Chapter Text
Sanemi was a boy forged from hardship and anger. Growing up in a world that never seemed to care for his well-being, he had learned to fight before he even fully understood why. His sharp tongue was just as dangerous as his fists, both weapons he used to push people away. His fists were always ready to land, whether in defense or because of his burning frustration. School had become a battlefield, and he was always in the thick of it. Expelled from one school after another, Sanemi had made a name for himself as the troublemaker with an attitude.
Every time he came home with bruises, his mother’s face would fall with concern, but she never raised her voice. Her hands, gentle and steady, would clean his wounds, applying balm and wrapping bandages with a tenderness that made his heart ache, even if he didn't fully understand why. Her quiet hums as she worked were the only sounds that could calm his restless soul. Her hands never trembled, even as she bandaged the scars left by fists or harsh words. She spoke softly, never blaming him, even though the world outside was harsh and unforgiving. She only wished for him to be happy, for him to not carry that weight of anger around all his life.
But her worry grew as Sanemi's expulsions piled up. How could he have a future if he couldn't even finish school? How could he stand a chance at college, or a job, or anything that required him to be somewhere, to follow rules and structure, to work alongside others? The fear that gripped her heart every time he returned home in a fury, bruised and angry, gnawed at her.
And so, one day, Sanemi made a decision. He would try, for her, to stop fighting as much. Maybe if he kept his head down, if he just avoided the problems, things would get better. But it wasn’t that simple.
At school, the students seemed to have an endless supply of buttons to push, and Sanemi was always the target. The teasing, the taunts, the way they sneered at him — it felt like the world was daring him to break. He hated feeling weak, hated feeling like he couldn’t stand up for himself. Every day was a struggle to keep the anger buried deep within him, but it always boiled over.
It happened one afternoon, the tension reaching its breaking point. He was trying to walk away, to ignore the boy who had been pestering him for weeks. He didn't want to fight anymore, didn't want to go home to see his mother's disappointed eyes. But the boy, his smirk widening, pushed harder, shoving him, taunting him. The words were sharp and cruel, aimed straight for the heart.
Sanemi could feel the heat of anger rising in his chest, his fists curling, itching to make the boy pay. He tried to walk away again, but the boy followed him, whispering insults in his ear. There was no avoiding it anymore.
Before he knew it, he swung a punch, then another. They were locked in a frenzy of fists, each blow fueled by years of frustration, pain, and confusion. But there was a twist in the chaos. In the heat of the fight, Sanemi hadn’t noticed the glint of something shiny in the boy's hand — a knife, hidden from view until it was too late.
The teacher's shout pierced through the noise just as the boy raised the knife, its sharp edge aimed straight for Sanemi. The teacher rushed in, pulling the boy away, but not before the knife left its mark. Sanemi’s body trembled, but the fight didn't leave him. The deep cuts across his arm, his side, his face, the ugly scars that marred his skin were a constant reminder of how close he had come to losing everything.
He didn't realize it then, but those scars would stay with him, not just on his skin, but in his soul. They would remind him of the anger, the mistakes, and the consequences. They would be the permanent marks of a boy who had fought so hard against the world, not realizing that sometimes the hardest battles were the ones fought within.
When he returned home that evening, his mother’s heart broke all over again as she saw the damage. Her gentle hands worked over his wounds, but this time there were no words of comfort that could heal him. The scars were more than just skin-deep; they were a reflection of everything he had been carrying for so long.
And so, Sanemi stood at a crossroads, unsure if he could ever truly let go of the anger, or if the scars would define him forever. He didn’t know what the future would hold, but he knew one thing for sure: he was tired of fighting. But sometimes, the world didn’t give you the choice to stop.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Years had passed, and somehow, Sanemi had made it through the school system. A little bruised, a little battered, but he had graduated. He always chalked it up to luck, an accidental twist of fate that had gotten him into college. In his mind, he wasn't sure he deserved it. But here he was, standing at the edge of a new chapter.
The morning of his first day arrived, the weight of it settling on him like a heavy fog.
-
6:00 AM.
The shrill ring of the alarm tore through the quiet of his room, and with a groan, Sanemi reached out a hand, fumbling for the button to silence it. The sound of the clock ticking in the background reminded him just how little time he had before he had to leave. He rubbed his face, squinting against the harsh morning light filtering through the window.
The thought of college made his stomach tighten. He had made it this far, but now, the pressure was real. He couldn’t afford to mess this up. No fighting. No mistakes. His mother's words echoed in his mind, a reminder that this was his chance to finally move past all the chaos. He rolled out of bed and stretched his arms high over his head, stifling a yawn as his muscles complained from the sudden movement.
With a sigh, he walked into the bathroom, flicking on the light. The cool tile floor sent a shiver through him as he undressed and stepped under the warm stream of the shower. The sound of water washing over him did little to calm his nerves. –This is it,– he thought. His first day in a new place, a place where he could finally prove himself. But the old fears crept in—what if he couldn’t keep his temper in check? What if he fell back into the same old patterns?
The steam from the shower fogged the mirror as he stood there, letting the water run over him for a few extra minutes. It was easier to hide in the steam, easier to let his mind wander than face the reality of what lay ahead.
After a few more minutes of self-reflection—or avoidance—he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, toweling off his hair quickly before pulling on the school’s uniform. It was a white shirt with long sleeves and buttons running down the front. The fabric was stiff, and he couldn't help but feel the weight of it, the formality of it all. He puts on his black pants and tied an Aegean colored tie around his neck, the knot uneven at first but corrected with a few tugs.
He hated the shirt being buttoned all the way to the top, hated the way it restricted him, but it was against the dress code not to. He sighed as he glanced at himself in the mirror, knowing that no matter how he felt about the uniform, he had to follow the rules.
Downstairs, the house was quiet, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound breaking the silence. Sanemi's siblings were still asleep, the house still draped in the calm of early morning. But the smell of his mother’s cooking drifted through the air, pulling him out of his thoughts. He could hear the sizzle of something on the stove, the rhythmic sound of her movements as she prepared breakfast.
He walked down the stairs, the wooden steps creaking under his weight. The moment his mom spotted him, her face broke into a soft smile, one that always made Sanemi’s heart warm.
"Morning, Mom," he said with a quiet smile, his voice still heavy with sleep but genuine.
"Morning, Sanemi," she replied, her voice soft but filled with warmth. "Your lunch is on the table."
Her words, her smile, everything about her made him feel like he could take on the world—at least for a little while. He sat down at the table, grabbing the lunch she had prepared for him: a simple bento, but to him, it was everything. It was the little things, the small acts of care, that helped him push through the harder days.
"Thanks, Mom. I’ll be going to campus now. Bye, ma!" he said, standing up to grab his bag and head toward the door.
"Goodbye, Sanemi. Don’t get into any fights!" she called out with a teasing smile, though there was an underlying concern in her voice.
Sanemi waved at her, a flicker of humor crossing his face despite the weight of the day ahead. "I won’t, I promise."
As he stepped outside, the early morning sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow across the sky. The cool air was refreshing against his skin, a brief reprieve from the anxiety swirling inside him. The walk to campus wasn’t far—maybe a ten-minute stroll through the neighborhood—but it felt like a lifetime. Each step was a small victory, and he found himself trying to take it all in: the familiar sound of birds calling, the rustle of leaves, the distant hum of the city waking up.
Today was the day. It was his chance to start fresh, to leave behind the past and forge a new path. But he couldn’t help but wonder, with each step he took, if he was truly ready. Would he be able to make it this time? Or would his old habits, the anger and frustration, rise up again?
But for now, all he could do was keep walking, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet morning.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
Sanemi arrived at school 15 minutes early, the early morning air still cool and crisp around him. He had a bit of time to kill, so he figured he’d explore the hallways before the bell rang. As he walked through the corridors, he noticed a few students milling around, but they quickly cast furtive glances his way. Some even sneered, the look in their eyes filled with contempt. Sanemi didn’t need to guess why. His scars, reminders of a past he couldn't forget, made him an easy target for their judgment.
He sighed, brushing it off as he kept walking. It wasn’t like this was new. The whispers, the stares—he’d grown used to them. He would’ve preferred to be left alone, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
His footsteps slowed when he stumbled upon something that caught his attention. A guy was sprawled on the floor, looking enraged, his hands clenched into fists. Standing above him was another figure—was it a guy or a girl? Sanemi couldn’t quite tell. The scene felt off, the tension thick in the air.
The standing figure broke the silence, his voice cold, deadpan. "Can't even stand up for yourself when you could talk shit about someone. Well, it’s better if you stay on the ground, because that’s where pathetics like you belong." His words were sharp, unfeeling, as if he’d said them a hundred times before. Without another glance at the boy on the floor, the figure turned and walked away.
Sanemi stood frozen, the weight of what he’d just witnessed sinking in. Was that… bullying? He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much, but something about the whole thing felt off, like a moment where cruelty was served without any second thought.
The shrill sound of the bell snapped him from his thoughts. It was time to head to class. He quickly made his way to the classroom, the door already propped open, a few students already inside. He chose an empty seat beside a boy who was sitting quietly, his face partially obscured by a mask. His hair was shoulder-length, messy but somehow still neat. Sanemi couldn’t help but notice it—why did so many boys have long hair?
The teacher walked in shortly after, and the room quieted as the lesson began. The boy beside him didn’t seem to care that Sanemi had sat next to him, which was a relief. He wasn’t really in the mood for talking. So, he leaned back in his seat, trying to push away the unsettling images of the hallway and focus on the lesson ahead.
~
Sanemi quickly became friends with his desk mate, Obanai Iguro. They clicked right away, discovering they had so much in common. Whether it was their dry sense of humor or shared interests in obscure topics, it didn't take long for the two to form a bond. But there was something else on Sanemi’s mind today, something he couldn’t quite shake off. He had noticed a guy down the hallway earlier, and now, here he was—sitting in the same classroom as him.
Sanemi found himself glancing over at the guy, observing him more closely. He had jet-black hair, tied neatly in a low ponytail that cascaded down his back. His features were delicate and sharp, as though sculpted from stone, but there was something about his deep blue eyes that seemed to draw Sanemi in. They were calm, piercing, almost like they could see right through him. It was strange—Sanemi couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this captivated by someone’s appearance.
"Woah," he muttered under his breath. “Sanemi, you’re in love.”
Before he could even process the thought, he felt a nudge on his shoulder. Sanemi blinked, torn from his reverie. He looked over to find Obanai staring at him, eyebrows raised in mild concern.
“What?” Sanemi asked, his voice tinged with confusion.
Obanai’s eyes flickered to the front of the room before settling back on him. “You’ve been staring at Tomioka for the past 15 minutes. Did he do something to you?”
Sanemi’s heart skipped a beat. Had he really been staring for that long? He glanced back at the guy—Tomioka, apparently—and quickly tore his gaze away. “Tomioka?” he asked, raising a brow, unsure of what to make of the sudden attention.
Obanai shrugged nonchalantly, his pen tapping against his notebook as he jotted down notes. “Yeah. His name’s Giyu Tomioka. You’ve never heard of him?”
“No,” Sanemi admitted, still processing the information. “Why was I staring at him?”
“Dunno,” Obanai said, not looking up from his notes. “But if I had to guess, it’s because he’s the type to make an impression. Giyu has this weird vibe—he’s quiet, but... mean. He likes to bully people, you know?”
Sanemi frowned, a little taken aback. “He’s a bully?” He couldn’t imagine someone with those soft, delicate features being so cruel.
“Yeah, but he doesn’t fight people physically,” Obanai continued, his tone flat. “He’s the kind of guy who’ll destroy someone with his words instead. I’ve seen it happen.”
Sanemi shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He looked back over at Giyu, who appeared to be lost in thought, his face still as expressionless as ever. Could this guy really be the bully Obanai was describing?
“Wait…” Sanemi trailed off, curiosity bubbling up inside him. “How do you know all of this? You sound like you’ve been watching him for a while.”
Obanai paused his writing, glancing over at Sanemi with a deadpan expression. “I’ve been in school with him before. Same old Giyu. He hasn’t changed much.”
Sanemi’s mind raced. He thought back to the hallway encounter. “So, he just picks on people for fun?” Sanemi asked, his voice slightly guarded now.
Obanai shrugged again, uninterested. “Pretty much. But like I said, he’s not the type to physically hurt anyone. It's all mental with him. If you’re not careful, you’ll find yourself in his crosshairs before you even realize it.”
Sanemi couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be on the receiving end of Giyu’s words. From what Obanai had described, it didn’t sound pleasant. He would have to be careful, he decided, especially since Giyu’s quiet nature made him even more unpredictable.
The teacher’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he quickly shifted his focus back to the front of the classroom. Obanai had already turned his attention back to his notes, and Sanemi followed suit, trying to push the unsettling thoughts of Giyu to the back of his mind. But something about him lingered there, like a shadow waiting to make itself known.
For now, Sanemi knew one thing for sure—he wouldn’t let himself get caught in Giyu’s line of fire. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross.
~
The shrill sound of the bell echoed through the classroom, signaling the arrival of lunch. As students scrambled to pack up their things, eager to escape the confines of class, Sanemi took his time. He wasn’t in a rush to join the throng of students, the chaos of bodies squeezing through the narrow hallways. No, he preferred to wait until most of the crowd had cleared, and only then would he make his way out, avoiding the inevitable crush.
Obanai, his desk mate and newfound friend, had already begun packing his books into his bag. Unlike most students, Obanai didn’t seem eager to rush either. It was clear he shared Sanemi’s distaste for the noise and crowd that lunch time seemed to bring.
With his books packed, Sanemi stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder, finally making his way toward the door. The hallways outside the classroom were already quieter, the din of students mostly muffled by the distance to the cafeteria. A welcome change, Sanemi thought.
As he walked down the hall, lost in his thoughts, a sudden collision jolted him out of his reverie. He stumbled slightly, and before he could even register what had happened, a body hit the floor with a loud thud.
“Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there,” Sanemi quickly muttered, instinctively extending a hand to help the person up.
Obanai, who had been walking just behind him, stopped in his tracks and stood at Sanemi’s side. His sharp eyes never left the person on the ground, who was now pushing himself up to his feet.
The guy, still scowling, slapped Sanemi’s hand away with force, his gaze venomous. “Don’t touch me,” he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. “I don’t need your filth to get on me.”
Sanemi blinked, taken aback by the venom in the guy's words. Seriously? What had he done to deserve that kind of reaction? He could feel Obanai’s eyes burning into the guy, his usual stoic expression replaced by something darker—something dangerous. Sanemi felt it too, the tension thickening in the air.
He clenched his fist at his side, trying to keep his cool, but the anger bubbled up inside him. "Let’s go," he said, his voice tight with frustration as he turned to walk away, eager to put the encounter behind him.
His fist was still clenched, aching to punch the guy square in the face. Damn it, he wanted to do it so badly, but he had made a promise to his mother that he wouldn’t get into fights. And he wasn’t about to break that promise.
But just as he thought he was clear, he heard the guy’s voice again, this time laced with a bitter, mocking tone. “Of course freaks like you guys would be friends.”
That was it. Sanemi’s blood boiled.
He whipped around, his vision narrowing as he faced the guy. Before the guy could even react, Sanemi’s fist flew forward, landing with a sickening crunch against his nose. The sound of impact echoed down the empty hallway, and the guy’s body jerked back. He collapsed to the floor, his hands flying to his face as blood began to stream from his nose, staining his fingers and the ground beneath him.
Sanemi stood there for a moment, chest heaving, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He could hear Obanai chuckling behind him, but something else tugged at his senses—an unfamiliar chill, like a gaze freezing him in place. It wasn’t Obanai’s stare, he realized. Someone else was watching, their eyes boring into him with an intensity that made his skin crawl. He couldn’t tell who it was, but it was unsettling.
He quickly turned away and stepped back toward Obanai, feeling the weight of several pairs of eyes on him as he made his way down the hall. Students had gathered at the far end, and some were whispering, others simply staring at him with a mix of shock and curiosity. Sanemi sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair in frustration.
Obanai walked alongside him, his voice low and casual. “Dang, bro. He definitely deserved that.”
Sanemi snorted in response, the tension slowly leaving his body as he tried to brush the situation off. “Yeah, he really did.”
The two of them walked in silence toward the cafeteria, their footsteps echoing in the now quiet hall. But even as they neared the cafeteria, the cold stare from earlier still lingered in the back of Sanemi’s mind. It was like someone had marked him, their gaze still heavy on his shoulders.
But he tried to shake it off. He wouldn’t let it get to him. There were far more important things to focus on, like getting through the rest of the day without causing more trouble.
Still, he couldn’t help but wonder who had been watching him.
~
Sanemi and Obanai walked side by side down the hallway toward their next class, the sound of their footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet corridor. The school day had been long, and Sanemi was already mentally preparing himself for the next round of lessons. But something felt off today. As he walked, he couldn't shake the sensation of a cold, piercing glare he felt minutes ago. It was like the weight of someone's eyes was bearing down on him, making his skin crawl.
He tried to shake it off, sighing deeply. He was used to it by now, the stares, the whispers. He knew his scars weren’t exactly “pretty,” but the constant judgment from his classmates still stung. He and his mother had made a promise years ago, a promise to not let the cruelty of others break him, but every day felt like a test.
As they walked, he couldn’t help but feel like every pair of eyes in the hallway was on him. They were always whispering, always pointing out how different he was. Sanemi hated the feeling of being on display, like an object for people to gawk at. But today, it felt worse than usual.
Obanai, walking a few steps ahead, suddenly slowed down, coming to a stop. Sanemi raised an eyebrow, curious. Why had he stopped? He looked at Obanai, puzzled, but Obanai didn’t speak, instead pointing ahead with a subtle motion.
Sanemi followed the direction of his finger and his gaze landed on a figure in the distance—Tomioka. At first, it seemed like Tomioka was just standing there, maybe talking to someone, but there was something about the way he held himself, the intensity in his posture, that made Sanemi feel uneasy.
Tomioka was known for his cold demeanor and his ability to tear into people with words, but Sanemi couldn’t help but wonder—what was going on? Was Tomioka bullying someone again? His brow furrowed as he glanced at Obanai, seeking answers, but Obanai just stared, his eyes wide in disbelief.
Before Sanemi could voice his thoughts, there was a sudden loud –slam–, followed by muffled shouting. His heart skipped a beat as he turned his head, his eyes locking onto the scene before him. Tomioka had grabbed a boy by the hair and slammed his head into a locker. The sound of metal clanging against flesh sent a chill through Sanemi’s spine.
Sanemi’s mind raced, trying to process what he was witnessing. Tomioka was thin, almost frail-looking. How the hell was he this strong? His hands clenched into fists as he watched, his gaze flicking between Tomioka and the boy, who seemed completely helpless. But then a thought struck him—Obanai had always said Tomioka only bullied people mentally, not physically. This didn’t fit the pattern.
He glanced over at Obanai, expecting him to be just as confused, but instead, he found his friend frozen in shock. His eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open slightly, though it was hard to tell since he wore his usual mask.
Sanemi’s mind whirled as he heard Tomioka’s voice—sharp, venomous, and laced with a cold fury. “Next time you talk about my sister again, I won’t hesitate to find your sister and murder her.” The words made Sanemi shiver, and he couldn’t help but feel a deep unease. He had heard of Tomioka’s protective streak, especially when it came to his family, but to see it manifest like this... it was more intense than Sanemi could have imagined.
Sanemi glanced at Obanai again, but his friend didn’t seem to move, his face still frozen in a mix of shock and confusion. Sanemi opened his mouth, about to say something, when suddenly, he felt a hand grab his wrist.
Obanai yanked him away, pulling him down the hallway with surprising urgency. Sanemi barely had time to process what had happened before they were a safe distance away, walking briskly to class. They made it to their room early, their breaths coming out in shallow gasps as they settled into their desks.
“What the fuck was that?!” Sanemi blurted out, his voice raised in frustration. “Didn’t you say he only does things mentally, not physically?!”
Obanai looked at him, his expression already returning to its usual calm, detached state. “I did,” he said flatly. “Well, unless you actually make him mad, then he can get physical.” His tone was deadpan, as if the whole situation was just another minor hiccup in their day.
Sanemi blinked, still reeling from the events. “Then why did you pull us out of there like we had no time to waste?” he demanded, his frustration growing.
Obanai didn’t even glance at him as he pulled out his books from his bag. “First of all, did you see the situation? Second, if we stayed, we would’ve probably gotten involved. I didn’t feel like getting involved in that mess.”
Sanemi, though still a little rattled, began to unpack his own things. The classroom was slowly filling with students, and he tried to force himself to focus. He didn’t want to think about the drama anymore. He just wanted to get through the rest of the day.
But as his gaze drifted toward the door, his heart skipped a beat. Tomioka walked in, his cold blue eyes scanning the room. The mere glance sent a shiver down Sanemi’s spine. There was something unsettling about the way Tomioka looked at him, like he was seeing right through him.
Sanemi quickly looked away, his mind trying to block out the lingering feeling of unease. Tomioka took his seat, and the class began as the teacher entered. Sanemi let out a slow breath, trying to push everything that had just happened to the back of his mind. He didn’t want to dwell on the chaos of the school’s drama. There was only one thing he could focus on now: school.
~
When the final bell of the day echoed through the classroom, signaling the end of another lesson, the students were quick to gather their belongings, eager to escape the confines of the school. But not Sanemi. He moved at a slower pace, his mind elsewhere, caught in a whirlwind of thoughts he couldn’t shake.
He had replayed the scene over and over in his head, trying to make sense of it. How was it possible that someone as breathtakingly beautiful as Tomioka could also be so... cold? His blue eyes, vast and endless like the ocean, lingered in his memory. Sanemi found himself captivated, in a way he couldn’t explain. He’d never been one to dwell on people in such a way, but Tomioka had gotten under his skin. He had to admit it—he was in love.
A deep sigh escaped him as he stuffed the last of his books into his bag. With the final item secured, he slung the bag over his shoulder and left the classroom, the dull hum of conversation from his classmates fading as he walked down the hallway.
When he reached the school gate, Obanai was waiting for him, a patient figure leaning against the fence. The two exchanged a quick farewell before parting ways, both heading home for the evening.
As Sanemi made his way back to his house, the familiar scent of his mother’s cooking greeted him, filling the air with warmth. The savory aromas drifted through the hallway as he walked toward the kitchen, where his mother had laid out the meal. She looked up as he entered, her smile wide and welcoming. It was a relief to see him home without any signs of a fight, which, given his reputation, was always a concern.
“Welcome back, Sanemi,” she greeted, her voice soft but full of love.
Sanemi returned the smile, though it was slightly strained. “Hi, ma. Where’s everyone else?”
“They’re all upstairs in Genya’s room, playing,” she replied, her gaze warm. “Could you call them down for dinner?”
He nodded, his usual reluctance to be the responsible older sibling momentarily forgotten. Climbing the stairs, Sanemi could hear the sounds of laughter and shuffling from down the hallway, signaling the chaos of his younger siblings.
He knocked lightly on Genya’s door before pushing it open, only to find his siblings sprawled across the room—some on the bed, others on the floor, all engaged in a world of their own.
"Dinner’s ready," he announced, his tone casual, though there was a hint of authority in it.
Without waiting for a response, he turned and made his way back downstairs, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. Within moments, the rush of footsteps followed, as his younger siblings eagerly descended to the dining room, their hunger momentarily overtaking their playtime.
Genya was the last to arrive, making his way to the table with a sheepish smile as he greeted their mother. He slid into his seat beside Sanemi, who was already tucking into his meal. But before he could dig in any further, Genya spoke up, his voice suddenly hesitant.
“Nemi, can I ask you a favor?” Genya’s eyes darted nervously toward his older brother, a clear sign that whatever he was about to ask wasn’t going to be simple.
Sanemi raised an eyebrow, his mouth full as he hummed in acknowledgment. "Hm?"
Genya fidgeted with his food, clearly unsure of how to broach the subject. "Can you come with me to my friend's house?"
Sanemi paused, a bite of food halfway to his mouth. His expression soured instantly. "Genya, I'm not going to your little 'boyfriend's' house, and besides, they're all younger than me."
A flush of color crept up Genya’s neck, but he pressed on, undeterred. "There's someone there your age."
Sanemi rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Not interested."
Genya, now practically pleading, set his utensils down and leaned forward, his face scrunching with desperation. "Please! I’ll wash the dishes for a month!"
Sanemi hesitated, the promise of a month’s worth of chores hanging in the air. He chewed thoughtfully, eyeing Genya’s pleading expression. Finally, he sighed, giving in.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice a mixture of reluctance and resignation.
Genya’s face lit up instantly, his eyes sparkling with triumph. “Yay!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing in his seat.
Sanemi couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. He knew this week was going to be exhausting, but something told him it would be more complicated than he expected. Still, he couldn’t back out now—not after seeing the way his little brother had practically won the battle.
~
The next day felt like any other, the same routine he had become all too familiar with: study, eat, study, witness Tomioka's constant bullying, study some more, then head home. It was mundane. Boring. The monotony was only ever broken by his brother, Genya, who seemed to always drag him along on some new adventure or, in this case, to some friend's house.
But today was different. Today, Genya had insisted he come along with him to visit Tanjiro Kamado and his... rather peculiar group of friends. Tanjiro, with his annoying, freakishly keen nose that seemed to detect every last bit of oddity in anyone around him. He even remembered that one time when Tanjiro pointed out he smelled like Ohagi, of all things. He couldn’t believe it. Tanjiro never failed to find a way to embarrass him. It was like a talent of his. He groaned at the thought.
The walk to their house was only a few blocks away, but it felt like an eternity. Sanemi walked beside Genya, trying not to think about the awkwardness that awaited. He had met Tanjiro and his friends before—Zenitsu, that loudmouth who couldn’t seem to control his nerves, and Inosuke, the boar-headed brute who looked like he could tear someone apart without batting an eye. But today was different. Today, he was going to their house. The thought of stepping foot inside their home felt strange, almost like an intrusion. What would their parents think when they saw a guy covered in scars and a permanent scowl on his face? He could practically hear the worried whispers behind closed doors, wondering if he was a threat.
–Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to this,– Sanemi thought, feeling a mix of discomfort and hesitation.
And then, as if the universe was trying to remind him that things could always get worse, the familiar sight of a door appeared in front of him. It was a simple wooden door, but it might as well have been a gateway to his doom. Genya’s voice suddenly broke through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.
“Sanemi, are you going to knock or just stand there staring at the door all day?” Genya’s voice was flat, but there was a touch of impatience behind it.
Sanemi let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes, before he took a step forward and knocked three times, each sound echoing a bit louder than he expected. He then stepped back, folding his arms across his chest, hoping that the door wouldn’t open just yet. But, of course, that wasn’t the case.
The door creaked open, revealing none other than Tanjiro himself. The moment their eyes met, Tanjiro’s face lit up with that all-too-familiar, ear-splitting grin that made him look like the sun itself. Sanemi could practically feel his annoyance bubbling up. Why did Tanjiro have to smile like that?
Before he could even say anything, Tanjiro stepped aside, waving them in enthusiastically. "Come on in, guys!" he said, his voice bright and welcoming.
Sanemi couldn’t help but groan internally, already regretting agreeing to this whole thing. He stepped inside, reluctantly following Genya. The house was... decent, surprisingly. A cozy living room connected to a kitchen with a neat island counter in the middle. To the side, there were doors, which Sanemi assumed led to the bedrooms. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but it felt homey in a way that made him uncomfortable.
Without much thought, he made his way over to the sofa, sinking into it with a heavy sigh. He fished his phone out of his pocket and began scrolling through TikTok, hoping the endless feed of random videos would distract him from the situation. As much as he wanted to enjoy some peace, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in the wrong place. Maybe he didn’t belong here. But then, Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke... they had all made an effort to be friendly. They treated him like he was part of their group, even though he wasn’t sure he was. Because he's an adult and they're literal kids.
The thought lingered as he swiped through his phone, half-listening to the chatter around him. He tried to keep to himself, but every now and then, Tanjiro’s cheerful voice would break through, asking questions or making comments, as if he could sense the unease radiating off Sanemi.
_______
Genya was happily playing with Tanjiro in his room, and Sanemi had long since lost track of time, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. The sounds of Inosuke’s booming voice and Zenitsu’s high-pitched whining echoed down the hall, but Sanemi didn’t feel like getting involved. He was in a mood for some quiet, but that never seemed to come around here.
Wait. Genya had mentioned someone else around his age was supposed to be here too. He hadn’t seen them yet. Maybe the person was busy? He wasn’t sure, but he could really use a distraction. Another sigh slipped out, the 30th of the day, it seemed, as he sank deeper into the couch.
He ran a hand through his messy hair. Where were Tanjiro’s parents? Shouldn’t they be here, keeping an eye on their kid, making sure he wasn’t up to something crazy? Then again, with this crowd, it was hard to keep track of anything.
He was about to stand up when a soft groan reached his ears—definitely not any of the kids. Sanemi froze, listening closely as footsteps came closer to the living room. A sudden shift in the air made him glance up, and his eyes widened in surprise.
Standing there, at the threshold of the living room, was Tomioka—Giyu Tomioka, one of his classmates and, as of recently, a bit of a bully. He didn’t really mess with Sanemi much, though, which Sanemi appreciated. Still, seeing him here was a shock.
Tomioka froze, his gaze landing on Sanemi. There was a long pause. Neither of them moved, both unsure of what to do.
Tomioka finally broke the silence, his voice low, “What are you doing here?”
Sanemi blinked, struggling to pull his thoughts together. “Uh— I came with Genya. He’s playing with Tanjiro and his friends right now. He, uh… asked me to come with him.” His words came out in a rushed jumble, and he cursed himself under his breath, hoping Tomioka hadn’t noticed.
Tomioka gave him a cold, unreadable stare. After a moment, he simply nodded and walked toward the kitchen. Sanemi let out a relieved breath, sagging against the couch.
Just as he was about to relax, he heard Genya and Tanjiro’s voices coming down the hall. Genya had a sheepish smile on his face, while Tanjiro—ever cheerful—beamed brightly.
“Giyu! I found a way to stop that guy from stalking you!” Tanjiro announced, practically bouncing in place.
Sanemi’s brows furrowed as he glanced between them. Wait, stalking? Did Giyu have a stalker? He was popular with the girls, sure, but they’d only been in school for a couple of days. What the hell?
Giyu looked back at Tanjiro, one brow raising slightly. “Oh?”
Tanjiro nodded enthusiastically. “Maybe you could just date someone! Or ask them to help you pretend you’re dating!”
Sanemi’s eyes widened in confusion. –Date someone? Fake date?– The whole idea felt absurd. But he quickly reminded himself that it wasn’t his business. He didn’t want to get tangled up in whatever mess this was.
“That could work, right? Maybe Shinazugawa could help!” Tanjiro added with a smile, completely oblivious to the tension building in the room.
Sanemi’s heart skipped a beat, and he froze in place. His gaze shot to Tanjiro, who still seemed cheerful, though the situation was starting to feel strange. Then his eyes flicked over to Genya, whose smile had faltered, guilt flashing in his eyes.
A chill ran down Sanemi’s spine. He couldn’t help the tightening in his chest.
◦•●◉✿ 𝐺𝑖𝑦𝑢 𝑝𝑜𝑣✿◉●•◦
"Maybe Shinazugawa could help!" Tanjiro said brightly, his grin wide and completely unaware of the growing tension in the room. He was always so optimistic, his heart pure, but Giyu could sense the underlying discomfort that Tanjiro didn't notice.
Giyu stared at his friend, his thoughts swirling. Sabito. The name alone made his stomach churn. He hadn’t thought about him in months, but now, with Tanjiro’s suggestion hanging in the air, it all came rushing back.
Sabito had been Giyu’s first love, the one who seemed perfect at first, until the truth came out. Sabito had been unfaithful, cheating on him with multiple people while Giyu was blind to it. When he finally found out, it broke him in ways he didn’t even know were possible. It wasn’t just the betrayal, but the fact that Sabito had stalked him relentlessly after their breakup. Texts, calls, emails—nothing stopped him. Every time Giyu blocked him, Sabito found a new way in. It was maddening, and Giyu had no idea how to make it end.
Now, Tanjiro was offering him a ridiculous solution. –Fake dating Shinazugawa?–Giyu thought, his face going pale at the mere idea. Shinazugawa, of all people? Giyu didn’t even know the man well. They’d shared a few awkward encounters, sure, but the thought of pretending to date him made his stomach turn.
But then... What if it worked? What if Sabito, the obsessive ex, would finally back off, convinced that Giyu had moved on with someone else? Maybe Tanjiro was onto something, even if the whole idea sounded insane.
"No way," Giyu muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "I’m not doing that."
But as he stood there, the weight of his past hanging over him, he couldn’t ignore the nagging thought. Maybe it was the only way to make Sabito finally leave him alone.
"I’ll think about it," Giyu said, his voice quieter now, as if he was trying to convince himself. He straightened his back, walking away from Tanjiro and the unbearable tension of the situation, and retreated to his bedroom. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound of it echoing in the silent house.
As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, Giyu’s mind raced. Was he really considering this? Fake dating Shinazugawa, of all people? He could barely stand the thought of it. Besides, didn’t Shinobu have a thing for him? He and Shinobu were close, almost too close, but everyone knew she would rather die than pretend to date him. So what was the point?
His thoughts circled endlessly, like a whirlpool pulling him under, until his exhaustion took over. His eyelids fluttered shut, and with a heavy sigh, he finally drifted into sleep, his mind still tangled in the chaos of the day.
Should he go through with it? Was fake dating Shinazugawa really the answer? Giyu could only hope that tomorrow, he’d have some kind of clarity. But for now, he needed rest—though he knew, deep down, that this decision would follow him long after he woke.