影と風 | Kage to Kaze | Shinazugawa Sanemi x reader |

25 - Hut

"Do you want to know what's funny?" I start, glancing at Sanemi, who looks less than amused to be in this situation.

"I already know it's not funny," he replied, not looking at me.

"Don't be such a grumpy old man," I teased, shooting him a pout. Sanemi had somehow been roped into this mess with me, and now here we were, sitting under a teeth-shatteringly cold waterfall at the Stone Estate, focusing on our breathing. Gyomei had expected only me to show up, but he seemed pleased that Sanemi had brought me to his mountain.

"Thank you both for coming," Gyomei greeted us, bowing slightly. My eyes were watering due to the sun making them sensitive, but even then, I could see the mountain of a man. Gyomei Himejima is a towering presence, the oldest and gentlest of the Hashira, his massive frame wrapped in prayer beads and the robes of a monk. 

"Nice to see you again, Himejima," I greet him with a respectful nod.

He bows his head gently and then leads us both to a waterfall tucked behind his estate. "This waterfall training will stabilize your body, creating a strong foundation for precision in attack and unshakable defense," he explains. "You will need to endure the waterfall's currents, and then lift logs weighted with stones up the mountain trail."

My jaw practically dropped. Torture. Pure torture. Sanemi looked like he was about to leave, but an idea popped into my head before he could slip away.

"It's too bad I have to do this alone..." I muttered, feigning disappointment.

"Yeah, too bad. See you later," he replied, clearly unbothered.

Trying to hold back a smirk, I added, "Don't worry, Himejima, it's a really unique challenge. Sanemi just gets cold easily, so he's passing on it." I kept my tone light and nonchalant, trying to disguise the obvious bait.

Gyomei raises his head with genuine confusion. "I did not get that impression. Poor man," he says with concern, wiping a tear that springs to his eye.

Sanemi stopped mid-step. He whipped around, glaring daggers at me, realizing my trick, but his pride wouldn't let him leave.

And so, that's how the two of us find ourselves sitting under the relentless waterfall. The cold water stings like a thousand needles, and while Sanemi appears perfectly still, seemingly unaffected despite his shirtless state, I was shivering like a leaf, my teeth clattering from the cold. Why on earth did we have to do this in the dead of winter?

"Cold?" Sanemi asked, a smug edge in his tone. He cracked one eye open to look at me, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"N-no!" I stammered, clenching my teeth and forcing myself to sit up straighter, but it felt like I was being crushed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him chuckle and close his eyes again, completely unbothered.

I scoffed and tried to distract myself by looking around. Nothing worked. Finally, my eyes drifted back to him, lingering on his beautiful chest. His body was strong, scarred, and impossible to ignore. I remember when our bodies were switched, and the unexpected feeling of his solid chest under my hand. Was I drooling?

"Stop ogling me and focus," he scolded without opening his eyes.

"I'm trying, but it's so cold, Nemi," I pouted, scooting closer to him, hoping to steal some of his warmth. That chest of his looked very comfortable for me to squish my face in.

"Focus," he said, holding me back with one arm and giving me a stern look. "Think of this like our meditation sessions."

I sighed and settled down, trying to relax into our breathing exercises. I still couldn't believe he meditated. A man with his temper? The same man who embodied the wind. But he did, every morning, religiously. I breathed in deeply and tried to clear my mind.