Chapter Text
The mission had been brutal.
Five Hashira had been dispatched together – the younger Kocho brother Shin, Tomioka, Shinazugawa, Kanroji, and Iguro with a single, harrowing objective: eliminate multiple Lower Moons that had gathered far too close to populated villages. It had taken hours of relentless fighting, blood-soaked ground, and coordination that left no room for error. They had succeeded. Every last demon had been slain.
But victory came at a cost.
By the time they arrived at the Butterfly Estate, the sun was already beginning to sink behind the trees. Uniforms were torn, blades dulled, and exhaustion clung to them like a second skin. The scent of iron followed them inside, mingling with antiseptic and crushed herbs.
Despite the pain, the fatigue, the reprimands and quiet worry, they were alive. Together. And as the doors to the Butterfly Estate closed behind them, the weight of the battle finally began to lift—leaving room for everything else that followed.
Shin and Yui had fared the best – scratched and tired, but upright and composed, as always. Shin issued clipped instructions to the attendants with practiced calm, while Yui hovered close by, silent and steady.
The others were less fortunate.
Sana was bleeding more than she let on, her already revealing uniform torn further by deep, angry wounds.
Kaede noticed immediately – and his relief at seeing her alive vanished the moment he realized why she was injured. “Don’t tell me you threw yourself in front of someone else again,” he said sharply as she was guided toward a bed, his tone controlled but unmistakably angry. She didn’t need to answer, Kaede knew her quite well. “That was reckless.”
Sana only grinned, unapologetic even as she winced. “I protected you’re little brother. You’re welcome.”
Kaedes jaw tightened. He didn’t respond, but his hands were already moving, efficient and careful, unwilling to leave her side.
Nearby, Anai hovered close to Mitsu, her concern impossible to miss. She asked him again and again if he was truly all right, if his leg hurt, if the cut on his side was deeper than it looked.
Mitsu waved it off with a bright smile each time, brushing off his injuries as nothing, though his limp told a different story. “I’m fine,” he promised gently, every time. “Really.”
Anai didn’t look convinced. She had known it the moment Mitsu had dropped onto the bed, blood darkening the edge of his uniform, posture far too relaxed for someone who had just fought three Lower Moons back to back. She still didn’t move.
“You’re staring,” Mitsu said lightly.
Her heart stopped. “I–I’m not,” she blurted out, far too fast, far too loud.
Mitsu laughed, warm and unbothered, tilting his head as he looked at her like she was something fascinating. “You are. It’s cute.”
Her face went up in flames. Anai swallowed, fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeves. He’s just like this, she told herself. He flirts with everyone. This means nothing.
But then he leaned closer. “Did you get hurt?” he asked, voice softer now. Concern, genuine this time. “I didn’t see you during the last exchange.”
She shook her head quickly. “N–No. I’m fine.”
“Good.” His smile widened. “I’d hate to come back from a mission just to find out you got hurt.”
Her brain short-circuited completely.
Before she could respond, Sana’s sharp voice cut through the air like a blade. “Gods, Kanroji, will you ever shut up?”
Relief hit Anai so hard her knees almost buckled.
Mitsu looked over his shoulder, unfazed. “Ah. You’re alive too.”
Sana scowled. “Barely. And you’re bleeding all over the place while flirting like an idiot.”
Anai exhaled shakily, finally able to breathe again.
Kaede cleared his throat. It was quiet, calm and carried authority. “Sana,” he said evenly. “Enough.”
She turned on him instantly. “I was just–”
“You are injured,” Kaede continued, unperturbed. His gaze flicked briefly to the torn fabric of her uniform, the blood along her ribs, the fresh gashes across her shoulders. “And interfering.”
Sana scoffed. “Like hell I’m letting him-”
“-stay seated,” Kaede finished, voice firm now.
The shift was immediate.
Sana grumbled under her breath but obeyed, stayed on the bed with a dramatic huff. Her uniform already scandalously open was torn even further, exposing bandages that were very clearly not doing their job anymore.
Anai couldn’t help the glance.
Sana caught it and smirked. “What? Don’t tell me you’re worried too.”
“I just think you should listen to him.”
Kaede sighed, already standing in front of Sana. “Hold still.”
“Tch. Bossy,” Sana muttered but she didn’t move.
Mitsu, meanwhile, had leaned back, hands behind his head, watching the scene with open amusement. “She’s scary,” he said cheerfully.
“She’s injured,” Kaede corrected.
“And dramatic,” Shin added flatly from behind them.
Sana barked a laugh. “Oh, shut it, brat.”
Anai stayed quiet, heart still racing, cheeks still warm. But somehow between Sana’s barking, Kaede’s calm authority, and Mitsu finally being distracted she felt a little more grounded again. Just a little. And yet…
When Mitsu glanced back at her once more, eyes bright, smile softer than before, her heart betrayed her all over again.
By the time he was properly bandaged, the night had settled into a cool, quiet calm.
Anai hesitated only a moment before speaking. “If you want… I could walk you home.”
Mitsu blinked. “You’d do that?”
“You hurt your leg,” she said quickly. “And... it’s on my way.” It absolutely wasn't, but that hardly mattered.
Shin looked up from where he was finishing another bandage, eyes sharp but tired. He studied Mitsu once more, then nodded. "You can leave. His wounds don’t require supervision. Just don’t overdo it.”
“I promise,” Mitsu said immediately, far too earnest.
Sana watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. When Anai passed her, she paused just long enough to give her a brief, assessing look – not unkind, but protective.
Anai swallowed and nodded once. Then she and Mitsu stepped out into the night.
The air was crisp, the lanterns along the path casting soft pools of light. Mitsu walked a little slower than usual, weight carefully shifted off his injured leg.
Anai adjusted her pace without thinking.
“You didn’t have to walk me home,” Mitsu said after a moment.
“I know, but I wanted to,” she replied quietly.
He smiled at that – bright, warm, a little crooked. “You’re really pretty, you know.”
Her heart skipped violently. “K-Kanroji–”
“I love your eyes,” he continued, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “They’re very… honest.”
She nearly stopped walking.
“And earlier,” he added, glancing at her, “you were stunning. In the fight. Very impressive.”
Her face burned so hot she was sure he could feel it from beside her. She ducked her head, fingers tightening around Kaburamarus small body. “T-thank you,” she managed.
Mitsu laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. I don’t mean to overwhelm you. I just–” His foot caught on a loose stone. “Oh–!” He stumbled, arms flailing for a heartbeat before he caught himself, breaking into a sheepish laugh.
Anai reacted on instinct, hand shooting out to steady him. Her touch lingered just a second longer than necessary. “It’s okay,” she said quickly. “You’re fine.”
“Wow. That was embarrassing.” He looked at her then and for once, he didn’t say anything flirtatious. Just smiled. A little nervous. A little fond. “Thanks,” he said softly. “I’m… glad it’s you walking with me.”
Her heart did a dangerous little flip. Anai was still half-turned toward him, her hand resting against his bare chest, warm skin beneath her palm, solid and very real. Mitsus uniform left little to the imagination, and she had noticed it before, of course, but only now did her brain fully catch up with her body. She felt it then. His heartbeat. Steady, strong beating fast beneath her hand. Her breath hitched.
“Oh–!” She pulled back as if burned, her hand snapping away from his chest. Her face went scarlet in an instant, heat flooding her cheeks, her ears, her neck. “I–I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”
Mitsu stared at the spot where her hand had been, then back at her. Disappointment flickered across his face before he could stop it. “You know,” he said quietly, not teasing this time, “you don’t have to be afraid of me.”
She shook her head quickly. “I’m not. I just–” She stopped, words tangling hopelessly, and took a small step back. Her arms folded over her chest again, that familiar, shy barrier snapping back into place. Inside, she was dying. How had she touched him like that so easily? What had possessed her? Her heart was racing now too, pounding loud enough that she was sure he could hear it.
Mitsu watched her, something soft settling in his chest. God, she was adorable. He wanted very badly, to pull her into his arms, to feel that closeness again. But he didn’t want to embarrass her further. Didn’t want to push. So instead, he simply held out his hand. A silent offer. “Weren’t you going to support me?” he asked gently. “With my leg and all.”
Anai hesitated. Then, slowly, she reached for him. Her fingers slid into his palm, tentative at first. His hand closed around hers – not tight, not possessive. Just warm, steady, reassuring. Wonderfully warm. Her shoulders relaxed without her meaning to, and a quiet realization settled in her chest: This felt… nice. Safe. And really, holding hands was harmless. Completely harmless.
She glanced up at him again, their eyes meeting once more, and this time she didn’t pull away.
They stood there for a heartbeat longer than necessary, fingers entwined, the night hushed around them both painfully aware that something had shifted, even if neither of them dared to name it yet.
Sana had lasted exactly ten minutes. Ten whole, miserable minutes lying on the narrow bed in the treatment room, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant quiet of the Butterfly Estate settling into night. Her wounds ached, her body was exhausted and she was bored out of her damn mind.
Worse than that, she was restless. Wired. And painfully, frustratingly aware of Kaede. With a quiet groan, she pushed herself upright, ignored the protesting pull of stitches, and slipped out into the hallway. She moved carefully but not nearly as carefully as she’d promised.
Kaedes office door was still faintly lit.
Of course it was.
She leaned against the doorframe a second later, arms crossed loosely, eyes already locked on him.
Kaede sat at his desk, brush moving steadily over paper, writing a letter addressed to Lord Tamayo. He didn’t look up – he didn’t need to. “You’re not supposed to be walking,” he said calmly.
Sana grinned. “Missed you too.”
Finally, he lifted his gaze. One look was enough to confirm what he already knew: she’d slipped out against orders, wounds still fresh, uniform half-open as always. “What do you want, Sana?” he asked evenly.
She didn’t bother with subtlety. “I want to fuck.”
Silence.
Kaede closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled, as if counting to ten internally. When he opened them again, his expression was patient but firm. “Normally,” he said, “I wouldn’t object.”
Her grin widened immediately.
“But,” he continued, unamused, “you’re injured. Deep wounds. You lost too much blood. And I am not sewing you back together tonight because you couldn’t sit still.”
Sana clicked her tongue. “You worry too much.”
“I worry exactly the right amount,” he replied. “Especially when you refuse to take care of yourself.”
She stepped closer anyway, ignoring the warning look in his eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, voice dropping, teasing. “I feel great, actually.”
“That,” Kaede said dryly, “is precisely the problem.”
She leaned her hip against his desk, far too close now, eyes bright with mischief. “You always say no like that,” she murmured. “Like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
For just a second – just one – his composure slipped. Then it was gone. “Sana,” he said quietly, “go back to bed.”
She studied him, searching his face, and something in her softened despite herself. With an exaggerated sigh, she straightened. “You’re cruel,” she muttered. “Absolutely heartless.”
Kaede’s mouth twitched despite himself. “And you,” he replied, “are impossible.”
“You’re really going to send me back to bed like that?” she asked softly. “After saying you wouldn’t object?”
Kaede set the brush down at last. He leaned back in his chair, studying her properly now – her posture too defiant for someone injured, her expression far too knowing. “I said I wouldn’t object,” he corrected calmly. “Not that I’d be reckless.”
She stepped closer again, ignoring the warning in his eyes, until she stood right in front of him. “You always do this,” she murmured. “Act like you don’t want me when we both know that’s a lie.”
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he stood. The movement brought them eye to eye, close enough that Sana could feel the warmth of him, steady and grounding. His hands came up not possessive, not rough but firm as they settled at her waist, careful of her injuries. “You know better than that,” he said quietly. “I want you. That has never been the problem.”
Her breath hitched just a little.
“But,” he continued, lowering his voice, “I am not putting you in danger just because you’re impatient.”
Sana searched his face, looking for weakness and found something else instead. Resolve. Concern. Want, held tightly in check.
“…So what?” she asked, teasing even as her voice softened. “You’re just going to leave me like this?”
Kaedes thumb brushed lightly against her side, a touch so controlled it was almost worse than anything else. “No,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”
Her smile turned slow, dangerous.
“Just not like that.” He leaned in, close enough that his words brushed her ear. “You heal first,” he murmured. “Then you can do whatever you want to me.”
Sana laughed under her breath, already defeated and far too pleased about it. “Fine,” she muttered. “But you’re cruel.”
Kaede allowed himself the faintest smile. “I’m patient.”
He guided her back toward the door, one steady hand at her back, and this time she went willingly.
The light in his office dimmed behind them.