For the Hope of It All {Sanemi Shinazugawa KNY}
Chapter 7.
"It seems like I'm not needed here anymore."
A calm, measured voice came from behind her. Hikari twisted, amber eyes narrowing, and found herself facing the familiar pair of deep blue eyes.
"Tomioka-san," she acknowledged, but the words were cut short as a cough wracked her body, blood flecking her lips. Her hand instinctively went to her side, feeling the sting of the earlier strain and the damage Rooted Cataclysm had inflicted on her own body.
Giyuu's eyes darkened as he took in the blood staining her fingers and the tense way she hunched over. Without a word, he stepped closer, his movements precise and controlled, reaching out to steady her.
"You're hurt," he said flatly, voice calm but carrying an edge of concern. "How bad is it?"
Hikari's lips pressed into a thin line, amber eyes flicking away for a moment before she forced herself to meet his gaze. "I... I'll be fine," she muttered, though the effort to sound steady betrayed her.
Giyuu didn't reply, his gaze scanning the wound along her side and the tension in her shoulders. "This isn't fine," he said quietly, his deep blue eyes locking onto hers. "You've pushed yourself too hard. Let me help."
Hikari wouldn't budge. Instead, she stood up straighter and flashed him a gentle smile as if the pain wasn't killing her right now.
"It's just a scratch."
Giyuu's gaze lingered on her, unwavering, as if weighing her every word against the evidence of her injuries. Her eyes met his for a heartbeat, then darted away, her chest rising and falling unevenly.
"You always push yourself too far," he said quietly, the concern in his tone barely hiding the reprimand.
"I... I had to stop it," she replied, voice tight, forcing out the words before her resolve faltered. "The boy..."
"The boy is safe. I ran into him. It was he who told me about you."
Giyuu's expression remained stoic, but the faint clench of his jaw betrayed him. "You could have died," he muttered, the accusation hanging heavy in the air.
Hikari flinched slightly, not from fear but from the unforeseen concern coming from the Water Hashira. They rarely ever spoke—his presence was usually distant, measured, and formal. Yet now, standing before her, his words carried weight, a rare tether of care she wasn't used to.
And that look on his face. It was as if he knew exactly what type of person she was.
As if he knew she didn't care. Never had.
Her shoulders stiffened, eyes flicking toward him, half-defiant, half-searching. "So what if I had? Isn't this part of the job description?"
Giyuu's eyes softened just slightly, but his expression remained unreadable, the stoic mask giving little away. He didn't argue, didn't scold her further. He just simply said.
"You fight like you have nothing to live for. Shinazugawa was right."
The mention of the Wind Hashira drew a faint, almost wry smirk to her lips. "Since when are you two friends?"
"We're not. He's just very loud with his complaints," Giyuu said evenly.
Hikari stifled a laugh, but the sudden tightening of her diaphragm reminded her sharply of the wound bleeding along her side. Pain shot through her ribs, forcing her to inhale carefully, eyes widening just slightly as she pressed a hand against the injury.
"The kakushi is near. Want me to stay with you until they arrive?"
Hikari hesitated for a fraction of a second, amber eyes flicking toward him, weighing the offer.
"...Sure," she finally said, almost surprised at her own compliance.
Giyuu's stoic expression remained unchanged, yet he subtly shifted closer, staying within her reach. The quiet proximity carried a sense of reassurance and camaraderie—especially coming from Giyu Tomioka, someone she had never expected to offer it. But she didn't mind.
"Shinazugawa is especially pissy this month." He suddenly struck. "Called me a brat five times more than he did last month."
Hikari blinked, a faint, amused smirk tugging at her lips despite the ache in her ribs. Somehow, this felt like Giyu was tattling to her, and she couldn't help but find it... oddly endearing.
"Is he now? I'll make sure to buy him some ohagi."
They shared a brief, silent smile, the tension between them easing just enough to allow the small moment of levity.
The Kakushi arrived shortly after, ready to escort Hikari back to the Butterfly Mansion so her injury could be properly tended.
Her wound wasn't grave, so neither Kanae nor Shinobu was needed. Instead, a young girl whom Hikari recognized from before was assigned to tend to her injury.
"Mori-sama, it is all done. It should take two weeks to heal, and then you should be ready to return to missions. Until then, please refrain from overexerting yourself," the girl said, carefully addressing the now-stitched and properly bandaged wound.
The girl asked if she would like to stay the night at the Mansion. Hikari thanked the girl but politely declined.
Picking up her sword, she headed back to her estate alone.
As she neared the front gate of her estate, a flash of white hair appeared, someone seemingly peering in to steal a glance.
"Kitchen's closed," she called out, a teasing lilt in her voice. "Come back tomorrow for the ohagi, Shinazugawa."
His head snapped toward the sound of her voice. It had been nearly a month since they last spoke. He had been on patrol tonight, yet, for some reason he couldn't explain, his feet had carried him straight to her front gate instead of heading home.
Why am I here...? he thought, jaw tightening as he stared at the gate. It's not like I have business here, not really.
Yet, despite every rational thought screaming at him to turn back, something pulled him forward—an unspoken need to see her, to make sure she was... alright.
He shook his head, trying to banish the feeling. It's nothing. Just checking. That's all.
But now, with Hikari standing in front of him, he couldn't manage a simple, "Hello, how have you been?" Instead, the words that came out were rough, almost habitual:
"You look like shit. Getting yourself in trouble again, Mori?"
She just smiled and shrugged. As she stepped past him to unlock the gate, the faint scent of medicine mingled with cedar drifted to his nose.
"Are you coming in, or what?" Hikari asked, glancing back with that familiar, teasing tilt of her head.
Sanemi hesitated for only a moment before stepping through the gate, his pale eyes scanning the surroundings as he followed her inside. The familiar scent of cedar and faint traces of her presence lingered in the air, grounding him more than he expected.
Hikari led the way. "Sit," she instructed softly, moving toward the kitchen. The gentle crackle of firewood, the low hum of a boiling kettle, and the rhythmic whisking of matcha filled the space.
Moments later, she returned with two steaming cups in hand, offering one to him.
Sanemi took it, inhaling the subtle aroma. The warmth, the quiet, the familiar scents—it all felt like... home.
He shuddered at the thought, as if even imagining it made his chest tighten. Yet, sitting here now—with the warmth of the tea seeping into his hands and the faint scent of cedar and matcha surrounding him—he couldn't deny the rare, fleeting sense of calm it brought.
"Sorry, I have nothing in the pantry to make ohagi," she said gently, that same soft smile tugging at her lips.
Sanemi's jaw tightened imperceptibly. That smile... he wanted to wipe it off, if only to see the real her beneath it. He still remembered that sharp, cutting version of her that night, so raw, but so real.
The Hikari Mori he faced now was like moonlight reflecting on water. No matter how much he tried to reach for her, it would always dissolve into unattainable ripples, just out of reach.
"I didn't come for the ohagi." His fingers tightened around the cup. Then, after a pause, they loosened slightly. "But if you want," he added, voice rough but softer now, "let's go into town tomorrow. I... want to buy some things."
Hikari's amber eyes widened just a fraction, caught off guard by the offer. For a heartbeat, she said nothing, the steam from the matcha curling between them like a fragile barrier. Then, a small, almost shy smile tugged at her lips.
"...Alright," she murmured, letting the words escape softly, though her heart beat faster than she expected.
Sanemi came knocking at her door early that morning. The walk into town took nearly two hours, and with both of them having Hashira duties as soon as night fell, daylight was precious. There was no time to waste.
Due to her injury, Hikari decided to forgo her uniform today, opting instead for a simple purple yukata. Her long black hair was styled as usual, tied at the end with an old, familiar ribbon that swayed gently with each step.
As soon as she opened the door, Sanemi's pale eyes flicked over her quietly, the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth betraying his reaction. He said nothing, but the way his gaze lingered just a beat too long made Hikari's chest tighten.
Without a word, he turned and started down the path, and she followed, the soft rustle of her yukata blending with the morning breeze.
Conscious of her lingering injury, Sanemi deliberately slowed his pace, his usually brisk steps softened to match hers. They walked side by side through the meadow, the morning sun spilling gold over the grass, the air carrying the faint scent of wildflowers. The quiet between them was comfortable, punctuated only by the gentle rustle of their footsteps and the occasional birdcall.
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