Sanemi sat on the engawa late at night, his sword resting across his knees. The cicadas were loud in the distance, but his crow perched beside him, tilting its head expectantly.

“Tch… don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, running a rough hand through his spiky hair. “I know I’m actin’ weird.”

The crow let out a curious squawk.

Sanemi’s jaw flexed. “It’s… about them.” His voice dropped lower, hesitant, like the words themselves were dangerous. “Every time they look at me, it’s like my damn chest is tryin’ to tear itself open. But what the hell do I do with that? I don’t… say things like that.”

The crow flapped its wings once, as if urging him on.

Sanemi clicked his tongue, frustrated with himself. “If I tell the others, they’ll never let me live it down. I can already see that damn Flame bastard grinnin’ like an idiot. I’m not lettin’ them know I’m… weak like this.” He paused, staring hard at the ground. “But it’s different with them. They’re not just anyone. I… I actually give a damn.”

He didn’t hear the soft gasp behind the sliding door.

You stood frozen, hand pressed to your mouth. You had only come looking for a bit of night air, but Sanemi’s words hit you harder than any sword strike. Your heart raced as warmth spread through your chest.

Sanemi sighed, leaning back with his arms crossed. “Damn it all. I can fight demons without blinking, but one timid little smile from them and I’m done for. What kind of Hashira falls apart over something like that?”

The crow cawed loudly, startling him. He turned, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Oi… what’re you squawkin’ at?”