi retorts with a slight smirk, “You think you’d be used to it by now.”

Nezuko’s mock sternness melts into something warmer. She clutches the bag to her chest, a small, gentle smile on her lips.

“You’re too kind to me.” She murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. Sanemi scoffs slightly, waving a hand dismissively. 

“Please, you deserve much more than that.” 

The depth of his own words hits him as soon as they leave his mouth, and his cheeks warm. Nezuko’s face flushes a soft pink as well, but before he can backtrack or say something gruff to cover his embarrassment, she steps closer.

Rising onto her tiptoes, Nezuko leans in and presses a light kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispers near his ear, her voice gentle. The warmth of her breath sends a chill down his spine. Sanemi clears his throat, quickly turning away as his face burns.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, trying to brush it off. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Nezuko giggles, the sound light and melodic, tugging at something in his chest. Without saying more, she spins around and continues flitting between the vendors, her energy unrelenting. Sanemi follows her, awkwardly stuffing his hands into his pockets as his cheeks continue to burn. 

Nezuko giggles, the sound light and melodic, tugging at something in Sanemi’s chest. Without saying more, she spins around and continues flitting between vendors, her energy unrelenting. Sanemi follows her, stuffing his hands into his pockets, his cheeks still warm.

The rest of their trip passes uneventfully. Nezuko picks up a few more small trinkets—a ribbon here, a quill there—before finally heading toward the food stalls. Sanemi almost forgot that was the whole reason they’d come to town. As she carefully gathers every ingredient she needs for the ohagi, her excitement bubbles over, her voice bubbly as she talks through her plans. Sanemi tries to listen, but his thoughts keep drifting to the memory of her lips against his skin, he tries not to imagine how it would feel in other places.

A familiar voice cuts through his wandering thoughts.

“Have you two gotten everything?”

Sanemi flinches slightly, turning to find Giyu standing beside him. The man’s sudden appearance startles Nezuko, who spins around to greet him, her face lighting up.

“Giyu!” she exclaims, “Yes, we’re almost done!” 

She glances down as if remembering something and eagerly reaches into her haori pocket. Pulling out the jade bangles, she holds them up proudly.

“Look what Sanemi got me!”

Her voice is filled with joy, and her eyes gleam as she shows off the gift. Sanemi’s face flushes a deep red, and he glances away, focusing on a crack on the cobblestone street.

Giyu raises a brow, his gaze shifting to Sanemi. His expression remains flat, but the barest flicker of amusement dances in his eyes.

“How nice of him,” Giyu says, his tone as neutral as ever, but there’s a faint curve to his lips that makes Sanemi scowl.

Nezuko, oblivious to the silent exchange, beams at the compliment before turning back to the vendor in front of her. She hands over her payment and gathers the last of her ingredients.

Sanemi shoots Giyu a glare, muttering under his breath,

“Don’t start.” Giyu’s small smile doesn’t waver. 

“I wasn’t going to,” he replies softly, his tone almost teasing.

Thank God the Uzuis aren’t here yet, Sanemi thinks with a grimace. They’d have had a field day with this.

With everything purchased, the three of them begin the long walk back to the Kamado household. Nezuko chatters happily while Sanemi keeps his head down, walking a step behind her and pointedly avoiding Giyu’s gaze. 

When they arrive back at the house, the faint scent of smoke lingers in the air—a fitting smell for a family of charcoal sellers, Sanemi thinks, grinning slightly. The others are scattered about the yard. Tanjiro trains with Inosuke while Kanao watches silently. Zenitsu snores loudly on the porch, sprawled out in a deep sleep, and Aoi bustles around, folding laundry and tidying up. Nezuko wastes no time darting toward the kitchen, setting down her basket with a bright smile.

“I’m going to get started!” she declares, rolling up her sleeves. She glances over her shoulder at Sanemi, who is still standing awkwardly near the door. “Shinazugawa, come help me!”

Sanemi’s brow furrows, and he crosses his arms instinctively.

“Help you? You don’t need help,” he points out, though there’s no real heat in his tone. Nezuko plants her hands on her hips, pouting at him. 

“I want you to help. It’ll be fun!”

Sanemi frowns slightly, glancing toward Giyu as if looking for an escape. The other man merely gives him a pointed look, then retreats back outside without a word.

“Fine,” Sanemi relents, sighing heavily. “But don’t expect much. I’m no cook.” Nezuko beams, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward the kitchen counter. 

“You’ll do great! I’ll show you how.”

He grumbles under his breath but doesn’t resist as she sets him up at the counter. The ingredients are laid out neatly, and she starts explaining the process with an enthusiasm that’s hard to resist.

“First, we’ll make the red bean paste,” Nezuko says, tying an apron around her waist. She pauses, grabbing a second one and holding it up to him expectantly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“It’s just an apron,” she laughs, shaking it at him. “Come on, it’s cute!” Sanemi rolls his eyes but takes it, tying it around himself with a huff. 

“Happy now?”

“Very,” she replies with a giggle.

They get to work, Nezuko walking him through each step with the patience of a saint. She shows him how to prepare the red bean paste, her hands moving carefully as she mashes the beans into a smooth consistency. Sanemi does his best to imitate her, but his movements are awkward and uncertain, resulting in an uneven, lumpy paste.

“Like this,” Nezuko says gently, guiding his hands with her own. Her touch is light but firm, and for a moment, he forgets to be annoyed.

Once the paste is done, they move on to shaping the rice balls and wrapping them in the red paste. Nezuko is quick and graceful, producing perfect, uniform ohagi that look almost too good to eat.

Sanemi’s on the other hand are… not as great. His rice balls are lumpy and uneven, and the bean paste keeps sticking to his hands no matter how much water he uses.

“Don’t laugh,” he warns as Nezuko covers her mouth, her shoulders shaking with suppressed giggles.

“I’m not laughing!” she insists, though her grin gives her away. She picks up one of his misshapen ohagi and holds it up to inspect. “It’s not bad! It’s just… unique.”

“Unique, huh?” Sanemi mutters, glaring at the sad-looking rice ball. Nezuko leans closer, nudging him playfully. 

“It’s cute! Besides, it’s not about how they look. It’s about how they taste.” Sanemi scoffs, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah, well I’m not even sure they’ll taste good at this rate.” He grumbles. 

Nezuko hums softly, and before Sanemi can comprehend what she’s doing, she grabs his paste covered hands and pops a finger in her mouth. Carefully, she runs her tongue across his skin, scraping the paste off and into her mouth before swallowing. 

“Tastes good to me.” She says softly, a sweet, innocent smile on her lips.

The action sucks the air straight out of his lungs, and all he can do is gape at her, eyes wide in shock. He can feel heat pooling in his stomach as he imagines the feeling of her tongue much lower, and the thought alone has his face heating up with shame. 

Nezuko steps closer, her eyes soft and searching as she peers up at him. Her teeth graze her lower lip nervously, as she speaks up.

“San—”

“How’s the ohagi coming?”

Tanjiro’s sudden cheerful voice causes the two to jump apart, shattering their moment once more. Nezuko’s cheeks turn bright red while Sanemi spins around, suddenly very interested in his lopsided ohagi.

“Uh…it’s good!” Nezuko squeaks, “We’ll be done soon.”

Sanemi grits his teeth, glaring at his ohagi as if it’s personally responsible for ruining his composure. Tanjiro, of course, doesn’t seem to notice the tension, beaming at them before heading back toward the yard.

Nezuko sneaks a glance at Sanemi, her cheeks still flushed. She bites back a smile as she shapes another perfect rice ball, leaving Sanemi to fumble with his next attempt in flustered silence.

Chapter Text

Sanemi avoids Nezuko for the rest of the night after their kitchen incident. Every time he so much as glances at her, his face heats with shame, and he can’t muster the courage to say more than a few curt words. He notices the way her smile falters each time he brushes her off, the hurt flickering in her eyes, but he convinces himself this is for the best.

Dinner passes without incident, though Sanemi remains unusually quiet. Even Giyu speaks more than he does. If anyone notices his sudden withdrawal, they don’t say anything. When Nezuko places a plate of ohagi in front of him, her hopeful eyes lingering on his face, guilt churns in his gut.

“Thanks,” he mutters, the words gruff and clipped as he forces himself to take a bite. It’s good—great, really—but he can’t bring himself to say so.

The disappointed look on her face stings, but he shoves the feeling down. It’s for the best, he reminds himself. As soon as his plate is clean, Sanemi rises abruptly. 

“I’m gonna turn in for the night,” he announces, his voice flat. “Tired.”

The statement earns a few surprised looks—especially from Tanjiro—but no one questions him. They offer murmured goodnights, and he quickly escapes to the zashiki, eager to be alone.

He sprawls out on the futon, staring at the ceiling. He’s not tired at all, but he can’t face anyone else tonight—especially not Nezuko. The memory of what happened in the kitchen replays in his mind, no matter how hard he tries to push it away. Her lips had been so soft, her touch so sweet, yet it had sent his thoughts spiraling into dangerous territory. And if Tanjiro had walked in just a second sooner…

Sanemi groans, dragging a hand down his face. If Tanjiro had seen her like that, with her lips wrapped around his finger, he’d probably kill Sanemi—and the former Hashira wouldn’t even try to fight back. There’s no way to explain it as anything other than what it looked like, and what it looked like was…

He swallows hard, shaking his head. No, he tells himself firmly, it wasn’t anything. It had to be nothing. The most logical explanation is that Nezuko hadn’t thought twice about the implications of her actions. She’s only just turning nineteen, for God’s sake. Nineteen. She couldn’t have possibly known what she was doing to him.

Still, the memory of her big, bright eyes and her small smile won’t leave him. The warmth of her tongue against his skin, the sweetness in her voice as she’d spoke, Tastes good to me —

Sanemi groans again, running a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. He has to get a grip. He’s acting like a complete idiot, a damn fool over something that wasn’t even intentional.

He considers leaving—packing up and disappearing before anything else can happen. It would be the smart thing to do. The right thing.

Yet he doesn’t move.

Instead, he just keeps staring blankly at the wooden beams above him. His jaw tightens as he thinks about Giyu. The man isn’t one to pry, but if he asks—even once—Sanemi knows himself well enough to know he’ll probably crack. He can already picture himself blurting out everything, confessing every messy feeling swirling around inside him.

Sanemi clenches his fists, pressing them against his eyes to block out the world.

“Dammit.” He mutters, already dreading the sleepless night ahead.

For the second night in a row, Sanemi doesn’t sleep. He lies awake for hours, staring at the dark ceiling and vaguely listening to the distant sounds of laughter and chatter from the main room. Eventually, the house falls silent, and Giyu enters the bedroom. Sanemi keeps his eyes closed, feigning sleep. Giyu, thankfully, doesn’t say a word. He simply settles into his futon and drifts off almost instantly.

Lucky bastard, Sanemi thinks bitterly.

The hours crawl by, and his mind refuses to give him peace. The memory of Nezuko’s actions replays on an endless loop, her soft smile, her bright eyes, the warmth of her tongue against his skin. It’s maddening. He wants—no, needs —to believe it was nothing, an innocent mistake, but his mind screams at him that it wasn’t. Nezuko isn’t stupid, and she’s not a kid, she knew what she was doing. 

It’s a ridiculous thought. Nezuko would never do something like that, even if she did feel that way for him—which she doesn’t. And she’s got no reason to. Sanemi isn’t the kind of man someone like Nezuko could ever fall for. He’s not gentle, not kind, not thoughtful. He wouldn’t write her poetry or pick her flowers or treat her like the delicate, precious person she is. Nezuko deserves someone good. Someone who’d spoil her, shower her with love and kindness, give her the world.

He isn’t that man. He never has been.

The sun is still a good hour or two away from rising, but Sanemi’s had enough. He throws off his blanket, rising quietly so as not to wake Giyu, and steps out into the cold air. He walks quickly toward the training yard, his movements swift and purposeful, as though he’s trying to outrun his own thoughts.

He didn’t bring his katana, so he snatches one of the wooden practice swords from the rack. The moment the hilt is in his hand, he begins to move.

His strikes are sloppy and unrefined, but they’re fast and powerful, each swing cutting through the air with deadly force. The blade doesn’t hit a target—it doesn’t need to. The point isn’t precision; it’s exhaustion. He pours everything into each movement: his anger, his confusion, his frustration.

The burn in his muscles comes quickly. He hasn’t trained this hard in weeks, and his body protests every movement. The stubs where his fingers used to be throb with phantom pain, but he grits his teeth and keeps going. Stopping isn’t an option. Stopping means letting his thoughts catch up with him, and that’s the last thing he needs. He strikes harder, faster, his breaths coming in ragged pants as the sun begins to rise. 

When he finally does quit, his muscles burn with overuse, his chest heaves, and his hands throb from gripping the practice sword too tightly. And yet, he doesn’t feel better. Not even a little. He lets the wooden blade fall to the ground with a heavy thud, exhaling sharply.

Sanemi rakes a hand through his damp hair, groaning softly. How is he supposed to survive seven more days of this? Seven more days of her bright smile, her soft laugh, her eyes on him, making him feel things he has no business feeling. He considers leaving early. Maybe after her birthday, he could just slip out. It’d be rude—he knows it. It’d be improper to leave without staying the extra two days he agreed to.

Proper.

 It feels like nothing Sanemi does these days is proper. He’s never been a real gentleman—not like Tanjiro—but once upon a time, he’d been a proper man. He never disrespected the girls he worked with. He never leered at Kanroji’s uniform the way most of the others did. He treated Shinobu like a sister, Kanae with the utmost respect. Hell, he treated women better than most men he knew, because that’s how his mother raised him.

The thought tightens something in his chest.

She’d be ashamed to see him now. Damn near writing love letters to a girl three years younger than him, letting her call him by his given name, strolling around town with her unchaperoned, nearly losing himself in that moment in the kitchen. And worst of all, the way he can’t stop thinking about her.

He remembers how he used to lay into Masao for the way the bastard ogled Kanroji and the Kocho sisters, always hanging around them like some mangy dog. And now? Now Sanemi’s the one following Nezuko around like a damn lost puppy.

What the hell happened to me?

The sound of a soft sniffle yanks Sanemi back to reality, his head snapping up as he scans the area. It takes him a moment, but eventually, his gaze lands on a familiar figure huddled beneath a distant tree. Knees pulled to her chest, face buried against them. 

Nezuko. Of course it’s Nezuko. Sometimes Sanemi really believes the universe just has a personal vendetta against him—he’d certainly deserve it. He should leave her alone. He’s likely the reason she’s crying in the first place. Walking away would be the smart thing to do. But before he can stop himself, his legs are already carrying him forward, his steps quick and deliberate.

When he gets close, Nezuko glances up, her tear-streaked face catching him like a punch to the gut. Her wide, startled eyes meet his briefly before darting back to the ground.

Sanemi lowers himself beside her, the crunch of snow beneath him the only sound breaking the quiet.

“Look,” Sanemi sighs, looking at his hands rather than her, “I’m sorry for ignoring you yesterday. I j—”

“It’s okay,” Nezuko interrupts, her voice quiet and weak, “I understand.”

She really doesn’t, but Sanemi doesn’t point that out.

“It’s not okay,” he says instead, “It was rude.”

Nezuko doesn’t respond, and the two fall into an awkward silence. Sanemi hates it—hates the tension, hates seeing her like this, and most of all, hates that he’s the one who caused it. He’s wracking his brain for something to say when her soft voice slices through the stillness.

“Zenitsu asked me to marry him last night.” 

Sanemi freezes, his blood running ice-cold.

That bastard.

Of course he did. Sanemi always knew this day would come—it’s a miracle it didn’t come sooner—but knowing doesn’t make it sting any less.

“You accept?” The words feel like blades scraping out of his throat, but he manages to get them out. He braces himself, dreading her answer. He has no right to be angry if she says yes. It’s her life, her choice—but damn if his chest doesn’t feel like it’s caving in on itself.

“I haven’t answered,” Nezuko answers softly, “He told me I could think about it. He wants to announce it on my birthday.” 

Sanemi clenches his jaw, teeth grinding together. Great. How thoughtful of the brat to give her time to decide, as if that earns him any favor in Sanemi’s eyes.

“You gonna accept?” He asks again, forcing the question out like it’s some kind of test.

Nezuko lifts her head from her knees, her watery eyes locking onto his. There’s something raw in her gaze, something that twists the knife already lodged in his chest.

“Do you think I should?” She asks softly, her tone sincere.

Every instinct in his body is screaming at him to say no. To tell her she’s too good for Zenitsu, that she deserves someone better. But it’s not his choice—it’s not his place.

He shrugs, trying to keep his expression neutral, like it doesn’t kill him to say the words.

“You should do whatever makes you happy.”

Nezuko’s body tenses beside him, her arms tightening around her knees. She doesn’t say anything at first, but the shift in her demeanor is impossible to ignore. Finally, she breaks the silence, her voice low and hesitant.

“Why are you here?”

Sanemi furrows his brow, caught off guard by the question. He shifts uncomfortably on the cold ground, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Because you invited me.”

She shakes her head quickly, cutting him off before he can say more. 

“No,” she says, tone sharper than before, “Why are you here? With me?”

The question hits him like a blow to the chest, knocking the air from his lungs. Sanemi’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He tries to speak, to give her something—anything—but nothing feels right. 

“I…” he stammers, his voice trailing off as his throat tightens.

Nezuko waits for a moment, her expression a mixture of frustration and something else—something more vulnerable. But when no answer comes, she lets out a bitter scoff, the sound cutting through him like a blade.

“Forget it.” Her voice cracks slightly, but she doesn’t linger. She pushes herself to her feet, brushing the snow off her kimono.

Sanemi reaches for her, his hand twitching like it’s caught in a tug-of-war between impulse and restraint. 

“Nezuko, I—”

But she’s already walking away, her steps hurried and uneven as she heads back toward the house. The door slides open, then slams shut behind her, leaving Sanemi alone in the quiet, snow-covered yard. For a moment, he just sits there, staring blankly at the spot where she’d been. The cold seeps into his skin, but he barely feels it. His chest feels hollow, his heart heavy with an ache he doesn’t know how to name.

What just happened?

Chapter Text

Now, it's Nezuko who avoids Sanemi. At breakfast, she doesn’t speak to him once, even when he tries to start a conversation. The most he gets is a small hum or, on rare occasions, a clipped one-word answer. It’s painfully obvious to him that everyone else notices, but thankfully, they keep their mouths shut. Sanemi doubts he could handle their questions right now.

Once their meal is completed, Nezuko quickly busies herself with cleaning, insisting on helping even as Aoi tries to step in. Sanemi recognizes the tactic—he’d done the same thing earlier, throwing himself into training to escape his thoughts. He can’t fault her for it, but he wishes she’d at least look at him. Even as she clears his place at the table, she doesn’t meet his gaze.

As the day passes, Nezuko continues to ignore him. Even at dinner, she doesn't spare him so much as a glance. With a frustrated huff, Sanemi pushes his chair back and excuses himself, ignoring the questioning looks from the others as he heads to the training yard. He holds the wooden sword in his hands, intent on burying himself in training once again. But his limbs don’t move. He just stands there, frozen, the sword weighing heavily in his hands. 

Suddenly, a hand appears, gently pulling the weapon from his grasp. Sanemi’s head snaps up, and his wide eyes meet Giyu’s calm, knowing ones. Giyu gives him a small, almost sympathetic smile before walking away, putting the training katana away. When Giyu returns, the two men sit down on the training yard, the air oddly tense between them.

“You’ve been quiet.” Giyu says. Sanemi knows what he really means: What happened?

That quality Sanemi has come to appreciate feels grating now, even though he knows that isn’t fair. He should be grateful his friend isn’t forcing him to speak, but he doesn’t want subtlety or patience right now. He doesn’t want to play this game.

“I’m always quiet,” Sanemi snaps, though his tone lacks its usual bite.

“Not like this.” Giyu shoots back, unbothered. 

Sanemi looks away, glaring at the snow-covered ground. His fists clench against his thighs, the tension in his body wound tight enough to snap. 

“She’s mad at me.” He mutters eventually. 

“You should apologize.” Giyu says simply, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. The remark earns a small scoff from Sanemi.

“You don’t even know what happened.” Sanemi points out, garnering a small shrug from Giyu.

“No,” he admits, glancing over at Sanemi with a barely visible smirk, “But I know you.” Sanemi lets out a humorless laugh.

“I’m not even sure what I did,” he confesses after a beat. Giyu looks at him, tilting his head slightly as he waits for more, “She just…asked me why I was here.”

“What did you say?” Giyu asks quietly.

“Because she invited me.” Sanemi mutters, shifting uncomfortably. Giyu gives him an unimpressed look, frowning slightly.

“You really are an idiot sometimes.”

Sanemi’s mouth falls open, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Fuck you,” he spits out, but there’s really no heat behind it. He can’t even be mad, Giyu’s right, “I don’t…what the hell was I supposed to say?” 

“The truth.” Giyu answers, like the solution is simple. Sanemi huffs, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t even know what that is.” he mumbles quietly, staring at the ground.

“You do.” Giyu retorts, his voice level and calm. Sanemi glances up at him, frowning. He can’t even think of a good comeback, Giyu’s right once again. 

“I just—”

A loud commotion from inside the house cuts him off. Both men snap their heads toward the sound, their instincts kicking in. The noise isn’t the usual chaos of their home—it’s angrier, sharper. Without exchanging a word, they both leap to their feet, sprinting toward the source of the disturbance.

Inside the main room, the atmosphere is thick with tension. Nezuko stands in the center, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. Across from her is Zenitsu, his face red with anger, voice raised in frustration. Tanjiro and Aoi hover uneasily, both trying—and evidently failing—to diffuse the situation. Inosuke and Kanao sit off to the side, quietly observing, though their postures suggest they’re ready to intervene if things escalate further.

“What the hell is going on?” Sanemi demands as he strides into the room, his voice slicing through the heated argument. Everyone turns to look at him and Giyu, a mixture of relief and apprehension on their faces. 

“She’s being unreasonable!” Zenitsu shouts, thrusting a trembling finger at Nezuko, “I’m trying to talk to her about our future, but she won’t even listen!”

Sanemi’s eyes dart to Nezuko, her lips are pressed into a thin line, her jaw tight as she stares Zenitsu down.

“Maybe because you’re talking at her instead of to her,” Aoi interjects, her voice sharp with frustration. But Zenitsu waves her off, his arms flailing dramatically as he turns back to Nezuko.

 “I’m trying to be a good husband! What’s wrong with wanting to plan our lives together?” 

Sanemi’s teeth grind audibly as his fists curl at his sides. His gaze flickers briefly to Nezuko, then back to Zenitsu, who seems oblivious to how ridiculous he sounds.

“I haven’t agreed to be your wife!” Nezuko snaps, her voice louder than anyone’s heard in a long time. Zenitsu stares at her, blinking in shock. His mouth opens and closes as though his brain is struggling to comprehend her words.

“But I did everything!” he cries, his tone growing shriller. “I brought you flowers, a hairpin, and—and I got Tanjiro’s permission!”

“I didn’t ask for any of that!” Nezuko spits back, clearly unimpressed by Zenitsu’s whining. Her rejection only seems to fuel Zenitsu’s frustration, his mouth twitching into a deep scowl.

“Oh, what? Because you want that asshole?” He spits, thrusting a finger directly at Sanemi.

The room falls into stunned silence, no one speaking for a long moment. Sanemi’s entire body tenses, his fists tightening even further. His expression darkens, his eyes narrowing into a deadly glare.

“Careful,” Sanemi warns, his voice low and dangerous.

But Zenitsu doesn’t back down. Either he doesn’t notice the warning in Sanemi’s tone, or he’s too consumed by his anger to care. Instead, he lets out a harsh, mocking laugh.

“What, you think you’re subtle?” Zenitsu sneers, his voice dripping with disdain, “Always creeping around her, trying to pull her away—you think I don’t see it? She’s mine!”

Sanemi grits his teeth, his temper hanging by a thread. 

“She doesn’t belong to you,” he growls through clenched teeth, “She doesn’t belong to anyone.” Zenitsu steps closer, his face red with fury.

“You don’t know anything!” he shouts, glaring up at Sanemi, “I’ve done everything for her! She owes me—”

“She doesn’t owe you a damn thing,” Sanemi cuts him off, voice cold as ice, “You’d know that if you actually gave a shit about anyone other than yourself.”

“And what, you think you’re better for her?” Zenitsu snarls, taking another step forward, “Like she’d ever choose someone like you over me?”

“I don’t think anything,” Sanemi snaps, “I don’t think she’s property like you do.”

“Just stay out of it!” Zenitsu practically screeches, “You’re nothing but a bitter old man!” Sanemi scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And you’re a delusional brat.” He spits back, not caring if he’s being childish. Zenitsu’s hands curl into trembling fists, taking yet another step towards Sanemi.

“She’s just selfish! After ever—”

Sanemi doesn’t even register the moment his control snaps. His body moves on its own, his fist swinging forward and colliding with Zenitsu’s nose. The crack of bone echoes in the room as Zenitsu stumbles back, clutching his face. Blood spills between his fingers, his eyes widening in shock as he stares at Sanemi.

“Sanemi!” 

He vaguely registers the sound of Nezuko’s voice, it sounds distant, almost underwater. 

Before he can throw another punch, Sanemi forces himself to turn, his body trembling with barely restrained fury. He shoves past Giyu, storming out of the house without another word. 

Chapter Text

The cold air hits Sanemi like a slap as he steps outside, but it does little to cool the fire raging in his chest. He doesn’t stop until he’s well away from the house, the crunch of snow beneath his boots the only sound in the stillness. 

Finally, he comes to a halt, letting out a guttural shout. He slams his fist into a tree, imagining it’s the brat’s face. Blood trickles down his hand, staining the pristine snow below. It’s fine. The pain is necessary, grounding. Sanemi leans against the tree, his breath coming in harsh puffs. Slowly, he slides down until he’s sitting on the frozen ground, his head sinking into his hands.

What the fuck did he just do? What the hell was he thinking? He had no right to interfere like that. No right to lose his temper—not like this. But he couldn’t just let that bastard insult Nezuko like that, either. 

Sanemi grits his teeth. He could take the hits—he’s been called far worse than “asshole” or “bitter old man.” But to hear Zenitsu talk about Nezuko like that, like she was some prize to be claimed, like she owed him something...

No. Sanemi would never tolerate that.

The minutes drag by, his thoughts swirling in a chaotic loop. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, the cold seeping into his bones, numbing everything except his aching hand. It must be at least half an hour before the faint sound of crunching snow reaches his ears.

Sanemi looks up, expecting to see Giyu or Tanjiro—or maybe even Zenitsu, back for another round. But instead, it’s Nezuko.

Her cheeks are streaked with the faint lines of dried tears, her expression unreadable. She doesn’t say a word as she steps closer, stopping a few feet away. Sanemi glances away in shame, refusing to meet her eye.

“You should go back inside,” he mutters, his voice gruff and low. “It’s cold out here.”

Nezuko doesn’t answer, instead crouching down in the snow in front of him. Sanemi’s eyes widen slightly as she reaches for his hand, the bloodied knuckles still trembling from his earlier outburst. She pulls out a small cloth, likely one she grabbed on the way out, and begins dabbing at the wounds gently.

“You don’t need to do that,” Sanemi mumbles, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

But Nezuko ignores him. Her touch remains careful, deliberate, as she cleans the blood from his hand. The silence stretches between them, broken only by the faint rustle of wind

After a while, Nezuko finally speaks, her voice quiet. 

“What was that about?”

Sanemi exhales slowly, leaning his head back against the tree. He stares up at the sky, trying to focus on the clouds instead of her unreadable expression. Is she angry at him? Disappointed? Disgusted?

“I couldn’t sit there and let him talk about you like that,” he admits, hesitantly meeting her gaze, “It…pissed me off.” Nezuko frowns slightly, her hands stilling for a moment.

“Why do you care?”

Sanemi freezes.

He knows why. He’s known for a long time, even if he’s never said it aloud. But now, with the question hanging between them, the words refuse to come. Instead, he pulls his hand away gently, his movements stiff as he pushes himself back to his feet. His legs feel unsteady, but he forces them to carry him a few steps away from her.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says gruffly, his back turned to her now, “I’ll get ready to leave.”

He takes a step, and then another, intent on packing as quickly as possible and getting out of this mess. He’ll make things right with Tanjiro and Aoi—but certainly not Zenitsu—until Nezuko’s small voice stops him.

“Do you…” she starts, her voice cracking slightly. He glances over his shoulder, his chest tightening at the sight of fresh tears slipping down her cheeks, “Do you not like me?”

Her voice is raw, trembling with something that sounds almost like fear. Her lip quivers as she tries to keep herself steady, her hands clutching at the fabric of her kimono.

“Nezuko…”

“If you don’t like me, just tell me,” she sobs, her voice growing louder. Her fists clench tighter, her entire body shaking, “I just… I thought we…” she trails off, letting out a bitter scoff as she looks away, “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“I…” Sanemi stammers, trying to find the right thing to say. He should lie to her. He should say he doesn’t feel the same way, let her go and save her the heartache of being tied to someone like him. But he can’t bring himself to do it.

“I’m…I’m no good for you, Nezuko.” he whispers, voice cracking slightly. She looks back up at him sharply, her tears replaced by something else. Something fierce.

“You don’t get to decide that,” she grits out, her voice rising as she stomps closer. Before he can react, she shoves a finger against his chest, practically vibrating with anger, “I’m not a kid! I’m not an object or a pet!” 

“I don’t think—”

“Then stop treating me like I don’t know what I’m doing!” she shouts, cutting him off, “I don’t want to be treated like glass, I don’t want twenty stages of courtship, I don’t want Zenitsu, I want you!”

Her words slam into him like a blow, knocking the air from his lungs. He stares at her, stunned, his heart pounding in his chest as her words hang between them. Before he can form a response, she speaks again, her voice quieter now.

“So please,” she says, her tone almost pleading as a single tear slips down her cheek, “If you don’t feel the same, if you… if you don’t want me, just… just tell me.”

Without thinking, Sanemi raises his hand. His rough thumb brushes against her soft skin, wiping the tear from her cheek. She freezes under his touch, her eyes wide, shimmering with unshed tears, and so, so vulnerable.

Sanemi knows what he should do. He should deny her. He should step back, put a wall between them, and force her to see that he’s not what she needs—what she deserves. He’s too broken, too scarred, too much of everything she doesn’t need. But with her looking at him like that, like he’s the only thing she wants in the world, how can he possibly say no?

Before he can second-guess himself, before the self-loathing can creep back in and take over, he takes a step forward. Sanemi leans down, his hand gently cupping her face as he presses his lips to hers.

It’s hesitant at first, almost unsure. His lips brush against hers lightly, as though he expects her to pull away at any moment. But she doesn’t. Instead, Nezuko leans into him, her hands reaching up to grip the front of his haori as she kisses him back. Her movements are just as desperate as his, her lips warm and soft against his own.

The kiss deepens, and Sanemi lets himself get lost in the sensation. For once, he doesn’t think about what he should or shouldn’t do, doesn’t let the crushing weight of his own doubts stop him. He just focuses on her—the way she fits against him perfectly, like a puzzle piece, the softness of her lips against his, and the quiet, shaky breath she lets out when they finally part.

They pull back just enough to look at each other, their foreheads nearly touching. Nezuko’s cheeks are flushed, her breath coming in soft, uneven pants, but her eyes are steady.

“Nezuko…” he starts, his voice low.

“Don’t,” she cuts him off, shaking her head, “Don’t push me away again.” Her voice is soft, pleading—impossible to resist. 

“Okay…” Sanemi whispers, swallowing hard, “I won’t.”

The two linger for a moment longer, the winter air biting at their skin, but neither wanting to let go just yet. Nezuko nuzzles against Sanemi’s chest, her small frame fitting perfectly against him. His arms tighten around her instinctively, holding her as though letting go might shatter the fragile peace between them.

Sanemi brushes his thumb gently over her cheek and leans down to press a soft kiss to her hair. But when he feels her shiver against him, he pulls back slightly, concern flickering in his eyes.

“You’re freezing,” he mutters, his voice tender and low as his thumb trails across her bottom lip, “We should go inside.” Nezuko pouts at his words, her brows knitting together as she looks up at him. 

“Can I have one more kiss first?” she asks, her voice quiet but filled with a hopeful sweetness that tugs at Sanemi’s heart.

God, she has no idea what she does to him.

Sanemi exhales softly, nodding before leaning down again. This time, their kiss is gentle and slow, spurred by tenderness rather than desperation.

When they part, Sanemi lingers close, their foreheads touching as a small smile plays on his lips.

 “Your lips are cold,” he murmurs, his tone light. Nezuko lets out a soft laugh, her cheeks glowing a faint pink. 

“Okay, okay,” she relents, her voice teasing, “Let’s go back inside.”

When they return, everyone is gathered in the main room—except Zenitsu. The group falls into a hush as the two enter, the tension lighter than before but still present. Sanemi hesitates, scanning the room for a moment before his land on Tanjiro. He clears his throat awkwardly, taking a small step forward.

“Listen,” he begins nervously, “I shouldn’t have done that. I lost my temper, I’m sorry.”

Tanjiro looks up from where he’s sitting, his usual bright smile replaced by a thoughtful expression. At least he doesn’t seem angry, Sanemi notes with relief. Rising to his feet, Tanjiro steps closer, his stance calm but steady.

“You shouldn’t have,” Tanjiro agrees, though the corners of his mouth twitch into a faint smile, “But…thank you for standing up for Nezuko. I probably would have done it if you hadn’t.”

Sanemi snorts, a wry smirk tugging at his lips as he recalls the time Tanjiro broke his nose for threatening Nezuko. He hated it then—this kid standing up to a Hashira—but now, he can’t help but respect the guts it must’ve taken.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, shaking his head, “I don’t doubt that.”  Beside him, Nezuko fidgets, her gaze darting across the room nervously. 

“Where…where did Zenitsu go?” She asks softly, her voice tinged with guilt.

At her question, Aoi rises from her seat, walking over to them both She places a comforting hand on Nezuko’s arm, her tone soft in a way Sanemi hasn’t heard before.

“Said he was going home,” she explains, “The Thunder Estate, I think. Don’t worry about him. Are you okay?” 

Nezuko blushes slightly, looking down guiltily. 

“I’m fine,” she mutters shyly, “I’m sorry, I shou—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Sanemi interrupts, his tone stern, “You don’t owe him anything.” It looks like she might argue, but Tanjiro steps in before she can.

“He’s right,” he says, his voice reassuring, “Zenitsu will be okay. I’m sure he’ll be back soon, he just needs some time to cool off.”

Sanemi clenches his jaw, biting back the urge to say that he hopes the brat doesn’t come back at all. Now isn’t the time for that, no matter how satisfying it would feel.

“Exactly,” Aoi agrees, brushing a small tuft of hair out of Nezuko’s face, “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’ll all work out.”

The gentle words seem to ease Nezuko’s guilt, though she still fidgets nervously. Sanemi places a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring. The simple gesture steadies her, and she offers him a small, tentative smile.

And then, the moment shatters.

“Are you mating with Nezuko?”

The room freezes as Inosuke’s question slices through the moment like a blade. 

Every pair of eyes swivels toward him, wide with shock. Tanjiro’s mouth falls open in silent disbelief, Aoi’s hand jerks away from Nezuko, and even Giyu’s usually impassive face betrays a rare look of astonishment. 

“What the hell?!” Sanemi shouts, his voice a mix of outrage and mortification. His face flushes crimson as he glares at Inosuke, who tilts his head, looking genuinely confused by the reaction.

“That’s what Aoi and I are doing,” Inosuke replies casually, his tone completely devoid of embarrassment. Sanemi slaps a hand over his face, dragging it down as he groans. 

“Oh, for the love of—”

The room descends into chaos.

“Oh God,” Tanjiro mutters, his face bright red.

“Oh!” Kanao gasps, covering her mouth in shock.

“What?!” Nezuko shrieks, her cheeks blazing as she gapes at Inosuke.

“INOSUKE!” Aoi’s voice rings out sharply as she storms over to the oblivious boy. Without hesitation, she smacks him across the head with a loud whack.

“We are COURTING, not MATING!” she shouts, her face as red as a tomato. Inosuke rubs his head, looking more confused than chastised. 

“But we—”

“SHUT UP!” Aoi screeches, cutting him off before he can make the situation worse. 

The room falls silent once more, everyone frozen in the wake of Aoi’s outburst. And then, a soft noise breaks through.

Of all people, it starts with Kanao. She clamps a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. The absurdity of the situation seems to hit her all at once, and a small giggle escapes before she can stop it.

The sound is like a spark igniting dry kindling. 

Tanjiro is next, letting out a shaky, nervous chuckle that quickly grows louder. Nezuko, though clearly flustered, can’t help but snort, which sets her off completely. Even Giyu’s lips twitch, his shoulders shaking slightly as he covers his mouth with his hand. 

And then it’s as if the whole room has been set off. 

Nearly hysterical laughter erupts from everyone, even Aoi in her anger can’t help but give in, devolving into a fit of giggles. The tension in the room fades easily now, the chaos of today seeming to fade away. Sanemi can’t help but chuckle along, shaking his head in disbelief. 

They’re all idiots, he thinks, but they’re his idiots. 

Chapter Text

With amends made and emotions still running high, the Kamado household quietly makes its way to bed. After brief goodbyes, Sanemi and Giyu head to their shared room. The door clicks softly behind them as Sanemi closes it. When he turns, he’s surprised to find Giyu lingering nearby, standing closer than expected.

They lock eyes for a moment, the silence between them heavy. Giyu’s calm, knowing gaze seems to bore into Sanemi, seeing more than Sanemi is ready to admit out loud.

“You and Nezuko were outside for a while,” Giyu says finally, his tone as neutral as ever, though the weight behind the words leaves little room for ambiguity.

Sanemi’s jaw tightens instinctively—though out of nerves rather than anger. He’s certain Giyu has already guessed exactly what happened. The man has always been perceptive, but never one to jump to conclusions.

“We… made up,” Sanemi mutters, shifting awkwardly. He tries to come off nonchalant, but there’s no hiding the warmth creeping into his ears.

A small, hardly visible smile tugs at Giyu’s lips. He nods once, offering a quiet, “Good.”

Sanemi huffs in response, waving Giyu off in a poor attempt to mask his embarrassment. The whole situation makes him feel ridiculous—a grown man acting like a schoolboy with a crush. It’s absurd. Yet here he is, fumbling over the thought of a kiss like it’s something monumental.

Slipping past Giyu, Sanemi quickly pulls off his day clothes, eager to settle into the relative safety of sleep. Behind him, he hears Giyu following suit, the sound of rustling fabric and quiet footsteps filling the room. Soon, Giyu slides under the covers, settling into a deep, undisturbed sleep almost instantly—as always.

Sanemi, however, finds no such ease. He lies on his back, staring up at the wooden ceiling, his mind far from quiet.

The kiss with Nezuko replays vividly behind his eyelids—the way her lips felt against his, the warmth of her touch, the unspoken emotions that lingered between them in that quiet forest clearing. It was unexpected, and completely disarming. He’s always prided himself on his ability to stay in control, to keep his true emotions in check, but with Nezuko, none of those walls seem to hold.

He huffs softly into the dark, scrubbing a hand over his face. This isn’t the time for daydreaming—or nightdreaming, for that matter—but his thoughts refuse to settle. Her smile, her soft laughter, the way she looked at him… it’s all etched into his mind, making sleep a distant possibility.

For years, he’s believed there was no place for softness in his life, no space for tender connections or moments of vulnerability. His path as a Demon Slayer demanded strength and solitude. But now the war is over. And with Nezuko, he’s beginning to question if maybe—just maybe—there’s room for something more. The thought shouldn't feel so overwhelming, and yet it does.

Sanemi closes his eyes, determined to at least attempt sleep. The memory of her smile lingers as he finally begins to drift off, his mind settling just enough to let exhaustion take over.

When Sanemi awakens in the morning, his eyes are still heavy with sleep—though there’s a rare sense of ease clinging to him. His body aches less than usual, and for the first time in days, he feels like he’s actually rested. The lingering warmth of his dreams fades slowly as he pushes himself upright, running a hand through his messy hair.

Across the room, Giyu is already fully dressed, simply brushing off his haori. Despite being ready to leave, he waits, leaning slightly against the wall as Sanemi stretches and lets out a low groan, the sound of joints cracking filling the room.

“Could’ve woken me up,” Sanemi mutters, voice rough from sleep.

Giyu simply shrugs. “You needed it.”

Sanemi snorts softly, pulling on the first set of clothes he finds in his bag. They’re wrinkled, but he couldn’t care less. The two then make their way to the dining room, the enticing aroma of freshly cooked food pulling them along.

Most of the others are already gathered around the table by the time they arrive. Tanjiro greets them with his usual brightness, Kanao sits quietly, and Inosuke, as always, looks ready to leap into action despite the early hour. The only ones missing are Nezuko and Aoi, who Sanemi figures are in the kitchen finishing preparations.

Sanemi lowers himself onto a cushion near the table, rubbing a hand across his face as he tries to fully shake off the remnants of sleep. Before he can settle too deeply into his thoughts, Kanao’s soft voice cuts through.

“Shinazugawa.”

He glances over, one brow raised in question. Kaburamaru rests lazily around her neck, the serpent’s tongue flicking idly at the air. Kanao smiles gently, a faint spark of challenge in her usually calm gaze.

“Would you like to train after breakfast?”

Sanemi huffs, a sound somewhere between a laugh and disbelief. “I’m not what I used to be.”

Kanao’s grin widens just slightly, her expression teasing but warm. “Neither am I.”

He considers brushing off the invitation, but something about her—and maybe a little of his own stubborn pride—makes him pause.

“Fine,” he mutters, nodding. “But I won’t go easy on you.”

“I wouldn't expect you to,” Kanao replies smoothly, looking satisfied as she turns her attention back to the table.

The conversation lingers in Sanemi’s mind longer than he’d like, but any further thoughts are cut short by the sound of footsteps and the clinking of dishes. Nezuko and Aoi step into the room, arms laden with trays of steaming food. The bright energy they bring shifts the atmosphere instantly, lifting the last traces of morning lethargy from the group.

Sanemi tells himself his heart doesn’t skip at the sight of Nezuko—though it most certainly does. Her eyes catch his for just a second, and he’s sure there’s something warm in her gaze, something lingering from their quiet moment the night before. He looks away quickly, focusing instead on the food being set down before him.

“It looks amazing,” Tanjiro beams as he thanks both girls.

“You outdid yourselves,” Giyu adds, ever polite.

Aoi waves off the praise with a small smile, but Nezuko’s cheeks flush faintly pink, clearly pleased. Sanemi catches himself watching her for too long and forces his attention to the plate before him, willing his pulse to steady.

Ridiculous. You’re not some kid—pull yourself together.

But as Nezuko’s soft laughter fills the room, Sanemi knows that controlling his emotions around her is becoming harder by the day. 

Once the meal is finished, Tanjiro and Nezuko take charge of clearing the dishes, perfectly in sync as they work together. Aoi and Inosuke vanish from the dining room without comment, likely off on some wild adventure of Inosuke’s making. Sanemi watches them go with a raised brow but decides it’s not his problem—whatever chaos Inosuke stirs up today is Aoi’s problem now.

A beat later, Kanao appears by his side, her usual quiet presence oddly charged this morning. When she gestures subtly toward the training yard, Sanemi nods in understanding. The two step out into the open air, where the morning sun casts long shadows across the ground.

Sanemi scans the training yard, familiar memories stirring as he steps into the small shed that holds the practice weapons. He grabs one of the wooden katanas, gripping it loosely. The weight is light in his hand compared to the real thing, but the feel of the weapon brings a strange sense of comfort nonetheless.

A shift in the air makes him pause. He senses Kanao standing close—closer than expected. When he turns, she’s right there, katana in hand and expression unreadable.

“What?” he asks, his brow furrowing in mild confusion. For a moment, she doesn’t respond. Then, with a rare directness, Kanao speaks.

“Thank you,” she says softly, “For protecting Nezuko last night.”

Sanemi’s chest tightens at her words, though he forces a scoff, waving her off as if it’s nothing. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Kanao’s lips curve into a small but knowing smile. “It wasn’t nothing.” Her tone carries a gentle firmness that leaves no room for argument. “You care about her. I can see that.” She pauses for a moment, her voice softening even further. “I hope you’ll keep making her happy.”

Heat rises to Sanemi’s face at the implication, and he turns his head slightly, hoping to hide his embarrassment. He fumbles for a deflection, muttering, “Not sure your golden boy over there shares the same sentiment.”

Kanao tilts her head slightly, amusement flickering in her gaze. “You didn’t exactly leave a great impression as a Demon Slayer,” she admits with a teasing lilt, “But Tanjiro just wants Nezuko to be happy. Whoever that’s with.” Her smile turns sly. “Why do you think he let Zenitsu propose?”

Sanemi blinks, momentarily thrown. “So he didn’t…?”

Kanao shakes her head, her expression slightly mischievous. “Tanjiro gave Zenitsu permission to ask her months ago, but he never approved of him. Nezuko deserves someone…more mature.”

Sanemi groans, running a hand through his hair, but Kanao only laughs lightly, brushing the conversation aside as she takes a few steps back and lifts her practice katana. “Come on, Shinazugawa. Time to train.”

“Hmph,” Sanemi grumbles, though there’s no real bite to it. He hefts his own weapon and exits the shed, stepping into position. “Don’t hold back just ‘cause I’m out of practice.”

Kanao’s eyes gleam with a quiet determination. “I wasn’t planning to.”

Despite himself, Sanemi smirks. The morning air hums with energy as they square off, ready to push each other to their limits and shake off the weight of yesterday’s troubles in the only way they both know how.

The sharp clatter of clashing wood echoes across the training yard as the two swordsmen push each other to the limit. Each swing of their katanas lands with precision, neither fighter giving an inch. Despite past injuries dulling Sanemi’s edge, he finds himself impressed by Kanao’s skill. Even if she’s not quite at her peak anymore, her movements are fluid, controlled, and measured—he doesn’t doubt she could have become a Hashira in other circumstances. 

Kaburamaru rests coiled on her shoulder, his body alert and watchful, likely communicating with Kanao the way he once did with Obanai. He’s glad to see the two share that same bond, though he’s sure the serpent misses Obanai as much as Sanemi does. 

Every step Kanao takes reminds Sanemi of the Kocho sisters, as well. Her grip on the hilt, the faint tilt of her head when preparing a strike—there’s an uncanny resemblance to the gentle yet fierce style Kanae once wielded. Her light steps and lightning-fast speed belong to Shinobu, however. It unsettles him how much she reminds him of the sisters, though he shoves the feeling down, refusing to let his focus waver.

Their katanas lock once again, neither ever truly gaining the upper hand, and time slips past unnoticed. Dust kicks up beneath their feet as their movements slow, muscles tiring but resolve steady. Eventually, the intensity begins to wane, and with one final clash, both fighters step back, chests heaving from exertion.

Sanemi wipes a bead of sweat from his brow and looks up—only to catch sight of Nezuko standing nearby, her expression soft and amused. The smile tugging at her lips sends a jolt through him, heating his face before he can control it. He forces himself to stay composed, rolling his shoulders to appear indifferent.

Kanao, of course, notices everything. Her eyes gleam mischievously as she shoots Sanemi a knowing grin. Without a word, she turns toward the shed to put away her practice katana. Sanemi follows, both moving in silence. As they place their weapons on the rack, Kanao’s pace quickens.

“I’ll leave you two,” she says lightly, slipping past him before he can respond. The playful note in her voice sets his nerves on edge.

“What the—?” Sanemi starts, but Kanao’s already gone, the door creaking closed behind her.

A soft shuffle of feet draws his attention back to the shed, where Nezuko now stands just inside. The gentle blush coloring her cheeks makes his heart stutter in his chest, though he works hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Hi,” Nezuko says softly, taking a step closer. 

“Hey,” he replies, though his voice is gruffer than intended.

The silence between them stretches, comfortable yet charged. Nezuko hesitates for a beat before speaking again. “You’re really good,” she says, a note of admiration in her tone, “It was amazing to watch.”

Sanemi snorts lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Kanao certainly made me work for it. I’m just trying not to look washed-up.”

Nezuko laughs, soft and genuine, and the sound eases some of his tension. “You don’t look washed-up,” she assures him, “Besides, I think you did more than just try.”

Sanemi shakes his head, though a small smirk tugs at his lips despite himself. “You’re too nice,” he mutters softly.

They stand there, closer than before, the space between them narrowing with each passing second. Sanemi’s pulse quickens, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he meets her gaze steadily, even as warmth spreads across his chest.

Time seems to slow as Nezuko's hand reaches up, her delicate fingers gently gripping the fabric of his haori. The touch is feather-light, yet it sends a jolt of electricity through his entire body. His breath catches in his throat as she tugs ever so slightly, urging him to lean down. Sanemi's heart thunders in his chest, his usual gruff exterior melting away under her gentle touch. He bends forward, following her lead without resistance. The scent of cherry blossoms envelops him as he draws closer, their faces now mere inches apart.

He closes the final distance between them, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, tender kiss. The world around them fades away as they lose themselves in the moment. Nezuko's fingers tighten in his haori, pulling him even closer as she responds with equal fervor.

Sanemi's hand finds its way to the small of Nezuko's back, drawing her closer as the kiss deepens. The warmth of her body against his sends a shiver down his spine, and for a moment, he forgets everything else—the lingering aches from training, the weight of the past, the insecurities that have been tugging on his mind. There's only Nezuko, her soft lips, and the way she fits perfectly in his arms.

When they finally part, both slightly breathless, Sanemi keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, savoring the closeness. When he opens them, he finds Nezuko gazing up at him, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright with an emotion he's almost afraid to name. 

"I've been wanting to do that again since last night," Nezuko admits softly, a shy smile playing on her lips. 

Sanemi feels heat creep up his neck at her words, but he can't bring himself to look away from her warm gaze. "Me too," he admits quietly, the confession slipping out before he can stop it. 

Nezuko's smile widens, and she leans in, resting her forehead against his chest. Sanemi's arms instinctively tighten around her, holding her close. For a long moment, they simply stand there, basking in each other's presence. 

The peaceful silence is broken by a distant call from the main house. "Nezuko! Where are you?" Tanjiro's voice rings out, concern evident in his tone. 

Sanemi groans, rolling his eyes. “I swear we can never get two minutes alone.”

Nezuko sighs softly, reluctantly pulling away from Sanemi's embrace. "I should go," she murmurs, though she makes no move to leave just yet. 

Sanemi nods, his hands lingering on Nezuko's waist for a moment longer before he forces himself to step back. "You should," he agrees, though his tone lacks conviction. 

Nezuko hesitates, her gaze flickering between Sanemi and the door. She bites her lip, clearly torn. Then, with a sudden burst of courage, she leans up on her tiptoes and presses a quick, chaste kiss to Sanemi's cheek. 

"I'll see you later," she whispers, her breath warm against his skin. Before he can react, she's slipping out of his grasp and heading for the door. 

Sanemi stands there, momentarily frozen, his hand unconsciously rising to touch the spot where her lips had been. The ghost of her kiss lingers, sending a warmth spreading through his chest. 

He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This isn't like him—getting flustered over a kiss, acting like some lovestruck fool. And yet, he can't deny the way his heart races at just the thought of kissing her again.

He figured things would get easier now that everything was out in the air, but now he still doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing.

Chapter Text

The day drifts by in a frustrating haze for Sanemi. No chaos, no fights to break up, and no Nezuko—at least not for more than a few fleeting moments. She remains tethered to Tanjiro or whisked away by Aoi and Kanao, leaving Sanemi to brood in relative solitude. He sits with Giyu for a time, the two former Hashira sharing a comfortable silence, but even that wears thin after a while. Despite appreciating Giyu’s quiet presence, Sanemi finds himself longing for the sound of Nezuko’s laugh, the way her voice dances through the air when she speaks.

Lunch comes and goes, followed by more of the same. The afternoon unfolds without incident, the air peaceful but somehow empty. Sanemi notes with bitter amusement that Zenitsu’s absence has done wonders for the atmosphere. No whining, no obnoxious declarations of love—nothing but quiet. Sanemi hopes, perhaps selfishly, that the brat doesn’t come back anytime soon. Not even for Nezuko’s birthday.

By dinner, a sense of calm has fully settled over the Kamado household. Conversations are light, everyone seemingly content. Sanemi listens half-heartedly, stealing glances at Nezuko when he thinks no one will notice. She laughs at something Kanao says, her eyes crinkling in delight, and the sight tugs at something deep in his chest.

When the meal ends, he holds onto a flicker of hope for a private moment with her—but disappointment washes over him when the girls mention how tired they are from the day’s work. Nezuko offers a soft smile, her voice light as she wishes everyone goodnight.

Sanemi forces himself to keep his expression neutral, nodding and muttering his own goodbyes before heading toward the zashiki. Giyu follows silently, and Sanemi finds himself grateful once again for the man’s lack of need for small talk. They settle into their futons, Giyu slipping easily into sleep as always.

For the second time this week, he finds himself grateful the Uzui’s haven’t arrived yet. If Tengen saw him fawning over Nezuko like some teenager he would never let him live it down.

Sanemi stares at the ceiling, frustration simmering beneath his skin. His thoughts loop endlessly, replaying moments from the day and lingering on Nezuko’s smile. He groans softly, shifting restlessly. Sleep remains a distant, stubborn thing, refusing to come even as the hours crawl by.

Eventually, he gives up.

Quietly pushing himself up, Sanemi slips out of bed and makes his way to the back porch. The frigid air bites at his skin, but he doesn’t care. He brushes the thin layer of snow from the steps with his foot, sinking down onto the cold wood. The night is still, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. The chill seeps into his bones, but it’s oddly grounding—better than lying in bed drowning in restless thoughts.

The chill in the air nips at Sanemi’s skin as he watches his breath swirl into the night sky. His thoughts churn, Nezuko’s smile haunting every corner of his mind. He knows he should get up and head back inside, force himself to sleep, but his feet stay planted.

The faint sound of the door sliding open breaks the quiet. He tenses instinctively, glancing over his shoulder. His pulse skips when he sees Nezuko stepping out, her bright pink eyes catching the dim glow of moonlight. She smiles softly, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. Without a word, she walks forward and lowers herself beside him on the steps, her presence warming the cold night air.

Sanemi clears his throat, forcing himself to speak despite the lump forming there. "What’re you doing out here?" His voice is rougher than intended, laced with the awkwardness he can never seem to shake around her.

Nezuko laughs softly, the sound light and melodic. "I missed you," she says simply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The words hit Sanemi harder than they should. His heart stutters in his chest, a warmth spreading through him that has nothing to do with the layers of clothing shielding him from the cold. He hopes the night conceals the flush creeping up his neck.

"I—" He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, "I missed you too."

Her smile widens, shy but sincere. They sit there in silence for a moment, the snow glistening around them. Sanemi’s gaze lingers on her face—on the way her breath puffs in soft clouds, on the gentle glow of moonlight that makes her skin look ethereal. The urge to close the distance between them gnaws at him, stronger than before.

This time, he doesn’t fight it.

Leaning in slowly, Sanemi closes the space between them, his heart pounding against his ribs. Nezuko’s eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans in closer, meeting him halfway. Their lips brush softly, tentative at first, testing the waters.

The kiss deepens as Nezuko’s hand rises to gently grip the fabric of his haori, pulling him closer. Sanemi’s hand finds its way to her cheek, his thumb brushing against her warm skin. 

The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of them in this perfect moment. Sanemi's fingers tangle gently in Nezuko's hair as he loses himself in the softness of her lips, the warmth of her breath mingling with his own.

Nezuko’s hand flattens against his chest, her fingers lightly tracing his muscles through the fabric. The sensation sends a shiver down Sanemi’s spine, intensifying the kiss.

When they finally part, both breathless and flushed, Sanemi rests his forehead against Nezuko's. Her eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze with a mix of wonder and affection that makes his heart swell. 

“Looks like we finally got that minute alone,” Nezuko teases gently, a small grin on her lips.

Sanemi chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against her cheek lightly. "More than a minute, I hope," he murmurs, his voice low.

Nezuko's smile widens, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "We'll see how long we can stretch it," she whispers, leaning in to capture his lips once more. 

This kiss is bolder, filled with a newfound confidence. Sanemi's arm snakes around her waist, pulling her closer as Nezuko's fingers thread through his hair. 

The night air seems to melt away as they lose themselves in each other's embrace. Sanemi's heart pounds wildly, every nerve ending alight with electricity. He can scarcely believe this is real—that Nezuko is here in his arms, her lips moving against his with a passion that matches his own. 

Their kisses grow more heated, months of pent-up longing finally finding release. Nezuko's fingers tighten in his hair, drawing a low groan from Sanemi's throat. 

Sanemi’s tongue traces the seam of Nezuko’s lips, coaxing them open. When she parts them with a soft gasp, Sanemi takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, exploring the warmth of her mouth as she responds with equal fervor. The taste of her is intoxicating, sweeter than anything he's ever known. 

The sound of a door sliding open inside the house startles them apart. They freeze, both breathing heavily as they listen intently. Footsteps pad down the hallway, then fade as whoever it is moves away.

Sanemi and Nezuko exchange wide-eyed glances before breaking into quiet laughter, the tension dissipating. Nezuko leans her head against Sanemi's shoulder, her giggles muffled against his haori.

"We should probably head back inside," Sanemi murmurs reluctantly, his arm still wrapped around her waist.

Nezuko nods, but makes no move to get up. "Probably," she agrees softly, snuggling closer to Sanemi's warmth. He can't help but smile, tightening his hold on her. 

“You’re not moving,” he teases softly.

Nezuko lifts her head, meeting Sanemi's gaze with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Neither are you," she whispers, her breath warm against his skin. 

Sanemi chuckles softly, unable to argue. He finds himself captivated by her eyes, sparkling in the moonlight. The urge to kiss her again is overwhelming, but he forces himself to resist. 

"We really should go in," he says reluctantly, his voice low, "Before someone comes looking for you."

Nezuko sighs softly, a hint of disappointment in her eyes. "You're right," she murmurs, slowly pulling away from Sanemi's embrace. The loss of her warmth is immediate, leaving him feeling oddly dejected.

They pause at the door, however, Nezuko looking up at him with shimmering eyes. Without thinking, Sanemi leans down, his hand gently cupping Nezuko's cheek. He presses a soft, tender kiss to her forehead, letting his lips linger for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Nezuko's eyes flutter closed at the touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips. When Sanemi pulls back, she gazes up at him with a warmth that makes his heart skip. Reluctantly, they step inside, Sanemi muttering a brief goodbye before heading back to his room.

He tries to ignore the way his heart continues to race as he settles back into the futon, but his mind doesn’t settle. The kisses play on repeat in his mind, the feeling of her hand on his chest, the way she responded to every touch so willingly—like she’d let him do anything. 

Sanemi groans softly, throwing his head back. He really needs to get himself together.

Chapter Text

Sanemi’s sleep is restless, filled with vivid dreams of Nezuko—her smile, the gentle brush of her fingers, the warmth of her lips against his. When morning light filters through the windows, he stirs awake easily. The images linger though, leaving his chest tight with emotions he’s not sure how to name.

He groans quietly, rubbing a hand over his face before pulling himself out of bed. Giyu is still sound asleep, his breathing slow and even. Sanemi dresses quickly, the chill of the room sharp against his skin as he pulls on his clothes. The sound of rustling fabric stirs Giyu, who blinks awake and silently begins to dress as well, giving Sanemi his usual respectful space. 

They make their way to breakfast together, entering the dining room to find the others already gathered. The table is soon filled with laughter and conversation as Aoi and Nezuko emerge from the kitchen carrying trays of food. The girls carefully place each dish on the table, their movements graceful despite the weight of the trays.

“Smells great as always, Aoi,” Tanjiro compliments with a grin. Nezuko beams beside her, clearly proud of their work.

“Thank you,” Aoi responds, her smile soft, “I have a great helper.”

“You’re both amazing cooks,” Kanao adds, her voice gentle but sincere.

As they dig into their meal, the room fills with a hum of conversation. Inosuke, as usual, makes his presence known by shoveling food into his mouth at a speed that draws both amusement and exasperation.

Aoi shakes her head with a fond sigh. "I’ll have to make a trip to town for more supplies today, especially with the Uzuis arriving tomorrow.”

“I’ll come with you,” Tanjiro offers immediately, his expression bright and eager to help.

“Me too!” Inosuke announces loudly, pounding a fist to his chest, “I wanna see what kind of food they got in town!”

Aoi chuckles softly. “I appreciate it. It’ll be nice to have the extra hands.”

The group finishes their meal quickly after that, conversations winding down as Aoi, Tanjiro, and Inosuke rise to prepare for their trip. They gather their belongings before saying their goodbyes at the door.

“Don’t cause trouble in town, Inosuke,” Kanao teases gently.

“Me? Trouble? Never!” Inosuke grins widely, though no one believes him for a second.

After a final wave, the trio departs, their laughter fading into the distance. As quiet falls over the table, Kanao’s gaze drifts to Sanemi, her expression thoughtful—though there’s that same knowing glint in her clouded eyes that makes Sanemi’s skin prickle. Before he can react, she turns toward Giyu.

“Would you like to train with me this morning?” she asks politely, her voice light.

Giyu nods without hesitation. “Of course.”

The two stand and exit together, leaving Sanemi alone with Nezuko at the table. Silence settles over them, though it’s not uncomfortable. The soft clink of dishes being gathered fills the space as Nezuko stands, but Sanemi quickly stops her.

“I got it,” he offers gruffly, rising to his feet.

Nezuko smiles at him, the warmth in her gaze making his chest tighten again. "Thank you, Sanemi." She sits back down, watching as he clears the remaining plates. Sanemi quickly finishes and returns to his seat across from her, shifting awkwardly.

The quiet between them lingers until Nezuko breaks it, her voice light and filled with anticipation. "I have something I want to show you."

Sanemi raises a brow, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Yeah? What is it?"

"You’ll see," she teases, motioning for him to get up and follow.

Without another word, she steps outside, her footsteps soft on the snow-covered path. Sanemi trails behind, casting a quick glance toward the training yard. Kanao and Giyu are exchanging quick blows, wooden katanas clashing with precision. The sharp sounds echo through the morning air, but Sanemi quickly turns his focus back to Nezuko.

They weave deeper into the forest, the bare branches overhead casting thin shadows on the snow-covered ground. The steady crunch beneath their feet breaks the stillness, and Sanemi finds himself smirking. “You leading me all the way out here to kill me or something?”

Nezuko laughs softly, the sound bright. “Maybe,” she replies with a playful shrug.

He snorts, shaking his head. “If you’re planning it, you might wanna try a bit harder.”

They continue in comfortable banter until the faint murmur of rushing water reaches Sanemi’s ears. The trees begin to thin, revealing a wide river partially encased in ice. Jagged sheets cling to the banks, while the water in the center flows freely, shimmering beneath the sun.

To their left stands a small wooden structure, weathered but sturdy—a pond house, Sanemi assumes. Its roof is dusted with snow, and faint remnants of old moss cling to its beams. 

“My father used to bring me here,” Nezuko says, breaking the silence. Her voice is soft, tinged with a mixture of nostalgia and melancholy, “He would fish here often. This was one of his favorite places.”

Sanemi feels a pang in his chest at the trace of sadness beneath her words, instinctually trying to lighten the mood, even if just a little. “Can’t say I’m surprised. I bet you spent half the time trying to hold onto a flailing fish.”

Nezuko chuckles, a genuine warmth returning to her voice. “No, I always begged him to release them.”

“Figures,” Sanemi mutters, a grin tugging at his lips, “Bet that didn’t go over well.”

“He used to tell me everything’s part of a cycle,” Nezuko continues, her eyes fixed on the river, “The fish fed us, just like they fed the birds and bears. I didn’t always understand it, but he made sure I respected it.”

“You didn’t like seeing the fish die though, huh?” Sanemi asks, his voice gentler now.

“No,” she admits softly, “But I loved those moments with him—the lessons he taught me.”

Sanemi listens intently, nodding. Her voice carries a deep fondness, filled with love for a past she cherishes. “Sounds like he was a good man.”

Nezuko smiles up at him, eyes bright despite the chill in the air. “He was. I think... I think he would’ve liked you, too.”

Sanemi blinks, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head as warmth creeps into his face. “Doubt it. I ain’t exactly what fathers picture for their daughters.”

“He would have,” Nezuko insists, her tone unwavering as she looks up at him, “You’re strong. And you care about people, even when you try not to show it.”

Sanemi feels the heat rising to his face under Nezuko’s steady gaze. He shifts awkwardly, forcing a casual tone as he gestures toward the small structure. “So... what’s in there?”

Nezuko doesn’t seem fazed by his attempt to brush off the moment. “It’s where my father kept his fishing supplies—and a few other things there wasn’t room for in the house,” she explains lightly, “We’ve cleared most of it out by now, but we can still take a look inside if you want.”

“Why not?” Sanemi mutters, falling into step behind her.

The pond house door creaks as Nezuko pushes it open carefully. The inside is surprisingly well-maintained—far better than Sanemi expected for a place left to the elements. Darkened wood lines the interior, weathered but sturdy, without the rot he anticipated. The space is mostly empty except for a few neatly stacked boxes in one corner, a rack holding several fishing rods, and a tatami mat laid out on the opposite side with folded blankets stacked on top.

“Sometimes, when we were kids, my siblings and I would sleep out here,” Nezuko says, a note of fondness in her voice, “We’d pretend we were camping.”

Sanemi chuckles at the thought. “Me and Genya did something like that once. Slept out in the yard, swore we were gonna ‘rough it’ for the night.” He shakes his head, lips quirking in amusement, “Didn’t even make it till midnight before we both ran back inside ‘cause it got too cold.”

Nezuko hums softly, her expression warm with understanding. “It’s funny, isn’t it? The little things you remember.”

Their conversation trails off, and a quiet stillness settles between them. Nezuko steps closer, and Sanemi’s breath catches as he notices the faint flush on her cheeks. Her hand rises slowly, fingers brushing against his chest, tracing his skin lightly.

Sanemi feels his pulse quicken at her gentle touch, but he knows what this is—what she wants. Leaning down, he presses his lips to hers without hesitation, the warmth between them spreading like a spark catching fire.

When they finally part, Sanemi's eyes gleam with mischief as a slow smirk tugs at his lips. “So this what you wanted to show me?”

Nezuko blushes deeper, offering a shy shrug. “Maybe,” she mumbles.

Sanemi huffs softly, his voice low with amusement. “Should’ve just said so.”

Before she can say more, he leans down again, capturing her lips once again. As their kiss deepens, Nezuko's arms wind around Sanemi's neck, pulling him closer. His hands find her waist, gripping gently as he backs her up against the wall of the pond house. The wood creaks softly under their weight, but neither pays it any mind.

Sanemi breaks away, pressing light kisses against her jawline experimentally. Nezuko gasps softly in response, tilting her head slightly to give him better access. Emboldened by her reaction, Sanemi’s kisses trail down further, nipping gently at her neck. 

Nezuko's fingers thread through Sanemi's hair as he explores the sensitive skin of her neck. Her breath hitches when he finds a particularly sensitive spot, and he feels her shiver against him. Encouraged, he focuses his attention there, alternating between gentle kisses and light grazes of his teeth—careful not to leave a mark.

"Sanemi," Nezuko breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. The way she says his name sends a jolt through him, igniting something in him.

He pulls back slightly, meeting her gaze. Nezuko's eyes are dark with desire, her cheeks flushed. Sanemi feels his own face grow hot as he takes in her expression. For a moment, they simply stare at each other, the air between them charged with unspoken tension.

Then, he feels her fingers interlocking with his, tugging lightly. His eyes nearly pop out of his head as she pulls him towards the tatami mat, realization dawning on him.

He should not go along with whatever is about to happen. He should pull his hand away, or tug her back home, or simply walk away. 

But since when does Sanemi do what he should?

Instead, he lets her guide to the tatami mat, her movements slow and deliberate. As they sink down onto the soft surface, Sanemi's mind races. 

This is dangerous territory—far beyond their usual stolen kisses and tender moments. Yet he can't bring himself to stop, not when Nezuko is looking at him like that, her eyes filled with trust and even something deeper.

She settles onto her back, pulling him down with her. Sanemi braces himself above her, his breath catching as she reaches up to cup his face. Her thumb traces the scar on his cheek, her touch tender. 

Sanemi's heart races as he gazes down at Nezuko, her eyes shining with warmth and desire. He leans in slowly, his rough lips returning to hers. Their kisses quickly grow passionate, urgency building between them. Sanemi's hands roam tentatively over Nezuko's body, exploring the curves hidden beneath her kimono. She arches into his touch, soft sighs of pleasure escaping her lips.

As their kisses grow more heated, Sanemi feels a familiar warmth building low in his abdomen. His hands tremble slightly as they roam over Nezuko's body, desire warring with his sense of restraint. When Nezuko's fingers begin to tug at the ties of his yukata, Sanemi pulls back abruptly, breathing heavily. 

"Wait," he says, his voice rough, "We should slow down." 

Nezuko blinks up at him, her eyes hazy with want. "Why?" she asks softly, reaching for him again. 

Sanemi catches her hand gently, holding it between them. "Because," he begins, unsure what to even say, "We…I…It’s not proper."

Nezuko scoffs, irritation clear in her expression. "Since when do you care about what's proper?" she challenges, her voice low but firm. 

Sanemi sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It's not that simple, Nezuko." 

"Then explain it to me," she insists, propping herself up on her elbows. Her gaze is unwavering, demanding answers. 

Sanemi shifts back, allowing her to sit up fully. He takes a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "We just… It’s only been two days, Nezuko.”

“You’ve been sending me love letters for months.” Nezuko deadpans, her expression unimpressed. 

Sanemi feels his face flush at her blunt words. He opens his mouth to argue, but finds himself at a loss. She's right, after all. As much he tried to deny it, those letters were laced with affection he couldn’t voice aloud, a safe distance between them. 

"That's... different," he manages weakly, knowing how pathetic it sounds even as the words leave his mouth. 

Nezuko doesn’t let up, determination burning in her eyes. “We don’t have to do everything,” she says gently, “We can just…go slow. See what happens.”

Sanemi hesitates, torn between desire for her and his desire to keep her safe. He wants her—more than he's ever wanted anything. But the thought of taking advantage, of rushing things and potentially ruining what they have, terrifies him.

"I don't want to mess this up," he admits quietly.

Nezuko's expression softens at his words. She reaches out, gently cupping Sanemi's face in her hands. "You won't," she says softly, her eyes filled with warmth, "I trust you.”

Sanemi's resolve wavers at Nezuko's words, her unwavering trust in him both exhilarating and terrifying. With a shaky exhale, he nods slowly.

"Okay," he murmurs, "We'll go slow."

Nezuko's smile is radiant as she pulls him back down to her. Their lips meet again, but this time there's no rush, no urgency. Their kisses are slow and tender, exploring each other with a newfound patience.

As they continue, Sanemi feels the tension in his body gradually uncoil. The fear of ruining things fades, replaced by a deep sense of rightness. This feels natural, as if they've been moving towards this moment all along.

With careful movements, Nezuko guides one of Sanemi's hands to the tie of her kimono. He hesitates briefly, meeting her eyes. She nods encouragingly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Slowly, Sanemi undoes the tie, parting the fabric to reveal smooth skin beneath.

His breath catches as he takes in the sight of Nezuko's exposed skin. His calloused fingers ghost over her collarbone, tracing a slow path down to the swell of her breast. Nezuko shivers at his touch, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Is this okay?" Sanemi asks softly, his voice rough with desire. 

Nezuko nods, a soft "Yes" escaping her lips.  

Emboldened by her response, Sanemi leans down to press gentle kisses along the path his fingers just traced. Nezuko's breath hitches as his lips trail along her skin, her fingers tangling in his hair encouragingly. 

Sanemi pauses at the swell of her breast, glancing up at her. She nods, biting her lip in anticipation. His tongue darts out, circling her nipple before taking it into his mouth. Nezuko gasps, arching into the sensation. 

He quickly becomes lost in the sensations as he lavishes attention on her breasts. His tongue swirls around her nipple, alternating between gentle suction and soft flicks with Nezuko's quiet gasps and sighs of pleasure spurring him on. He switches to her other breast, giving it equal attention as his hand gently kneads the first.

Sanemi's ministrations draw soft moans from Nezuko, her fingers tightening in his hair. The sound sends a shiver down his spine, stoking the fire building within him. He pulls back slightly, meeting her gaze. 

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. 

Nezuko smiles softly, reaching up to trace the scar on his cheek. "So are you," she whispers. 

Their lips meet again in a passionate kiss, Sanemi’s tongue slipping into her mouth as his hand continues to caress her breast. Nezuko moans softly into his mouth, her back arching to press closer against him. Her hands roam over his chest and back, fingers tracing the hard planes of muscle beneath his clothing.

Slowly, Nezuko's hands drift lower, tugging at the ties of Sanemi’s yukata. He breaks the kiss, sitting up slightly to undo the ties. Nezuko's eyes widen as she takes in the sight of his bare chest, her hand slowly coming up to trace the scars crisscrossing his torso. 

 He watches her face carefully, searching for any sign of disgust or pity, but finds only warmth in her gaze.

"Do they ever hurt?" she asks softly, her fingertips ghosting over a particularly jagged scar near his ribs.

Sanemi shakes his head, voice rough with emotion. "Not anymore."

Their eyes meet for a moment, then Nezuko's hands slide up his chest to cup his face, pulling him down for another deep kiss. Sanemi sinks into it, savoring the warmth of her lips and the softness of her skin against his. His hand trails down her side, fingertips tracing the curve of her waist before settling on her hip.

Nezuko's legs part slightly, allowing Sanemi to settle between them. The new position brings their bodies flush together, and they both gasp at the sensation. He can feel the heat of her core even through the layers of fabric still separating them.

His hips rock forward instinctively, drawing a soft moan from Nezuko. Her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as she arches against him. The friction sends sparks of pleasure through Sanemi's body, and he groans softly against her neck.

His hand slides down her thigh, hitching her leg higher on his hip. The movement causes her kimono to fall open further, exposing more of her smooth skin. Sanemi's fingers trace patterns on her inner thigh, inching higher with each pass.

Suddenly, the distant sound of crunching snow reaches Sanemi’s ears. He quickly yanks back, surprising Nezuko. Her eyes widen in confusion as he scrambles off her, hastily retying his yukata.

"Someone's coming," he hisses, his voice tight with panic.

Realization dawns on Nezuko's face, and she hurriedly pulls her kimono closed, fumbling with the ties. Her fingers tremble slightly as she tries to smooth down her disheveled hair.

Sanemi stands up, his movements quick but careful. He casts a final glance at Nezuko, ensuring her kimono is properly secured and her hair somewhat tamed. With a deep breath, he slides open the door of the pond house, stepping out into the crisp winter air.

The sudden brightness momentarily blinds him, sunlight reflecting off the snow-covered ground. As his eyes adjust, he spots a familiar figure approaching through the trees. Giyu's steady footsteps crunch through the snow, his breath visible in small puffs of white vapor.

Their gazes lock, and Sanemi’s body immediately relaxes. “Oh,” he mutters, “It’s you.”

Giyu nods silently as he approaches, his expression as impassive as ever. His eyes flick briefly to the pond house behind Sanemi before returning to meet his gaze.

"Aoi and the others have returned from town," Giyu says, his voice calm, "They'll need some help putting everything away."

Sanemi nods, grateful for Giyu's characteristic lack of prying questions. "Right. We'll head back now."

As if on cue, Nezuko emerges from the pond house, her cheeks still flushed but her appearance otherwise composed. She smiles warmly at Giyu. "Hello, Giyu. Thank you for coming to find us."

Giyu nods politely in return, though he casts a knowing gaze towards Sanemi. "Of course. Shall we head back?"

Together, the trio begins their walk through the snow-covered woods, the only sound the rhythmic crunch beneath their feet. Silence hangs between them, bordering on awkwardness until Giyu breaks it with an uncharacteristic comment.

“You two certainly kept warm,” he murmurs, his tone carrying a rare note of teasing.

Sanemi's brows knit together instantly, his voice sharp. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Giyu merely lifts a brow in silent amusement, clearly unbothered by his reaction. Nezuko stifles a laugh, her lips curving in a barely restrained smile.

Sanemi huffs, rubbing the back of his neck with a scowl. “Mind your own damn business.”

“I am,” Giyu replies mildly. His serene composure only fans the flames of Sanemi's irritation.

Nezuko touches Sanemi's arm gently, her warmth grounding him. “It’s okay,” she whispers with a soft smile, “Let’s just help Aoi and the others.”

Sanemi grumbles under his breath but relents, his scowl fading slightly. “Fine,” he mutters, shooting Giyu one last glare before focusing on the path ahead.

Chapter Text

Snow crunches beneath their boots as Giyu, Sanemi, and Nezuko trek back toward the household. The silence between them is no longer awkward but rather comfortable, filled with the rhythmic sound of their steps. After a while, the house comes into view, smoke curling from the chimney.

As they step inside, the group is met with the sight of the table laden with supplies: bundles of vegetables, fresh fruits, dried goods, and cuts of meat carefully wrapped in paper. The aroma of something warm—perhaps broth simmering over the hearth—lingers faintly in the air. Tanjiro and Aoi move between the piles, sorting and organizing while Inosuke loudly insists he knows the perfect place for everything.

“You’re not putting carrots with rice, Inosuke,” Aoi scolds gently but firmly.

“Why not? It’s all food!” Inosuke declares, stuffing a fistful of vegetables into one bag without hesitation.

Nezuko stifles a giggle as she steps forward. “Inosuke, how about you carry the heavier things to the pantry instead?” she suggests sweetly, earning a satisfied nod from the wild-haired boy.

“Fine! I’ll show everyone how strong I am!” Inosuke hoists two large sacks over his shoulders, strutting toward the pantry with exaggerated pride.

Sanemi snorts under his breath. “Idiot’s gonna break something.”

“Probably,” Giyu agrees calmly, making his way toward the produce pile to help organize. Sanemi follows suit, picking up a wooden crate filled with apples and setting it in the pantry. 

“You guys are doing great!” Tanjiro encourages warmly, his positive energy palpable. “It won’t take long with all of us working together.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sanemi mutters, though there’s no real bite to his tone, “I didn’t sign up for kitchen duty.”

Nezuko nudges his arm lightly. “You’re helping now, aren’t you?”

“Tch. Guess I am,” Sanemi admits grudgingly but continues stacking supplies efficiently.

Kanao moves gracefully around the table, quietly assisting Aoi with the delicate task of sorting grains. Every now and then, Tanjiro offers a word of thanks or encouragement that makes her cheeks flush faintly. 

As the group works together, laughter and light banter fill the space. Despite the task at hand, the mood remains lively and warm—every bit a family effort. By the time they finish, the supplies are neatly stored, and the table is finally cleared. Aoi wipes her brow, a satisfied smile gracing her lips.

“Thanks, everyone,” she says appreciatively, “That went faster than I expected.”

Nezuko beams. “It was nice working together.”

Tanjiro nods enthusiastically. “We make a great team!”

“Obviously because of me,” Inosuke proclaims proudly, flexing his arms, “I carried the heaviest stuff.”

Sanemi rolls his eyes. “Sure you did, boar brain.”

Before Inosuke can respond, Nezuko lets out a soft laugh, diffusing the tension. “Maybe next time we’ll make you carry all the bags,” she teases, her pink eyes gleaming playfully.

Inosuke puffs his chest. “Bring it on!”

Aoi emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and narrowing her eyes at Inosuke’s continued boasts about his self-proclaimed heroic efforts in storing the groceries.

“Yeah, yeah,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes, “You’re the strongest, we know. Now sit down before you break something.” 

“Fine! But I carried twice as much as anyone else!” Inosuke insists loudly, puffing out his chest before plopping into a seat.

“You sure about that?” Sanemi smirks, folding his arms, “Pretty sure I carried more than you did.”

Nezuko covers her mouth, hiding a laugh. “It wasn’t a competition.”

“Everyone, just sit down for lunch,” Aoi cuts in firmly, waving them toward the table, “Before the food gets cold.”

The group obeys, settling into their spots around the table. The air remains lively, filled with bits of conversation and teasing jabs.

At a remark from Kanao, Nezuko giggles softly, and Sanemi’s gaze flicks to her. Their eyes meet, and for a fleeting moment, memories from earlier at the pond house floods back into his chest. He quickly looks away, forcing himself to focus on the conversation rather than the heat crawling up his neck.

Giyu, ever observant, raises an eyebrow but says nothing, his silence speaking volumes as it always does. Sanemi shoots him a subtle glare as if daring him to comment.

Aoi soon reemerges from the kitchen, balancing trays of steaming rice bowls and miso soup. “Simple lunch today,” she announces as she sets the dishes down, “But it should hold you over until dinner.”

“Looks great, Aoi,” Tanjiro says earnestly, earning a pleased nod from her.

As they begin eating, Inosuke wastes no time loudly proclaiming the soup is “too hot,” while simultaneously shoveling it into his mouth without pause. Kanao watches him with a mix of amusement and exasperation, shaking her head as Tanjiro tries to explain the concept of letting the soup cool down.

“It’s supposed to be hot, you moron,” Sanemi mutters, shaking his head.

Nezuko smiles softly across from him. “It’s nice having everyone together like this,” she says quietly, her voice barely above the gentle hum of conversation.

Sanemi glances at her, her words striking something inside him. Despite himself, he nods in agreement. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

The group continues eating, their chatter blending with the warmth of the meal and camaraderie. 

After lunch, Nezuko and Aoi retreat to the kitchen to clean up. Kanao and Inosuke’s playful antics echo from the main room, while Giyu and Tanjiro remain deep in quiet conversation. Sanemi quietly slips away, heading to his usual spot on the back steps.

The cold presses in around him, numbing his skin but doing little to quiet the turmoil in his chest. The warmth of the family meal seems distant now, replaced by the gnawing guilt that’s settled in his gut.

Her father would like me.

The memory of Nezuko’s words echoes in his mind, pulling a bitter laugh from his throat. What father would want a man like him near his daughter? A man hardened by loss and scarred from war, both inside and out. He clenches his jaw, shaking his head as if to banish the thought. 

He isn’t good enough for her. He knows that much. He’s not an honorable man. And what’s worse—he’s probably dragging her honor down with him by not keeping his distance. He didn’t even get Tanjiro’s blessing, and Sanemi can only imagine the devastation when he finds out.

The door behind him creaks, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts. He turns his head to see Giyu stepping onto the porch. Sanemi manages a half-smile, barely more than a twitch of his lips.

“Thought you were busy with Kamado,” Sanemi mutters.

Giyu simply shrugs and settles beside him, folding his hands in his lap. The silence stretches between them—not uncomfortable, but weighted. 

“You seemed deep in thought,” Giyu remarks after a moment, his voice calm and even, “The pond house must’ve made an impression.”

Sanemi grunts softly, running a hand through his hair. He knows Giyu is giving him an opening, a chance to talk if he wants to. He’s tempted to shove the man away, brush it off with a snarky comment or shift the topic. But something about those open, patient blue eyes disarms him.

He exhales slowly. “Nezuko said something…about her father. Said he would’ve liked me.”

Giyu waits, letting the words hang in the cold air.

Sanemi laughs bitterly. “What a joke, right? A bastard like me?” His gaze hardens as he looks down at his scarred hands. “I’m an ass, got no manners—and now I’m stepping all over what’s supposed to be proper. What kind of man does that?”

Giyu’s voice is steady, lacking judgment. “You care about Nezuko.”

Sanemi scoffs. “Doesn’t matter. I care, sure. But I’m no good for her. Probably just dragging her down by bein’ near her.”

“You’re being hard on yourself,” Giyu states plainly, “More than you need to be.”

Sanemi shakes his head, unwilling to let himself off the hook that easily. “I let things go too far. Let myself get carried away.” he trails off, letting the implications sink in.

Giyu remains silent for a moment, considering Sanemi's words. When he speaks, his voice is calm but firm. "You're not giving Nezuko enough credit. She’s not a child, and she knows what she wants."

Sanemi snorts, but Giyu continues undeterred. "As for Tanjiro, he values his sister's happiness above all else. If Nezuko is happy, he'll come around." 

"That simple, huh?" Sanemi mutters, unconvinced. 

"It's not simple," Giyu admits, "But it’s not as complicated as you're making it out to be. You're a good man, Sanemi. Even if you don’t see that."

Sanemi scoffs, turning his head away. "You're getting soft, Giyu."

Giyu simply shrugs, unfazed. "Maybe we both are.”

A comfortable silence falls between them, broken only by the occasional whisper of wind through bare branches. Sanemi's mind races, torn between the warmth Nezuko ignites in his chest and the fear of ruining her with his own darkness.

"I don't know how to do this," he admits quietly, his voice barely audible, "How to be...good for her.” 

Giyu doesn’t respond immediately, letting the weight of Sanemi’s admission settle between them. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft but resolute. “You’re already doing it.”

Sanemi frowns, turning to look at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you care,” Giyu says simply, “You’re thinking about her, about what’s best for her—not just what you want. That’s more than most men ever manage. More than Zenitsu did. If Tanjiro was willing to let him be with her, you think he won’t let you?”

Sanemi grunts, unconvinced. “Doesn’t change the fact I’m a mess. I’ve got enough baggage to drown a whole village, and I don’t exactly know how to keep that locked up. Nezuko doesn’t need that weighing her down.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want you to lock it up,” Giyu counters, “She’s stronger than you think, Sanemi. You don’t have to carry everything alone.”

Sanemi’s brows furrow, irritation flickering in his chest—not because Giyu’s wrong, but because the truth stings. “Easier said than done,” he mutters, his voice rough. “I’m not used to...this. Being with someone, letting them in.”

“Since when are you one to back down from a fight?” 

Sanemi blinks, caught momentarily off-guard at the question. “This is different.”

“It’s not,” Giyu presses, “You've never been one to give up, even when the odds were stacked against you. Why start now?"

Sanemi falls silent, the words settling heavily in his chest. He lets out a long, slow breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. “What if I screw it up?”

“You probably will,” Giyu says, surprising Sanemi with the blunt honesty, “But Nezuko’s not the type to give up easily. Neither are you.”

Despite himself, Sanemi chuckles softly, shaking his head. "You know, for someone who barely talks, you sure know how to give a lecture."

Giyu's lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smile. "I have my moments." 

Sanemi snorts, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it. I'm not gonna make a habit of spilling my guts to you." 

"Noted," Giyu replies, his tone dry but not unkind.

The two men sit in companionable silence for a while longer, the cold air nipping at their exposed skin.

“Come on,” Sanemi grumbles after a moment, “It’s too cold out here.”

Giyu nods and rises, following Sanemi back into the warmth of the house. As they step inside, they're greeted by the sight of Nezuko emerging from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes meet Sanemi's, and a soft smile graces her lips. 

"There you are," she says, her voice warm, "I was wondering where you'd gone off to."

Sanemi feels his heart skip a beat, the doubts from earlier warring with the undeniable pull he feels toward her. He clears his throat, aiming for nonchalance. "Just needed some air." 

Nezuko's gaze flicks between him and Giyu, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "Well, I'm glad you're back inside. It's getting colder out there." 

Before Sanemi can respond, Aoi’s voice calls out from the other room. "Nezuko! Can you come help me with something?"

"Coming!" Nezuko calls back. She gives Sanemi one last smile before hurrying off to assist her friend.

Sanemi watches her go, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. He feels Giyu's eyes on him and turns to see the man giving him a knowing look.

"Shut up," Sanemi grumbles, even though Giyu hasn't said a word. 

Giyu simply shrugs and moves further into the house, leaving Sanemi alone with his thoughts. He doesn’t have a clue what lies ahead for him and Nezuko, and he’s still not sure he deserves whatever he’ll get with her, but he’s willing to try.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day slips by with an unexpected ease. Nezuko remains whisked away by Aoi for most of the afternoon, their quiet chatter and occasional laughter drifting through the house. Sanemi spends his time loitering near Giyu, offering a few words here and there but mostly content to enjoy his usually quiet company.

Kanao passes by once, stopping briefly to exchange a polite conversation with him before continuing on her way. Even Inosuke barrels into the room at one point, loudly declaring something about “meat training” that Sanemi neither understands nor cares to question. Still, he offers a faint grunt in acknowledgment before the feral boy disappears as quickly as he arrived.

Dinner comes swiftly—a delicious spread of rice, grilled fish, and vegetable tempura. As usual, Aoi’s skills shine through, and the warm atmosphere around the table is filled with light-hearted conversation.

Sanemi, for once, finds himself relaxing without the ever-present weight of guilt pressing on his shoulders. He allows himself to appreciate the meal, the company, and the rare comfort that comes with moments like these. Even the occasional glance Nezuko casts his way—soft and fleeting—brings a warmth he doesn’t push away.

After the meal, as dishes are cleared and the household begins to settle down, Tanjiro approaches Sanemi and Giyu with an apologetic smile. “Sorry to bother you both, but could you help me set up the futons in the zashiki? We need extra bedding for the Uzuis.”

Giyu nods politely. “Of course.”

Sanemi scowls but stands nonetheless. “Guess I don’t have a choice, huh?”

Tanjiro chuckles sheepishly. “Not really.”

The trio makes their way to the zashiki, where Tanjiro retrieves the folded futons from a storage closet. They spread out the mats, laying them neatly side by side.

“You sure this is enough space for the Uzuis?” Sanemi grumbles, eyeing the four futons with a scowl, “Tengen’s huge, and don’t even get me started on his wives.”

Tanjiro grins. “It’ll be a bit cramped, but we’ll make it work.”

“Cramped is an understatement,” Sanemi mutters, straightening one futon with a sharp tug, “Feels like we’re setting up a damn sleepover.”

Giyu’s lips twitch slightly, though he remains focused on smoothing out the blankets.

“I think it’ll be fine,” Tanjiro says, ever the optimist, “They’ll appreciate the effort.”

Sanemi snorts. “Better appreciate it. I’m not busting my back every night for that flashy bastard.”

“I’m sure he’ll say something dramatic to show his gratitude.” Tanjiro responds with an awkward laugh. 

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Sanemi grumbles, though his tone lacks real irritation.

With the futons finally arranged, Tanjiro thanks them both with a bright smile. “Goodnight, Shinazugawa, Giyu. Rest well.”

“Night, Kamado,” Sanemi replies with an eyeroll, watching as Tanjiro disappears down the hall.

The house falls into a peaceful hush as the occupants retreat for the night. Sanemi sinks onto his futon, staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling. His usual anxieties hover on the edge of his thoughts, but tonight, for once, he chooses to let them go. Tonight, Sanemi decides, he’ll rest—really rest—without the weight of his worries pressing down. 

The morning dawns crisp and bright, sunlight reflecting off the snow that blankets the Kamado household grounds. Breakfast finishes with laughter circling the table, bowls and plates emptied of their food. 

Inosuke is midway through a boisterous story—complete with exaggerated hand motions—when Sanemi’s sharp gaze shifts toward the window. His head tilts slightly, ears catching a faint but distinct sound beyond the cacophony of Inosuke’s rambling. Giyu notices it too, his expression calm but alert as he subtly sets down his chopsticks.

“What is it?” Tanjiro asks, brow furrowing as he senses their sudden stillness.

Sanemi rises slowly, eyes narrowing. “Footsteps. Close.”

The table falls silent, save for the quiet clinking of bowls being moved aside. A moment later, the crunch of snow and lively chatter grows audible even to those without honed senses.

“They’re here,” Giyu states simply, standing from his seat.

Everyone stands quickly, filing outside to the front path. The sight of vibrant colors against the snow—purple, red, blue, and burgundy—heralds the arrival of Tengen Uzui and his wives. The group strides toward the house, Tengen waving energetically despite the cold wind biting at his mostly uncovered arms.

“Kamado crew!” he calls loudly, his voice booming across the yard, “Hope you’re ready for some real company!”

Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma trail beside him, the women bundled warmly and smiling brightly.

“Uzui!” Nezuko’s eyes light up as she rushes forward to greet them.

Makio laughs heartily, patting Nezuko’s head. “Still as energetic as ever, huh?”

“Nezuko, you’ve grown even more beautiful!” Suma gushes, already teary-eyed.

“You’re going to make her blush,” Hinatsuru chides gently, though her expression is warm.

Tanjiro steps forward with a broad smile, waving politely. “It’s great to see you all again. Thank you for coming!”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Tengen declares proudly. His gaze sweeps over the gathered group, lingering on Sanemi and Giyu, “And look at this—two stoic watchdogs right up front. No wonder the place is still standing.”

“Maybe it’s standing because you weren’t here,” Sanemi mutters under his breath, though there’s a begrudging hint of humor in his tone.

“Is that a joke I hear, Shinazugawa?” Tengen grins, unfazed, “Careful, or people might think we’re friends.”

Giyu nods politely to the wives, his tone courteous. “It’s good to see you all again.”

“Good to see you too, Giyu,” Hinatsuru replies warmly.

Suma beams, clasping her hands together. “We’ve been looking forward to this for ages!”

Makio grins, elbowing her husband lightly. “And maybe now Tengen can stop talking about how ‘boring’ it is without everyone around.”

“Hey,” Tengen protests, feigning offense, “I was just saying things are quieter. That’s all.”

Tanjiro gestures toward the house. “Come in, it’s freezing out here. You must be cold after traveling.”

“Please, we insist,” Kanao adds softly, stepping aside to clear the path.

“Lead the way,” Tengen booms. “Let’s see if your hospitality is as flamboyant as I remember!”

Inside the Kamado household, warmth floods through the space, driving out the winter chill. The room fills quickly with the comforting aroma of tea as Aoi swiftly sets out cups for everyone, assisted by Kanao. Tengen lounges comfortably by the low table, his wives settling in beside him with ease.

“You’ve sure got a cozy setup here,” Tengen remarks, tapping the polished wood of the table, “Not bad for a little mountain retreat.”

“You guys keep it in good shape,” Makio observes. “It’s nice to see the house so lively.”

Tengen smirks, leaning on one arm. “Speaking of lively—what’s the story with the lovebirds here?” His gaze flicks between Tanjiro and Kanao, “Still as sickeningly sweet as ever, I assume?”

Tanjiro rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Kanao flushes slightly, though she holds her composure. “We’re doing well, thank you,” she says with an awkward smile.

Suma clasps her hands together. “That’s so wonderful! Young love is so precious.”

“Precious or not,” Makio teases, “I hope you’re treating Kanao properly, Tanjiro.”

“Of course!” Tanjiro insists earnestly, “I’d never do anything less!”

Nezuko giggles softly, earning a fond glance from Sanemi before he catches himself and schools his expression.

Tengen stretches, his broad shoulders flexing under his burgundy yukata. “Now that we’re all caught up and cozy, I’ve got something special planned for tonight.”

Tanjiro blinks curiously. “Something special?”

Tengen winks. “You’ll see. But trust me—it’s going to be flamboyant.”

“Flamboyant,” Sanemi repeats dryly, “That’s exactly what we need more of.”

“You’ll thank me later, Shinazugawa.” Tengen grins mischievously, “And if not, I’ll just enjoy making you squirm.”

Giyu takes a sip of tea without reacting, earning a teasing glance from Tengen. “What about you, Giyu? You ready to let loose tonight?”

“I’m sure it will be... memorable,” Giyu replies evenly.

“More like over-the-top,” Sanemi mutters to no one in particular.

“I like over-the-top!” Inosuke declares proudly, slamming his fists on the table, “Means there’ll be action!”

“I doubt it’s the kind of action you’re thinking,” Aoi sighs, shaking her head as she clears away empty dishes.

Kanao chuckles softly, giving Inosuke a teasing glance. “Maybe you should wait and see before getting too excited.”

“Excited? I’m ready for anything!” Inosuke declares, pounding his fist against the table again.

Tengen’s grin widens. “See? That’s the kind of spirit I like. Enthusiasm! Drive!” He points to Sanemi, “You should take notes from him.”

“I’ll pass,” Sanemi grumbles, but his lips twitch upward ever so slightly.

“You can’t deny he keeps things exciting,” Giyu remarks, setting his tea cup down.

Nezuko leans closer to Sanemi and whispers teasingly, “I think you’re plenty exciting”

He casts her a sidelong glance, heat creeping up his neck. “Keep your voice down,” he mutters under his breath, though her playful smile softens him the way it always does.

Suma claps her hands together, bringing attention back to the larger group. “Whatever it is, I’m sure tonight will be amazing! Tengen’s surprises always are.”

“That’s debatable,” Makio snorts.

Hinatsuru smiles serenely. “As long as everyone enjoys themselves, that’s what matters.”

The atmosphere hums with curiosity and anticipation, as conversations shift between jokes and light banter. Whatever Tengen has planned for the evening remains a mystery, but the energy leaves everyone eagerly awaiting what’s to come.

Chapter Text

The afternoon unfolds with chaotic energy as Tengen's larger-than-life personality stokes the fire of Inosuke's boundless enthusiasm. Laughter and shouting echoes through the household, only able to be quieted by Aoi’s sharp scolding and Makio’s authoritative snaps. 

Lunch is even rowdier than usual, bowls clattering and chopsticks clanking against plates as stories and jokes are tossed around the table. Tengen regales the group with exaggerated tales of his pre-retirement life, earning incredulous looks from Tanjiro and flat disbelief from Aoi. Inosuke, however, hangs on to every word, eyes shining as if Tengen’s recounting the greatest adventure ever told.

As the meal winds down and plates begin to empty, Tengen suddenly straightens in his seat, eyes scanning the table. “Hold up,” he says, brows furrowing, “Where’s that blonde kid? Zenitsu?”

The lively atmosphere falters, the group exchanging subtle glances. Nezuko shifts in her seat, looking down at her hands, the smile falling from her face.

Tengen notices the change immediately. “What’s with the long faces?” he asks, growing wary, “Is he sleeping? Sulking?”

Tanjiro clears his throat, trying to navigate the awkward tension carefully. “He’s… not staying here anymore, Tengen.”

“What?” Tengen’s brows furrow deeper, genuine surprise flickering across his face, “He finally give up on chasing after Nezuko or something?”

Sanemi snorts but doesn't say anything, arms crossed as his scowl deepens. The tension in the room thickens further, and Nezuko sinks lower in her seat.

Tengen quickly notices her discomfort, eyeing her curiously. “Did I miss something dramatic?”

“Something like that,” Sanemi mutters.

“Alright, someone spit it out—what the hell happened?”

Aoi opens her mouth to speak but hesitates, looking to Tanjiro for guidance. Before anyone else can answer, Sanemi cuts in with a blunt, “He left.”

“Left?” Tengen echoes incredulously, “Left how? What does that even mean?”

“It means he stormed out,” Sanemi says flatly, “Decided he couldn’t handle things when they didn’t go his way.”

“Shinazugawa,” Tanjiro warns gently, but the man waves him off with an impatient grunt. After a pause, Tanjiro continues, “Zenitsu proposed to Nezuko a few days ago. When things didn’t go the way he expected, there was a disagreement and it…escalated.”

Tengen lets out a low whistle, leaning back slightly. “You’re telling me Zenitsu proposed and then bolted just because things got rough?”

“He said some things he shouldn’t have,” Sanemi adds, his jaw tightening at the memory, “Things that were out of line.”

“I’m sure he’ll come back and apologize,” Tanjiro assures, though there’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice, “He just needs time.”

“Time and a reality check,” Sanemi mutters under his breath.

There’s a long beat of silence before Makio claps her hands together in an attempt to ease the tension. “Well, sounds like things got messy, but sometimes that’s how it goes. Better to be honest, right?”

“Exactly!” Suma agrees with a vigorous nod, “Honesty is super important in love!”

Tengen grins widely, pivoting the conversation. “Guess we’ve all had our share of messy situations. What about you, Tomioka? Ever been part of a love fiasco?”

Giyu, caught mid-sip of his tea, nearly chokes at the sudden question. His eyes widen, darting between the amused faces of the wives and Tengen's mischievous smirk. “I…No.”

“That’s not very convincing,” Makio teases lightly, prompting a soft giggle from Suma.

“Maybe Giyu’s just the strong, silent type in love too,” Suma suggests with a cheerful bounce.

“I doubt that,” Sanemi mutters with a smirk, clearly enjoying someone else being in the hot seat for a change, “He’s probably just awkward like always.”

“I’m not awkward,” Giyu insists, a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“Sure you’re not,” Sanemi snorts.

Tengen bursts into laughter, the sound echoing through the house. “Man, this is why I love these gatherings. Never a dull moment.”

Hinatsuru takes the opportunity to cut in. “Speaking of gatherings, Nezuko’s birthday is why we’re all here, right? Let’s not let any more heavy stuff ruin the mood.”

“Exactly!” Suma chimes in, clapping her hands together excitedly. “We’ve got so much planned! It’s going to be the best celebration ever!”

Nezuko lifts her head slightly, her smile returning, though still a bit shy. “Thank you, everyone. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course!” Suma beams, “You deserve a wonderful birthday, Nezuko.”

With the awkward moment settled, the day unfolds—the heavy tension fades away, replaced by easy laughter and lively chatter. The Uzuis share colorful tales of their travels and antics, each one grander than the last. The group listens intently, some shaking their heads in exasperation while others simply laugh at Tengen’s exaggerated storytelling.

Dinner turns out to be the real battlefield of the evening. Aoi’s carefully prepared spread disappears faster than expected as chopsticks clash midair in a frenzied fight for the best portions. Sanemi nearly loses a piece of grilled fish to one of Tengen’s determined grabs, while Makio blocks Inosuke’s hand from stealing her rice bowl.

“Dinner is supposed to be peaceful!” Tanjiro pleads, though his words are largely ignored.

Sanemi catches Giyu’s eye, both sharing exasperated glances as Tengen continues to command the room with his antics. “I’m not sure how we’re supposed to sleep in the same room as that guy,” Sanemi mutters under his breath.

Giyu gives a small nod. “He’s…a lot.”

“A lot doesn’t even cover it,” Sanemi grumbles.

But despite his annoyance, even Sanemi can’t deny the infectious energy buzzing at the table. There’s not one beat of awkward silence, not a single moment where the energy dips. It’s all loud laughs and easy smiles. 

When dinner finally concludes, everyone leans back in their seats, full and content. Plates are gathered and conversations continue, though the intensity of earlier finally begins to mellow out—if only a little. 

Hinatsuru leans over to Tengen, whispering something that makes his smile widen to a mischievous grin. He pushes back from the table, clapping his hands loudly. “Alright, everyone! Time for the grand finale!”

“What are you up to now?” Sanemi arches a brow suspiciously.

“You’ll see,” Tengen replies with a shrug, “Just trust me, Shinazugawa. You might even crack a smile by the time the night’s through.”

Sanemi rolls his eyes but keeps quiet as Tengen and Hinatsuru disappear into the guest bedroom. The table exchanges wary glances, though Suma and Makio’s barely-contained excitement is clear. 

Moments later, Tengen and Hinatsuru reenter the room, each holding a tokkuri of sake and the necessary cups. Tengen’s grin radiates pride, and even Hinatsuru’s typically calm expression looks excited.

Sanemi notices Giyu tense beside him, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the alcohol. Suppressing a groan, Sanemi mutters, “Drinking with him is always a disaster waiting to happen.”

“It’s a celebration,” Tengen declares dramatically, waving off Sanemi, “We’ve earned a chance to unwind. We’re all adults here, it’s time to celebrate like adults.”

Tanjiro shifts uncomfortably, his expression torn between politeness and uncertainty. “That’s true, Tengen, but I don’t think—”

“No buts!” Tengen interjects, “Birthdays are meant to be flashy! And that means no holding back.” Hinatsuru lays out the small cups as Tengen begins to pour drinks, and Sanemi’s nose scrunches at the scent of sake filling the room. “Now, who’s in?”

Hinatsuru steps in with a soothing tone. “We just want to celebrate Nezuko’s birthday. No one has to drink if they don’t want to.”

The tension eases slightly, and Tanjiro shares an uncertain look with Nezuko before nodding. “Alright.” 

With Tanjiro’s agreement, Aoi hesitantly accepts a glass. Inosuke, on the other hand, snatches his eagerly, eyes gleaming with curiosity and excitement—though Sanemi doubts he even knows what sake is. Kanao silently takes a glass, surprising Sanemi slightly by her willingness.

Nezuko casts a glance toward Sanemi, uncertainty flickering in her expression. After a long moment, she nods quietly and accepts the cup offered to her. Sanemi meets her eyes briefly and offers a slight, reassuring smile. Beside him, Giyu shrugs with a resigned sigh, taking a glass without comment.

“This is gonna be a long night,” Sanemi mutters under his breath. Still, he accepts the sake cup begrudgingly.

Tengen beams with pride, his grin stretching wider as he surveys the group. "That’s more like it,” Raising his cup high, he shouts, “To Nezuko!”

The group echoes his sentiment before throwing back their drinks. The sharp burn of the sake hits Sanemi’s throat, though he barely flinches. As he observes the younger group, however, he can’t help the smirk that grows on his face.

Tanjiro cringes slightly, his face scrunching as he tries to keep his composure. Aoi mirrors his reaction, her demeanor faltering just a bit as she clears her throat. Kanao’s expression remains neutral, giving little away of what she might be thinking.

Inosuke, predictably, reacts with triumph. "Ha! Weak drink! I don’t feel a thing!" he boasts loudly.  Meanwhile, Nezuko grimaces, her face reddening slightly as she coughs into her hand. 

"You okay?" Sanemi murmurs low enough for only her to hear. She nods quickly, managing a small smile despite the lingering sting.

“That’s the spirit!” Tengen declares proudly, already pouring the next round of drinks. 

The drinks flow freely after the first, and soon the room regains the same chaotic energy from earlier. Laughter echoes around the table as conversations overlap and cups clink together. Despite Tanjiro’s pleas to slow the pace, Tengen remains relentless—though he does grudgingly slow down by just a fraction.

Nezuko grimaces at each sip, her discomfort clear. After a few rounds, she waves off any further offers, much to Tengen’s dismay. 

“Nezuko! You’re missing out on the best part of adulthood!”

She shakes her head with a polite smile, coughing lightly. “No, thank you.”

Sanemi watches the exchange with mild amusement but turns his attention back to the others. Inosuke and Kanao, by contrast, seem determined to keep up with Tengen’s absurd pace. Kanao surprises Sanemi by holding her liquor exceptionally well, her composed demeanor unwavering even after each refill. It’s enough to make him narrow his eyes in curiosity. 

Where did she learn that?

Inosuke, of course, barrels headfirst into each drink, growing louder with each swallow. “Weak stuff!” he declares between gulps, though his face reddens with each drink.

Aoi groans quietly, rubbing her temples as Inosuke's volume rises. “He's impossible.”

Sanemi sympathizes, already feeling a dull ache forming at his own temples. The stench of sake permeates the room, thickening the air. He’s never enjoyed the stench—it reminds him too much of his childhood. Unfortunately, the rowdiness only seems to amplify as Tengen and Inosuke fuel each other like gasoline and fire, their laughter bouncing off the walls.

“They’re going to wreck the place,” Sanemi mumbles, shooting Giyu a knowing glare. The quiet man nods in silent agreement, clearly content to simply observe from the sidelines.

Several drinks in, Inosuke suddenly bolts upright, his eyes gleaming with determination. “I’m gonna fight a beast!”

“What?” Tanjiro splutters, halfway through sipping a glass of water.

“I need a challenge!” Inosuke bellows, already charging toward the door. He flings it open wide, the frigid winter air blasting into the room. The cold swirls against his bare skin, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Inosuke, wait!” Aoi leaps up, scrambling after him, while Tanjiro follows closely behind.

“You’ll freeze to death!”

Tengen, however, simply  roars with laughter. “That kid’s got guts!”

Makio, arms crossed and unimpressed, glares at her husband. “Don’t encourage him.”

He grins sheepishly. “I mean…it’s kind of impressive, right?”

“It’s dangerous,” Makio retorts sternly, “Go bring him back before he gets frostbite.”

Tengen sighs dramatically and reluctantly stands from his seat. “Fine, fine. Let’s go wrangle the wild boar.” He turns, giving a small wink, “Coming with me?”

Her glare softens, if only a bit, as she stands. “Of course. Someone has to keep you from making things worse.”

Together, they step out into the snow in search of the feral boy, their laughter trailing behind them.

Hinatsuru turns to Nezuko with a gentle smile, her tone apologetic. “I’m sorry about the chaos. Things tend to get…out of hand with Tengen.”

Nezuko offers a polite smile and waves her hand dismissively. “It’s alright. This isn’t too surprising for this house.”

Suma and Hinatsuru both laugh softly at her remark, the tension easing between them. Even Sanemi finds his lips tugging upward despite himself—but the persistent throb in his temples reminds him why he rarely indulges in nights like this. The din of voices and lingering stench of sake press against his senses, making it harder to think clearly.

With most of the household outside corralling Inosuke—and likely taking their time doing so—Sanemi decides it’s as good a moment as any to bow out. He pushes back from the table, the motion momentarily drawing attention.

“I’m turning in,” he grumbles, rubbing his head, “My head’s killing me.”

Hinatsuru and Suma exchange sympathetic glances, both nodding in understanding. “Rest well, Shinazugawa.” Hinatsuru offers kindly.

Giyu simply nods without comment, though he does cast Sanemi a sympathetic look. 

Nezuko, however, hesitates. Her smile falters for a moment, and a fleeting look of disappointment tugs at her expression—just enough for Sanemi to notice. Something twists in his chest at the sight, a flicker of guilt flashing through him.

But as quickly as the frown appeared, it’s gone, replaced by Nezuko’s usual warm smile. “Goodnight.” 

He nods stiffly. “Night.”

Turning away, Sanemi makes his way toward the zashiki, rubbing his temples in an attempt to ease the pounding headache. The noise from the main room begins to dull the farther he gets, though muffled bursts of laughter still reach his ears.

Sliding the door closed behind him, Sanemi sighs and stretches out on the futon. His body sinks into the familiar comfort of the bedding, and he closes his eyes, hoping sleep will come before Tengen and Inosuke inevitably burst back in with more chaos.

Chapter Text

Sanemi lies restlessly on the futon, the faint buzz of alcohol lingering in his mind despite not having drunk enough to feel its full effect. His headache is beginning to fade, but the guilt weighing on him is more stubborn. 

Nezuko’s brief flicker of disappointment keeps replaying in his mind. It’s almost enough to make him crawl back out there, headache be damned—but not quite. He knows how irritable he gets when pain digs its claws in too deeply. No one needs that tonight.

Still, sleep evades him. The futon creaks under his shifting weight as he tosses from side to side, trying and failing to clear his mind.

It feels like mere minutes have passed when the soft slide of the door interrupts the quiet. His eyes snap open, half expecting Tengen to barge in with some demand to return to the chaos.

But it’s not Tengen.

Nezuko steps into the room, the dim lighting casting soft shadows across her face. She’s carrying a small cup of tea in her hands, moving silently as she shuts the door behind her. Sanemi blinks, surprised but not certainly not displeased.

“You didn’t have to come in here,” he mumbles quietly.

Nezuko offers a small smile and kneels beside the futon, extending the cup toward him. “I thought this might help your headache.” Her voice is soft, but it carries that familiar warmth that always soothes the frayed edges of his nerves.

Sanemi sits up, the blanket pooling at his waist as he accepts the cup. “Thanks,” he murmurs, lifting it to his lips for a sip. The herbal aroma fills his senses, and the smooth flavor spreads across his tongue. “It’s good.”

Nezuko’s smile softens further, though she doesn’t say anything in return. They sit together in companionable silence, the chaotic sounds of the house reduced to distant echoes. For a while, the only sounds are the occasional sip of tea and the soft creak of the floor beneath them.

When he sets the cup down, Nezuko reaches to take it, but Sanemi stops her with a gentle touch to her hand. His gaze meets hers steadily, and before he can overthink it, he reaches up, his calloused fingers brushing her cheek.

Then, closing the space between them, he leans in and presses his lips to hers. Nezuko melts into the kiss almost instantly. Her lips are soft and warm against his, tasting faintly of the sake she sipped earlier. Sanemi's hand slides to cup the back of her neck, drawing her closer as the kiss deepens.

A small, contented sigh escapes Nezuko as she parts her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss further. Her hands come to rest on his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his yukata.

As the kiss intensifies, Sanemi feels a familiar heat building within him. His hand slides down Nezuko's back, pulling her closer until she's practically in his lap. She responds eagerly, her fingers tightening around his yukata as she presses herself against him. 

Sanemi breaks the kiss, trailing his lips along her jawline and down to the soft skin of her neck. Nezuko tilts her head, giving him better access as a soft gasp escapes her lips. The sound sends a jolt of desire through him, and he has to fight to maintain control. 

"Nezuko," he murmurs against her skin, his voice rough, "We should stop."

But Nezuko shakes her head, her grip on him tightening. "I don't want to stop," she whispers, her breath hot against his ear.  

With a low growl, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, pulling her fully into his lap. Nezuko's hands slide down to his chest as she returns the kiss with equal fervor. The heat between them builds rapidly, their bodies pressed flush against each other. 

Sanemi's hands roam her body, tracing the curve of her spine through the fabric of her kimono. With a fluid motion, he flips them over, gently pressing Nezuko into the futon. Her dark hair fans out across the pillow, framing her flushed face. 

She gazes up at him, her eyes half-lidded and filled with desire. Her lips are slightly parted, still pink and swollen from their passionate kisses. Sanemi takes a moment to drink in the sight of her, his heart pounding in his chest. Then, he lowers himself, pressing soft kisses along the column of her throat.

His hands tremble slightly as he reaches for the sash of Nezuko's kimono. He pauses, looking into her eyes for permission. Nezuko nods, her cheeks flushed pink.

Still, he hesitates. This is risky. There’s a good chance everyone will come back soon with a freezing Inosuke. And there’s no doubt that once they return they’ll search for Nezuko.  The better part of his mind tells him to pull away, but the look in Nezuko’s eyes holds him captive.

Whatever. He’ll just blame the alcohol when he regrets it in the morning. 

With careful movements, he loosens the sash and parts the fabric. Even with seeing her yesterday, his breath still catches in his throat at the sight of her. Nezuko shivers as the cool air hits her exposed skin, but her gaze never wavers from his.

He leans down to kiss her again, softer this time, pouring all his feelings into the gesture. Nezuko responds eagerly, her hands sliding up to undo the ties of his yukata. 

As her fingers work at the ties of his yukata, Sanemi's heart pounds in his chest. She pushes the fabric off his shoulders, and her hands quickly come back up to trace the contours of his chest, brushing over each scar and muscle. 

Sanemi shivers at her touch, his skin tingling where her fingers trail. He captures her lips again in a passionate kiss, his hands tracing her skin lightly. Nezuko arches into him, a soft moan escaping her as their bare chests press together.

Their kisses grow more heated, hands exploring newly exposed skin with reverent touches. Sanemi breaks away to trail kisses down Nezuko's neck and collarbone, savoring the little gasps and sighs she makes. When he reaches her breast, he hesitates, looking up at her for permission.

Nezuko nods, her eyes shining. "Please," she whispers.

Sanemi doesn’t need to be told twice. His tongue swirls the sensitive nipple, sucking gently. Nezuko writhes beneath him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she fights to stay quiet.

Emboldened by her reactions, Sanemi's hand slides lower, tracing the curve of her hip. He pauses at the edge of her undergarments, his fingers playing with the waistband. Nezuko's breath hitches, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of nervousness and desire. 

"Can I?" he murmurs, his voice husky.

Nezuko nods in response, her cheeks flushed. Sanemi groans softly, leaning down to capture her lips in another kiss as his hand slips beneath the fabric. 

She gasps softly against Sanemi’s lips as his finger presses against her clit, circling with deliberate slowness. Her hips buck involuntarily at his touch, a quiet whimper escaping her lips.

Sanemi takes his time, savoring every sound and reaction from Nezuko as he touches her. Doubt still creeps in the back of his mind—a quiet voice telling him he shouldn’t be doing this—but he forces it down. He’s determined to make this good for her, to please her as much as he can. 

His fingers trail lower, teasing along Nezuko's folds. She's already slick with arousal, her hips shifting restlessly beneath his touch. He circles her entrance with agonizing slowness, relishing the way her breath catches. 

"Sanemi," Nezuko pleads softly, her fingers tangling in his hair. 

He captures her lips in another kiss as he slowly slips a finger inside her. Nezuko gasps against his mouth, her back arching slightly. She's impossibly tight and warm around his finger, and Sanemi has to take a steadying breath.

He begins to move his finger, stroking her inner walls with careful motions. Nezuko whimpers softly, her hips rocking to meet his movements. Sanemi peppers kisses along her jaw and neck as he works, drinking in every gasp and whimper. 

"Shh," he murmurs softly against her neck, "We have to be quiet.”

Nezuko nods, biting her lip to stifle a moan as Sanemi adds a second finger. He moves with careful deliberation, his fingers curling and stroking against that sensitive spot inside her. She trembles with pleasure underneath him as his thumb skillfully circles around her clit, fingers digging into his shoulders. 

The whole time, Sanemi’s gaze never leaves her face. Nezuko’s cheeks are flushed a bright pink, lips parted, and chest heaving with each panting breath.

She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

Sanemi continues to pump his fingers in and out of her with steady, deliberate strokes, his pace never faltering. Nezuko’s hips move in rhythm with his hand, chasing the pleasure he's giving her. Soft gasps and whimpers escape her lips despite her efforts to stay quiet.

He can feel her getting close. He increases the pressure on her clit, rubbing tight circles as his fingers curl inside her. Nezuko's back arches, her eyes squeezing shut as she nears her peak.

"S-Sanemi," she gasps, her voice barely above a whisper, "I'm-"

"It’s okay," he murmurs against her ear, "I've got you."

With a muffled cry, Nezuko comes undone. Her walls clench around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash over her, soaking Sanemi’s fingers. He works her through it carefully, his movements slowing as her body trembles underneath him. 

She comes down slowly, her breaths coming in soft pants as she relaxes. Sanemi gently withdraws his fingers, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. Her eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze with a look of dazed satisfaction. 

"That was..." she whispers, trailing off as words fail her.

Sanemi can't help the small, proud smile that tugs at his lips. "Good?" he finishes for her, his voice low and teasing. 

Nezuko nods, pulling him down for a kiss. As their lips move together, Sanemi becomes acutely aware of his own arousal, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. Nezuko seems to notice too, her cheeks flushing as she looks down.

“You’re still…”

Sanemi nods, his breath catching as Nezuko's hand tentatively brushes against his arousal through the fabric. 

"It's okay," he murmurs, "You don’t have to—”

"I want to," she interrupts, her fingers tracing the outline of his cock through the thin fabric.

Sanemi’s eyes widen as he stares down at Nezuko, determination flickering in his eyes. With a deep breath, he sits back on his heels, his hands moving to the waistband of his pants. His fingers tremble slightly as he hooks them into the waistband of his pants, pushing the fabric down his hips. 

He tosses the garment aside, leaving him in nothing but his fundoshi. The thin white cloth does little to conceal his arousal, the outline of his erection clearly visible through the fabric. Nezuko's eyes widen slightly as she takes in the sight of him, her gaze trailing over his body.

Sanemi finds himself feeling strangely exposed under her intense gaze, a sensation he’s never felt with a woman before. He has to fight the urge to cover himself, his skin prickling with goosebumps. 

With trembling fingers, Nezuko reaches out to touch him through the thin fabric. Sanemi inhales sharply at the contact, his muscles tensing. Her touch is light and exploratory as she traces the outline of his cock. 

"Can I...?" she asks softly, her fingers playing with the edge of his fundoshi. 

Sanemi nods, not trusting his voice. Nezuko carefully unwinds the cloth, her breath catching as his erection springs free. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in the sight of him fully naked. 

Tentatively, she reaches out to wrap her hand around his cock. Sanemi groans softly, his hips jerking involuntarily at her touch. Nezuko begins to stroke him slowly, her movements a bit clumsy but eager to please.

"Is this okay?" she whispers, looking up at him through her lashes. 

"That’s good,” Sanemi groans, his breath catching in his throat. Nezuko’s touch is hesitant but curious, tracing every inch with careful attention.

“Like this?” she asks softly, her hand wrapping more firmly around him as she begins to stroke. 

“Y-yeah,” Sanemi manages, his voice strained, “Just like that.”

Encouraged by his response, Nezuko increases her pace slightly. Her movements are still a bit clumsy, but the look of concentration on her face as she works to please him is intoxicating. Sanemi's hips twitch involuntarily, seeking more friction.

Nezuko continues to stroke him, her movements growing more confident with each passing moment. She alternates between long, slow strokes and quicker, shallower ones, experimenting to see what elicits the strongest reactions from Sanemi.

His breath comes in ragged pants as she continues to touch him, her inexperienced yet eager touch driving him wild. He fights to keep his hips still, his hands fisting in the sheets.

"Nezuko," he groans softly, his voice unsteady. 

She looks up at him, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. The sight of her, combined with the feeling of her hand on him, is almost too much. Sanemi can feel himself getting close, the tension coiling tighter in his lower abdomen. He gently grasps Nezuko's wrist, stilling her movements.

"Wait," he pants, "I'm close." 

Nezuko's eyes widen slightly in understanding. "Oh," she breathes. There’s a small pause, then she hesitantly asks, "Can I see?"

Sanemi groans softly at her words, his cock twitching. "Are you sure?" 

Nezuko nods, her gaze never leaving his. "Please," she whispers.

Sanemi releases her wrist, allowing her to resume her movements. Her strokes are more confident now, her grip firmer as she works him towards his release. Sanemi's breath comes in ragged pants, his hips jerking involuntarily.

"Nezuko," he groans, his eyes fluttering shut, "I'm gonna—"

With a muffled groan, Sanemi comes, his release spilling over Nezuko's hand and onto her stomach. Nezuko works him through it gently, her hand moving slowly as his muscles tense and relax.

As the last tremors fade, Sanemi lets out a shaky breath. He opens his eyes to see Nezuko staring at him with a mixture of awe and lingering desire. Embarrassment floods through him as he realizes the mess he's made.

"Sorry," he mumbles, reaching for one of his dirty yukatas in the nearby pile of clothing. 

Nezuko shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Don't apologize," she says softly, her cheeks still flushed.

Sanemi gently cleans them both off with the yukata, his touch careful and soft. Once they're clean, he tosses the garment aside and pulls Nezuko into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

They lay together in comfortable silence, their breathing gradually slowing. Sanemi runs his fingers through Nezuko's hair, savoring the silky texture against his calloused hands. Her head rests on his chest, her body curled against his side. 

"You should probably get dressed," Sanemi murmurs after a while, though he makes no move to let her go, "They'll be back soon."

Nezuko nods against his chest but doesn't move either. "Just a few more minutes," she whispers. 

Sanemi can't bring himself to argue. 

They lay entwined for a few more peaceful moments, reveling in the warmth and closeness. Sanemi's fingers continue to card gently through Nezuko's hair as her breath fans softly against his chest. 

But eventually, she stirs with a quiet sigh. "I guess I really should go," she murmurs reluctantly.

Sanemi nods, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before loosening his hold. Nezuko sits up slowly, gathering her discarded kimono. Sanemi watches as she dresses, his eyes trailing over her form as she ties her kimono back in place. Guilt begins to tug at his heart, but Nezuko turns as if sensing the shift.

“Hey,” she says softly, “Don’t get in your head, okay?”

Sanemi's lips quirk up in a small smile. "Easier said than done." 

Nezuko leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I know. But I don't regret it. At all."

Her words ease some of the tension in his chest. Sanemi reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Me neither," he admits quietly. 

Nezuko smiles softly, her eyes warm as she gazes down at him. For a moment, they simply look at each other, savoring these last few seconds of intimacy before she has to return to the chaotic group waiting for her. 

With a final soft kiss, Nezuko stands. She smooths her kimono, fingers combing through her hair to tame any obvious tangles. Sanemi watches her, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips. A part of him still can't believe what just happened. 

"I'll see you in the morning," Nezuko murmurs, her hand on the door.  

Sanemi nods, offering a small smile. "Goodnight, Nezuko." 

She returns the smile, warm and tender, before slipping out of the room. Sanemi sighs softly as she leaves, the ghost of her warmth still lingering on his skin. For a few moments, he remains on the futon, staring up at the ceiling as his mind replays the events that have just occurred. 

Eventually, he forces himself to stand, wincing slightly as his muscles protest the movement. The cool night air raises goosebumps on his bare skin, a stark contrast to the warmth he'd been enveloped in moments ago.  

He moves to gather his discarded clothing, his movements slower than usual. As he picks up his yukata, the familiar scent of cherry blossoms wafts up from the fabric—Nezuko. Sanemi pauses, bringing the garment to his nose and inhaling deeply. 

He slips on a clean yukata, tying it securely before running a hand through his disheveled hair. His body still thrums with residual pleasure, but exhaustion is quickly setting in. The headache that had driven him to retreat earlier has faded away, though he largely credits that to Nezuko’s presence. 

As he settles back onto the futon, Sanemi wonders briefly if he should rejoin the group, but the thought of facing everyone—especially Tanjiro—after what just happened is more than he’s willing to bear right now. 

Instead, he lies back, hopelessly chasing sleep. The events of the evening replay endlessly in his mind, from Nezuko’s quiet smile to the warmth of her touch against his. He grits his teeth and shifts again, but it’s no use. His earlier headache creeps back, worsened by the unmistakable rise in volume throughout the house.

The distant sounds of laughter and shouting confirm that someone finally caught Inosuke. Just as he considers covering his head with his blanket, the door to the zashiki flies open with a loud thwack.

Sanemi turns over with a sharp glare as Tengen strides in, his voice booming like thunder. “That was a workout!” 

Behind him, Makio and Suma laugh softly, brushing snow from their hair and shoulders. Hinatsuru follows, shaking her head with an amused smile, and Giyu brings up the rear with his usual awkwardness.

Tengen spreads his arms wide, still laughing as he recounts, “You wouldn’t believe it, Shinazugawa! That boar-headed menace had us sprinting all over the countryside. Nearly froze my ass off!”

Sanemi rolls his eyes, propping himself up on one elbow. "Keep your voice down, would you? Some of us are trying to sleep."

Makio snickers, nudging Tengen in the ribs as the group files into the room. Giyu vaguely gestures toward the futons they’ve set up for the Uzuis, but Tengen stops short, placing his hands on his hips.

“Futons that far apart?” Tengen clicks his tongue in disapproval, shaking his head, “Absolutely not. Unacceptable.”

“Here we go,” Sanemi mutters, already cursing Tanjiro for his decision to let them stay in the same room.

With a mischievous grin, Tengen starts dragging one futon closer to the others, his wives eagerly following suit. The three of them make quick work of pushing the futons together, turning it into one massive mattress for them to share.

Sanemi groans, sitting up fully to glare at the spectacle. “You better not wake me up with the four of you going at it in the middle of the night,” he snaps.

The room bursts into laughter, Tengen throwing his head back dramatically. But then he turns toward Sanemi, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Are you sure you didn’t beat me to it?” he fires back, his tone heavy with implication.

Sanemi freezes.

“It sure smells like cherry blossoms in here,” Tengen adds, his grin widening knowingly.

For a long moment, the room goes still. Sanemi’s jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He feels the heat creeping up the back of his neck, but he fights to keep his expression neutral.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he grumbles, his voice low.

Tengen hums, unconvinced, but doesn’t press further. “Sure, sure,” he says with a wink, plopping down onto the futons with his wives.

Hinatsuru giggles softly as she leans into Tengen. “You’re going to give him a heart attack, you know.”

“Who, me?” Tengen grins, unbothered.

Sanemi exhales sharply, lying back down with his back to the group. His headache pulses faintly, but it’s nothing compared to the heat now burning in his cheeks.

He’s going to kill Tengen.

Chapter Text

When Sanemi wakes up the sky outside is still painted in shades of early dawn, the sun barely rising over the horizon. Near him, Giyu is dead asleep, his breathing slow and steady. Across the room, the Uzuis are tangled together in a heap of limbs and blankets, and Sanemi has to bite back a snort.

Suma is sprawled on top of Hinatsuru, who’s curled up at Tengen’s side, while Makio is wrapped securely in his other arm. It’s a ridiculous sight. Sanemi doesn’t have a clue how Tengen deals with this every night.

Shaking his head, he carefully pushes back the blanket and swings his legs over the edge of the futon. The cold bites at his skin, but he ignores it, standing and pulling on his clothes in silence. He steps over a discarded sleeve of one of the Uzuis’ robes—Suma’s, probably—and makes his way to the door.

The hallway is just as quiet, save for the faint creaks of the old wooden floor under his feet. By now, he’s memorized the spots that make noise, stepping around them as he moves through the house. When he reaches the back door, he doesn’t sit on the steps like he usually does. His body feels restless, his mind just as unsettled.

Instead, he steps down into the cold. The snow crunches beneath his sandals as he starts walking, slow, deliberate strides carrying him around the perimeter of the house. He makes sure not to stray far. He knows how easily he can get lost in his own damn head and lose track of time, and he has no intention of wandering off like an idiot. Especially not on such an important day. 

His thoughts circle back—like they always do—to Nezuko.

Doubt still lingers in the back of his mind, curling around him like a serpent. He knows she deserves better than him—that much hasn’t changed—but…maybe, just maybe, he isn’t so bad for her either.

Sanemi exhales, his breath visible in the cold air. As much as he’s ragged on Zenitsu for treating her like some prize to be won, he hasn’t been much better. Even if it wasn’t intentional, he’s been treating her the same way. Like she’s someone who doesn’t know any better, someone who isn’t capable of deciding what she wants. 

But that’s bullshit, isn’t it?

She’s not a kid. She’s not stupid, either. She’s old enough to make her own choices, to know what she wants— who she wants. And if she wants him…then who is he to deny her?

That’s the problem, though. They haven’t actually talked about it. About what this is. About what it’ll be once the trip is over, once Sanemi goes back to the Wind Estate. 

He isn’t the kind of man to rush into marriage just because it’s the expected thing, but that doesn’t mean he wants to string her along either. He wants to do things properly, as properly as he can at least. He wants to talk to Tanjiro, tell him what his intentions are, get his blessing.

And that thought? That scares the hell out of him.

It’s funny—hilarious, really. Him, Shinazugawa Sanemi, a former Hashira, a man who’s fought and bled for most of his life, terrified of a twenty-year-old boy.

But he is.

Because Sanemi’s never been afraid of much—not demons, not injury, not death. He’s never feared any of those things. The only thing he’s ever feared is loss. And he’s had enough of that to last a goddamn lifetime.

And now, he’s afraid to lose her.

There are no more demons, no more monsters lurking in the dark, waiting to take her away. But there is her brother. Her friends.

If Tanjiro doesn’t approve…that’s it.

Sanemi clenches his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He knows how much Tanjiro means to her. And if it comes down to it, if Tanjiro says no, then Sanemi won’t fight it. He won’t even ask Nezuko to choose.

Because that’s not a choice she should ever have to make. If her brother tells him to walk away, he will. Even if it rips his damn heart out.

And that possibility terrifies him more than anything else ever could.

But truthfully, Sanemi isn’t sure what scares him more—the thought of Tanjiro refusing or the thought of Tanjiro agreeing.

He’s got every intention of giving Nezuko the world if he’s allowed, but what the hell does he know about love? His old man sure as hell wasn’t a good example—not unless love was supposed to be bruises and screams and a lingering sense of dread. Sanemi would never be like that man. He’d rather die first.

Still, when it comes to love—real love—Sanemi doesn’t have a damn clue what he’s doing. He’s never actually been in love. It’s an embarrassing thing to admit at twenty-two, but it’s the truth.

He’s never let himself so much as think about love before. Sure, he’s fallen into bed with a few slayers here and there, mostly when he was younger. He’d let himself entertain a handful of flings, but that’s all they ever were. Flings. Temporary, fleeting, something to pass the time. The expectations were set early, the boundaries clear. It was a way to let off steam, nothing more.

But this? This is so much more. And Sanemi isn’t dumb enough to even try to deny that.

He never would’ve let things go this far if he wasn’t serious about her. He isn’t that kind of man. But now what? What the hell does he do if Tanjiro does give his blessing? If he says yes?

Sanemi doesn’t get the chance to figure it out, because suddenly something cold and solid smacks him square in the jaw.

He jerks back, stunned, the sharp chill biting into his skin. 

What the—?

A small, muffled gasp follows, one that dissolves into laughter, and Sanemi’s head snaps toward the sound.

Nezuko.

She’s standing a few feet away, eyes wide, a hand clapped over her mouth as if she can’t believe what she’s just done.

Sanemi’s mind lags for a second before realization clicks into place.

That little shit just hit him with a snowball.

Slowly, a smirk curls across his face, sharp and mischievous.

Oh, it’s on.

Nezuko squeaks, already catching on to the shift in his expression, but it’s too late—Sanemi’s already crouching, scooping up a fistful of snow and packing it tight before launching it straight at her.

She shrieks, trying to jump out of the way, but she’s not fast enough. The snowball nails her right in the shoulder.

For half a second, there’s silence.

Then—chaos.

Nezuko wastes no time retaliating, snatching up more snow and pelting it at him without hesitation. Sanemi ducks, rolling his shoulders back as he dodges, then fires one back. She twists, narrowly avoiding it, but another one follows, hitting her square in the arm.

A full-on war breaks out.

Snow flies between them in a blur—some shots hit, others miss, but neither of them care. They’re both laughing loudly, too caught up in the rush of it to hold back.

Nezuko ducks behind a tree, breathless and grinning, her shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. 

Sanemi doesn’t give her the chance to catch her breath. The second she disappears behind that tree, he sprints forward, cutting around the side before she even notices.

By the time he appears beside her, it’s too late.

Nezuko lets out a startled squeal, eyes going wide as she spins to escape, but the snow betrays her. Her foot slips, her balance vanishing in an instant.

Sanemi reacts on instinct, his arm snapping around her waist to catch her, but she’s already falling—already tipping backward. He doesn’t think, just moves, twisting their bodies as they go down.

His back hits the ground with a dull thud, the cold seeping through his clothes. Nezuko lands right on top of him, hands splayed against his chest, her nose barely an inch from his own.

For a moment, everything stops.

Their breath comes out in soft, uneven puffs, mingling in the cold air between them. Her pink eyes flicker, darting across his face—his lips, his scar, his eyes—before locking onto his own.

Nezuko's eyes soften, a gentle smile curving her lips. Sanemi's breath catches in his throat as she slowly leans down, her hair falling around them like a curtain. Her nose brushes against his, sending a shiver down his spine that has nothing to do with the cold snow beneath him.  

Then, her lips meet his, soft and warm despite the frigid air. Sanemi's eyes flutter closed as he returns the kiss, one hand coming up to tangle in her hair while the other rests on the small of her back, pulling her closer.

The kiss quickly deepens, growing more heated as she presses herself against him. A soft moan escapes her lips, the sound sending a jolt of electricity through his body.

Suddenly aware of their precarious position out in the open, Sanemi reluctantly breaks away. His breath comes out in ragged pants as he looks up at Nezuko, her cheeks flushed pink from more than just the cold.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers against her lips, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

Nezuko’s face lights up, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thank you, Sanemi.” She presses a quick, chaste kiss to his lips, her voice soft and full of warmth.

Sanemi grins, fingers tracing absent patterns along her sides, slow and deliberate. He lifts a hand, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear before murmuring, “I’ve got a special gift for you.”

Nezuko’s brow lifts, a teasing smirk pulling at her lips. “Oh?”

Sanemi rolls his eyes, already knowing where her mind’s going. “Not that kind of gift,” he mutters, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

Nezuko giggles, the sound bubbling up in her throat. “Then what is it?”

“You’ll see tonight,” Sanemi says, his voice low, almost playful, “Meet me at the pond house after dinner. When everyone else is heading to bed.”

Nezuko tilts her head, studying him for a moment before nodding. “Alright.” 

Sanemi leans in, pressing another quick kiss to her lips then muttering, “We should get up.”

Nezuko groans dramatically, burying her face against his chest for a moment before sighing. “Fine,” she relents, pushing herself up.

Sanemi follows, rising to his feet and brushing stray snow from his clothes. Before she can move away, he leans down, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. “Are the others up yet?”

Nezuko hums, thinking. “Aoi’s already in the kitchen, but I don’t know about the others.”

Sanemi nods, his gaze flicking over the both of them, noting their damp, snow-covered clothing. He exhales, grumbling, “We need to change.”

Nezuko laughs, soft and melodic, and the sound makes his stomach flip. “Yeah,” she agrees, brushing some melted snow from her sleeve.

They step inside, quietly parting ways to change.

Sanemi moves carefully through the house, his steps light to avoid catching Aoi’s attention as he makes his way to the bedroom.

As soon as he steps inside, he stops.

Giyu is already awake, standing by his bed, pulling on his yukata. For a moment, they just stare at each other.

Sanemi watches as Giyu’s gaze slowly drops, taking in his damp, snow-covered form. Then, his lips twitch—just barely—a knowing look flashing in his eyes.

But, to Sanemi’s relief, he doesn’t say anything.

Sanemi huffs and turns away, peeling off his wet clothes, shivering slightly as the cold air clings to his skin. He changes quickly, throwing on dry, warm clothes before reaching for his bag.

His heart kicks up a bit as he pulls out both of Nezuko’s gifts—the one for later and the one he’ll give her in front of everyone. Carefully, he tucks them into the pocket of his haori, exhaling through his nose.

Tonight.

His fingers brush over the gift hidden in his pocket, his pulse already racing in anticipation.

Suma begins to stir, her soft murmuring followed by a muffled groan from Tengen. Yeah, no thanks. Sanemi isn’t about to stick around for that. He doubts any of them have the grace to get dressed quietly the way Giyu does, and he isn’t in the mood for whatever chaos is about to unfold. Instead, he makes his way down the hall toward the kitchen.

The scent of grilled fish and rice greets him before he even steps inside. As expected, Aoi and Tanjiro are already hard at work, moving swiftly around the kitchen.

"Mornin’," Sanemi mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning!" Tanjiro greets, far too enthusiastic for this early in the day, "Did you sleep well?"

"Mm," Sanemi hums noncommittally.

"Good morning, Shinazugawa," Aoi says, barely looking up from where she’s plating food.

Sanemi opens his mouth, about to ask if they need any help, but before he can get a word out, Aoi is already shoving a bowl of neatly sliced fruit into his hands.

"Set the table," she instructs, her tone leaving no room for argument. Sanemi doesn’t argue. He knows better.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He carries the bowl over to the dining table, setting it in the middle before heading back into the kitchen. Aoi immediately hands him more dishes—tamago, okayu, steamed vegetables, grilled salmon. The sheer amount of food is borderline absurd, yet Sanemi knows it’ll barely be enough to feed the eleven of them. With Inosuke, Tengen, and Tanjiro around, there’s never really such a thing as ‘too much food.’

By the time he’s setting out the cups, the others have started to gather. The Uzuis are already crowding Nezuko, their voices overlapping as the wives squeeze her cheeks and coo over her.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart!" Hinatsuru says brightly, beaming.

"You’re growing so fast, Nezuko!" Suma wails, already teary-eyed.

"You look beautiful this morning," Makio praises while pinching Nezuko’s cheek, making her giggle.

Giyu lingers awkwardly behind them, his expression unreadable as he watches the scene unfold. Sanemi shakes his head, smirking slightly as he places the last of the cups. The poor guy looks like he has no idea what to do with himself.

Stepping back into the kitchen, Sanemi glances over the counter, double-checking to make sure nothing is missing.

Tanjiro gives him a grateful nod. "Thanks for the help, Shinazugawa."

Sanemi waves him off, mumbling, "Yeah, yeah." He makes his way back out to the dining area.

The wives have finally let go of Nezuko, though they’re still gushing over her at the table. Suma is outright sobbing now—tears of joy, Sanemi hopes. But with her, it’s always hard to tell.

Taking his usual seat across from Nezuko, Sanemi meets her gaze. She offers him a small, sweet smile, and he finds himself returning it without hesitation.

Tanjiro and Aoi step out of the kitchen shortly after, both stopping beside Nezuko before she can so much as stand.

"Happy birthday, Nezuko," Tanjiro says warmly, opening his arms.

Nezuko grins, her face already turning pink from all the attention, but she happily leans into her brother’s embrace. He holds her tight for a moment, murmuring something too quiet for the rest of them to hear before pulling back.

Aoi is next, reaching out to pat Nezuko’s head lightly before pulling her into a brief but firm hug. "Happy birthday," she says, her voice softer than usual.

Kanao follows, stepping up just as Aoi moves away. She doesn’t go in for a hug, but instead, she places a gentle hand on Nezuko’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Happy birthday, Nezuko," she says quietly, her usual serene smile on her lips.

Before Nezuko can respond, a voice booms through the room.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NEZUKO!"

The entire room jolts—even Kaburamaru flinches so hard he nearly falls off Kanao’s shoulders—but Nezuko just laughs, used to his ways by now.

"Thank you, Inosuke!" she says cheerfully.

With the birthday wishes given, everyone finally takes their seats. But for the first time all week, the usual battle for food doesn’t instantly begin. Instead, the table remains unusually still as everyone looks toward Nezuko expectantly.

"Go ahead and get your food first," Tanjiro tells her with a smile.

Nezuko blinks in surprise, glancing around the table. "Eh? But—"

Aoi places a hand on Inosuke’s arm, keeping him firmly in place as he practically vibrates with impatience. "You get first pick today," she tells Nezuko, "Hurry up before I have to start tying people down."

Nezuko flushes under the attention, but a soft smile tugs at her lips. “Alright," she says, gathering food onto her plate.

The moment she sits back, Aoi sighs, muttering, "Fine. Go ahead."

It’s like a dam breaking.

The table immediately erupts into chaos, everyone scrambling for food all at once. Sanemi barely manages to grab a piece of grilled fish before Tengen’s hand reaches for the same one. He swiftly smacks it away, shooting the man a flat look.

Tengen scoffs, rubbing the back of his hand. "Really?"

Sanemi just shrugs, placing the fish on his plate. When both him and Hinatsuru reach for some of the fruit, though, Sanemi lets her have first pick without protest.

"Oh, I see how it is," Tengen grumbles, pouting dramatically, "Unbelievable."

Sanemi snorts at him but doesn’t respond, fully focused on his meal. The food is somehow even better than usual. Aoi must have woken up at the crack of dawn to get everything just right.

As everyone eats, Tanjiro clears his throat, gathering their attention. "So," he starts, "the plan for today is to head into town after lunch. We’ll walk around for a bit, maybe find something fun to do, and then we’ll go to a nice restaurant for dinner."

Nezuko’s eyes brighten. "That sounds amazing. Thank you for planning everything."

Tanjiro grins, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "Of course! I just want you to have a great day."

Before anyone can respond, Tengen leans forward, flashing Nezuko a knowing grin. "Speaking of, when do you want to open your gifts?"

Nezuko’s face immediately flushes, and she waves a hand. "Oh, you didn’t have to—"

"Nonsense," Tengen cuts in smoothly, "Of course we got you something."

"Oh! Oh! Let’s do it now!" Suma practically leaps from her seat, already halfway to the guest bedroom before anyone can stop her.

Tanjiro chuckles awkwardly. "Well…I guess we’re doing gifts now."

The others nod in agreement, standing to retrieve their own presents.

Sanemi remains seated, reaching into his haori pocket. His fingers brush against both wrapped items, and he makes sure to grab the right one—the simpler gift, the one meant for now. As he pulls it out, he keeps it hidden in his hands, glancing up just in time to catch Nezuko eyeing him almost suspiciously, a small grin tugging at her lips. Sanemi shrugs, a smirk pulling on his own lips. 

It’s not much, not compared to what he’ll give her later, but he knows she’ll appreciate it all the same.

The group trickles back into the dining room, each person holding their respective gifts. The air hums with quiet excitement—well, mostly.

"I should obviously go first," Tengen announces, tossing his hair over his shoulder as he strides over to Nezuko’s side, "It’ll be hard for anyone else’s gift to compare, after all."

Aoi scoffs, clearly about to fire back, but Tanjiro steps in before this turns into an actual argument. "Why don’t we just go around the table?" he suggests, ever the mediator.

Tengen sighs, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. I suppose I can be patient."

Sanemi highly doubts that, but at least the man sits down in his seat.

With that settled, Tanjiro hands Nezuko a small, square gift wrapped in a checkered furoshiki. "This is from me and Kanao," he says with a warm smile.

Nezuko brightens, taking the gift carefully and unwrapping it carefully. Inside, she finds a small wooden box, clearly handmade, its surface intricately engraved with sakura blossoms. She lets out a soft awe, running her fingers over the design before opening it.

Inside, several bags of herbal tea blends rest neatly beside a few silk hair ribbons in soft, pastel shades.

"Tanjiro, Kanao—" Nezuko gasps, eyes shining as she turns toward them. Without another word, she practically throws herself into Tanjiro’s arms, squeezing him tight. "Thank you both! I love it!"

Tanjiro chuckles, hugging her back. "I’m glad. Kanao helped with the teas."

Kanao nods, a small but pleased smile on her face. "I hope you like it."

Nezuko beams. "I do! I really do!"

Once she pulls back, Aoi leans forward next, handing Nezuko a container wrapped in a light blue furoshiki. "This is from me and Ino—"

"No, it’s not!" Inosuke cuts in, puffing out his chest, "I got my own present!"

Aoi’s brows crease slightly in concern, but she ultimately just sighs. "Alright, fine. It’s just from me, then."

Nezuko grins, unwrapping the container and lifting the lid. Inside, a variety of homemade sweets sit neatly arranged, the sweet smell wafting in the air. But the real highlight is a bag of konpeitō nestled among them—Nezuko’s favorite.

"Aoi!" Nezuko gasps, eyes sparkling, "You made all of this?"

Aoi nods, lips twitching slightly. "You like sweets, don’t you?"

"I love them! Thank you so much!"

Before Aoi can respond, Inosuke suddenly bursts out of his seat and marches over to Nezuko. Before she can even ask, Inosuke plops something onto her head. A crown. A flower crown, to be exact, though most of the ‘flowers’ are actually just weeds.

"There! Now you’re the princess of the mountain!" Inosuke declares, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Nezuko giggles, reaching up to touch the crown lightly. "Thank you, Inosuke. I love it."

Sanemi isn’t even sure where the hell the boy found flowers in all this snow, but Nezuko seems happy, so he supposes it doesn’t matter.

With Inosuke’s offering complete, it’s finally the Uzuis’ turn.

Suma practically bounces in place as she presents their gift, while Tengen leans back with a smug expression. "Get ready, Nezuko. You’re about to receive the best gift of the day."

Nezuko blinks at the finely wrapped silk furoshiki, the knot done with such precision it almost looks too nice to untie. Sanemi already feels the urge to roll his eyes.

Carefully, Nezuko unwraps it, revealing an equally fancy kiribako container. The wood is lacquered and engraved with a floral pattern, the craftsmanship impeccable.

"You…you didn’t have to go this far," Nezuko mumbles, already looking overwhelmed.

"Oh, hush," Tengen dismisses with a wave of his hand, "Just open it already."

Suma nods eagerly. "Yes, yes! Open it!"

Nezuko exhales, almost nervous, but she does as they say. The moment she lifts the lid, she gasps softly, her cheeks flushing a deep pink.

Everyone leans in, even Giyu squinting slightly to try and get a better look.

Nezuko stammers, "I-I can’t accept something like this—"

"Of course you can," Hinatsuru interrupts gently, smiling, "You deserve it."

Makio nods firmly. "Exactly. No arguments."

Nezuko lowers the box slightly, finally allowing the others to see. Inside, a beautifully made kimono rests neatly folded, the fabric a soft lavender color with a matching obi. The floral embroidery is intricate, each stitch flawless. The material itself is clearly high quality, likely custom-ordered from one of the best tailors in Tengen’s town.

Most of the table collectively gasps as they take in the kimono, eyes widening in astonishment. Aoi’s mouth parts slightly, her brows raised high, while Tanjiro blinks rapidly, looking between the Uzuis and the luxurious fabric. Even Kanao, usually unreadable, seems taken aback, her violet eyes lingering on the delicate embroidery.

Sanemi isn’t even remotely surprised—he expected the Uzuis to go all out. But for some reason, a twinge settles in his gut—a quiet jealousy simmering at the back of his mind.

For a moment, no one speaks, as if they’re still processing the sheer extravagance of the gift. Then, Tanjiro is the first to recover, breaking into a proud smile. “You’re going to look amazing in this, Nezuko.”

Aoi quickly nods, her initial shock melting into admiration. “The color will suit you perfectly.”

“It’s lovely,” Kanao adds, her voice soft but certain.

Sanemi exhales, shifting in his seat before muttering, “Yeah. It’s nice.”

Beside him, Giyu gives a single nod in agreement.

Across the table, the Uzuis are all grinning, clearly pleased with the reaction. Tengen’s smirk, however, is insufferably cocky, and Sanemi has to bite back the urge to make some snarky remark about it. Instead, he forces himself to focus on Nezuko, whose face is still dusted pink as she carefully closes the kiribako.

Then Tengen’s gaze flicks toward Giyu, his smirk widening. “Well, Tomioka, good luck following that up.”

Giyu doesn’t rise to the bait, simply giving Tengen a look—one that’s not quite a glare but certainly close. He turns back to Nezuko without a word, reaching into his sleeve before placing something on the table in front of her.

A sensu fan.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t bother to wrap it, but Nezuko doesn’t seem to mind. She picks it up, unfolding it carefully to reveal a light blue background adorned with delicate white flowers. The design is simple but elegant, the quality clear even at a glance.

Nezuko smiles, running her fingers lightly over the fabric before looking up at Giyu. “It’s beautiful! Thank you.”

Giyu nods once, as quiet as ever.

And finally, it’s Sanemi’s turn.

His grip tightens slightly around the silk-wrapped container in his hands, his fingers brushing against the fabric as he hesitates for half a second too long. Then, clearing his throat, he hands it over, his cheeks warming despite himself. “It’s not much,” he mutters.

Nezuko waves him off with a knowing smile. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

She takes her time unwrapping it, carefully peeling back the light purple silk to reveal the small wooden container. When she lifts the lid, her breath hitches slightly, her eyes lighting up as she takes in the kanzashi nestled inside.

It’s delicate, crafted to resemble wisteria blossoms, the petals and leaves carved with precise detail. The soft hues of purple and silver catch the light as she lifts it, turning it slightly in her hands to admire the craftsmanship.

Sanemi hadn’t known that it would pair so well with the kimono from the Uzuis—that had just been an accident.

Nezuko beams. “Shinazugawa, it’s beautiful! Thank you!”

Sanemi has to fight back the blush creeping up his neck. He simply grunts in response, giving a small nod before looking away, hoping no one points out the obvious heat on his face.

But of course, the moment doesn't last.

Tengen leans in, resting his chin in his palm with a smug grin. “So, Nezuko, be honest—which gift was your favorite?”

Makio immediately smacks his arm. “Stop fishing for compliments.”

Hinatsuru gives him a pointed look. “Really, Tengen?”

But Nezuko just hums, pretending to think about it as she taps a finger against her chin. After a moment, she shrugs, her lips curling mischievously. “Mm…I think Inosuke’s was my favorite.”

“HAH!” Inosuke crows triumphantly, “I knew it!”

Tengen gasps, clutching a hand over his chest in mock devastation. “Nezuko, you wound me.”

The table erupts into laughter, Tanjiro chuckling beside Kanao who covers her smile with her sleeve, a giggling Aoi, and even Giyu exhaling something that could almost pass as amusement.

Sanemi can’t help but chuckle as well, shaking his head. The day is sure to only get more chaotic.

Chapter Text

The rest of the morning is spent around the table, the room buzzing with conversation and laughter. Stories are exchanged, a couple arguments break out over trivial things—mostly instigated by Inosuke—and Tengen somehow ropes Giyu into a debate about swordsmanship that the latter clearly does not want to have. The hours slip by quickly, and before long, lunch is served and devoured just as fast.

Once the meal is finished, Nezuko excuses herself, saying she’s going to change. The rest of the group busies themselves with gathering their things in preparation to head into town.

Across the room, Hinatsuru is engaged in an intense battle of wills with Tengen, who is refusing to put on a coat despite the winter chill.

“Tengen, put it on.”

“I don’t need it.”

“It’s freezing.”

“I have three wonderful wives to keep me warm.”

“And you’ll have three furious wives if you get sick.”

Suma and Makio nod fervently in agreement, and Hinatsuru crosses her arms, giving him a firm look. Eventually, with a dramatic sigh, Tengen caves, allowing Suma to drape the thick coat over his shoulders while Makio grumbles about his stubbornness.

But just as they’re fussing over him, Suma suddenly gasps, her eyes going wide. “Ah!”

Before anyone can react, she darts past Sanemi, rushing toward something behind him. Instinctively, Sanemi turns—

And the breath leaves his lungs.

Nezuko stands in the doorway of the room, dressed in the lavender kimono the Uzuis gave her, the floral patterns delicate against the soft fabric. Her obi is tied perfectly, cinching at her waist, and her sleeves drape elegantly as she fidgets under the sudden attention. 

But it’s not just the kimono—it’s the way the color compliments her warm eyes, how it makes the soft flush on her cheeks more pronounced. And there, nestled in her hair, is the kanzashi he gave her. The wisteria blossoms glint subtly in the light, nestled between dark waves.

She looks perfect.

Sanemi’s mouth goes dry, his entire body frozen as he takes her in. His mind is a mess, tangled somewhere between awe and disbelief, his heart hammering an unsteady rhythm against his ribs.

Makio and Hinatsuru flank her in an instant, voices high with excitement as they gush over how beautiful she looks.

“Nezuko, it fits you so well!”

“Absolutely stunning. I knew this color would suit you.”

Nezuko ducks her head slightly, clearly flustered by the attention, but she’s smiling, her fingers lightly grazing the fabric of her sleeve. She thanks them softly, and the wives only continue their praise.

Sanemi barely hears them.

He knows he’s been staring too long. He should look away, say something, do something—but he can’t. It’s almost ridiculous how amazing she looks. Maybe Inosuke was right. Maybe she really is a princess.

The moment shatters when he senses movement beside him.

Tengen steps up next to him, arms crossed, a smug grin already in place. Sanemi scowls immediately, snapping his gaze away from Nezuko to glare up at him.

Tengen doesn’t say anything right away. He just smirks, tilting his head slightly before finally speaking. “You’re welcome.”

Heat flares in Sanemi’s chest, a mix of embarrassment and irritation. His jaw tightens, fists clenching at his sides.

Before he can get out any kind of response—an insult, a denial, anything—Tengen continues, his smirk widening. “Try not to tear it later tonight.”

Sanemi chokes. “What—?”

Tengen doesn’t wait for a reply, clapping him on the back before striding off, leaving Sanemi standing there, fists clenched, fuming silently as he burns holes into the back of Tengen’s head.

Damn flashy bastard.

A small movement catches his eye, pulling his attention back to Nezuko.

She’s looking at him now, standing a little apart from the others, her fingers still toying lightly with her sleeve. Her eyes meet his, warm and bright, and a soft, shy smile curves her lips.

The pink on her cheeks deepens.

Sanemi exhales sharply, the tension in his body ebbing slightly. He softens, just enough, and gives her a small smile in return.

“Alright, is everyone ready?”

Tanjiro’s voice rings out, bright and full of energy. The chatter in the room quiets, and all eyes shift toward him.

Nezuko’s attention is drawn away from the wives, though Makio is still straightening out her sleeves. On the other side of the room, Aoi is struggling to tie Inosuke’s yukata, her patience wearing dangerously thin.

“Hold still!” she scolds, yanking the fabric into place as Inosuke grumbles, arms twitching at his sides like he’s debating whether to shove her off.

“I don’t need this thing,” he huffs, “It’s annoying.”

“It’s winter,” Aoi snaps, tightening the sash with a sharp tug, “You’ll freeze.”

Inosuke huffs again, but doesn’t rip it off.

Satisfied, Aoi finally steps back, and the rest of the group nods in agreement to Tanjiro’s question.

Tanjiro beams. “Great! Then let’s head out.”

With that, the group of eleven begins filing out the door, stepping into the crisp, snow-laced air.

The walk to town starts in one large cluster but quickly splinters into smaller groups. Unsurprisingly, the couples stick together. Tanjiro and Kanao walk hand in hand, their voices soft as they talk between themselves. Aoi, meanwhile, is preoccupied with keeping Inosuke’s yukata closed, swatting at his hands every time he tries to loosen it.

A little ahead of them, Tengen walks beside Giyu, engaged in conversation that Sanemi can’t quite hear. Whatever they’re talking about, Giyu looks mildly pained by it, but he doesn’t walk away, so it must not be too bad.

Sanemi himself ends up trailing alongside the Uzui women and Nezuko.

The wives are still crowding around her, chatting excitedly as they admire the kimono again, smoothing out the fabric and adjusting the way the obi sits despite it already being perfectly fine.

Sanemi would normally roll his eyes at all the fuss, but Nezuko is glowing—smiling so brightly it’s like a second sun—and he loves seeing her like this.

But at the same time…

His fingers twitch at his sides, a restless feeling stirring in his chest. He wants to be the one at her side. He wants to be the one close enough to hear every soft laugh, every little murmur, to see every shift of expression on her face as she listens and responds.

Especially with how gorgeous she looks right now.

Suma suddenly turns to him, grinning brightly. “Shinazugawa, the hairpin you got Nezuko matches the kimono perfectly!”

Sanemi blinks, caught off guard by the sudden address. Before he can respond, Nezuko’s voice cuts in.

“I know!” she says, looking up at him with that same beaming smile, “I was really happy I could wear both today.”

Sanemi stops breathing.

His heart stutters in his chest, something warm and dangerously pleasant curling in his stomach. His face burns, and he has to fight the instinct to look away like some awkward idiot.

He clears his throat. “Yeah…they look good together.”

It’s all he can manage, and it still comes out too rough.

Suma, seemingly satisfied, turns back to Nezuko and resumes fussing over her outfit, adjusting the fabric at her shoulders. Sanemi exhales quietly, relieved to no longer be the focus of attention.

Letting his feet slow just a little, he lags behind the four of them, gaze drifting out over the snow-covered land. He listens to the soft crunch of footsteps in the snow, the occasional laugh from the group ahead, the hum of conversation filling the air.

Then, he feels a presence beside him. He doesn’t need to look to know someone’s there, but when he turns his head, his gaze locks onto a pair of bright purple eyes.

Hinatsuru smiles at him—kind, gentle, just like always. “How have you been, Shinazugawa?”

Sanemi blinks, a little caught off guard by the sudden conversation. He wasn’t really expecting her to talk to him, at least not one-on-one. 

He clears his throat, shifting his gaze forward again. “I’ve been… good.” It’s not exactly the smoothest response, but it’s not a lie. “You?”

Hinatsuru’s smile brightens. “Things have been nice since the final battle. It feels like, for the first time, we can just be a normal family.”

Sanemi huffs, smirking slightly. “Nothing’s ever normal with that guy.”

Hinatsuru laughs softly, tilting her head in agreement. “I suppose you’re right.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the crunch of footsteps in the snow, the distant chatter of the group ahead. Then, Hinatsuru glances at him again.

“The kanzashi was nice.”

Sanemi stiffens slightly, suddenly hyper aware of the way the wisteria-shaped ornament gleams against Nezuko’s dark hair. He swallows hard, fighting the heat threatening to rise to his face.

He nods, muttering, “Thought it would suit her.”

Hinatsuru hums, as if considering something. Then, she asks, voice light yet deliberate, “Does Tanjiro know?”

Sanemi tenses. His eyes snap back to hers, a denial forming on his lips—something sharp, maybe feigning confusion. But Hinatsuru just looks at him, eyes calm and knowing.

He exhales heavily, shoulders slumping. “No.”

Hinatsuru makes a thoughtful sound, glancing toward the group ahead. “Who does?”

Sanemi frowns, thinking for a second. “Giyu.” A pause, “Probably Kanao.” Another pause, before he lets out a resigned breath, “And, I guess…all of you.”

Hinatsuru chuckles, giving a small shrug. “We’re good at noticing love.”

Sanemi immediately flushes, heat crawling up his neck. “Tch.” He looks away, grumbling under his breath, but Hinatsuru just smiles.

She steps slightly closer, lowering her voice just a fraction. “She looks happy.” Her gaze flickers toward Nezuko, “Much happier than she was with the blonde kid.”

Sanemi huffs, arms crossing over his chest. “That’s not much competition.”

Hinatsuru lets out a soft laugh. “Maybe,” she allows, “but I like to see her happy.” She pauses, looking up at him, “And I’m glad to see you happy, too.”

Sanemi glances at her, caught off guard again, and finds nothing but sincerity in her expression. His face burns despite the winter chill, and he sighs, grumbling, “Thanks.”

Hinatsuru grins “So…When’s the wedding?”

Sanemi nearly chokes. His eyes go wide as he whips his head toward her. “We—what—” He shakes his head quickly, “We haven’t even—I’m not—We’re not doing that so soon.”

Hinatsuru hums knowingly. “So you’re courting, then?”

Sanemi pauses. His lips press into a tight line, and after a long second, he mutters, “…We haven’t actually talked about it.”

A flicker of nervousness stirs in his chest. He glances at Hinatsuru, half expecting some kind of judgment, but her expression remains soft.

“You should. Soon.” she says gently, “Don’t let her pass you by.”

Sanemi looks up ahead, eyes drawn instinctively to Nezuko. The way her eyes shine, the way the kimono flatters her so effortlessly, the way her laughter rings through the air and makes something tighten in his chest.

Then, he looks back at Hinatsuru.

“I’m not planning on it.”

Hinatsuru’s smile turns satisfied. With a small nod, she strides forward, rejoining her wives without another word.

Sanemi watches her go, exhaling another breath. Then, he shakes his head, lips quirking slightly.

I’m really that obvious, huh?

He lets out a quiet chuckle at the thought. It’s a damn miracle Tanjiro hasn’t confronted him yet.

Sanemi continues to linger behind the group, content to keep his distance as the others chatter ahead. His focus remains fixed on Nezuko, on the way she laughs so effortlessly with the Uzui wives, her smile bright and radiant.

She’s stunning.

He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until she turns slightly, catching his gaze. For a brief second, surprise flickers in her expression, but then her cheeks warm with a rosy flush, and she offers him a sweet smile.

Sanemi feels something tighten in his chest. Instinctively, he softens, giving her a faint smile in return.

Then he catches the shit-eating smirk Tengen is aiming at him from up ahead, and his face immediately darkens. He scowls, looking away with an annoyed huff, but that damn grin still lingers in his mind. Bastard.

Eventually, footsteps crunch against the snow beside him, and Giyu appears in his periphery. Sanemi flicks him a glance. Giyu’s expression is perfectly neutral, but his stiff posture and the faint crease between his brows make it obvious—he’s exhausted from socializing.

Sanemi smirks. “Tengen finally let you go?”

Giyu exhales through his nose. “I don’t think he noticed I left.”

“Lucky you.”

And then that’s it. No more conversation, no pointless small talk. Just the two of them walking side by side in a comfortable, much-needed silence.

Sanemi barely even notices Giyu after that. His attention stays locked onto Nezuko, trailing after her without thinking, watching the way her eyes light up as she chats with Suma and Makio. Every now and then, she turns to him again, and every time she does, her blush deepens just a little.

He’s so caught up in watching her that he hardly notices when they finally reach the town.

The streets aren’t too crowded, the cold keeping most people indoors, but a handful of vendors are still out, their stalls lined with goods. Warm light spills from the open doors of various shops, casting a soft glow against the snow-covered streets.

Tanjiro and Kanao break off first, calling out something about checking for any events happening today. At the same time, Inosuke suddenly bolts toward God-knows-what, a mischievous laugh escaping his lips.

Aoi’s frustrated yell follows immediately after. “Inosuke! Get back here!”

Sanemi snorts as she takes off after him, already looking exasperated.

“I don’t get what she sees in that boy,” he mutters.

Giyu hums beside him. “Neither do I.”

With their group now slightly smaller, they continue walking through town, weaving between the sparse crowds. There’s plenty of places to stop—tea houses, food stalls, trinket shops—but nothing particularly catches Sanemi’s interest.

Instead, he follows the others, watching as Nezuko takes the lead.

Sanemi follows the group into the stationary shop, the scent of parchment and ink filling the air. The Uzuis immediately get distracted by some flashy calligraphy pens near the entrance, their excited chatter ringing through the small store.

Sanemi exhales through his nose. Finally.

He steps closer to Nezuko’s side, watching as she browses through an assortment of fancy colored paper. The soft hues of pink, blue, and purple seem to catch her interest the most, her fingers grazing over the delicate sheets.

Then, her attention shifts, and she reaches into a nearby box, pulling out a thin strip of patterned fabric. She grins as she turns to Sanemi, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“You should get some of these,” she teases, “That way, you can start sending letters with something better than twine.”

Sanemi huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “The material doesn’t matter.”

Nezuko hums thoughtfully, twirling the fabric between her fingers before looking up at him again. “Don’t you want to give me something nice, though?”

Sanemi scoffs. “I get you nice things all the time.”

She beams, nodding. “You do.” There’s a pause, and then she leans in slightly, smirking, “Speaking of…what’s the special gift you got me?”

Sanemi rolls his eyes, shoving her shoulder lightly. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Nezuko huffs, pouting slightly. “Not even a hint?”

“Nope.”

She lets out a dramatic sigh, but doesn’t push further. Instead, she continues browsing, occasionally turning to Sanemi to ask for his opinion. He offers a few quick responses, but he secretly enjoys the way she wants his input.

Eventually, she gathers a few items—some colored paper, a small bundle of fabric strips, and a new ink set. As she moves toward the counter to pay, Sanemi steps forward, slipping a few yen onto the wooden surface before she can protest.

Nezuko gasps, turning to him with an exasperated look. “Sanemi! I was going to pay for that.”

Sanemi just shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Too slow.”

Nezuko pouts again, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “You always do this.”

“Then you should’ve expected it.”

She sighs but doesn’t argue any further. Instead, she picks up her new supplies, sending him a look that’s both fond and playfully exasperated. Sanemi averts his gaze, the tips of his ears burning. 

He barely makes it two steps out of the shop before a heavy hand claps against his shoulder. His body tenses on instinct, but when he turns, he’s met with Tengen’s all-too-familiar smirk.

“How gentlemanly of you, Shinazugawa.” Tengen’s voice practically drips with amusement. 

Sanemi scowls, shaking the man’s hand off his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Tengen only chuckles as Sanemi follows after Nezuko, his face still slightly warm. The Uzuis and Giyu follow at a more leisurely pace, chatting amongst themselves as they enter the next shop—a large textile store filled with all sorts of items.

Sanemi takes in the shelves lined with colorful fabrics, carefully folded kimonos, intricately woven obis, and delicate accessories. The air carries a faint floral scent from perfume satchels hanging from the walls.

Unsurprisingly, the Uzuis immediately drag Giyu off toward the expensive fabrics, marveling at the patterns and textures. Sanemi, on the other hand, keeps close to Nezuko, watching as she moves toward the accessories.

Her fingers trail over a collection of hairpins and bracelets, picking a few up to examine them under the soft lantern light. She hums to herself, tilting her head slightly as she assesses each piece.

Sanemi finds himself watching her more than the jewelry. But when she holds up a delicate silver bracelet adorned with tiny flower engravings, he clears his throat. “That one looks nice.”

Nezuko glances at him, then back at the bracelet, smiling softly before setting it down. She picks up another hairpin, this one a deep shade of blue, and turns slightly toward him.

“What about this one?”

Sanemi tilts his head, giving it a once-over. “It’d suit you.”

Her smile widens. “You think so?”

He nods in response, shoving his hands into his pockets as they continue browsing.

Eventually, they find themselves in a smaller corner of the store, partially hidden by shelves stacked with accessories. It’s quiet here, the sounds of the shop muffled by the distance. Sanemi glances around briefly before stepping closer.

Then, before he can overthink it, he reaches out and takes Nezuko’s hand.

She startles slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes. A soft pink dusts her cheeks as her fingers relax in his hold.

Sanemi swallows, running his thumb over her knuckles. The silk of her kimono brushes against his wrist as he murmurs, “You look beautiful in this.”

Nezuko’s blush deepens. She lowers her gaze slightly, smiling shyly. “Thank you.”

Sanemi shifts, his grip on her hand tightening just a fraction. “…I still don’t like that flashy idiot, but…” he exhales sharply, grumbling, “I guess he’s got good taste.”

Nezuko giggles, the sound soft and warm, as she playfully smacks his arm. “You’re so mean.”

Sanemi quirks a brow, smirking slightly. “I’m always mean.”

Nezuko shakes her head, her voice quieter when she says, “Not to me.”

Sanemi’s breath catches, his heart stumbling in his chest. He huffs, looking away briefly, but his free hand lifts before he can stop it. His fingers brush against her cheek, warm despite the winter air, and he cups her face gently.

“…No. Not to you.”

Nezuko’s breath hitches, her eyes shining as she gazes up at him.

Sanemi quickly glances around to make sure they’re still alone, then leans in, pressing his lips to hers.

Nezuko sighs softly against his lips, her free hand coming up to rest lightly on his chest. The kiss is gentle at first, but quickly deepens as Sanemi pulls her closer. His thumb strokes her cheek as he tilts his head, slanting his mouth over hers more firmly.

Nezuko presses herself against him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Sanemi's hand slides from her cheek to the back of her neck, cradling her head as he kisses her deeper.

“Oh!”

A startled squeak from behind has Sanemi yanking back so fast he nearly bumps into the shelf behind him. His pulse spikes, his face burning as he whips his head around.

Kanao stands there, clouded eyes slightly widened before her expression shifts into something far too knowing. Her lips quirk, the smallest hint of a teasing smile forming.

Sanemi scrambles for an excuse, opening his mouth to spit out something—anything—but Kanao cuts him off effortlessly.

“Everyone’s ready to go.”

Her voice is as calm as ever, her gaze flitting between them before she turns on her heel and walks away, not bothering to wait for a response.

Sanemi clears his throat, willing his face to cool as he turns back to Nezuko. Her cheeks are just as red as his feel, her eyes flickering between him and the door where Kanao disappeared.

He rubs the back of his neck, muttering, “Uh…sorry.”

Nezuko blinks, then quickly shakes her head. “It’s alright.”

Before he can say anything else, she steps closer and presses a quick, featherlight kiss to his cheek. Sanemi freezes under her touch. 

Nezuko pulls back, smiling sweetly. “Are you ready to go?”

Sanemi swallows, his heart hammering in his chest. He nods wordlessly, trailing after her as they leave the shop. Outside, the rest of the group has already gathered, chatting amongst themselves.

Tanjiro’s face lights up as soon as they step out. “Nezuko! There’s going to be a few musical performances at a theatre nearby.”

Nezuko perks up, eyes shining. “That sounds fun! I’d love to go.”

With that, the group moves again, Tanjiro leading the way. The streets still aren’t very crowded, making for an easy walk as they chat amongst themselves.

When they reach the small theatre, everyone quickly pays for their entrance before heading inside, being entirely too loud.

Inosuke is still complaining under his breath about how stupid it is that he has to keep his yukata shut. “Clothes are so restricting.”

Tengen, on the other hand, sighs dramatically, his voice carrying over the chatter. “I hope this performance is flashy enough!”

Sanemi rolls his eyes, but follows the group into the theater, grateful when the seating arrangements land him between Giyu and Nezuko.  The murmurs of the audience fill the air as they wait for the performance to begin. 

Nezuko leans toward him slightly, voice soft. “Have you ever been to a concert?”

Sanemi snorts, shaking his head. “Never had the time.” It’s true, but even now, he wouldn’t have thought to go on his own.

Nezuko hums. “My mom took me to a few when I was little. I always liked them.”

Sanemi glances at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That sounds nice.”

Before she can respond, the theater quiets as two musicians step onto the stage. The audience settles as they take their places—one with a jiuta, the other with a koto.

A pause, then soft, graceful notes begin to fill the air. The melody is delicate and intricate, undoubtedly beautiful—but Sanemi quickly realizes it isn’t exactly his thing. It’s slow, almost lulling, and judging by the way Inosuke is shifting in his seat, he isn’t the only one struggling to sit through it.

Sanemi exhales quietly, resigning himself to the performance. But just as he starts to let his mind wander, something warm brushes against his hand.

His breath catches as fingers hesitantly intertwine with his. He turns his head, locking eyes with Nezuko, who looks just as shy as she does hopeful. Sanemi squeezes her hand, offering her a small, gentle smile. Nezuko beams, her own fingers curling more securely around his.

From Nezuko’s other side, Suma lets out a soft, barely-contained squeal. Sanemi flicks his gaze toward her, only to find her grinning like she’s just witnessed the most romantic moment of her life. She practically bounces in her seat, excitement radiating off her in waves.

Sanemi fights the urge to roll his eyes, quickly turning back to the stage.

Still, no matter how hard he tries to focus on the music, he can’t ignore the warmth of Nezuko’s hand in his.

By the time the show ends, Sanemi is thoroughly bored.

Granted, it served as a much-needed reprieve from the Uzuis' constant noise, but at this point, he almost misses the conversation. The music had been impressive, but it’s never something he’s particularly cared for, especially the traditional kind. Too slow, too delicate.

Still, Nezuko seemed to enjoy herself, and that’s what matters.

As they step out of the theater and into the crisp evening air, Inosuke is the first to speak—unsurprisingly. “So is it finally time for dinner?”

Suma gasps dramatically. “Oh! Yes! I’m starving!”

Makio elbows her, scolding, “You don’t have to be so loud about it.”

Suma pouts. “But I’m hungry!” she whines loudly.

Sanemi sighs. Nevermind. The concert was much better.

Tanjiro, of course, takes charge. “There’s a nice restaurant nearby. Let’s go!”

With that, he leads the way, and the rest of the group follows. Sanemi falls into step beside Giyu once more, neither of them speaking, neither minding the quiet.

The restaurant they arrive at is simple—nice but not overly fancy. When they step inside, the server waiting at the entrance blinks at them, eyes slightly wide.

Sanemi supposes they do make an odd-looking bunch.

But she quickly recovers, plastering on a polite smile as she bows and leads them toward a private dining room tucked behind shoji doors. The group files in, settling onto the cushions around the low table. They end up in the exact same seating arrangement as back at the house—Nezuko directly across from Sanemi, and Giyu on his left.

Sanemi picks up the menu, skimming over the options. His eyes glaze over at the fancier dishes—ones he’s sure the Uzuis will jump at—but he has no interest in overly complicated meals. Instead, he searches for something simple. Just some rice and meat, maybe a few vegetables.

As he looks, their server returns. She seems young, with long brown hair tucked neatly behind her shoulders and a simple blue kimono. Her voice is high-pitched, almost unnaturally so, as she introduces herself.

“Welcome! My name is Seiko, and I’ll be serving you tonight.”

She moves around the table, pouring them each a cup of tea.

Before she can say anything else, Tengen grins. “We’ll take a bottle of sake for the table.”

A collective groan sounds around the group.

The server laughs quietly before bowing slightly. “I’ll be back shortly with the sake and to take your orders.”

She turns and exits the room, leaving them in a moment of comfortable silence. Sanemi lowers his menu slightly, only to catch Nezuko’s gaze. 

“What are you getting?” she asks.

He hums lowly, eyes flicking back to the menu before he shrugs. “Probably gyudon. You?”

Nezuko purses her lips, scanning over the options again. “I’m torn between oyakodon and chirashi sushi,” she sighs.

Sanemi doesn’t think much before he shrugs again. “I know how to make oyakodon. If you want, I’ll make it for you later, so you can get the sushi now.”

The words come out naturally—too naturally—and it takes him a second to realize what he just offered. His face heats up at the intimacy of it, and when he looks at Nezuko, her cheeks are just as pink.

She nods, tucking some hair behind her ear as she murmurs, “That’s a very kind offer. Thank you.”

A brief pause follows, a flicker of something in the space between them—until Tanjiro cuts in. “What about you, Giyu? What are you getting?”

Sanemi can’t help but snort. 

“Salmon daikon.” He and Giyu say it at the exact same time.

Giyu’s expression remains blank, but the soft pink tint dusting his ears betrays his embarrassment.

Sanemi grins. “Do you ever eat anything else?”

Giyu straightens his posture. “I do.”

“Sure.” Sanemi scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. 

Tanjiro chuckles before announcing, “I think I’ll get some soba.”

At that, Giyu visibly shudders. Sanemi raises a brow, but Giyu says nothing. Huh. He’ll have to ask about that later.

Tanjiro starts to ask Kanao what she’ll get, but Sanemi doesn’t really pay attention. Instead, he lifts his cup, taking a sip of his tea, the warmth spreading through his chest.

A few minutes later, the server returns, carefully balancing a bottle of sake and several small cups. She sets them down with a polite smile, though Tanjiro, Aoi, and Nezuko all decline, much to Tengen’s visible disappointment.

With that handled, she pulls out a notepad. “Are you ready to order?”

Aoi goes first, ordering kakiage don. Inosuke, predictably, gets shrimp tempura, practically vibrating in place as he does so.

Kanao picks yudofu, which immediately earns a dramatic groan from Tengen. “Come on, that’s not flashy at all!”

She simply shrugs.

Tanjiro orders his zaru soba, and at the mention of it, Sanemi notices Giyu’s face pale slightly. He really has to ask about that now.

Nezuko settles on the sushi while Sanemi sticks with gyudon. Giyu, of course, gets his salmon daikon. No surprises there.

Makio and Suma decide to share a large dish of sashimi teishoku, while Hinatsuru orders kitsune udon. Tengen, always needing to be extravagant, goes for kaisendon.

The server scribbles everything down, her hand moving quickly across the notepad. By the time she finishes, she looks slightly overwhelmed, double-checking her notes before glancing back at the group.

“Let me repeat that back to make sure I have it correct.”

She carefully lists off each dish, her voice carrying a slight nervous edge. Everyone nods in confirmation, and she exhales quietly, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction before she bows again.

“Thank you. I’ll put in your orders now.”

With that, she slips out of the room, leaving the group to their own conversations once more.

Sanemi glances toward Giyu, catching him in a rare moment of stillness while Tanjiro chats animatedly with Nezuko. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice.

“Alright, what’s the soba thing?”

Giyu’s normally blank expression twists in unmistakable distaste, his top lip curling back as he mutters, “During Hashira training, Tanjiro challenged me to a soba-eating contest.”

Sanemi stares for a second before he barks out a sharp laugh. “Why the hell would he do that?”

Giyu exhales lowly, shaking his head. “I still don’t understand that boy in the slightest.”

Sanemi snorts, eyeing Giyu with amusement. After a beat, he smirks. “So? Who won?”

Before Giyu can answer, Tanjiro’s head snaps toward them. “I did!” he declares cheerfully. Then, with a sheepish smile, he adds, “But I think Giyu let me.”

Giyu shoots Sanemi an exhausted, deadpan look, as if silently asking why he’s even engaging in this conversation. Sanemi, however, sees the opportunity and runs with it.

“Wow, really? You know, you should challenge him to a rematch.”

Giyu’s glare sharpens, his dark eyes full of quiet, simmering wrath. If looks could kill, Sanemi would be six feet under. Actually, judging by Giyu’s expression, he might still die later when they’re back in the guest room.

It takes every ounce of willpower for Sanemi to keep his laughter contained as Tanjiro, blissfully unaware of Giyu’s silent fury, brightens at the idea. “That’s a great idea! We should—”

“Mmm,” Giyu interrupts with a tight, polite smile, “Maybe sometime soon.”

Sanemi barely holds it together. He tactfully turns away before he pushes his luck any further, facing Nezuko instead. She shakes her head, a small grin tugging at her lips. 

“You’re awful,” she murmurs.

Sanemi smirks, lifting his tea cup to take a sip. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Nezuko giggles, a soft, sweet sound muffled behind her hand. Sanemi’s breath catches, his heart fluttering in his chest at the sight of her smile. 

Before he can dwell on it, Tengen suddenly claps his hands together, drawing the group’s attention. “Alright, pass your cups over—I’m pouring!”

Sanemi eyes the sake bottle warily, but after a beat of hesitation, he slides his cup forward. “Just one drink,” he grumbles.

Aoi gives Inosuke a firm look. “You’re only having one as well.”

Inosuke grins, which immediately makes Sanemi think he’s already planning to ignore that rule. Not his problem.

Once everyone—aside from the three who declined—has their drinks poured, they each lift their cups, taking slow sips. The warmth of the alcohol spreads through Sanemi’s chest as he sets his cup down.

He turns to Nezuko. “You sure you don’t want any?”

She shakes her head almost immediately. “I didn’t like the taste.”

Sanemi huffs softly, lifting his cup for another sip. “People don’t really drink it for the flavor.”

Nezuko only shrugs in response, but before they can say anything more, the server returns, this time with a few other employees carrying their meals. She carefully sets down each dish in front of them—her expression polite until Inosuke immediately digs in like a wild animal, sending crumbs and bits of food flying in every direction.

Her eye twitches, but to her credit, she doesn’t say anything.

Sanemi, however, shakes his head in exasperation, muttering a quiet “Thanks,” as the poor woman places his food in front of him.

The scent of simmered beef and onions wafts up to him, rich and savory, making his stomach growl in anticipation. But unlike a certain boar-headed menace, Sanemi has some manners, so he waits until everyone has their food before picking up his chopsticks.

The first bite is as good as he expected. The beef is tender, practically melting in his mouth, and the rice is cooked to perfection. It’s simple, nothing fancy or extravagant, but that’s exactly how he likes it.

“Is it good?”

Nezuko’s voice cuts through his thoughts, nearly making him choke. 

He swallows quickly, glancing at her before nodding. “Yeah. Tasty.” He shifts slightly in his seat, then asks, “What about your food?”

She smiles brightly, eyes lighting up as she nods. “It’s delicious!”

Before he can respond, she suddenly lifts a piece of salmon and rice with her chopsticks, holding it out to him. “Here, try it.”

Sanemi freezes, feeling warmth creep up the back of his neck. His gaze flickers instinctively to Tanjiro, but the boy is too preoccupied chatting with Kanao to notice anything.

Clearing his throat, Sanemi leans forward, accepting the bite. The fish is fresh, soft against the slight chew of the rice. He chews slowly, then nods as he swallows.

“Yeah. It’s really good.”

Nezuko beams at him, and before he can overthink it, he awkwardly gathers a small bite of rice, beef, and onion with his chopsticks, holding it out to her in return.

She doesn’t hesitate to lean forward, lips closing around the food before pulling back with a hum of delight. Sanemi almost doesn’t register the way his heart stutters when she lets out a quiet, pleased moan as she chews.

Then she swallows and exclaims, “That’s really tasty!”

Sanemi coughs, gripping his chopsticks a little too tightly. “Yeah, well…it’s one of my favorites.” 

Nezuko perks up at that, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Then I’ll make it for you sometime!”

He stares at her, heart tripping over itself, and it’s suddenly, stupidly unfair how badly he wants to kiss her right now. But since that’s not exactly an option, he just clears his throat again, offering her a small, lopsided smile. 

“I’ll look forward to that.”

Chapter Text

Sanemi leans back on his hands, exhaling slowly as he stares down at his empty bowl. He’s completely full, more than satisfied with his meal, and somehow he even let Tengen talk him into a few more drinks along the way. He isn’t drunk, not even close, but there’s a warmth lingering in his chest even as they step back outside into the crisp night air.

Snowflakes drift lazily from the darkening sky, catching in Nezuko’s hair, melting against the warmth of her skin.

“Did you have a nice birthday, Nezuko?” Kanao asks quietly, cutting through the gentle quiet.

Nezuko turns to her, eyes bright with happiness. “Yes! It was the best birthday ever! Thank you, everyone, for being here.”

Her sincerity is met with a chorus of overlapping responses—assurances that they had a great time, that it was no big deal, that she deserved it. 

Nezuko flushes under the attention, the pink in her cheeks deepening, and Tanjiro beams before exclaiming, “Alright! Let’s head back home!”

There’s a round of murmured agreement, and the group naturally falls into the same walking patterns as before—Tanjiro and Kanao hand in hand, Inosuke grinning triumphantly as Aoi finally allows him to undo his yukata, and the Uzuis, much to Sanemi’s annoyance, hovering around Nezuko with their usual teasing.

Sanemi, once again, ends up beside Giyu.

It’s quiet between them, as it often is, the only sounds their footsteps crunching through the snow and the distant chatter of the others ahead. 

Then, after a long beat, Giyu exhales sharply and mutters, “I’ll remember that.”

Sanemi blinks, thrown off for a second before the memory clicks.

He snorts, shaking his head as he smirks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Giyu’s expression doesn’t change, his face as impassive as ever, save for the slight narrowing of his eyes. “You’ll see.”

Sanemi huffs, rolling his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “Worth it.”

A quiet scoff escapes Giyu, but he says nothing else and they continue walking in silence, the snow falling gently around them.

By the time they make it back to the house, the sun has nearly set, casting the sky in deep shades of orange and red. The long day is catching up to everyone—Suma is slumped against Hinatsuru, Makio leans against Tengen, and Tanjiro rubs at his eyes with a sluggish blink. 

Inosuke, the moment Aoi so much as muttered about being tired, immediately swept her up into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way. It’s both ridiculous and strangely romantic, not that Sanemi would ever say that out loud.

They step inside, warmth greeting them instantly.

“I’m sleepy,” Suma mumbles, voice heavy with drowsiness.

Makio stifles a yawn. “Yeah…same.”

Tanjiro stretches, eyes drooping slightly before he nods. “I think it’s time for bed.”

No one argues.

The Uzui wives each give Nezuko one last hug, murmuring their final birthday wishes before making their way toward their room. Giyu gives a small nod in her direction before following, and when Sanemi catches her gaze, there’s a flicker of something knowing in her expression. They don’t speak, but they don’t need to.

Then, they part ways.

Sanemi follows Giyu and the Uzuis into the guest room, laying down in the futon as the others settle in. The room is dim, quiet save for the occasional shifting of blankets. He stares up at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head, waiting.

He has no intention of sleeping. He’ll lay here for a bit, let the others drift off, and then he’ll find his way back outside.

But Sanemi isn’t that lucky. Giyu, as always, falls asleep almost instantly, his breathing slow and steady in the quiet room. However, the soft murmur of voices fills the air—Hinatsuru and Tengen, chatting just low enough that he can’t make out the exact words.

It makes him want to slam his head against the wall.

Aren’t they tired? Don’t they want to rest?

Sure, Tengen probably still has enough stamina left over from his Hashira days to stay up all night if he wanted, but if Hinatsuru would just go to sleep, then he’d probably  get bored enough to follow.

Sanemi shifts, fingers brushing against the small box in his haori pocket. His heart hammers in his chest. He’s taking too long, isn’t he? What if Nezuko is worried? What if she thinks he fell asleep—or worse, that he forgot?

He grits his teeth, suppressing a groan. Screw this.

The Uzuis already know, anyway.

Without another second of hesitation, Sanemi pushes himself off the futon and makes his way to the door. He doesn’t offer a word of explanation—just steps out, trying to be as quick as possible.

But, of course, Tengen won’t let him leave in peace.

“Have fun,” he calls out, unmistakable amusement in his tone.

Sanemi’s hands clench at his sides, resisting the urge to slam the door shut as he steps out into the hall. He exhales sharply, rubbing his temples before moving forward, his feet light against the wooden floors. He slips through the house, past the quiet rooms, until he reaches the door leading outside.

The cold night air greets him instantly, but he barely feels it. His gaze catches on the snow, on the trail of footprints already leading toward the pond house.

He walks quickly, trying to make up for the delay, shoes crunching against the snow. The pond house stands before him, warm light glowing faintly from within, and just outside, waiting for him, is Nezuko.

She looks up as he approaches, her lips curling into a soft smile.

And just like that, the tension from the day slips away, vanishing as if it had never existed in the first place.

Sanemi strides toward her without hesitation, stepping close, his voice quiet as he mumbles, “Sorry I took so long.”

Nezuko shakes her head, her smile never fading. “It’s alright.”

Something in his chest tightens at that, at her endless patience, at the way she looks at him like she never once doubted he would come. He exhales, lips twitching slightly before he leans down, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss against her lips.

When he pulls back, he lingers just for a moment, his breath brushing against her skin as he murmurs, “It’s cold. Let’s go inside.”

Nezuko hums in agreement, and then, without hesitation, she takes his hand. Sanemi swallows, his pulse quickening as they step inside together. His nerves curl in his stomach, but he pushes them down, squeezing her hand gently.

Sanemi swallows hard, fingers tightening around the small box in his pocket as she watches him expectantly. Her grin is almost teasing as she tilts her head, repeating her question. “So? What’s the surprise?”

He clears his throat, heart hammering as he reaches into his haori.

And suddenly, he feels ridiculous.

He spent an absurd amount of money on this—what if she doesn’t even like it? What if it’s disappointing? Sure, it’s expensive, but that doesn’t mean it’s impressive. He’s played this up too much, hasn’t he? She’ll be expecting something better. Something grand. Something—

“Sanemi?”

Her voice snaps him out of it. He blinks, realizing too late that he’s been silent for too long. Nezuko’s brows knit together, concern flickering in her eyes.

Sanemi quickly rubs the back of his neck, muttering, “It’s…not that great.”

Nezuko immediately waves him off, shaking her head with a bright smile. “Whatever it is, I know I’ll love it.”

Sanemi exhales sharply through his nose. He nods, rubbing at his neck again before mumbling, “Turn around, then. Close your eyes.”

Nezuko’s grin widens, her excitement clear as she spins around and shuts her eyes without hesitation.

Sanemi swallows. He opens the box carefully, his hands brushing over the delicate gift inside. His breath shudders out as he lifts the silver chain, the cool metal gliding between his fingers.

And then, with more care than he’s ever used for anything in his life, he reaches forward, looping the necklace around Nezuko’s neck. His hands are steady as he clasps it at the back, securing it in place.

His gaze lingers, drawn to the way the gem catches the soft moonlight streaming through the window, the gem glistening against her skin. It sits perfectly on her chest, just as he thought it would.

Sanemi clears his throat. “Alright…You can open your eyes now.”

Nezuko’s lashes flutter as her eyes open. She glances down, fingers brushing over the pendant. Her breath catches.

Sanemi watches, nervous, as her fingertips ghost over the gem. He opens his mouth, ready to say something—anything—but then she speaks first, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Sanemi…is this—”

His face burns. He looks away, crossing his arms as he mutters, “It’s a sapphire. Had it imported from Europe.”

A sharp inhale. He glances back just in time to see Nezuko’s eyes snap up to meet his, wide with shock.

“Sanemi—” Her voice rises with disbelief, “That must have cost a fortune!”

He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Wasn’t that bad.” His gaze flickers to the necklace, watching the way the jewel rests against her skin, “Made me think of you.”

It’s the truth.

He hadn’t planned on buying something like this. But when he stopped by the jeweler, flipping absentmindedly through a catalog of European imports, he saw it.

A pink sapphire.

It was expensive—so expensive he nearly scoffed and turned the page immediately—but he couldn’t. It held his attention, unwavering.

His first thought was that it would match her eyes perfectly. 

And now, as he watches her eyes shine with wonder, her lips part in awe, fingers curl delicately around the gift—he knows he made the right choice.

Because it does match her eyes. Perfectly.

Nezuko huffs softly, her fingers still curled around the pendant as she lifts it slightly, her face torn between gratitude and disbelief. She shakes her head, looking up at him with a small pout.

“Sanemi…You shouldn’t spend so much money on me.”

Sanemi scoffs, crossing his arms. “Get used to it. I plan on buyin’ you a hell of a lot more than that if you wanna be with me.”

The second the words leave his mouth, he freezes.

Nezuko’s eyes widen, her cheeks turning a bright pink. Sanemi’s own face goes hot as he realizes what he just said.

Shit.

“I mean—” He stammers, rubbing his neck anxiously, “If… well…” He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before forcing himself to look at her again, “I guess we haven’t really…talked about it.”

Nezuko nods slowly, shifting where she sits, her expression just as nervous. “Yeah…” she murmurs, fingers still tracing the edge of the pendant.

Sanemi exhales sharply, heart pounding. Screw it. He’s never been good at dancing around things. Might as well just be straightforward.

“Nezuko I…” He swallows hard, then speaks, his voice rough but sure, “I love you.” He clenches his fists at his sides, forcing himself to keep his gaze on hers, “And I’m serious about this. About…us.”

A moment of silence stretches between them.

It almost has Sanemi’s stomach sinking, his mind screaming at him to take it back, to brush it off, to say he didn’t mean it—

But then Nezuko surges forward. Her arms wrap tightly around his neck, her weight knocking him back a step.

Sanemi grunts at the sudden impact but barely has time to react before she presses her face into his shoulder, voice muffled but sure.

“I love you, too.”

Sanemi’s body sags with relief, his arms winding around her waist, pulling her in close. He exhales shakily, resting his chin against her hair before planting a kiss against the top of her head.

They stay like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the quiet hum of the night settling around them.

Finally, Nezuko pulls back just enough to look at him, her face still pink, a shy but happy smile curving her lips.

Sanemi stares at her, warmth blooming in his chest. He reaches up, his fingers brushing against her cheek before settling there, cupping her face gently.

And then, slowly, he leans in.

Nezuko's eyes flutter closed as his lips meet hers. The kiss is soft at first, tender and unhurried. His hand cradles her face, thumb stroking her cheek gently. Nezuko sighs contentedly against his mouth, her fingers curling into the fabric of his haori.

As the kiss deepens, a familiar heat builds between them. Sanemi's other arm tightens around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Nezuko's hands slide up to tangle in his hair, a quiet moan escaping her as his tongue brushes against hers. 

They break apart, both slightly breathless. Sanemi rests his forehead against hers, eyes still closed as he savors the moment. When he opens them, Nezuko is gazing up at him with such affection it makes his heart ache. 

"You’re freezing,” he murmurs with a small grin. 

Nezuko giggles softly, her breath warm against his skin. "Keep me warm, then.”

Sanemi's eyes darken at her words, a low groan rumbling in his chest. Without warning, he scoops Nezuko up into his arms, eliciting a surprised squeak from her. She quickly wraps her arms around his neck as he carries her over to the tatami mat.

He lays her down gently, his body hovering over hers as he gazes into her eyes. The sapphire pendant glimmers against her flushed skin, drawing his attention. Sanemi traces the chain with his fingertips, following its path down to where it rests between her breasts. Nezuko shivers at his touch, her breath catching as his fingers linger there. 

Sanemi's eyes flick back up to meet hers, dark with desire. "Beautiful," he murmurs. 

Nezuko's cheeks flush deeper at the compliment. She reaches up, cupping Sanemi’s face in her hands and drawing him down for another kiss. This one is more heated from the start, lips parting eagerly as their tongues slide together.  

Sanemi's hands roam Nezuko's body as they kiss, exploring the curves he's come to know over the past few days. He pulls back slightly, eyes raking over the kimono she still has on. He’ll never admit it to Tengen, but he certainly appreciates the gift—even if it wasn’t necessarily meant for him. 

Nezuko watches him through half-lidded eyes, her breath quickening as his hand skims lower.

"Can I take this off?" Sanemi asks, his voice rough.

Nezuko nods eagerly. "Please," she whispers.

With careful movements, Sanemi begins to undo the obi sash. His fingers work skillfully, loosening the elaborate knot. As the kimono parts, revealing more of Nezuko's pale skin, Sanemi's breath catches in his throat.

He pushes the fabric aside, drinking in the sight of her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get bored of the view. 

Sanemi leans down, pressing a trail of kisses along her collarbone and down to the swell of her breasts. Nezuko arches into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Sanemi," she breathes, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He hums in response, tongue darting out to circle her nipple teasingly. Nezuko gasps, her back arching as his tongue swirls around her sensitive nipple. His hand comes up to cup her other breast, thumb brushing over the hardened peak. She whimpers softly, and Sanemi can feel her heart racing underneath his hand.

While lavishing attention on her breast with his tongue, Sanemi’s hand dips lower, fingers gently brushing against the soft flesh of her thigh. Nezuko gasps softly at the contact, her legs parting instinctively. Sanemi groans against her breast, the sound vibrating through her. 

His fingers finally reach their destination, brushing gently against her clit and circling slowly. Nezuko’s breath hitches, her hips bucking involuntarily. Sanemi keeps his eyes on her face, watching the way she bites her lip, eyes fluttering shut as he touches her. 

"Still okay?" he mumbles, his voice low.

Nezuko nods frantically, her fingers tightening in his hair. "Yes," she breathes, "Please don't stop."

Encouraged by her words, Sanemi increases the pressure slightly, his movements becoming more purposeful. He dips his head, trailing kisses along her neck as his fingers work between her legs. Nezuko tilts her head back, giving him better access as she lets out a breathy moan. 

Sanemi can feel her getting wetter, his fingers easily gliding over sensitive folds. He carefully slides a finger inside her, groaning at how tight and warm she feels. Nezuko gasps, her hips lifting to meet his hand.

As Sanemi works his finger inside her, he curls it slightly, searching for that sensitive spot. When he finds it, her whole body jerks, a high-pitched whine escaping her lips. He smirks against her neck, focusing his attention there as he adds a second finger.

Nezuko's breathing grows ragged, her hips rocking against his hand as he pumps his fingers in and out. His thumb continues to circle her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure.

"Sanemi," she stammers, reaching down to grab his wrist. Sanemi stops immediately, his eyes widening in concern.

“Are you alright?” he asks quickly. Nezuko flushes an even deeper red, nodding quickly as she nervously averts her gaze.

"I'm fine," Nezuko reassures him, her voice soft, "I just... I want...Um, I want to..."

Sanemi's breath catches, understanding dawning on him. He should have figured they’d reach this point, but it still surprises him to hear Nezuko ask. His heart pounds as he meets her gaze, searching her eyes.

“Are...are you sure?” he asks softly, voice tinged with uncertainty.

Nezuko nods, her fingers tracing along his jaw. "I'm sure," she whispers, "I love you, Sanemi.”

Sanemi stills, his heart stuttering in his chest. He searches Nezuko’s eyes, looking for any hint of uncertainty, but finding none. That familiar doubt claws at his mind, telling him to pull away, but he doesn’t. Nezuko isn’t a child. She wants this. And so does he.

He lets out a soft sigh, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to her lips. “I love you, too,” he murmurs against her lips. 

After a moment, he pulls back and rests his forehead against hers, eyes closed as he steadies his breathing.

"Okay," he says finally, "We'll take it slow. And if you want to stop at any point, just say the word."

Nezuko nods, a soft smile curving her lips. "I trust you," she says simply.

Sanemi's heart swells at her words. He kisses her deeply, pouring all his love and devotion into it. Nezuko sighs contentedly against his lips, her hands exploring the planes of his muscled chest.

Slowly, Sanemi begins to undress. He shrugs off his haori, then pulls his top over his head. Nezuko's eyes darken slightly as she takes in his bare torso, her gaze lingering on the numerous scars marring skin. 

Then, her hands stretch out, tentatively reaching for the ties of his pants. He watches intently as she slowly undoes the drawstring, her movements hesitant but determined. As the fabric loosens, Sanemi helps her push them down, kicking them off completely. 

Now fully bare before her, Sanemi feels a flicker of vulnerability again. But the way Nezuko looks at him—with such open desire and affection—quickly banishes any insecurity. Her eyes roam over his body appreciatively before meeting his gaze again, a shy smile on her lips. 

Sanemi leans down, capturing her lips in another deep kiss as he settles between her legs. He can feel the heat of her core against him, making him groan softly. Nezuko whimpers into the kiss, her hips shifting restlessly.

"Are you ready?" he asks softly, his voice rough with desire.

Nezuko nods, her fingers tracing patterns on his shoulders. "Yes," she whispers, "I'm ready."

Sanemi takes a deep breath, steadying himself. He reaches down, positioning himself at her entrance. He pauses, looking at her face once more. She looks beautiful, completely flushed, eyes dark and blown wide with desire. It’s almost overwhelming how beautiful she is. 

Sanemi swallows hard, focusing his mind. Then, with utmost care, he begins to push inside.

Nezuko gasps at the initial stretch, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Sanemi stills immediately, watching her face intently.

"Are you okay?" he asks, concern lacing his voice.

Nezuko nods quickly. "I'm fine," she assures him, "Just...go slow.”

Sanemi nods, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as he continues to ease himself inside her. He moves slowly, giving her time to adjust to the new sensation. Nezuko's breath comes in short pants, her body tense beneath him. 

"Relax," he murmurs soothingly, pressing soft kisses against her jaw, "I've got you."

Nezuko takes a deep breath, willing her muscles to loosen. As she relaxes, Sanemi is able to slide in deeper. He groans at the feeling of her tight heat enveloping him, fighting the urge to thrust.  

Finally, he's fully sheathed inside her. He stills, letting Nezuko adjust to the fullness. Her eyes are squeezed shut, brows furrowed slightly. 

"You okay?" Sanemi asks softly, worry evident in his voice. 

Nezuko takes a deep breath, her eyes fluttering open to meet Sanemi's concerned gaze. She gives him a small, reassuring smile. 

"I'm okay," she whispers, her fingers tracing patterns on his shoulders, "It's just...a lot. But not bad."

Sanemi exhales softly. "We can stop if you want," he murmurs against her skin.

Nezuko shakes her head, her arms tightening around him. "No, I want to keep going." She shifts her hips experimentally, gasping softly at the sensation, "You can move now."

Sanemi groans low in his throat, resting his forehead against hers as he slowly begins to rock his hips. He keeps his movements gentle and shallow at first, watching Nezuko's face intently. 

Her breath hitches with each slow thrust, eyes fluttering closed as she adjusts to the new sensation. Sanemi maintains a gentle pace, his own breathing ragged as he fights to stay in control. He peppers soft kisses along her jaw and neck, murmuring words of encouragement.

"You're doing so well," he breathes against her skin, "You feel amazing."

A quiet moan escapes Nezuko's lips, her hips starting to move in tandem with his. She gasps softly, her nails digging further into Sanemi's shoulders.

"Sanemi," she whimpers, "More…please."

Sanemi groans at her words, his hips snapping forward with more force.

Nezuko's breath catches at the sudden increase in intensity, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. Sanemi freezes immediately, his eyes wide with worry. 

"Too much?" he asks, voice strained. 

But Nezuko shakes her head, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulls him down for a deep kiss. When they part, she's breathless, cheeks flushed pink. 

"No," she whispers, "It's good. Please, don't stop." 

Sanemi groans, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he starts to move again. His thrusts are deeper now, more purposeful, and Nezuko meets each one. The initial discomfort has faded, replaced by a building pleasure that has her gasping and whimpering beneath him. 

"Sanemi," she moans, her back arching off the tatami mat. 

He grunts in response, nipping gently at her neck as he tries not to finish embarrassingly early. It’s been ages since he’s done this and Nezuko is just so tight and warm around him it’s difficult to maintain his pace, but he’s determined to pleasure her as long as he can. 

Sanemi quickens his thrusts, his hips snapping forward with more force as Nezuko's gasps and moans urge him on. He can feel her tightening around him, her body trembling beneath his.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans lowly, “So perfect for me.”

His hand slips between their bodies, fingers finding her sensitive bundle of nerves. He circles it with practiced movements, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

Nezuko cries out at the added stimulation, her hips bucking against Sanemi's. Her nails rake down his back as the pleasure builds, and the slight pain makes Sanemi groan lowly. 

He can feel her inner walls fluttering around him as she nears her peak, clenching tighter with each thrust. He grits his teeth, fighting to hold back his own release.

"That’s it," he murmurs against her ear, his voice rough with desire, "Come for me."

His fingers increase their pace against her clit as he drives into her with renewed vigor. Nezuko's back arches off the mat, a strangled cry escaping her lips as her orgasm washes over her. Her body shudders, inner walls clamping down around Sanemi's length.

The sight and feel of Nezuko coming undone beneath him is almost too much for Sanemi to bear, but he forces himself to hold back so he can continue to work her through the orgasm. 

Sanemi continues to move within Nezuko as she rides out her climax, his thrusts becoming erratic as he nears his own release. The tight heat of her body pulsing around him is overwhelming, pushing him closer to the edge with each movement. 

"Nezuko," he groans, his voice strained, "I'm close."

Nezuko's legs wrap tightly around his waist, holding him in place. Her eyes meet his, dark with desire.

"Stay," she whispers, her fingers tangling in his hair, "I want to feel you." 

Sanemi's eyes widen, a low groan rumbling in his chest at her words. His heart pounds in his chest as he searches her face, but he nods, unable to deny her anything. 

With a few more deep thrusts, Sanemi feels his release building. He buries his face in the crook of Nezuko's neck, breathing in her scent as his hips stutter. With a guttural groan, he comes undone, spilling himself deep inside her.

Nezuko gasps softly at the feeling, her arms tightening around him as she holds him close. They stay like that for a long moment, both breathing heavily as they come down from their shared high.

Finally, Sanemi lifts his head, pressing a tender kiss to Nezuko's lips before carefully pulling out, drawing a quiet whine from her. He collapses beside Nezuko, pulling her close against his chest. 

He presses soft kisses to her hair, his hand stroking soothingly along her back. Nezuko nuzzles into him, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

After a few moments of peaceful silence, Sanemi speaks softly. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

Nezuko lifts her head, meeting his gaze with a tender smile. "I'm wonderful," she murmurs, leaning up to kiss him gently, "That was perfect."

Relief washes over Sanemi, and he returns her smile. "You're perfect," he says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Nezuko blushes at his words, burying her face in his chest. Sanemi chuckles softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her back. They lay in comfortable silence for a while, basking in the afterglow. 

Eventually, Nezuko shivers slightly. Sanemi immediately reaches for one of the folded blankets, draping it over their bodies. He pulls her closer, his warmth enveloping her. 

"Better?" he murmurs. 

Nezuko nods, snuggling into him. "Much better," she sighs contentedly. 

Sanemi presses a kiss to her forehead, his hand coming up to gently stroke her hair. Nezuko nuzzles further into him, stifling a yawn. 

“You can sleep,” he murmurs softly, “I’ll wake you up in a bit to go back inside and clean up.”

Nezuko hums softly, her eyes already drifting closed. "Just a little nap," she mumbles sleepily. 

Sanemi watches as her breathing evens out, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He continues to stroke her hair, marveling at how peaceful she looks in sleep. 

As he holds her close, a wave of contentment washes over him. For once, the ever-present guilt and self-doubt that usually plague him are quiet. In this moment, with Nezuko in his arms, he feels...whole.  

As the minutes pass, Sanemi's mind wanders, reflecting on everything that's happened. 

Their first meeting still makes him cringe. He’d been so sure of himself, so sure she was just like every other demon. He’d held out his own bleeding arm like an idiot, ready to cut her head off the second she lunged for it.

But she didn’t.

She barely even looked at it, turning away in what seemed like disgust. That moment had shaken him, left a deep, lingering uncertainty in the back of his mind that he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.

Then months passed. Long months where they didn’t cross paths again, not until everything was over. Until the dust had settled, and all that was left were the broken pieces of those who survived.

Sanemi had been so empty then. Lost in his grief, drowning in a rage he had nowhere to direct anymore. He’d spent his days tending to his wounds, his nights staring at his ceiling, teetering on the edge of throwing himself onto his own sword.

And then there was Nezuko.

For reasons he still doesn’t understand, she sought him out. She’d looked for him, wanted his company, stayed even when he tried to push her away.

He’d thought it would fade. That once he left the Butterfly Mansion, whatever strange attention she gave him would disappear. But then the letters started coming. And he read them. Then, despite himself, he wrote back.

It had been too easy to fall for her. Too easy to look forward to those soft smiles, those gentle eyes, that teasing tone that made something in his chest twist. She was so kind, but fierce all the same.

But this?

Sanemi never let himself believe she could possibly feel the same. Yet this week proved him wrong.

Even though he refused to admit it—to himself most of all—the moment they locked eyes again after months apart, he’d known. This was where it would lead. This was what they would become.

Sanemi doesn’t believe in fate. Never has. But with Nezuko...something in him just knows.

She’s meant for him. And he’s meant for her.

He still doesn’t know if he can live up to that. If he can be enough for her. If he even deserves the chance. But he does know one thing: he’ll do everything in his power to be worthy of her.

And he’ll happily spend the rest of his life making her happy.