Chapter Text
The boy knelt on the courtyard stones, shoulders trembling beneath Obanai's elbow. His demon sister hid in that cursed box. It was simple. Condemnation was deserved.
Obanai pressed harder—until his wrist was caught.
He snapped his head up, ready to lash out.
It was Giyuu.
The Water Hashira's hand wrapped around his, steady, unshaking. His eyes gave nothing away—calm, blank, unreadable.
Something sharp and hot jolted in Obanai's chest. His pulse stumbled, then raced, as though his own body had turned traitor.
What the hell—?
The sunlight slipped over Giyuu's hair, casting shadows across his cheek. For a moment, Obanai's breath caught. He dropped his gaze instantly, jaw tight, pretending it hadn't happened. Kaburamaru hissed softly, tongue flicking against his jaw.
Focus. It's nothing. Just irritation. Just surprise. That's all.
And yet his chest still refused to calm.
Giyuu
Obanai's eyes were sharp, angry, as always. He had expected resistance when he reached out, when his fingers closed around the Snake Hashira's wrist. But still—he couldn't let him push the boy further down.
The boy was already shaking. And Giyuu had seen enough trembling backs to know when someone was going to break.
"Enough," he said softly, but his voice was drowned in the noise of the others.
Obanai wrenched his arm back, teeth bared faintly, looking away so quickly it was almost strange. Giyuu frowned, but didn't comment.
He didn't notice how his grip had left Obanai's pulse racing.
He only thought: He really hates me.
And he looked away, silent again.
Obanai
The meeting stretched on, voices rising and falling like blades clashing. Sanemi's fury filled the air, Shinobu's laughter curled like smoke, and still, the boy knelt, his forehead nearly scraping the ground.
Obanai should have been paying attention. He usually was — every word weighed, every action judged. But his body betrayed him. His wrist still burned where Giyuu's hand had been, the echo of pressure lodged deep in his skin.
Ridiculous.
He dug his nails into his palm until they left crescent marks. This is nothing. Irritation. That's all.
But every time he forced himself to look at Giyuu — stoic, detached, quiet as ever — his chest gave that same betraying flutter. His stomach knotted, his throat tightening with something he refused to name.
When the Master finally arrived, when judgment shifted and Nezuko's trial turned toward something far stranger, Obanai barely heard it. His thoughts were trapped in that single moment: the weight of fingers on his wrist, the way Giyuu's gaze had caught his for half a breath.
Why does it feel like this?
The question lodged in him like a thorn, and no matter how he tried, he couldn't rip it free.
Giyuu
Obanai's eyes wouldn't meet his.
Giyuu wasn't surprised. They never had, not really. Hatred was easier to read than indifference, and Obanai's disdain for him was an old, familiar thing. He could feel it in every sharp glance, every clipped word.
Still, that strange look earlier lingered in his mind. When he had grabbed Obanai's hand, he had expected fury, maybe even venom in return. Instead... Obanai had recoiled. Almost as if shaken.
Giyuu didn't understand it. He wasn't sure he wanted to.
When the Master dismissed them, Giyuu turned to leave quickly. He had no wish to stay among them longer than necessary. He didn't see Obanai's eyes follow him, didn't feel the restless weight of his gaze like a serpent ready to strike.
Obanai
Later, when night fell and silence returned, Obanai lay awake. Kaburamaru coiled loosely at his neck, warm and steady, but the rhythm of his heart refused to match.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw a pale hand against his wrist, felt the strength hidden in that deceptively quiet grip.
His chest tightened. He rolled onto his side, cursing under his breath.
It's nothing. It has to be nothing.
But the more he tried to convince himself, the louder his heart hammered.
And Obanai hated that he didn't know why.
the next day.
The morning was still, the halls of the Hashira headquarters quiet except for the soft shuffle of feet and the distant clatter of training swords. Obanai leaned against the wall, eyes flicking in the direction Giyuu had gone earlier.
He told himself it was mere coincidence. He told himself he was just... curious.
Curious.
The Water Hashira moved like water indeed—fluid, precise, his steps silent. Obanai's eyes followed, subtle, careful, pretending to inspect the stone floor or adjust his robes while really watching.
Giyuu knelt by the training dummies, adjusting their stances, sharpening his blade. Every movement was effortless, practiced, precise. Obanai's chest did that stupid flutter again. He pressed a hand to it, scowling.
Annoying.
He ducked around a corner to check again. Still there. Still perfect. Still... inexplicably magnetic. Obanai grit his teeth.
It's not like I'm staring. I'm just... observing. Tactical observation.
Kaburamaru hissed softly, tail flicking against Obanai's shoulder. Obanai glared at him. Don't encourage me.
Giyuu didn't notice, or if he did, he didn't care. He never noticed anything, really. That was probably why Obanai felt safe... and equally frustrated.
Every once in a while, Obanai caught himself imagining—no, not imagining, he corrected himself—seeing Giyuu's calm face turning toward him, just for a moment, and... he shook his head violently.
Ridiculous. Focus. He's just another Hashira. That's all.
But he couldn't tear his eyes away.
And, secretly, that was exactly what terrified him.
Obanai pressed himself behind a pillar, peeking around just enough to watch Giyuu work. Every movement was meticulous, every stance flawless. His fingers itched to reach out—not to touch, of course, that would be... improper—but just to... be closer. Ridiculous. He scowled at himself.
I am not... I am not...
A soft shuffle made him freeze. Giyuu's head had lifted, dark eyes scanning the hall—and for the briefest moment, they locked on Obanai's hiding spot.
Shit.
Obanai's pulse spiked. His neck went hot, his hands trembling slightly. He ducked further behind the pillar, willing himself invisible.
Giyuu tilted his head, expression unreadable, then went back to his training dummy as if nothing had happened.
Obanai exhaled shakily.
He saw me.
And yet... he hadn't called him out. Hadn't said anything.
Kaburamaru hissed softly against his neck, and Obanai's own lips curved into a tiny, reluctant smirk.
Good. Fine. Keep pretending. Don't ruin this, brain.
Still, every time he glanced at Giyuu, even from the corner of his eye, his chest flinched in that same unpredictable way. The beat was erratic, annoying, and entirely his own fault.
I do not know why this is happening.
He would not admit it. Not even to himself.
And so, for the rest of the morning, Obanai stalked... innocently, of course. Under the guise of "coincidental hallway passing" and "casual training observations," he followed the quiet shadow of the Water Hashira, all while thinking:
It's tactical. Absolutely tactical.