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(Artist: Archery🌈) (🎉REQUESTS ARE OPEN🎉)
Sanemi Shinazugawa had always been a man of battle. Raised in the midst of hardship and loss, he was hardened by the unforgiving world around him. His stoic expression and the biting edge to his words were as much a part of him as the sword he carried. Few dared approach him, and fewer still could stand against his sharp tongue and fiery temper. He was known for being relentless, driven by the ghosts of his past and a burning need to protect those who needed it most. But all of that changed when (Y/n) entered his life. She wasn't like the others—soft, delicate, and gentle in ways that made Sanemi uncomfortable at first.
When (Y/n) was recruited as a healer in the Demon Slayer Corps, she was assigned to help with the aftermath of missions, particularly those involving Sanemi. He had already gained a reputation for pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion, and his wounds were often severe. Yet, while the other medical staff kept their distance, (Y/n) didn't shy away from him. Instead, she faced him with a calmness that made him pause, something unfamiliar to him. Their first encounter was brief but telling. Sanemi had returned from a battle, his body battered and bruised, blood staining his clothes.
He had dragged himself to the infirmary, knowing full well he'd need treatment before the next mission. When (Y/n) entered the room, her demeanor was soft yet unwavering. She immediately assessed his injuries, her touch gentle but sure as she worked to clean his wounds. "Does it hurt?" she asked, her voice soft yet steady. Sanemi gritted his teeth. "Doesn't matter." But there was a slight tremor in his voice that betrayed him. (Y/n) glanced up at him with a quiet understanding, as if she saw through the tough exterior he had so carefully cultivated. She didn't push, but she also didn't back down. As she finished wrapping his arm, she said, "You don't have to be strong all the time, you know."
Sanemi's gaze hardened, but he didn't respond. There was something about her words—something that lingered in his mind long after she left the room. Over time, (Y/n) and Sanemi began to cross paths more often. Though Sanemi remained distant, (Y/n) continued to treat him with a quiet warmth that both puzzled and intrigued him. She never tried to force her way into his life, but there was a consistency in her presence that he couldn't ignore. She would offer him meals after his missions, always preparing something simple yet nourishing. She would listen to him, offering advice that was grounded in kindness, but never with the expectation that he would take it. And sometimes, when the night was late and the silence was heavy, (Y/n) would sit beside him without speaking a word, just being there—letting him know that he didn't have to bear everything alone.
It was during one of those late nights that the walls he had spent so many years building around his heart began to crack. They had both returned from a particularly brutal mission, and while (Y/n) was busy preparing a meal in the kitchen, Sanemi found himself on the porch, staring out at the moon. The moon had always been a source of solace for him—its cold, distant light a reminder of the battles he had fought and the people he had lost. He didn't hear her approach at first, but when she settled beside him, he didn't flinch or pull away. There was something different now. Something between them that was unspoken but undeniable. (Y/n) didn't say anything at first, just sat beside him, her presence soothing in its quiet assurance.
"You don't have to do this alone," she said after a long pause. "I'm here, Sanemi." He stiffened at her words. "I don't need anyone." But even as he said it, he could feel the weight of her words pressing against the walls he had so carefully constructed. He had always believed that relying on others would make him weak. He had been burned too many times to let his guard down. But with her, it was different. (Y/n) wasn't like the others. She didn't need him to be perfect, to be the strong one all the time. She didn't expect him to have all the answers, nor did she push him to open up when he wasn't ready.
There was a calm understanding in the way she looked at him, a softness that neither intimidated nor overwhelmed him. And slowly, over time, he began to let himself be vulnerable in her presence. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Sanemi found himself looking forward to seeing (Y/n) after every mission. Her smile became a source of warmth in his otherwise cold world. Her laughter, though rare, had a way of reaching deep into him, making the weight of his responsibilities feel lighter, even if just for a moment. The simple act of holding her hand—something he never would have thought he'd allow himself to do—became a quiet comfort he couldn't bring himself to live without.
One day, after another grueling battle, Sanemi found himself in the infirmary once again. But this time, he was more than just physically exhausted. His heart, though battered and scarred, had opened in a way he had never imagined. As (Y/n) approached him, her soft eyes filled with concern, he finally spoke what had been weighing on him for so long. "I don't know how to do this," he confessed, his voice low and rough. "I've never... I've never let anyone in before. But with you... it's different." (Y/n) smiled gently, her hand reaching to touch his cheek, her fingers warm against his skin. "You don't have to know all the answers, Sanemi. Just be with me. We'll figure it out together."
And in that moment, Sanemi knew, for the first time in his life, that love wasn't a weakness. It wasn't something to be feared or avoided. It was a force—a bond that could heal wounds far deeper than any physical injury. He didn't need to be the perfect warrior, the lone soldier who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. With (Y/n) by his side, he could be more than just a fighter. He could be someone worthy of love. Their relationship grew stronger with each passing day. Sanemi's love for (Y/n) was quiet but fierce, something that didn't need to be shouted from the rooftops to be felt deeply. They fought side by side in battles that would shape the future, but they also found solace in the small moments—the quiet nights spent together, the shared meals, the unspoken understanding between them that transcended words.
Years passed, and their love never wavered. It was forged in the fires of battle, tempered by the hardships of their lives, and sustained by a bond that neither time nor distance could break. Together, Sanemi and (Y/n) stood against the darkness, not just as warriors, but as partners—two souls intertwined by love, trust, and a shared promise to face whatever came their way, side by side. In the end, Sanemi realized that love had not softened him—it had made him stronger. It had given him the strength to face his fears, to heal his heart, and to fight for something greater than himself. And in the arms of the woman he loved, he had found the greatest strength of all: the courage to be himself.
