Requested by: FloofyChimmy
↠Fluff
↠Angst
↠Fem Reader
Word Count - 3406
Accismus - Published 11/03/20
Accismus: Feigning disinterest in something while actually desiring it.
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Obanai knew you were friendly—Everyone knew you were friendly.
You always put on a bright smile to even the unfamiliar people you passed by on the streets, offering a gentle expression and sometimes even a wave. Your kindness was unparalleled, and truly, with that peaceful presence of yours, not a single soul would expect you to fall victim to such a deadly line of work.
Your bright eyes, sparkling with life had always crinkled into an amused gaze, your pink lips curving up just the slightest which would effectively make the man's heart flutter. Such a beautiful face, untroubled from the terrifying demons lurking among the shadows. It made him jealous of the way you could wade deeper into harms way, yet hold your head high from the suffocating sea of regret.
The staining blood that wept deep into your uniform, forever tainting the fabric, yet because of the dark weaves it remained unnoticed by your soft gaze. The katana grasped within your hands dripped the same metallic sheen, yet you'd wipe it away—and move on. Every dissipating corpse left from beneath your feet, and every whisper of darkness failed your ears.
It was as if that kindness was all that was left from your past, and you clung so desperately to that lone thread. It was a will of your own to move on, encouraging you to protect those who still had what you had lost. As if you could fix your own past mistakes—of blood and misery and horror.
Because unlike Obanai, you were able to move on and repent for the losses. The silent prayers you offered after each snap of your wrist, each slice of your sword, were useless among the disintegrating demons, yet you still repeated prayer after prayer. He continued to find sorrow in the deceptive wills of the past, blaming himself, cursing himself for the blood that forever stained his pale skin, coursed through his poisonous veins. He just couldn't move on.
At times he questioned why such senseless things could manage to have you beam in delight, to elicit the bubbling sound of laughter from your flowery lips. The threat that had taken everything from your trivial little lives still lived on, and unless it was completely gone, he couldn't manage those delighted feelings.
A smile felt foreign to his bandaged lips, the contagious sounds of laughter that wanted to fill his throat sounded empty in comparison to your own. Happiness just wasn't achievable with this cruel and daunting life of swordsmanship, because it was kill or be killed.
Yet whenever Obanai's mismatched gaze fell upon your lofty form, the usual hatred that wanted to course through his veins ceased to exist, and instead his heart longed to join in on the feeling. Despite being great acquaintances actually—regardless of your lower status as a swordsmen—the shared moments were of uncomfortable silence in recent days.
You no longer smiled around him, your lips pressed tight in a fine little line.
An odd-eyed glare, penetrating through your laughter-filled moments, and you'd turn to find him with that aura of hostility—furious, angry that you could show such an expression without him. The abrupt conversations and sharp tone of his failed to allow you any leeway with your happiness, and the friend—the family you had left was fleeting. Certainly Obanai wasn't even close to your biological family, but those first moments upon meeting the man made that feeling arise, but you certainly wouldn't tell him that.
He made it clear once before, abandoning all hope of his shattered past, and you feared if you messed with those lingering shards, you'd sever whatever fragile relationship was left. But you wanted to know why the friend—the family you stood by for so long was slipping away. You wanted to tell him against all better judgement.
But you were simply a mere swordsmen beneath him, defenseless and weak in your resolve, because your will was nothing in comparison to the Hashira. It seemed that stupid little title barrier broke that fragile peace of yours, and perhaps it was your own fault as well for this diminishing bond. The mere task of approaching the headquarters seemed so daunting now.
Yet you always stood at the gates, too fearful to dare step foot inside—afraid those above you would question your presence, because surely you did yourself—so you found yourself content leaning against the tall stone walls, humming a soft tune of your own. It was lost among the various sounds that filled the forest before you, and even the low voices of those separated from that stone wall, but it was gentle and pretty—a tune for yourself only.
The soft sounds slipped past your closed lips, quickly losing whatever familiar tune you had been reminiscing, now mindlessly letting the notes flee you. Allowing your eyes to flutter shut, the warming sounds filled your ears and you waited, waited for this all to leave you.
You couldn't exactly remember the last time you had such a peaceful moment to yourself, because quite frankly those would be the times you'd let your fearless smile break, and you could revel in the comforting sensation guided by no need for physical happiness. A mask—a show rather, to prove to others that you were alright with moving on.
Let's not get this wrong now—you were happy. Truly there was no need to seldom find yourself wallowing in such past despair, because each day was proof of your wellbeing, your recovery, your survival. It was just exhausting to put on that smile, to prove to others that you were ok—when you truly were, and when they just didn't believe.
Why is it that anything but a smile assumes despair?
But now, humming this soft unknown tune calmed your tired nerves, and you wished for many more moments to come. There was no need to keep that aching smile, yet it naturally curved your lips and it felt just right.
"Oi, Tsuguko! Fight me!"
Upon hearing the yelled demand from the entrance of the forest, your eyes peeked open with dull curiosity, stepping aside with swift movements as a figure charged the spot you had been previously standing. And you certainly gawked at the boar-headed boy who had begun to bleed profusely beneath the mask, because damn, he just managed to crack the stone wall with that thick skull of his.
The other two swordsmen you had been acquainted with before rushed to help him up, and merely standing aside to watch the three boys continue to bicker and yell at each other brought that amused grin back to your lips. Your hand rested atop your sword's hilt, shaking your head.
"Inosuke, you know it's against corps rules to fight."
Despite the obviously painful injury he had self-inflicted, the maskless boy was quick to hop to his feet, pointing an accusatory finger right in your face. Tanjiro and Zenitsu tried to hold the poor boy back, but his persistent resolve made their efforts seem futile. He yelled out once more, "I don't care! Fight me! I'm stronger than you now!"
When the boy finally broke free from his friends' weak grasp, Inosuke wasted no time to lunge straight at your idle form, throwing fists at full force. He crouched low to tackle you against your legs, but hopping over his form, your lavender blade slipped soundlessly from its sheath. Before he had a chance to face you once more from his failed attack, the hilt was bluntly forced down upon the back of his (already bleeding) head. Inosuke collapsed not a second later.
"A-Ah! Inosuke!" Tanjiro called, rushing over to lift the unconscious boy before the chance was gone. Upon further inspection, you noticed that he'd probably have to recover from a concussion, but you were sure he had done so many times before so you weren't really worried.
"He'll be fine, I didn't hit him that hard."
Slipping your blade back within its sheathed confines, your gaze flickered over to the silent blonde standing not a few feet from you. It seemed that ever since the pig-headed boy finally shut up, Zenitsu had been staring off in a dreamy filter. You ignored his ever-growing bubbliness, focusing back to a struggling Tanjiro.
"So, what are you three doing here today?"
Really, you had wanted nothing to do with such a useless conversation, but the three swordsmen before you were kind, and you couldn't dare try to be anything but that in return. Even if you'd rather go back to your lonely waiting, you guessed catching up with the trio would do no harm.
Offering up yet another forced smile, which had your lips go slack after a few seconds of holding up, your head tilted aside to wait an answer. After propping up the unconscious boy against the wall you had previously been standing, and the same one he had headbutted before, Tanjiro faced you once more.
"We just completed a mission, so I have a message to deliver to Tomioka-san before we leave again." He trailed off to peek inside the entrance of the front gates, only to get a glance of the Hashira meeting that was still occurring. The voices from inside were beginning to quiet, so you only assumed yourself that it would soon end. "Are you waiting for Iguro-san again?"
Nodding briefly, you made sure your katana was properly placed back in its sheath, before tucking your arms beneath the safety of your monochrome striped haori. Just faintly could you see the rising figures from inside the courtyard beyond you, and you needed no further words to gesture towards said returning swordsmen.
Shuffling aside to allow the nine slayers to pass, you watched as the trio (minus Inosuke) quickly redirected their attention to the Water Hashira, and you could only wave a silent goodbye as your own master—trainer—friend or whatever stepped past you. Following wordlessly behind his quick steps, you concluded that yet another suffocating evening would come, because Obanai hadn't even done as much as glance in your direction.
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It was well in the evening when you could finally find some peace for yourself, sitting in seiza along the shaded engawa. The night was cool, the silent breeze that rustled the ends of your haori sleeves hinting at the upcoming cold winter.
After thoroughly practicing your swordsmanship for the entirety of the day, you had found yourself quite exhausted, even if you were the Tsuguko of the Serpent Hashira. The dinner you had skipped out on long passed, idly wasting your time alone. A lonely company was just what you needed at the moment, because truthfully the unexpected interaction weighed you down.
So now, as you sat along such a darkened estate, you could finally release the quivering smile that was forced upon your lips. The fireflies had long migrated elsewhere, and with the pale moon hidden discreetly behind grey clouds, the paper lantern placed at your side provided such a pitiful excuse for light. Even the noisy chirp of crickets ceased in the growing night, and truly you felt alone.
But being alone was wonderful—no faces to impress, no emotions to fake, allowing all those facades to unfurl to reveal nothing in the end. Such blankness was openly accepted.
Leaning against of the many wooden pillars along the engawa, your eyes fluttered shut to bask in this gentle silence, all the worries in the world leaving you just for this moment. As if you were practicing over the many forms you had dedicated your life to learning, you could feel the steady inhale of each breath, the rhythmic pulse of each heartbeat, the flow of blood coursing through your veins.
A perfect state of mind, aware of even the tiniest of things surrounding your weary form. The soft whispered hiss that sounded from your side snapped you from that trance. Slithering to slowly coil up one of your resting arms, you peeked down at the curious albino snake that approached.
Kaburamaru's pale tongue flickered to graze your skin, wrapping his way up your shoulder to lay comfortably around your neck. His little head nudged your cheek, and only then did you reach out to trace your fingertips down his smooth scales. You were quite familiar with the snake's nature, and in fact you were flattered to the fact that he had found a liking for someone other than his owner.
It was still known however that Kaburamaru would never stray far from the man, so although there were no following footsteps, you knew there was a new presence straying behind you. You didn't dare glance over your shoulder to send him a glance, afraid it'd ruin this peaceful moment, and rather awaited him to make the first step. You hadn't a clue anyways to why he was suddenly approaching you now out of all times.
Despite being the man's Tsuguko, those moments shared had weakened to rare occurrences, and judging from the ignorant avoidance of your very own presence shown today, he wanted nothing of you. So you bit your tongue, letting your eyes fall shut once more.
The gentle creak of the wooden floorboards beneath your sitting form filled your ears, and you could feel the slight dip from the strain of a new weight placed beside you. A faint warmth radiated from the new body, calloused fingers slowly enveloping your own with a ghostly touch. Kaburamaru slipped back under the confines of your haori to slither back to the man, and when the cool feel of his scales escaped your skin, you expected Obanai to pull away.
The embrace never tightened to tug you closer, yet it remained so gentle like a wisp of a breeze. You had to look for yourself to assure that this moment was real—making your heart swell with a painful desire to experience more of this. Emotional tears welled up in your eyes, casting a blurry haze over your vision but you held them back before they could fall.
Obanai's face was hidden from your own view, because you couldn't dare pull your eyes away from the image of your intertwined hands. How long had it been since you'd last experienced such a comforting gesture from the man? You had always thought of him as a generous person towards you from the beginning, but those precious moments seemed to lack. Now you felt so overwhelmingly happy.
"What's wrong?"
His voice muffled under a wrapping of bandages, you could just barely register his sound as it fled his lips. Only then could you feel the warm buds of tears cascade down your cheeks, but you made no move to wipe them away. Instead, you shifted the embrace to press your own palm tightly against his, curling your fingers tightly to the back of his hand.
His arm flinched at your sudden movements, before relaxing to brush a single thumb over the back of your hand. Gazing down at the steady occurrence of tears and the loose frown spread along your lips, the man shifted closer to wipe them away himself. Your next words hadn't really assured the truth, but you showed no hesitance when he reached for your face.
"I'm alright."
A frown of his very own caught his features, even if you couldn't see it beneath that mask of bandages he always wore. Truly, he was concerned for your solemn appearance, because the bright caring woman he thought he knew was crumpling right before him. Unfortunately for Obanai, little did he know that he was the reason for these unexpected tears.
But those tears weren't exactly remorseful, because with your heart beating so fondly for the faintest of touches, you felt so unbelievably happy that this lost friend has found his way back to you. They dripped faster from your eyes, and your cheek leaned closer against the warmth of his palm.
"You're crying."
Your head shook in a dismissive way, finally prying your watery eyes open to gaze deep in mismatched colorful orbs. The hand against your cheek slid to hold the back of your neck, and you could see how his own eyes narrowed at your response. Bringing the intertwined embrace tightly against your chest, you leaned closer to bow your head, feeling a wave of shame and guilt wash over you.
"I really missed this." Your voice cracked just faintly, but Obanai could hear it every so clearly, the sound reverberating from his hands embracing you. Taking a daring leap of faith, your arms released from that previous grasp to fling themselves around his torso, tugging the man as close as possible. "I really missed you."
A searing warmth wet the front of his uniform, and from the growing tremble of your shoulders he could only tell your crying had begun to worsen. Hesitantly wrapping himself around you, when a hand tangled itself in your hair, did your chest break with heavy sobs.
"Why did you drift away?" Clutching tightly at his matching haori, you fisted handfuls of the article of clothing to pull him closer. Such a warming—dare you say loving—embrace allowed that barricade of feelings break in an instant. It had been years since you had experienced such an act, and now all those negative thoughts of regret washed away. "You know that you mean so much to me, why would you push me away?"
And then did Obanai realize the repercussions of his jealous intent, having you a sobbing, broken mess in his arms. His own heart felt as if it shattered from the weight of your words, and he could only respond with further actions. Guiding your head back from its pressed position against his chest, he could finally take in the tear-stricken expression of yours.
Slender fingers brushed away the damp strands of your hair, his knuckles erasing all lingering traces of tears. You continued to frown at his actions, because a sudden thought brought back all those dangerous questions that swirled your head. What if he was just doing all of this to push you away in the end once more?
You were about to speak your worries until the action of his bandages fluttering to the floor caused your eyes to widen. Gazing upon his exposed lips, which were curved in a deep frown of his own, did your mind begin to think of the possibilities of what could happen. Perhaps he'd yell at you, curse you out and push you down. He never allowed you the chance to see his own face, and you knew that there was a personal hidden reason for all that. But that true reason finally revealed itself.
When Obanai kissed you, your lips felt so tenderly loved under his gentle ministrations, his hands cupping your cheeks so lovingly, so that you could feel every once of love that he poured into the gesture. It was then that you realized how much of a place you held in his own locked heart, even if you had to wait years to notice, and even if you had to experience such painful doubt.
There was no need for any words to proclaim his love, because the way he so thoroughly showed it—embraced you—you knew without a doubt that this feeling was true. Even as the man pulled away, his hands still holding your face in a comforting grasp, you couldn't comprehend what your mind was telling you.
So lost and confused, drowned under a sea of emotions, you struggled to show a response, gazing dumbly at his relaxed features. When you failed to move after a few seconds, his gentle expression turned into one of worry. Swiping under your cheeks to catch any future tears, you felt your face blossom in such redness.
"Please... Smile for me."
And hearing such soft-spoken words roll of his tongue, eager to see such an expression solely because of him, you finally understood it all. Letting those tears fall down your cheeks to be caught before they could roll off your chin, you offered the brightest smile, because truly—truly you were filled with love.
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