The Shadow Hashira - Tengen X Reader X Sanemi

58

The night was calm, the sky a deep, endless stretch of indigo dotted with stars that glimmered faintly, casting a soft glow over the grounds. I stood alone, letting the cool air wash over me, breathing in the quiet that seemed to settle into my bones. This was my time—moments stolen from the demands and expectations of the day, a brief reprieve where I could let my guard down and face the things I kept buried.

I leaned against the old tree, glancing up at the stars, their stillness both comforting and heavy. My mind drifted, piecing together fragments of thoughts I'd shoved away: the things I'd seen, the secrets I'd carried, the trust I had broken and struggled to rebuild. My past felt like a weight strapped to my back, and no matter how far I'd come, it clung to me, a constant reminder of who I'd been and all the things I'd hidden. I closed my eyes, a groan slipping out before I could stop it. When did everything become so damn complicated?

I had friends now—Tengen, Mitsuri, even Sanemi, in his own rough way. People I trusted. People who trusted me. I wasn't hidden in the shadows anymore, and yet, sometimes, it still felt like I was. I'd found a place with Master and his family, with the other Hashira, a sense of belonging I hadn't dared hope for. I'd grown stronger, braver, more willing to open up. So why did the old fears still linger? Why was I still so afraid of letting go, of moving forward, of shedding the last remnants of that shadowed past?

"Why am I still holding on?" I murmured to the night, my voice barely audible, as if I feared the words themselves. I had everything I'd wanted—a family, people who saw me as I was and accepted me, flaws and all. A life that wasn't dictated by shadows and secrets. And yet, a part of me still clung to that old fear, the fear of being truly vulnerable, of trusting completely.

I took a deep breath, letting the night air fill my lungs, steadying me. Maybe it was time, I thought. Time to move on from the doubts that had kept me locked away, the mistakes that haunted me. Master had taken me in without hesitation, his family had accepted me with warmth, and the other Hashira had fought beside me as equals. Maybe it was finally time to let myself feel that I was worth it—that I belonged here.

The stars blinked above, silent witnesses to my resolve. I wasn't the same person I had been, hiding in the dark. I had come this far. I wasn't alone anymore.

The house was silent as I returned, the weight of my thoughts trailing behind me like shadows. The kitchen was dimly lit, casting soft, gentle hues over the room. I reached for a glass, filling it with cool water, savouring the stillness as I took a long drink. The quiet was comforting, grounding.

As I placed the glass down, I heard the familiar sound of steady footsteps, and my heart skipped a beat. Master—dad—stood in the doorway, a calm presence even in his frailty. Despite the strong act he'd kept up throughout the competition, I could see it, the fatigue that clung to him like a shroud. I knew his health had been faltering, yet he wore his strength like armour, never once letting us feel the full weight of his struggle.

"Dad." I murmured, unable to hide my concern as I met his gaze. He gave me a soft, knowing smile, his eyes twinkling with warmth.

He approached slowly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "You seem troubled, my child," he said, his voice carrying the same steady wisdom that had guided me my entire life. "Tell me, what weighs on your heart tonight?"

I hesitated, the words feeling strange on my tongue. I'd kept so much bottled inside, afraid to share the doubts that haunted me, the fear that I was somehow falling short despite everything. But standing here with him, I couldn't keep it in any longer.

"I don't know... Dad..." I began, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why do I still feel like the world is against me, even though... I know it's not? Why do I feel this weight, like I'm still fighting shadows that aren't there?"

He studied me for a moment, his eyes gentle but probing, as if searching for the right words. Then, he drew a deep breath, guiding me to sit down at the kitchen table with him. The silence stretched, comfortable and warm, as he collected his thoughts.

"You've carried a heavy burden, my child," he began, his voice soft but unwavering. "You've been trained to fight, to endure, from a young age. You had to learn strength in ways few people can understand, and for that, I pushed you hard. But it wasn't without reason."

He placed a hand over mine, his touch warm and reassuring. "From the very beginning, I saw a light in you—a strength that few possess. I knew you could bear the weight of training, the trials, the battles. I knew you would face each challenge with a fire that couldn't be extinguished. And you've proven that, time and time again."

"But sometimes..." he continued, his gaze turning contemplative, "the shadows we carry from the past linger long after they're gone. They become part of us, woven into the very fabric of who we are. You learned to survive by holding your heart close, by seeing the world as a battlefield. And even though you've found safety, friendship, and family now, a part of you is still carrying that old armour, that shield against a world that no longer threatens you."

I swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. "How do I... let it go? How do I stop feeling like I have to keep fighting?"

He smiled, a quiet sadness in his expression. "You must first give yourself permission to believe that you are safe, that you are loved, and that you belong. I have watched you grow into the strongest person I know, but strength isn't only about standing guard. It's also about allowing yourself to trust, to feel joy, to open your heart without fear."

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "You're not that child who had to fight to survive anymore, Y/N. You're not alone. You've built bonds, friendships, a family. This is your life now—a life of connection, love, and unity. You have earned this peace, and it's yours to live in fully."

A surge of emotion welled up within me, and I looked down, the words catching in my throat. He had been there through it all, guiding me, pushing me, believing in me even when I doubted myself. And now, in his presence, I could feel a tiny glimmer of that trust he spoke of—a belief that maybe, just maybe, I was worthy of the life I had fought so hard to protect.

He leaned closer, his eyes gentle, filled with the quiet strength that had always reassured me. "You are stronger than any shadow, my child. Stronger than the past that haunts you. And that strength will carry you forward, no matter what lies ahead. Hold on to that."

In that moment, I felt the tightness in my chest ease, replaced by a warmth that seemed to dissolve the lingering doubts, if only for a moment. I looked up at him, a small, grateful smile tugging at my lips. "Thank you... Dad."

He returned the smile, his face softening. "Any time, my child. Now, rest. There is a great journey ahead of us, but you are ready. And whatever comes, remember that you are never alone."

I nodded, feeling a calm wash over me, a peace that, perhaps, I'd been waiting for all along.