Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He stepped out of his car, briefcase in hand, weaving through the crowd of students surrounding Kimetsu Gakuen—his workplace and the school for countless young learners. The students laughed, argued, or waved greetings. In a half-hearted attempt at friendliness, he gave a small, serious bow, almost cold. The teenagers gulped, straightening their uniforms and checking that everything was in place. Damn, the man was intimidating.

His deep blue eyes—almost dull—his pale skin, and that gaze… God, that gaze could pierce your soul, as if he could see right through you. His voice was deep, melancholic, and drowsy—soothing, yet sharp in a way that commanded attention. Nobody seemed to perceive any intention in it other than to intimidate.

Tomioka Giyuu, the sports teacher at Kimetsu Gakuen, was… different. His unintentional coldness could intimidate, but it wasn’t on purpose. He was simply serious, calm, and unusual amidst the flamboyant personalities of both the students and teachers. That didn’t make him boring… or did it? He wasn’t sure. He was content with his life—his cozy home, his old fat cat, and his lifelong friend were all the company he needed.

“Tomioka-san! Good morning!” A cheerful redhead with a scar on his forehead called out in the hallway, radiating a brightness that could almost blind—like looking directly at the sun.

He returned the greeting, appreciating the effort Tanjirou made to make him feel welcome. The boy was one of the few students who didn’t shy away from him, who genuinely greeted him without hesitation. “Good morning,” he said, giving Tanjirou one last glance before entering his office, retreating once again into his own world of calm and quiet.

Or so he thought.

Shinazugawa Sanemi, with his intense purple gaze, gave Giyuu a subtle, judging look—or at least that’s how Giyuu felt. Tilting his head slightly, Giyuu wondered, 'Did I come to the wrong office?'

Before he could say a word, the albino-haired man started speaking.

“You’re finally here. What the hell? It’s like you take all the damn time in the world to grace us with your presence.” Sanemi’s sarcasm was dripping, but Giyuu wasn’t exactly skilled at picking up on social cues.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t understand. And honestly, he didn’t think he ever could. Sanemi was an incomprehensible being, thanks to Giyuu’s limited social interactions, and he was thoroughly confused by him.

Seeing no reaction, Sanemi snorted. “You’re insufferable…” His teeth gritted as he continued, “Look, idiot, I’m not in the mood to play games. I just came to tell you that yesterday’s staff meeting was important, and you didn’t even bother to show up.”

Giyuu blinked. Ah… that.

“Shinazugawa, I’m sorry, but I informed Principal Ubuyashiki in advance that I wouldn’t attend the meeting. I thought you’d take that into account,” he said, his impassive eyes fixed on Sanemi’s furious—now embarrassed—expression. “I’ll try to let you know next time.”

The taller man clenched his fists, a faint pink tint creeping over his ears.

“If you don’t care about your damn job, that’s not my problem.” Jaw tight, he shoved Giyuu toward the door and stormed off to his first class. Giyuu, still processing what had just happened, simply closed the door and sat at his desk.

“Did you hear them? What were they talking about—”

“Shhh!” the blond interrupted, eyes fixed on the intimidating teacher as he left the office.

“He didn’t look very happy…” Little Kamado munched on a piece of bread, half-disinterested in what her brother and his friends were doing.

“He never looks happy—Ow! What’s wrong with you?” Zenitsu yelped when the tall, mohawk-wearing boy punched his arm, pouting in protest.

“You’re talking about my brother, idiot. Watch your mouth.”

“Nezuko-chan… the only cure for pain is a magic kiss~” Zenitsu teased, fluttering his eyelashes at the girl, who looked utterly bewildered—bordering on disgusted. Kanao chuckled softly, while Tanjirou could only sigh.

Nezuko rolled her eyes. “Stop messing around. What did they talk about in there?”

Everyone knew about Zenitsu’s superhuman hearing, so using him as an eavesdropper wasn’t unusual. Naturally, they were curious about what the teachers were saying.

“Ah… Basically, Shinazugawa-san was upset about a staff meeting that Tomioka-san didn’t attend… or at least, that’s what it looked like.”

“Again?!” Genya groaned. “Seriously, does Sanemi have anything else to talk about besides hating Giyuu-san? He’s unbearable at home.”

“He’s lacking sex—ouch!” Inosuke rubbed his arm, glaring at the taller man.

“Shut up! He’s my brother, how disgusting!” Genya buried his face in his hands, trying to block out the mental images. No way—too much.

“Well, your brother clearly has an obsession with Giyuu-san. Believe me, I’ve seen the way they look at each other. The tension is palpable,” Zenitsu said—proudly dubbing himself a “love expert.” “It’s perfect enemies-to-lovers material. Though I don’t think Tomioka-san actually hates Shinazugawa-san… And I doubt he’s ever been with anyone—ah! And now, why are you—?!” Zenitsu whined again, rubbing his arm.

Red as his hair—Tanjirou pointed at him. “He’s my neighbor, Zenitsu! Not everything has to involve sleeping with someone!”

“I think they’re both idiots,” Inosuke said, finally managing to flick an annoying booger from his nose, much to Kanao and Nezuko’s disgust. “They should fight to see who’s stronger!”

“Don’t give them ideas, Sanemi-san might hear you,” Genya said, chuckling despite himself. “And what would they even fight with? With fists? Katanas?”

“Yeah! That’d be so cool…” Inosuke finally withdrew his finger, much to the girls’ and Zenitsu’s relief. “It would be epic! Almost as epic as me!”

“Giyuu-san is really good at sports; he’d beat Sanemi-san in a heartbeat,” Genya looked at the boy, raising an eyebrow at the redhead.

“Nah, Sanemi would win. He goes to the gym and has always been strong.”

Meanwhile, Kanao carefully opened her notebook and began sketching, translating the conversation into two slender figures, almost the same height, katanas at their hips.

Nezuko, about to scold them for being loud, paused, amazed at Kanao’s drawing of the teachers in dramatic battle poses, dressed like warriors from another era.

“Wow, Kanao, that’s impressive…” Nezuko whispered. Looking down at her toes Kanao says a little: “Thank you.”

“Hey, guys, check this out!” Nezuko interjected, and the four friends—still debating the imaginary Sanemi vs. Giyuu battle—saw Kanao’s masterpiece and collectively exclaimed, “Woooow!”

Tanjirou ran his hand over the paper carefully, while Zenitsu chuckled. “It’s not realistic enough. They’re in love, duh.” Everyone laughed, and Kanao added hearts around the figures.

“But Sanemi-san won’t admit it because Giyuu-san’s too arrogant to catch his attention~” Genya said, mimicking his brother and teacher, prompting another round of giggles as Kanao added a small blush to the white-haired warrior’s furrowed brow.

“And Tomioka-san has a tragic story that explains why he’s cold… just a mask hiding his loneliness…” Zenitsu added, tragically, a tear sliding down his cheek, while Kanao illustrated a melancholy, black-haired figure. He sighed wistfully. “It’s just like my life…”

The mohawk guy rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, right… the only tragedy you’ve ever had is that every girl you approach runs away.”

Tanjirou and Inosuke couldn’t contain their laughter. No one in that group was normal.

The bell rang, signaling the start of class. The girls said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. Zenitsu, mischievous as ever, turned to the boys with a sly smile before leaving for his class:

“I have an idea".

Chapter Text

Giyuu entered his second class with his usual graceful stride, immediately filling the room with his presence. The students stood up, greeting him with a polite, “Good morning, Mr. Tomioka.”

He returned the greeting and began explaining the day’s plan before heading down to the gym.

Giggles.

He paused for a moment, scanning the classroom. The students looked perfectly formal.

Resuming his calm, serious routine, he started writing on the board.

Giggles, again.

“Kamado.” His voice made the boy snap upright, eyes wide, arms stiff at his sides like a soldier.

“Yes… Mr. Giyuu?” He swallowed hard. 'Oh God, why have you forsaken me?' He shot a terrified look at his friends, who were still snickering at God-knows-what.

“Is there something funny you and your friends want to share?” Giyuu asked evenly, finishing the instructions on the board. Finally, he looked at the boys—he could only see three (all except Inosuke) sitting like police officers. The thought almost made him smile.

The three shook their heads in perfect sync. “No, sir!”

Seeing Inosuke still lost in his own world, Genya smacked his arm, snapping him into proper posture.

When Tomioka’s heavy gaze moved away, the three boys sighed in relief, exchanging grimaces that barely hid their laughter.

“Alright, everyone, head to the gym.”

Nezuko and Kanao, for their part, tried to forget it, but it was impossible. All they could remember was the ridiculous writing, and their grimaces twisted into funny faces as they fought to stifle their laughter. And really, who could blame them? It was impossible to forget when the main character of the whole debacle was right there!

Sanemi, on the other hand, chose to ignore them. He’d had enough of seeing Giyuu’s rat-like face. Just thinking about it made him tense.

His pale skin… those piercing blue eyes that screamed superiority… the near-expressionless grimace… his damn lips, his damn body, his damn everything!—

“Shinazugawa-san!” a girl finally shouted, making the others cover their ears from the screeching chalk.

He hadn’t realized how loudly he’d been thinking… or how aggressively he’d been wiping the board.

Blinking, he cleared his throat. “I… I’m sorry. Finish the exercises now. Whoever completes them all without my help will earn a point on the next exam.”

He was losing it.

Losing it over someone who didn’t even seem to care about his hatred.

He clenched his fists

But what were the group laughing at?

“Guys! Look what I did!” Zenitsu ran to the breakfast group, plopping down next to Tanjirou, who offered him a small, friendly smile, as always. So shiny and radiant.

Genya grumbled, shoving the blond’s chair aside (carelessly) so he could sit next to the redhead. “Make room for me, blondie” he laughed, trying to hide his strange behavior.

The others looked at him, each more confused than the next. The tall one cleared his throat. “So… what’s going on, Zenitsu? What are you showing us?” 'God, Genya, what are you even doing?'

That seemed to lighten the mood—and his own heart a little.

“Well… you know me…” Zenitsu’s grin widened as he held up his phone. On the screen: a page filled with paragraphs telling a grand, clichéd love story. A romantic one, no doubt. He brushed back his hair, watching his friends’ reactions.

“Is that my brother’s name!?—” The taller man’s protest was cut off by the redhead’s hand over his mouth, making him blush so hard he nearly matched Tanjirou’s hair color.

“Genya… shh! They could hear you, and trust me, we’ve already earned Mr. Shinazugawa’s hatred enough…”

The girls and Inosuke couldn’t stop laughing as they read Zenitsu’s ridiculous story, born from doodles and a dumb idea about swords and fights.

“I can’t believe this… it’s too good!” the long-haired girl giggled, reading the last line of the chapter:

“Giyuu didn’t want to admit that, in all his training with Sanemi, the only thing he noticed... was his toned body.”

Finally, the boys burst out laughing, including Genya, who added:

“He’s missing the scars tho! Aniki’s got them all over his chest and torso.”

Zenitsu dove back into his fanfiction, aided by his equally mischievous friends.

Suggestions flew: “He shouldn’t wear a shirt!” “Add special powers!”—all amidst stifled giggles.

After a long fit of laughter, the scarred man finally paused.

“Do you think this is okay? W-we should at least change their names…”

A bright smile and a gentle hand on his shoulder interrupted him.

“Don’t worry, Genya… it’ll be fine. This stays between us. I don’t think Zenitsu will post it!”

“What, I what?” he stammered just as the blond tapped publish, shocking both of them.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, idiot?!” the mohawk-haired man yelled, panicking as he tried to snatch the phone—Zenitsu just laughed, eyes closed.

“Relax! It’s fine. Do you really think anyone will see it?” Zenitsu said casually. “Besides, there must be tons of Shinazugawa Sanemis out there…”

“But not all have white hair, purple eyes, and conveniently scarred bodies!”

“Calm down~ No one will see it! My profile won’t reveal us. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s just a silly fanfic.”

Tanjirou gently rubbed Genya’s arm. “Yeah, he’s right. Don’t worry. It’s really unlikely anyone will find out. Maybe no one will even read it!”

“Monitsu wrote it—no one’s reading this shit anyway...” the blue-tipped man added, making the others laugh along

They were right.

How could his brother ever find out about something so silly?

Nah. Not in a million years.

“You just don’t understand, Iguro… it’s his damn rat face! He doesn’t even flinch when I’m around!” Sanemi muttered, gripping his coffee cup.

Classes were over. They were out of school, engaging in their daily shit-talk.

Iguro inhaled his cigarette and sighed.

He was used to this routine: wake up, enjoy a breakfast made by the most beautiful, wonderful, kind, perfect woman ever, go to work—and then his nightmare began.

No, it wasn’t the students. It was Sanemi.

Half of his free time was spent complaining about him: missing meetings, contributing nothing when he did attend, acting superior…

Giyuu, Giyuu, Giyuu.

“You think about Tomioka and his ‘rat face’ A LOT, huh?” Obanai’s sarcasm dripped. He was tired.

Sanemi growled, vein popping. “What the hell are you implying?” his jaw suddenly was tight.

“I’m sick of hearing you talk about him! He’s done NOTHING to you,” Obanai sighed.

“And that’s the problem! He doesn’t do anything! Skips meetings like he’s better than everyone, and Ubuyashiki lets him!—”

“Sanemi, can we please talk about something other than Tomioka?” Obanai begged. Sanemi groaned when he noticed someone in the distance.

Speak of the devil…

Giyuu was walking calmly toward the exit when a car stopped. The window rolled down, revealing a boy with peach-colored hair. “Hey, handsome, need a ride?” He winked, playful. Giyuu barely showed a hint of a smile.

“That’s enough,” he said calmly, opening the car door.

Before getting in, he glanced at the two men watching him, giving a subtle wave. Iguro returned it.

Sabito smiled at his copilot “Friends?”

“Coworkers.” And with that, they drove off.

Shinazugawa rolled his eyes. “Didn’t know he could make friends.” He sipped his coffee, calmer now that the blue-eyed man was gone.

“Or boyfriends.”

He choked on his coffee, staring at Iguro. Shocked. The word repeated itself in his head, like a mantra.

“What?! Tomioka has a boyfriend?!” he looked almost bewildered by the thought. 

“It’s a joke, dumbass! I don’t even know if he’s gay! God... just let’s go—Mitsuri’s gonna worry.” He started walking without looking back. The albino followed.

This jerk was getting on his freaking nerves.

Giyuu lay in bed, his kitten on his chest, Gently accommodated in its owner's place.

His phone opened to the page he usually visited. Some time ago, thanks to Sabito, he’d discovered this platform where fans could post creations freely—and even anonymously.

He’d become obsessed.

In his free time, he read and fantasized—imagining his life could be as exciting as the protagonists in these romantic stories.

But he was Tomioka. His life couldn’t be that interesting.

His eyes scanned the available works. One caught his attention: only one chapter, written by an anonymous author. New.

Word count: 4,660.

Mmh…

What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Text

After a simple click, Giyuu put on his glasses. It wasn’t like he needed them — they were just for resting his eyes and preventing him from going blind from reading too much. Or at least, that’s what Sabito had told him, laughing.

The soft purrs of his cat vibrated against his chest, making him smile in the solitude of his home. That was it — just him, Mochi, and his reading to... expand his knowledge. (Lie.)

He began scrolling through the words and paragraphs. The story started by setting the time period: Taisho era, 1915. Then came the background. The tale unfolded around two swordsmen who were part of a great demon-hunting guild, where they used their katanas to exterminate demons — all for the sake of protecting humanity and avenging their loved ones.

“Hmm, interesting…”

For now, the story seemed to capture Giyuu’s attention, so he kept reading, curious to see how things would unfold between the two protagonists.

And this was the part where everything started to feel... suspiciously familiar.

First came the description of the main character.

“His long black hair, tied in a knot, rested peacefully against his back, heavy with the memory of his late sister and the position he held in the demon slayer guild. His pale, porcelain-like skin reflected years of solitude and mastery in the art of beheading those creatures of hell. And how could we forget his deep blue eyes — that sea in which the other pillar drowned every time he argued senselessly against him, against his seriousness and undeniable presence. Those eyes were the last thing several demons would have seen before dying (…)”

Giyuu blinked.

Long tied-back black hair, pale (and apparently soft) skin, deep blue eyes… seriousness.

He quickly erased the idea forming in his head, shaking it off again and again.

No, the Water Pillar couldn’t possibly look like him. It was just a funny, crazy coincidence.

He sighed softly as he kept scrolling, absorbed in the story. In his mind, he couldn’t help but imagine himself — fighting, moving gracefully with a katana in hand, flowing like water.

Silly. But hey, it was just his imagination. You couldn’t deny a lonely man his right to daydream, could you?

Then came the description of the co-star — apparently, the love interest.

 “His face, marked by a scar that reminded him of his tragic past, wrinkled in disagreement, making him frown as he usually did. His white hair shifted as he stood up, revealing his bare chest, also covered in scars; his purple eyes deepened with apparent hatred in the other’s calm gaze (…)”

The black-haired man blinked again. White hair. Angry purple eyes. Scars…

He shook his head — this time more violently.

No, no way. They were just coincidences. Stupid coincidences that made the love interest resemble—

He stopped. Kept reading.

 “Who the fuck do you think you are, huh? You’re not better than anyone here just because you skipped the training the boss ordered us to do! (…)”

The exchange made him laugh inwardly. It was impossible not to think about Sanemi — they had argued about something similar that morning. His constant absence from meetings seemed to really get under Sanemi’s skin.

“You’re the fucking Water Pillar, Tomioka!”

…

The name echoed in his head like a scream inside a hollow cave.

No. He must’ve misread that. He was too deep in his own thoughts — maybe the loneliness and all that reading were starting to get to him.

Yeah, that had to be it.

He adjusted himself on the bed, moved Mochi to the side, even cleaned his damn glasses — hoping that when he read it again, his name would magically disappear.

It didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

In fact, it got worse.

“The black-haired man simply walked to the door, pausing before whispering with hidden sadness, ‘It’s just... I’m not like you guys.’

This only pissed the other off more; his fists clenched as he tried to grab Giyuu’s shoulder (…)”

Giyuu… Tomioka Giyuu…

No. No no no no no.

His anxious eyes scanned the next lines, desperate for a name.

“Shinazugawa Sanemi (…)”

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, realizing only then that his forehead was damp with sweat.

This was so wrong. He couldn’t keep reading. He had to find out who wrote this.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t—

...

But he did.

His trembling, embarrassed hands kept scrolling down — heavy with guilt... and something else. Something like longing. A quiet curiosity to see how this would end. To see how, in a completely hypothetical scenario, of course! someone might actually... want him.

He swallowed hard, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. Oh, thank goodness he was alone in his home. If anyone ever found out, they’d call him a pervert.

His eyes darted across the screen, heart pounding in his ears. This was wrong. So wrong.

He repeated that to himself — and still didn’t stop reading.

After a while, he reached the end of the fanfiction, following every detail of their “training session.” It was supposed to be a key moment — the one that would help them defeat the Demon King and end all suffering. Or so he gathered.

 “Their sweat glistened on their skin. On Giyuu, it gathered gently at his forehead, while on Sanemi, small beads rolled from his scarred, muscular chest down to his hard, toned abs (…)”

For a second, he visualized it — Sanemi, shirtless, his body broad and scarred, his abs sculpted, sweat tracing every line of his muscles as he breathed heavily from exertion...

Chest. 

Sweaty. 

Heavy breathing. 

Large proportions…

He covered his flushed face with a hand, completely overwhelmed by the image of Sanemi — in that state, because of him.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

His fingers froze at the last paragraph — the story’s open ending.

“Giyuu didn’t want to admit that, throughout all his training with Sanemi, the only thing he really noticed... was his body.”

He turned off his phone instantly, tossing it somewhere on the bed. He didn’t even close the page.

How? How did they know?

How did they know he was gay? How did they know he found the math teacher attractive?

He didn’t act like it! Sanemi hated him — or at least, he seemed to.

And just because Shinazugawa seemed to hate him didn’t mean Giyuu couldn’t find him attractive. Even if it made no sense!

He sat up, trying to shake the image from his head — Sanemi’s body, the heat, the sweat, the—

“Ugh! Damn it!” he groaned, yanking at his hair in frustration before stumbling out of bed.

The universe was clearly telling him to go to sleep.

So he did — brushed his teeth, washed his face, humming something, anything, to distract himself from that.

Finally, he lay down, pulling the covers to his shoulders and closing his eyes. Yes. Maybe sleep would make him forget. Tomorrow, everything would be fine. Normal. As it always should be.

Heavy breathing synchronized with desperate steps carried him toward the room he knew all too well. Rough hands roamed his waist, hips, and abdomen with a strength that hid desire, while lips devoured his neck, making him gasp subtly, deliciously. He wasn’t far behind, his fingers running over the man’s disheveled shirt, eagerly unbuttoning it so nothing would stand in his way, nothing would prevent him from seeing the larger body.

He laid him forcefully on the bed, making him close his eyes, lips parted as he gasped at how the taller man’s mouth began to taste every inch of him — collarbones, chest, abdomen…

Then, a husky voice called his name, rising into view, forcing him to subtly open his eyes. And there he was…

“Giyuu…”

He jumped out of bed, clutching the blankets with such force that his knuckles whitened, chest heaving. His eyes were wide open.

What? A dream. A fucking dream… one that left his body trembling and now burning with embarrassment. Why on earth would he imagine this with Sanemi? God! His virgin brain was doing him no favors…

His gaze dropped…

“Aaaaggghhhhh!” He flopped face-first into the pillow. Maybe if he suffocated, the train of thoughts devouring his head would stop.

“Have a good day today, Giyuu! Remember, I can’t pick you up — I have a—”

“You have a date with Makomo, yes, Sabito. You’ve told me more than five times already,” Tomioka interrupted as he stepped out of the vehicle, more irritated than usual. He definitely didn’t want to hear about Sabito’s active love life while he was over here reading fanfiction and dreaming about his coworker in positions he shouldn’t even imagine.

“Okay, I love you! Bye!” Sabito said with a grin as the car pulled away.

The blue-eyed man sighed, clutching his briefcase as he entered Kimetsu Gakuen without greeting anyone.

He felt some relief spotting Tengen’s white hair, chatting casually with Iguro. At least someone had arrived… though it wasn’t like he could face Sanemi after that dream. That felt… wrong.

He drew a deep breath. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad. He just had to avoid Shinazugawa, and everything would be fine—

“Hey, Tomioka! Good to see you,” Tengen said with a bright smile, approaching. Obanai stood beside him, nodding politely.

Giyuu responded with a small bow. “Good morning, Uzui, Iguro,” his voice soft and serene, though inside he was bracing himself for a run-in. “How is Mitsuri? Is her pregnancy going well?”

“Yes, she’s healthy, and her baby bump is starting to show a little. She was worried, but she looks adorable,” Obanai replied, serious yet warm, his eyes lighting up when speaking of his wife. “Even though she misses teaching, I’d rather have her at home taking care of herself than stressing over students… or Tengen.”

Tengen laughed loudly, which made Giyuu smile slightly.

“Ah, buddy! It was only once that I blew something up in the art room — honestly, it looked pretty amazing, flashy!”

“Flashy was fixing the damn room so it didn’t look like a disaster,” the masked man grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Tengen laughed again, combing his hair to one side. “Although I miss Mitsuri, she was my art partner after all. But I’ll honor her absence!”

The conversation continued, and Giyuu got lost in it — until the person who owned his dream approached, resting a hand on Obanai’s shoulder.

“Hey, loser. I think I left my sweater at your place yesterday.”

His voice echoed in Giyuu’s ears. He looked up and saw Sanemi, dressed in his usual clothes — except, just like in the dream, no sweater… an open shirt revealing his neck and a glimpse of his collarbones.

Giyuu swallowed hard, ears burning. Later, he would curse every god for making Sanemi appear like that — and thank them for not turning his face completely tomato-red.

“I… I have to go. Have a nice day,” he muttered, bowing quickly and retreating to his office with a dramatic slam.

The three men glanced at each other. Uzui was the first to laugh.

“Damn, Shinazugawa, what did you do to Tomioka now?”

“I didn’t even touch him, you idiot,” Sanemi snapped.

“A moment ago he was smiling with us, then you came along and ruined it… boo, boo Sanemi~” Uzui teased, Iguro chuckling softly beside him.

“Smiling? Don’t make me laugh. The only faces I’ve seen Tomioka make are ‘ass face’ and ‘even more ass face.’” Sanemi’s vein popped visibly on his neck. What the hell was that bastard’s problem? He was laughing with everyone — even Obanai — whom he usually hated!

“Well, maybe your angry Chihuahua face scares him,” Uzui shrugged with a playful grin. “Or maybe you just make him nervous~.”

“Shut the hell up, you useless piece of shit!” Sanemi shouted, ready to punch Uzui’s perfect face.

And that was how Giyuu spent his day — passing time in class, and whenever he wasn’t in class, hiding in his office under the guise of “important paperwork.”

When Sanemi crossed paths in the hallway, he changed direction. When Rengoku invited him to lunch with the others, he politely declined, claiming he was too busy.

Yes, he knew he couldn’t avoid Shinazugawa forever… but he would avoid him until he could forget about his… weird dream.

He closed his house door behind him after politely saying goodbye to Kyojuro, who had offered a ride home. That man was kind incarnated.

Sitting on the sofa, he sighed, holding his head in his hands, lost in thought…

Then, he grabbed his phone and opened the page he had left off. He bit his lip, beginning to type shakily:

SleepySoul_Mochi on Chapter 1

Will you update this story? It really caught my attention.

Then, he realized, this was probably the most pathetic thing he had ever done in his life…

Chapter Text

“Look, guys, another comment!” Zenitsu announced proudly, grinning from ear to ear as he admired his creation. The others burst out laughing. “The audience demands it, and I have to deliver!”

“I really thought no one would read that trash,” Genya teased the blond, making Tanjirou laugh. The sound warmed his cheeks—and maybe a little bit of his heart.

“Maybe this is what I’m made for, guys…” Zenitsu said dramatically, a theatrical tear rolling down his cheek.

“Yeah, right. Because for women, not even just in case, Konetsu.” Inosuke took a huge bite of his onigiri, chewing with his mouth wide open as he laughed with Genya. Tanjirou stood up, still laughing, and headed to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

“Maybe you should consider becoming gay. That’s two guys who’ve confessed their love for you, blondie.” Genya winked mischievously, making Zenitsu’s vein pop on both his forehead and neck. “Kaigaku can’t keep scaring them away forever.”

The blond glared at him darkly, a crooked smile spreading across his lips. “Or maybe the next fanfic I write will be about you, you big shit.”

The mohawked boy blinked, momentarily dismayed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Aaah, don’t play dumb, Shinazugawa. I’ve seen the cheesy looks you give Tanjirou—the way he’s the only one you share your food with or buy snacks for from the cafeteria. And don’t think I haven’t noticed your damn blushes, or how every time he gets up your eyes go straight to his!—”

Genya quickly slapped a hand over the blond’s mouth—not gently. His face was bright red with a mix of rage and embarrassment, and he couldn’t even deny it, because everything Zenitsu said was completely true.

“You… what you’re gonna do now… is keep quiet, if you don’t want me to beat the crap out of you or tell Professor Uzui that you were the one who left that needle on his seat last week. Got it, blondie?”

Just then, Tanjirou appeared with a piece of cake and a can of coffee in his hands. He tilted his head slightly as he sat down next to Inosuke, who was laughing so hard he was practically choking on his rice.

“Guys?” he asked sweetly “Is something wrong?”

That alone made Genya immediately release Zenitsu and sling an overly friendly arm around his shoulders, smiling at the redhead. “Oh, of course not! My buddy Zenitsu and I were just talking about how his writing’s a total success, right, man?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” Zenitsu replied quickly, nodding like his life depended on it until the tall boy finally released him from his painful grip.

Tanjirou smiled, extending the can of coffee toward Shinazugawa. He blushed a little, accepting it with a small, quiet thank you.

“But Tanjirooouuu~ didn’t you bring me anything?” Zenitsu clearly enjoyed playing with fire.

Kamado shook his head, a bit embarrassed, and looked at his piece of cake. “Don’t worry! We can share my cake and—”

At that, Shinazugawa nearly threw the coffee at him. “Here,” he growled.

“But I don’t wan—”

“You. Want. Coffee.”

His raspy voice and eyes, pretending kindness, came out again. Zenitsu accepted the can immediately, though Inosuke snatched it away the second after, drinking it while Zenitsu groaned in protest.

Seeing that, Tanjirou turned toward Genya with his usual gentle smile. “In that case, we can share the cake!”

The scarred boy smiled softly, about to decline—but the way Tanjirou looked at him, so bright and eager, made him nod. The redhead grinned and offered him a spoonful of cake.

Kanao sat nearby with Nezuko and Aoi, who were chatting about things beyond her understanding—or maybe just beyond her interest.

Her pencil moved across the paper, sketching Tomioka’s calm blue gaze as he stood beside Shinazugawa, katana in hand. Nothing compromising, but the intentions of the drawing were clear. She smoothly pulled out her colored pencils to bring life and depth to the scene—illustrating the fanfiction her friend had been writing.

Nezuko peeked over and smiled, joined by Aoi. “You’re really talented, Kanao!” Aoi sighed wistfully. “I wish I could draw like that… but I guess I just have other skills.”

“That’s okay, Aoi! Not everyone can mess around with chemicals and work at your parents’ restaurant!”

Nezuko’s cheerful tone made the blue-eyed girl blush. “But it’s true—Kanao draws incredibly well. Have you thought about joining the art club? Mr. Uzui would probably say something like, ‘Flashy enough to get in!’”

They all laughed, but Kanao shook her head gently.

“No, they’d probably think I’m weird for drawing these kinds of things… Besides, the gardening club is fine for me.”

Nezuko sighed, nodding in understanding. “Well, if you ever want to try it, you’ve got our full support!”

Kanao nodded, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. She really did have good friends.

The bell rang, signaling the next class, and amid their light chatter, the girls left their little corner—without realizing they’d forgotten one very important detail.

The drawing now lay completely forgotten on the floor.

For Sanemi, it was inevitable—he just had to avoid Tomioka. He couldn’t stand his superior attitude. He had mentioned this to Mitsuri on the few occasions they visited his friend’s house.

Mitsuri listened attentively, laughing softly at times. That alone could infuriate him—but he would never yell at her, not while she was pregnant. He wasn’t a monster. In fact, the moments spent talking to her were some of the rare times Sanemi actually relaxed. She had that power over people, effortlessly.

Her words from the last visit replayed in his mind like a bitter echo.

The pink-haired woman, topping off his coffee, smiled warmly.

“Don’t you think what really bothers you about Tomioka-san is his indifference toward you, Sanemi?”

She said it as if it were nothing—as if it meant absolutely nothing.

Sanemi growled quietly and took the cup, refusing to answer.

“I get it, Sanemi. When Giyuu-san first started at the school, he hardly spoke to anyone. I remember Obi used to get so annoyed by it,” she laughed softly. “Over time, I was the one who got close to him. I don’t know if he considers me a friend, but we get along well! He’s just… a little shy.”

“Shy, my ass, Mitsuri. He’s always laughing with everyone else, but the moment he sees me… I don’t know! The guy is unbearable. I hate him!”

He sipped his coffee, teeth and fists clenched. Obanai’s wife merely smiled, calmly sipping her tea.

Yes. It was that damn indifference. How he couldn’t even look him in the eye, couldn’t talk like a normal person. How he isolated himself, as if no one else deserved his attention. And ever since yesterday, Giyuu seemed to be actively avoiding him.

Yes, it was contradictory: he wanted to avoid Tomioka—but not the other way around. That was… wrong.

Tomioka Giyuu was constantly in his thoughts. And that… really pissed him off.

Before entering any hallway, Giyuu always checked who was around. Relief washed over him when he saw no trace of the white-haired man. He continued, cautiously.

A day had passed, and nothing had changed. He was still avoiding Sanemi—and truthfully, it wasn’t that difficult. In this regard, he could be grateful for Shinazugawa’s hatred; the man seemed to avoid him too.

Ouch. That hurt.

But there wasn’t much he could do. It had always been this way, and perhaps that’s how it had to stay. Sanemi yelled at him, and he didn’t understand why. Their strange relationship thrived on this imbalance.

He strode down the hallway—well, maybe not immaculate thanks to the stray paper on the floor. “These kids nowadays have no respect for anything—”

He froze.

A detailed drawing lay before him. He recognized himself—and the source of the thoughts that had consumed him recently.

A blush crept across his cheeks.

God. He couldn’t take this anymore.

He needed to tell someone.

Sabito had his hands under his chin, processing what he’d just seen and listen.

“And… I can’t take it anymore! What am I supposed to do!? I can’t even look at Sanemi’s face—or his body! Because all I can think about is that damn fanfiction and that damn dream!”

Giyuu blurted this out, staring at his best friend’s serene face.

He leapt from the couch and hugged Giyuu tightly, letting his head rest on his own chest. pretending to sob.

“Oh, Giyuu… you’ve grown so much. You’re not our little baby anymore. Urokodaki-san would be so proud~” Sabito teased as Giyuu pounded his chest.

“I shouldn’t have told you! Let. Go. Of me…” He tried to pull away, but Sabito kept stroking his hair.

“Shh, shh… it’s fine,” Sabito murmured, patting his head. “But seriously… that’s sooo weird.”

Giyuu finally relented, pouting slightly, unnoticed.

“And honestly… this is overwhelming me. The other night, I had a strange dream too. I can’t spend my life hiding from him! And… look at that drawing! Do people really see us like that…?”

His face burned. Every blush felt like fire. He had no idea he could feel this way—and it was… intoxicating.

“And… what are you supposed to do when you dream that? Do you… masturbate or something—”

Giyuu shouted, pulling away, burying his face in his hands on the sofa.

“Hey! What else are you supposed to do, bro? You like the guy—there’s nothing wrong with that—”

“I don’t like Sanemi!” The words sounded more like self-convincing than truth.

Sabito raised one eyebrow. “Uh-huh…”

“I just… find him attractive! And besides, he hates me…” Giyuu stifled his confession with trembling hands.

Sabito frowned but kept stroking his hair. “Hey... No one could hate you, ¡Never! Maybe you just need to open up… I’m sure many support you—Kyojuro, Tengen, and that girl… Matsuda?”

“Mitsuri…”

“That’s her. Start slow. Get closer… maybe with the time... even win him over,” Sabito winked.

“Are you kidding? He’s not gay. Not even in a million light-years.”

“You don’t know that… Look at me. No one suspects that I like guys either.”

Giyuu tilted his head incredulously. “Yeah… sure…”

“Well, like I said… you’re cute, Giyuu. You’ve got a nice body. Use it. Don’t make it easy for him.”

Giyuu considered this. Winning Shinazugawa over seemed impossible—but he could at least maximize his appeal.

“And if you don’t want that… distract yourself. Start a new club, hit the gym… there’s tons of options!”

“I already have the swimming club. Not necessary…”

The conversation carried on until nightfall. When Sabito left, silence returned.

Giyuu thought. He couldn’t avoid Sanemi forever—but winning him over seemed impossible. Sanemi wasn’t gay… 95% sure.

He sighed. He had no choice but to keep avoiding him. His mind kept returning to those images of him and the one with purple eyes.

“Who is it?” the older Shinazugawa suddenly demanded at dinner.

Genya blinked. “What?”

Sanemi rolled his eyes, returning to his food. “Who’s got you smiling so much? God, your eyes are sparkling,” he muttered, irritation in his voice as Genya choked on his rice.

“I-I don’t know what you mean…”

“Does he have a nice butt?” He teased, and Genya covered his reddening face.

“For God’s sake, Nemi, shut up!”

“So he does, huh…”

“Shut up! I’m going to bed!” He stormed off, leaving the white-haired boy laughing.

“You must have gotten something from your brother! Be proud!"

“So I got the gay part from you! Good night, I love you!” He slammed the door, throwing himself onto the bed.

Sanemi snorted. He wasn’t gay…

He was bisexual.

How disrespectful these young people are today…

The week went by like that. A ridiculous cat-and-mouse game.

Giyuu, the mouse, hiding from Sanemi—the cat. Comical, absurd—and all the teachers noticed.

Everyone except them.

Sanemi was fed up. God, he was furious.

Even worse when he saw Giyuu laughing calmly with Kyojuro at the pool, so happy and shits... His teeth nearly ground to dust.

He was ready to beat Tomioka senseless, and maybe Rengoku too. Or at least that was the plan… until Giyuu moved.

Shinazugawa hadn’t noticed Giyuu wore only shorts, perfect for teaching his swimming class. His hands tugged his jacket off, then his shirt—revealing his torso.

Sanemi choked with his own saliva.

He had never seen him like this.

A few underdeveloped muscles, firm against a flat belly. A narrow waist, delicate, notably untouched. And if he continued to look down, he could see the exotic curve that grew to form his buttocks. Smooth, pale skin, faintly pink.

He positioned himself to dive.

Sanemi froze.

He knew why deep inside—and he would never admit it.

Tomioka’s wet body emerged from the water, shorts clinging on his tights, hips and…

Shinazugawa bolted. No. He couldn’t watch. Couldn’t.

His face burned red. Like Genya at dinner last night.

“And so you dive in, Rengoku.”

“Fantastic, Tomioka!”

Zenitsu and Genya perched on the pool steps, observing.

“You’re here to look at the girls.”

“And you’re here to look at Tanjirou.”

They exchanged glances and a small “Yeaah…” before high-fiving, eyes on their targets.

“Is it obvious?”

“Maybe… but Tanjirou’s too innocent to notice. Don’t worry.”

For the first time, Genya felt reassured by Agatsuma, and he appreciated it.

“Will you publish another part of the fanfic?”

“Almost ready! But I might need your help.”

The tall man nodded, eyes inevitably drawn…

He remembered his brother’s words.

Yep. Definitely nice.

Chapter Text

Sanemi was losing his mind.

Yep. That was it.

Maybe he should just check himself into a psychiatric ward.

All those thoughts swirled in his head as he sat at the kitchen table that Saturday morning, eating his breakfast like a man possessed. He stared into nothing, spoon halfway to his mouth, completely zoned out.

And the reason for this mental collapse?

Easy to ask. Much harder to answer.

It had started the night before, when he went to bed — just as confused as he was now.

He never imagined that simply seeing Tomioka could shake his sanity like this. Sure, Giyuu always managed to piss him off one way or another, but this? This was different.

Everyone knew Sanemi wasn’t the type to care about appearances when it came to relationships. The few he’d had were with calm, easygoing women — the opposite of his own explosive self. He always thought that was what he needed: someone to steady the storm. He knew himself, knew what he liked, knew what he wanted in a partner.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate a nice view.

For example: nice butts.

Not essential — but worth appreciating… he wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of looking or touching. 

And that was exactly the problem. Because somehow, last night, his brain decided to picture Tomioka’s body — the same one he’d only ever seen hidden under baggy shirts and sportswear.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to erase the image: water running down that man’s neatly combed hair, his calm breathing, the way he looked at Rengoku — soft, gentle — a look he had never directed at him...

That… that made something in his chest ache.

But out of anger! Nothing else!

After a while, he dozed off —

And his mind decided to be cruel.

Sanemi lay sprawled on his sofa, wearing nothing but boxers. The silence felt strange; he hadn’t heard it in months, not since his little brother had moved in.

His legs were slightly apart.

Strange. Very strange.

Then, suddenly, his view was blocked by a familiar pale face.

Tomioka — wearing nothing but a towel that looked dangerously close to slipping.

Sanemi opened his mouth to speak, to curse, to say anything, but the black-haired man acted first, straddling his lap with a teasing smile that sent alarms blaring in Sanemi’s head.

“Mmh… Shinazugawa,” Giyuu murmured, voice low, amused, mock sweetness “Were you so anxious that you were already waiting for me like this?~”

His hands slid from Sanemi’s tense shoulders down to his scarred chest, tracing each healed wound with gentle fingers.

“I…” Sanemi swallowed hard — twice. He didn’t know why he wasn’t pushing him away.

Giyuu chuckled softly, and the sound crawled under Sanemi’s skin. His touch was feather-light, but it burned. He didn’t stop.

“You don’t need to say anything,” he whispered. “We both know what you want.”

Then his lips brushed Sanemi’s ear. “Stop hiding it.”

Sanemi’s hands, almost on their own, gripped Giyuu’s hips. He couldn’t resist. The touch, the closeness — He was under a spell — one that was far too intoxicating.

“You want me… you desire me…” Giyuu’s fingers cupped his cheek, thumb brushing his skin so tenderly that Sanemi couldn’t help leaning into it.

“That’s right… Sanemi~.”

And he woke up.

Covered in sweat, breathing heavy — and with an obvious problem under the sheets.

He blinked at the ceiling.

He dreamed that?

About Tomioka Giyuu?

That smug, infuriating bastard?!

No. No, no, no. It wasn’t a dream — it was a nightmare.

Now, there he was, drinking coffee like a robot, trying to figure out what cosmic sin he had committed to deserve that dream.

Across the table, Genya watched him in confusion. Sure, his brother wasn’t the most talkative man alive, but this was new. He looked… lost. Distracted. Almost melancholic.

Genya smirked. “Who is it?”

Sanemi froze mid-sip, ears and cheeks turning faintly red. “What the hell are you talking about, brat?”

The younger boy leaned his cheek on his hand. “Does he have a nice butt?”

Sanemi choked, spitting out his coffee. Genya’s eyes widened — then he burst out laughing.

“Oh shit! He does! Doesn’t he!?”

“Shut the hell up, Genya Shinazugawa! You’re not going out this weekend — or the next!”

“That’s abuse of power!”

“Then shut your damn mouth!”

For the sake of his plans, Genya pressed his lips together, shoulders shaking as he held back laughter.

He didn’t need to ask who it was.

He already knew.

A notification pinged on a forgotten phone.

“Don’t make me get up, Gi. It’s right there,” Sabito muttered, still eating his pizza.

Giyuu batted his lashes, chewing quietly. Sabito sighed and grabbed the phone. “If this is another useless notification, I swear I’m going to kill you, Tomioka Giyuu. Or throwing it out the window.”

Giyuu only smiled as Sabito read aloud:

 

 [AO3] Anonymous posted Chapter 2 of Demon Slayers — Love Grows in the Darkness!

 

Sabito’s grin widened. “Oh, this is gonna be good.” He turned off the TV. “Let’s read it.”

Giyuu leaned closer, curiosity winning over his usual composure.

The story picked up after the final battle, now free from demons and destiny. But the biggest challenge left was… love.

Between Giyuu Tomioka and Sanemi Shinazugawa.

“How deep,” Sabito chuckled. “The kid who wrote this must’ve been feeling something.”

Giyuu said nothing, just kept reading — deeper and deeper — until he found himself blushing. The details were so precise it was terrifying.

"Creepy how well they know you, huh?” Sabito teased.

Giyuu nodded slowly. “Yeah. Creepy as hell.”

Then he read the line that made him pause.

 “Sanemi opened the bag and found an ohagi — his favorite dessert.”

Giyuu frowned. Was that true?

He didn’t even know. But the fanfic writer apparently did.

The story ended with Sanemi shouting:

 “I asked you out! See you here in five days!”

Giyuu and Sabito sat in silence for a moment. Sabito wiped a fake tear and started clapping.

“That was beautiful,” he said dramatically. “Ten out of ten.”

But Giyuu’s faint smile faltered, realizing it was all fiction — someone’s wishful fantasy.

Sabito noticed and sighed, putting the phone down. “Come on. Finish your pizza. I gotta head home soon.”

Giyuu nodded, finishing his meal with a bitter taste in his mouth.

Later that evening, Tanjirou stood at his own door, smiling shyly. “I had a really nice time, Gen… Please get home safe, okay?”

Genya smiled and pulled him into a hug that nearly lifted the shorter boy off the ground. Tanjirou’s cheeks turned bright red, but he hugged him back, heart racing.

“Sure thing, Tanjirou.”

From the corner of his eye, Genya caught a glimpse of orange hair — someone getting into a car, next to him was Mr. Tomioka, saying goodbye with a small hug.

“Oh, that’s Sabito-san,” Tanjirou said. “He’s a really close friend of Tomioka-san. They’ve known each other since they were kids, I think.”

“Hmm… interesting.” Genya grinned. “Anyway, thanks for dinner. I had a great time.”

Tanjirou waved goodbye, cheeks still pink.

At least he’d gotten a hug today.

The door creaked open at home. “I’m back!”

“Good. Dinner’s ready,” Sanemi called, already sitting at the table — two cups of green tea, and a plate of ohagi.

“I already ate, but thanks, Nemi,” Genya said, sitting anyway.

“Then at least have one,” Sanemi teased. “Or are you already full of love, huh?”

Genya snorted, taking a sip of tea. “I saw Mr. Tomioka today.”

Sanemi froze for a second — just a second — before lifting his cup again.

“He was with someone. A man with orange hair. T— I mean… My friend said his name was Sabito, they looked pretty close.”

Sanemi didn’t reply. He just sipped his tea, silent for the rest of the meal.

But in his head, the name echoed like a curse.

Sabito.

It sounded disgusting.

Chapter Text

The school courtyard buzzed with life. Families and friends poured in through the gates, greeted by a huge banner that fluttered above the entrance. Professor Himejima stood proudly beneath it, handing out glossy brochures with a small map of the school—each red circle marking the arenas where the day’s competitions would unfold.

Kimetsu Gakuen’s annual sports festival was always a big deal. Students versus teachers, laughter, rivalry, medals—it was one of those rare days when families could step into their world and everyone could breathe a little easier.
But this year was different. This year, they’d gone bigger. Another school had been invited to join, the stakes raised with trophies and public recognition for whoever came out on top.
It was supposed to be fun. Relaxing, even.

Giyuu Tomioka was anything but relaxed.

Of course not. Damn it. He should’ve known better than to fall for Kamado’s pleading puppy eyes—or Sabito’s ridiculous pouting. Now here he was, juggling planning, schedules, and a swimming competition he hadn’t even wanted to enter.

His reflection in the locker mirror looked back at him: blank eyes, damp hair, muscles tense beneath his shirt. His heartbeat drummed in his ears.
He was nervous—more than he wanted to admit.
He had never participated in one of these events before. And the first time he’d do it, he’d be wearing nothing but swim shorts in front of hundreds of people.

Great, Giyuu. Just... great.

“You’re doing this for your students. You’re doing this for your students. You’re doing this for your students.” he whispered like a mantra, forehead resting against the cool metal of his locker door.

“Ah, Tomioka! I saw your name on the swimming roster!” Kyojuro’s voice boomed like sunlight. Giyuu turned slowly, forcing a smile that never reached his eyes.
Any other day, he would’ve smiled for real—but right now? He wanted to crush the man’s bright grin into dust.

“Yeah... Kamado talked me into it. Said I could set an example. Said I was good at it.”

“Don’t sell yourself short!” boomed Tengen from across the room, clapping a massive hand onto Giyuu’s shoulder. “You’re great, man.”

From a corner, Shinazugawa watched silently, his fingers tightening around the can of energy drink until the metal crumpled with a soft hiss.

Let’s rewind.

After Genya’s teasing that day, Sanemi had gone back to his usual life—or at least he’d tried.
But ever since then, Giyuu Tomioka had found a way to live rent-free inside his damn head.

He noticed things now. How Tomioka would always look away when their eyes met. How he’d vanish down another hallway the second Sanemi appeared. It used to be satisfying. Now it just pissed him off.

He wasn’t stupid—he knew why. He’d scared him off. He’d been cruel. Dismissive.
But still... They were teachers. Adults. They couldn’t act like hormonal teenagers avoiding each other in the halls.

Obanai had said it was fair. That Sanemi was finally getting what he deserved and wanted.
Mitsuri told him to talk things out—to stop acting like enemies and at least try to get along.
Even Genya, his eighteen-year-old brother, had looked him dead in the eye and said,

“You’re both idiots. Even we handle drama better than you two.”

And the dreams. God, the dreams. 

They had changed. No longer the same vague flashes of Giyuu whispering venomous words in the dark. Now there were touches. Kisses. Ragged breaths. Gasps tangled with his name. He could feel the phantom heat of it when he woke up. The sound of his own heartbeat hammering like it was trying to escape his chest.

Ever since Genya mentioned that orange-haired guy, the dreams had turned darker. Rougher. More possessive. And the day Sanemi saw Giyuu drive away with that same guy—laughing?—it twisted something ugly in his chest.

His mind was screaming the truth, but he refused to listen. He buried it deep. Locked it up where no one could see it.

Still... he wanted answers. He wanted to talk to Tomioka. No—he wanted to demand them. But with the festival chaos swallowing up every minute of the week, he hadn’t found the chance.

Not yet.

But he swore to God—and every damn deity that might be listening—that he would.

The echo of splashing water filled the school pool, sunlight spilling through the high windows and scattering across the blue surface like shards of glass.

Sanemi stood at the entrance, clipboard in hand, pointing out empty seats to the families trickling in. “Keep your kids close. No running. Stay away from the pool edge.” The same rules, over and over — the basics.

After guiding the Iguros to their seats, the couple thanked him and moved on, leaving space for the last person in line.

And that’s when he saw him.

That hair. That grin.

Sanemi’s relaxed expression soured instantly.

The orange-haired boy approached with a blinding smile, flashing a peace sign. “Hey! I’m Sabito, Tomioka Giyuu’s special guest—”

“Identification.”

The word cracked like a whip, faster than Sabito could blink.

“I-I don’t have it with me right now…” he stammered, clearing his throat.

“In that case, you can’t come in.” Sanemi’s tone was flat, carved from stone.

“Th-then let me tell Giyuu—he’ll let me through—”

“He’s changing for the competition,” Sanemi cut in, voice cool as the tiles beneath his boots. “He won’t answer—”

“Sabito!” The voice came from behind, calm but firm.

Giyuu stepped out from the locker area, burgundy shorts clinging to his skin. For a second, even the air seemed to hold its breath.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Giyuu said softly. “Tanjirou told me he saw you at the gate.”

While Sanemi’s focus slipped for a moment, Sabito’s eyes darted down, catching the white-haired man’s ID badge.

Shinazugawa Sanemi.

Interesting.

“Hey, handsome,” Sabito said, lips curling into a grin. “Those shorts suit you. You've been working out?”

Giyuu blushed — faint, almost invisible — but didn’t answer. He was used to Sabito’s teasing.

“I brought what you asked for, and maybe a little surprise—”

“Your seat’s over there,” Sanemi snapped, cutting him off. “No running. No pool access. Don’t approach the competitors once the event starts.” That last rule was pure invention. He handed over a ticket, eyes hard. “Go, Sabito.”

Before Giyuu could say anything, the loudspeakers crackled to life, announcing that the event was about to begin.

Sabito only smiled — wide and mischievous, almost predatory.

Oh yes. He’d confirmed exactly what he wanted.  And now… now he’d make sure his best friend stopped being such a damn virgin.

“Sanemi…”

A low chuckle slipped past his lips.

He stepped out into the light, calm on the surface, even as his pulse quickened beneath his skin. His reflection shimmered on the water’s surface — steady, unreadable. Beside him stood his opponent.

From the stands above, Ubuyashiki and Kibutsuji watched the pool like two gods observing mortals.

“I wish Tomioka the best of luck,” Kagaya said with a serene smile. “He’s a great teacher.”

Kibutsuji didn’t respond. His disdain was quiet, but it spoke volumes. He trusted his own school’s champion.

Giyuu walked to the edge of the pool and stretched, the water lapping gently at the tiles. He glanced once at the swimmer beside him — didn’t care to remember his name. “Good luck,” he murmured politely.

“Luck?” The man laughed. “I don’t need that.”

As they took their positions, a voice tore through the crowd.

“Go, Giyuu! You can do it! You’re the best! I’m your biggest fan, handsome!” Sabito’s voice, of course — loud, bright, and shameless — echoed through the entire gym, a pink sign with GIYUU written in bold glitter letters waving above his head. Beside him, Tanjirou and his friends joined in, shouting encouragements of their own.

From a few rows up, Sanemi growled under his breath, his jaw tight. Nerves, he told himself. It’s just nerves about the score. Kimetsu Gakuen had been leading the medals so far, but the rival school was closing in fast. Every win mattered now.

“You’ve got this, Tomioka-san!” Mitsuri’s voice chimed from the front row, her husband gently trying to calm her enthusiasm.

Giyuu couldn’t help it — his eyes found the familiar flash of white hair in the stands.

Sanemi.

He was standing with his arms crossed, expression unreadable — until he lifted one hand.

A simple thumbs-up.

Something tightened in Giyuu’s chest. Warmth. Focus.

He took his mark, knees bending, fingers brushing the rough edge of the tile. This time, he wasn’t just swimming to compete. He was swimming to prove something.

The whistle blew.

And the world disappeared.

Only the sound of water rushing past his ears, the blur of color, the rhythm of motion.

He moved with quiet strength, slicing through the pool like a blade, muscles burning and breath perfectly timed.

Three laps. That was all that separated him from victory.

The crowd fell silent, tension thick in the air as he finished the first lap neck and neck with his opponent.

Second lap — they traded leads, just meters apart.

Giyuu refused to underestimate him, but he also refused to lose.

He hates arrogant bastards, so he had to win.

He pushed harder.

The final lap came — his rival already reaching forward, fingertips grazing victory — until Giyuu surged past him in one last burst of power, gliding ahead with perfect form.

Then—

The whistle.

“Tomioka Giyuu is the winner!”

The crowd erupted. Cheers, applause, Sabito’s overjoyed shrieking, Tanjirou jumping out of his seat.

Sanemi found himself on his feet before he realized it, clapping. Shocked. Impressed. Maybe… a little proud.

Giyuu climbed out of the pool, water sliding down his shoulders as someone draped a medal around his neck. 

He turned to his rival, eyes calm, voice low. “It was a good race.”

That was all.

And somehow, that simple line hurt more than any insult could. His opponent’s pride shattered like glass.

From across the pool, Sanemi watched as Giyuu’s coworkers gathered around him, laughing, patting his shoulder, congratulating him. The medal gleamed against his chest, the water on his skin catching the light like a spotlight made just for him.

Sanemi wanted to go over. Say something. Maybe “Nice job.” But he didn’t move.

Instead, he stayed where he was — fuming, confused, and definitely not imagining what Tomioka looked like in those damn burgundy shorts. Because no. Absolutely not. The man was still an arrogant, distant pain in the ass who avoided him like a plague.

“Hey, Salami?”

Sanemi’s head snapped up.

“It’s Sanemi, idiot,” he muttered, low enough for only Sabito to hear. “And to you, it’s Mr. Shinazugawa.”

“Right, right.” Sabito’s grin didn’t fade for a second. “Anyway, I’ve gotta run. Can you congratulate Gi for me? Oh, and—” he held out a bag, “—give him this. His clothes and a couple of other things.”

Sanemi scowled. “And why the hell are you asking me? Do I look like your errand boy?”

“Mmm... you’re right,” Sabito mused, pretending to think. “Maybe I’ll ask that red-haired guy instead. Or that tall, handsome one over there—”

Before he could finish, Sanemi snatched the bag out of his hands, the movement quick and sharp. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, ignoring the smug grin that followed him.

Sabito watched him go, smiling to himself. Perfect.

He was a genius, really — that’s what he told himself as he strolled out of the building toward his car, Tanjirou and the others staring after him in confusion.

Because Sabito knew one thing for sure.

Whatever spark he’d seen between those two?
It was only just beginning to burn.

The locker room smelled of chlorine and warm steam.

Giyuu stepped out of the hot shower, towel draped over his shoulders and wearing his shorts, medal resting on the bench like a quiet celebration of his victory.

And then—pain. Sharp, cold, sudden. His chest slammed into the wall. His hands froze, trapped, unable to see who was behind him. The medal, glinting in view, gave him the tiniest hint.

“Ah… it was a good race, wasn’t it, idiot?” The whisper brushed against his ear. Giyuu trembled—but his expression remained stoic.

“Let me go…”

“Who do you think you are, mocking me like that? You embarrassed me in front of everyone, and you expect me to just… do nothing?” Hands tangled painfully in his hair, pulling him down. A fist struck his face. Blood blossomed on his white skin. A kick to the stomach made him cough, the red mark already darkening. Another blow, and he doubled over, breathless.

The medal lay in the stranger’s hand—mocking him.

Giyuu wasn’t weak. He’d trained in self-defense before. But he hadn’t expected this. And despite everything, he couldn’t deny the gnawing fear that twisted in his stomach.

“You don’t look so cocky now, do you?” A foot pressed against his face. Another strike came—and then a sound at the door. The assailant froze. Medal still in hand. Cowardice betrayed him.

“Tomioka… Your… friend asked me to come and leave this for you and—”

Sanemi’s voice cut the room like a blade. Giyuu’s eyes widened as he recognized the figure, chest heaving. Blood stained his face, purple starting to bloom around his bruises. He had never seen the black-haired man look so… helpless.

So afraid…

“What happened to you!?” Sanemi dropped the bag, knelt beside him, hands surprisingly gentle as he assessed the damage. Anger boiled in his veins, sharp and blinding. 

“I'm fine, really, I'm...”

“Who dared touch you?” His voice thick, low, and dangerous, like thunder in a storm.

Tomioka, who had been holding back tears at this point, couldn't take it anymore and began to sob weakly. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he sobbed quietly, head bowed.

That was it. Sanemi’s sanity snapped.

Fists clenched until knuckles cracked, he rose, eyes darting toward the showers. Quietly. Deliberately. The culprit was there. Medal in hand. Blood on his hands.

One step forward, in silence.

“I don’t want to fight you, idiot, so get out of—”

Sanemi’s fist connected, hard. He grabbed the man by his hair, slammed his face into his knee, again, again. A crack echoed faintly. He didn’t care. Only Giyuu’s small, broken whimpers mattered to him.

The man kicked and gasped.

“If you touch him again, even with a rose petal...” He grabbed the man's body and slammed him to the ground, letting him catch his breath, coughing and inhaling deeply. Sanemi wasted no time and climbed on top of him, hitting him with his left fist. “If you touch him again... you won't get out of here alive...” His right fist joined in as he gritted his teeth, lost and focused only on hitting.

Hitting until he forgot Tomioka's distressed face.

Hitting until he forgot the painful cry that came from his lips.

Hitting him until he looked worse than Giyuu did.

“Sanemi! Stop!” Obanai’s voice tried to pierce through the storm, but Shinazugawa didn’t hear. Didn’t care.

“Sanemi! Stop! One of his teeth is gone!” Obanai forced him back. “You have to go see Tomioka!”

That seemed to stop the scarred man's furious hands. He was breathing heavily as he got up, waking up from the trance he was in. The guy on the floor was breathing heavily, his face already swollen and purple.

Sanemi breathed heavily, fists still bloody, gaze sharp. He returned to Giyuu. Pushing Obanai out of his way.

Obanai’s wife gently brushed the wet, bruised black-haired man’s shoulder. Rengoku hovered nearby, questions spilling from his lips. Tomioka didn't answer, just sobbed quietly, his head down, looking at his own feet. Or so it was until he saw Sanemi's fists, covered in blood. He looked up, now showing concern, not for himself, but for the other man.

“W-what happened to you? What did you do?” He tried to get up to check, letting out a scream from the pain in his back and stomach. Sanemi grabbed him carefully, avoiding touching the parts that were turning purple. He chose not to look at them, if he did, the only thing he would do would be to go back to where he left the guy, to beat him again, to kill him if it was necessary.

“That doesn't matter, come on, we have to go to the nurse, or better yet, the hospital.” The relaxation in Shinazugawa's voice surprised everyone, even Tomioka. The black-haired man shook his head.

“The nurse is fine, I'm really okay,” he said, but he was cut off by the taller, who took him in his arms, making him blush furiously. “Sa-sanemi, it's not necessary—.”

“Shut up, it's obvious you can't move. So now shut up and I'll take you to the nurse.”

“Shinazugawa, you're hurt too, wouldn't it be better if one of us took him?” Rengoku ask.

“I'll take him, you guys stay with that bastard.” he said without further ado before grabbing Giyuu's bag and carrying the blushing black-haired boy in his arms to the infirmary.

The silence on the way to the infirmary was thick, almost suffocating, yet oddly comforting. 

Giyuu broke it, his voice low, hesitant. “You… you didn’t tell me what happened to your hands…”

Shinazugawa didn’t respond. His jaw tightened, eyes fixed ahead. He pushed open the infirmary door with his foot. Empty. Quiet. Perfect.

He muttered under his breath, rough and low, full of displeasure. “Did Shinobu really leave early today?”

Even without the nurse present, Sanemi carefully placed Giyuu on the bed. The black-haired man froze, unsure how to move. “But… Shinobu isn’t here.”

“I won’t let you leave like this.” Sanemi began gathering supplies with meticulous care: ice packs, anti-swelling cream, soft cloths. Every movement deliberate. His hands moved quickly but with gentle precision. “I have many siblings. I know what I’m doing.”

Tomioka lowered his gaze, unsure. Then a large, rough hand lifted his chin. Their eyes met. Giyuu’s chest fluttered violently. He hadn’t expected Sanemi to look at him like that—so intensely, so protectively.

A cloth brushed under his nose, removing the dried blood. Sanemi’s touch was firm yet gentle. Every motion spoke of care, of unspoken concern. He washed his hands, discarded the cloths, and applied a small amount of cream to his own fingers, rubbing it gently over Giyuu’s bruised skin.

“I—I can do it! Don’t worry!” Giyuu stammered, heat rising to his cheeks.

“What did I tell you? Shut up. I’ll do it.”

Sanemi’s voice was calm, commanding, yet soft. His hands moved over Giyuu’s bruises with deliberate care, each touch sending an unanticipated warmth through the smaller man. Giyuu’s heart raced. He’d never seen this side of him—so meticulous, so close, so impossibly present.

“Okay… your face is fine. Nose intact. Bleeding stopped.” Sanemi examined him, exhaling sharply. “Still… hospital is better. You’ll heal properly.”

“But I—”

“No excuses. If I see you here tomorrow, I’ll kick your ass back home.”

Giyuu nodded silently, cheeks flushed, breath catching in his throat.

Sanemi pressed ice packs gently against his abdomen. Every touch deliberate, almost intimate. 

“That should be enough. Change your clothes. I’ll take you home.”

Tomioka complied, his hands slightly trembling as Sanemi turned away to give him privacy. When he opened his bag, he found a small package at the bottom—two fresh ohagi with a playful note:

  “For you and your sweetheart ;)”

 

Giyuu’s lips curved into a shy smile. For the first time, he silently thanked Sabito for his childish sense of humor.

He quickly changed and cleared his throat, holding one of the desserts out.

“It’s… for you… thank you for taking care of me, for… for healing me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Sanemi replied, tone low, steady, but his eyes never left him.

“Please accept it!” Giyuu blurted, bowing slightly, heat rising to his ears.

“Don't do that! It'll hurt you. Okay, okay! I accept it!” Just saying that was enough to stop the black-haired boy from bowing. The scarred man took the candy, wrapped it in a handkerchief, and put it in his pocket. “You're so stubborn, idiot.” 

Giyuu just looked at him, and for the first time, he did something that left Shinazugawa paralyzed. 

He smiled at him. 

He smiled so sweetly, even though his face was a little bruised.

Thump thump… thump thump.

Sanemi’s chest tightened. Heart racing. Every beat echoing in his ears.

“Let’s… go,” Sanemi said simply, walking to match Giyuu’s pace. Every step deliberate, slow, careful. His body ached, but at least he could move without stumbling.

“I’ll call Sabito to come pick me up—” Giyuu began, voice trailing.

Before he could finish, Sanemi opened the copilot's door. “Did I say you could do that? No. Get in.”

Giyuu’s hands trembled as he climbed in, nodding slowly.
So… dominant. His chest warmed at the thought. He shook it away, scolding himself silently.

“I live on the street near Kanzaburo Square.”

“That’s not near the hospital.”

“Sanemi… you’ve done so much already. Please… I promise I’ll go tomorrow. I just want to go home.”

Sanemi exhaled, low, reluctant, almost a sigh that belonged to someone who cared too much.
“Fine. I’ll take you home. But hospital tomorrow. No excuses.”

Giyuu nodded, silently, breath hitching slightly.

At his house, Sanemi quickly exited, opening the door for him. Giyuu whispered a small, “Thank you.”

They lingered at the gate, eyes locked, hearts hammering.

“Well… go get some rest, okay? Ice those swollen spots… and send me a message. Let me know you’re alright.” Sanemi raised his hand in farewell.

“Wait!” Giyuu called, pulling the remaining ohagi from his bag. “For taking me home…”

Sanemi accepted them, knowing refusal would provoke a small tantrum.

Ts, so dumb.

“Take care on your way home, Shinazugawa.”

“Sure. Take care.”

And that was it. Silence fell, but it was thick with electricity. Racing hearts. Fingers tingling. Silent confessions hidden in a glance.

Sanemi glanced down at his red, slightly scraped knuckles, barely registering the pain as he sank into the sofa. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, replaying every detail from earlier.

The door suddenly swung open. “I’m home! Today was exciting! Look at the medal I won in archery!”

He held it up proudly, voice brimming with excitement—but the smile immediately faded when he noticed his brother’s knuckles.

Genya froze for a moment, his sharp eyes already predicting the story behind those injuries. “What the hell happened to you!? Who did you fight!?” He approached quickly, scanning for other wounds.

“You won a medal in archery? That’s great.” he added, but he knew perfectly well what was coming.

“Who cares about that! Who do we have to go kill!?” Genya snapped. 

Sanemi shook his head, chuckling softly at his brother’s intensity. 

“Well… what happened?”

Sanemi exhaled sharply, recounting the events to his dear young brother.

“And I left him at his house. He seemed to be walking fine, but he was in pain.”

Genya listened attentively, concern etched across his features. After a long pause, he smiled gently. “That was very brave, brother… and very kind too.”

Sanemi shook his head, brushing off the praise. “Don’t be silly… But when I saw him like that… all I could think of was Mom. The way he was with us…” He exhaled softly, clenching his hands gently, memories of past cries and hardships pressing in. Especially the screams of his brothers and his poor mother

Genya nodded in understanding, sharing the unspoken weight. “But that’s in the past. We’re fine now. Look at what you did for him, how grateful he was.”

“If I had arrived earlier… he wouldn’t have been in such bad shape. And that’s all that damn Sibiti’s fault,” Sanemi added sharply, mimicking the name with a touch of irritation.

“Stop worrying about that,” Genya laughed lightly, shaking his head. “My Nemi… you really are the nicest person ever.”

Sanemi allowed himself a small, tired smile, watching his younger brother reach for one of the ohagi on the table.

“Hey! Those were given to me, thief.”

“But there are two!”

“I don’t care!” Sanemi declared, scooping both candies into his hands as if they were treasures.

Genya smiled, warmth in his eyes. Yes, this brother—tough, stubborn, and sometimes impossibly fierce—was still the kindest person he knew.