The Shadow Hashira - Tengen X Reader X Sanemi

36

The soft morning light slipped through the curtains, casting a warm glow across my room. I blinked, slowly coming back to myself, the haze of sleep lifting as the memories of last night began to surface. My heart gave a sudden, unexpected thud, and I found myself staring at the ceiling, replaying every touch, every glance, every whispered word.

I could still feel him—Tengen, his warmth, his hands, his breath—imprinted on my skin like he'd left a part of himself behind. It was unsettling and thrilling all at once. I tried to shake the feeling, but no matter how much I tossed or turned, I couldn't quiet the lingering sensation. How had I gone from barely understanding my own feelings to... this?

I ran a hand over my face, willing my thoughts to clear. My life had always been straightforward, driven by training, duty, and focus. Yet now, all that discipline felt hazy and out of reach. Everything he'd done, every word he'd said—it had left a mark I couldn't ignore, and the thought of facing him now made me feel like my own strength was slipping through my fingers.

Why did he have this effect on me? Did he feel it, too? Did I even want to know?

I let out a deep breath, sitting up and trying to shake off the confusion. Today was another day—a day to put on my armor, to train, to remind myself of who I am. Yet part of me knew that, after last night, nothing would feel quite the same.

The competition loomed closer, its presence like a shadow that pressed against my thoughts and refused to let go. I knew what I was up against. The strength of the other Hashira, the weight of their expectations, and the unspoken judgments that trailed behind me wherever I went. It was an arena I couldn't avoid—one I would have to face head-on, proving not only to them but to myself that I deserved this title.

I breathed in deeply, centering myself. I was strong. I knew that. But the thought pulsed like a heartbeat in my mind: I needed to be stronger. To face the challenges that would come, to carry the burden of any doubts cast my way, and to meet every unspoken question in the eyes of the other Hashira.

My thoughts drifted, despite myself, back to last night. Tengen's presence lingered like a weight in my chest, a reminder of feelings I was still learning to untangle. But I knew I couldn't afford to be distracted—not now. This was a test that went beyond any single opponent. It was a measure of everything I had trained for, of every reason I had to keep going.

I pushed the memory aside, feeling resolve settle over me like armor. The time for preparation was now. I would make every movement, every breath, and every strike count. I had to prove that I belonged here. That I wasn't just someone hiding in the shadows, but someone who could command them.

Breakfast was unusually lively, the air thick with the tension of all of us sitting together, though none of us acknowledged it outright. For the past few days, everyone had kept their distance—training in solitude, preparing in silence. Now, though, it seemed no one could avoid the gathering.

Around the table sat the Hashira who had remained at the mansion: Tengen, Giyu, Sanemi, Mitsuri, and Obanai. Each of them carried a certain intensity, eyes sharp, movements calculated. A heavy quiet lingered over us, each of us lost in our own thoughts, sizing one another up without a word.

I sat quietly, catching glimpses of everyone. Sanemi's usual scowl was even more severe, his gaze shifting between each of us, no doubt picking us apart in his mind. Across from him, Mitsuri tried to lighten the mood, a bright smile on her face as she talked with Obanai, though even her cheer felt a bit strained. Giyu was his usual silent self, focused on his tea, his expression giving nothing away.

Tengen, meanwhile, kept glancing over at me with that unmistakable glint in his eyes, though he kept his expression neutral. It was a comfort, even if it made my pulse quicken under the surface. But I kept my gaze down, not letting myself be distracted.

This was more than just breakfast—it was like an unspoken prelude to the competition. A room filled with allies and rivals, each of us driven by a similar, unyielding resolve. I reminded myself that whatever lay ahead, I had to stay sharp, stay focused, and show them I was more than they might think.

Mitsuri's voice floated across the table, her energy lifting the room as she peppered everyone with questions. "If you could visit any region, where would you go?" she asked, wide-eyed and curious, clearly intent on getting everyone to open up a bit. It was her way, to make everyone feel at ease, and I found myself answering a few questions along with Tengen. Even Giyu muttered a response or two, and the rest of us quietly laughed when he spoke. Obanai, though, didn't say much; he only watched Mitsuri with this silent admiration that was impossible to miss. I couldn't help it—a soft chuckle escaped me as I noted how obvious his interest was.

But, of course, Sanemi just had to notice. His sharp gaze turned to me, and he asked, loudly enough for the whole table to hear, "What's so funny?"

The room went still, and I felt the heat creep up my neck. Typical. Why did he always have to do this? I hadn't even done anything remotely offensive—just laughed to myself. But his voice held that unmistakable challenge, the one that cut through every layer of civility and demanded an answer.

For someone who looked that good, Sanemi really was an asshole through and through. I wanted to come up with a clever retort, something that would brush him off and make everyone else laugh, but instead, I just gave him a pointed look.

"Nothing," I said, calm but firm, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an explanation. "Just an observation."

Sanemi snorted, as if my response wasn't worth his time, and Mitsuri, ever the peacemaker, quickly continued her questions to fill the uncomfortable silence. I sighed in relief, letting her cheerful voice pull the conversation back to a lighter place. But under the table, I could feel my fists clench, my nails pressing into my palms. For a moment, I caught Tengen's eye, and he gave me a reassuring nod, an unspoken message telling me not to let Sanemi get under my skin.

Easy for him to say, I thought, glancing down at my plate. But I knew I'd need to keep my cool if I wanted to survive this competition, both on the battlefield and at the breakfast table.

I had yet to earn the respect of my peers, and with Sanemi's foul mood constantly lurking like a storm cloud, it seemed that the path ahead would be even longer than I'd anticipated. I could feel the weight of their eyes, some indifferent, others openly wary. They saw me as the newcomer, an unproven piece in their battle-worn ranks, and Sanemi was the quickest to remind me of it.

It stung, if I was honest with myself. These were the most skilled warriors in the Corps, each of them bound by strength and suffering in ways I hadn't fully seen yet. And I was determined to stand among them as an equal. But at every turn, Sanemi's presence seemed like a warning, like he saw something in me he wasn't about to trust so easily. And I knew that until I earned his respect, and the respect of the others, I'd always feel this weight.

Still, if there was anything I'd learned in the shadows, it was patience. Respect wasn't handed over freely, and maybe that was exactly how it should be. If I wanted to prove myself, it would have to be through my actions, not my words.