The Shadow Hashira - Tengen X Reader X Sanemi

60

I turned sharply, stalking away, my shoulders rigid with frustration. But before I could get far, I heard Sanemi's footsteps close behind, his pace quickening as he matched mine.

"Y/N," he called, his voice low, almost pleading. There was a rawness to the way he said my name, something that made me pause despite the fire still burning in my chest. I stopped, fighting the urge to let my frustration spill over, but his expression stopped me cold—there was something different there, something guarded but not fully closed off.

"What?" I snapped, my voice sharper than I'd intended. "What could you possibly want now, Sanemi?"

He looked at me, his mouth opening as if he were about to say something real, something that might actually matter. But then, just like that, his expression shifted, his jaw tightening, and he looked away. "Forget it," he muttered, his tone flat, that wall going right back up. "It doesn't matter."

A bitter laugh escaped me, sharp and cutting. "You know what, Sanemi? Maybe you're the one who needs to figure out what you actually want."

He flinched, his eyes narrowing, but I didn't stop, my frustration boiling over, each word coming out like a dam breaking. "You kiss me, and then you treat me like I'm nothing. Like you're doing everything in your power to make me hate you. Is that what you want? Do you want me to hate you?"

I saw something flash in his eyes, an emotion I couldn't name, but he stayed silent, his gaze locked on the ground. His silence only fueled the fire inside me, the frustration that he couldn't even respond.

"You know what? If that's what you want, I'll do it. I'll hate you if that makes things easier for you. If pushing me away is what you're so determined to do, then fine. I'm done trying."

The words hung between us, heavy and raw, and I could see the impact on his face, a flicker of hurt beneath his hardened expression. He finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine, something vulnerable breaking through his usual guarded stare.

But just as quickly, his expression closed off again. He looked away, his jaw clenched. "Maybe that's for the best," he muttered, the words barely audible, his voice taut.

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my composure, but the way he just stood there, resigned, as if he wanted me to hate him... It infuriated me. Despite saying I'd do it, that I'd give him exactly what he wanted, a part of me wanted him to fight for himself, to break free of whatever wall he'd built around his heart. The silence stretched, heavy with everything he wouldn't say, everything he refused to give.

And that's when I snapped.

Before I could think twice, before the frustration had a chance to fade, I grabbed his collar, yanking him closer. "Fine, if that's really what you want..." I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper, every word laced with defiance. Then, with all the pent-up anger, the hurt, and the tension that had been building between us, I pressed my lips to his.

The kiss wasn't soft; it was heated, fierce, charged with everything we'd left unsaid. I could feel his surprise, his hands hovering for a second as though he didn't know how to react. But then, slowly, I felt his guard waver, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders, his lips responding with a fire that matched my own.

We broke apart, both of us breathing hard, his eyes searching mine with something raw, something that seemed to shake him as much as it did me. His usual guarded expression was gone, replaced by a look I'd never seen before—one of vulnerability, of something that bordered on longing.

"Is that what you want?" I whispered, my voice shaking as I held his gaze. "To keep pushing me away until there's nothing left?"

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze locked on mine, his expression unreadable. But I could see the crack in his walls, the flash of emotion that he couldn't hide. He opened his mouth as if to respond, then closed it, his jaw tightening as he seemed to struggle against himself.

Finally, he managed a whisper, his voice rough. "...No."

We finally broke apart, our breaths mingling in the cold night air, our eyes locked in a way that felt dangerously close to vulnerability. I could see something in Sanemi's gaze that hadn't been there before, something raw and unguarded, and for a moment, the walls between us seemed to fall.

But then, out of nowhere, a sharp, sickening pain shot through my stomach.

I staggered, a gasp tearing from my lips as I looked down, barely processing the spear lodged in my abdomen, blood already staining my uniform. The pain was white-hot, blinding, and I barely had time to react before I felt Sanemi's arm wrap around me, steadying me as he looked past me, his eyes wide with fury.

"Y/N!" His voice was sharp, the raw edge of fear clear in his tone. And then his gaze shifted, locking onto the source of the attack—a second demon, its hand still outstretched from hurling the spear. Sanemi's expression changed instantly, his entire demeanour darkening as his grip on me tightened, his usual restraint snapping in a heartbeat.

I could barely keep my vision steady, the pain throbbing through me, but I felt the way he gently lowered me to the ground, his hand pressing over the wound to stem the bleeding. "Stay here," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sent a shiver through me.

Before I could protest, he rose to his feet, his entire body tense, practically vibrating with rage. He charged the demon with a vicious intensity, his blade flashing as he struck, every swing more brutal than the last. His movements were relentless, fuelled by something more than just duty—each strike was laced with raw fury, his attacks merciless as he tore into the demon with a savagery I hadn't seen before.

The demon tried to defend itself, but Sanemi's speed and strength were unmatched, his strikes fuelled by an anger that seemed almost feral. He didn't give it a chance to breathe, didn't let up until the creature's body was nothing but a pile of ash scattered across the ground.

When he returned to my side, his face was twisted with worry, his hands trembling as he pressed down on my wound. His gaze darted over me, frantic and wide-eyed, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. "Y-Y/N..." he stammered, his voice rough and unsteady, barely a whisper. "You're... you're going to be fine. I-I won't... I won't let anything happen to you."

He swallowed hard, his breath coming in shaky bursts as he looked at me, a flash of something dark and haunted in his eyes, as if he were fighting off some memory that was clawing its way to the surface. His grip on me tightened, almost desperate, and I could feel the tremor in his hands, his fear so raw that it made my own heart ache.

The intensity in his eyes made my heart pound, the pain momentarily dulled by the way he looked at me—as if nothing else in the world mattered. For the first time, I saw him, completely unguarded, his fear and fury laid bare, and I realized just how deeply he cared, even if he couldn't say it.