𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 || 𝙸.𝙾

Chapter 12

~Unexpected visitor~

After the fierce battle with the demon, the weight of the victory felt oddly hollow. The villagers, however, were more than grateful. As you made your way back into the village, the first thing you noticed was the  tension in the air from earlier was gone. The villagers began to gather, murmuring in disbelief. Some bowed deeply, while others simply stared at you in awe.

One elderly woman stepped forward, her voice trembling with gratitude. "T-Thank you, Hashira-sama... You saved us. We thought... we thought we were all going to die." 

You gave her a soft smile, though it was tinged with exhaustion. "The demon’s gone. You’re safe now." 

"you're bleeding, let us take care of you" another lady said but you refused politely saying that you had to get back.

"are you sure dear?" she asked again and you reassured her.

---

You finally reached your house, your legs barely carrying you. As you stepped closer, you stopped short, noticing a familiar figure waiting outside. 

“Iguro-san?” you called out, your voice weary. 

He turned his head toward you, his mismatched eyes scanning you intently. His expression shifted subtly, though his tone remained cold. “You look terrible.” 

“Thanks for the compliment,” you replied dryly, brushing past him toward your door. 

Before you could step inside, his hand reached out, gently but firmly grabbing your wrist. “Let me treat it.” 

You frowned, glancing back at him. “I can handle it myself.” 

His grip didn’t falter. “Don’t be stubborn. I’ve had my fair share of injuries on missions. Just let me help you.” 

His insistence caught you off guard. With a reluctant sigh, you nodded, pushing the door open and gesturing for him to follow. 

---

Inside, your house was modest but warm, filled with small touches that reflected your personality. Obanai stood in the entryway for a moment, his eyes scanning the space as Kaburamaru slithered onto his shoulder. 

“This is... different,” he muttered, almost to himself.  He had never willing gone to anyone’s place other than Mitsuri’s.

“Take a seat,” you said, disappearing into another room to grab bandages and a wet cloth. When you returned, he was seated on the couch, his posture relaxed yet alert as if ready to move at a moment’s notice. 

He shook his head and took the supplies from you. “I said I’ll do it.” 

Reluctantly, you sat down beside him, your heart thumping slightly as he turned toward you. His hand brushed your shoulder, pushing the fabric of your uniform aside just enough to expose the wound. You inhaled sharply at the unexpected touch, your skin tingling where his fingers had grazed. 

His movements were careful, almost meticulous, as he cleaned the injury. The wet cloth was cool against your skin, but his touch was warm, steadying. 

“You’re lucky this isn’t worse,” he muttered, his focus unwavering. 

You couldn’t help but study him while he worked. His sharp features were softened by the dim light of the room, and the intensity in his mismatched eyes made your breath catch. You’d never been this close to him before. Had he always been this... gentle?