It was ridiculous, honestly. He told himself that a dozen times a day. Maybe more.

That it was stupid. That it was pointless. That it was dangerous to feel this way about a Hashira. About someone who stood at the pinnacle of the Demon Slayer Corps.

About you.

And yet… every time he saw you walk past in that sleek, flame-patterned haori, sword slung against your back with that casual, unshakeable confidence.

you might as well have set his entire nervous system on fire.

Genya Shinazugawa was completely, hopelessly, pathetically gone.

He was usually good at keeping his head down. Avoiding attention. Blending into the background. But with you? He couldn’t help himself.

You worked alongside Sanemi all the time—always exchanging orders, notes, strategies, reports—and while his brother was as gruff and unapproachable as ever, you were different.

You had poise. Presence.

Power that didn’t need shouting to be noticed. And when you fought—gods, when you fought—Genya could barely breathe.

He tried to be subtle. He tried.

At first it was just quiet admiration from a distance. Watching you spar with other Hashira from the training grounds.

He was finding excuses to be nearby when you returned from missions, helping Aoi clean the weapons room at just the right time to catch you coming in to report.

Then it was more than admiration.

It was the way his heart kicked sideways when you so much as looked in his direction. The way his ears turned red when you asked him to pass a scroll.

The way he froze, stupidly, for five full seconds after you complimented his accuracy during one of the joint drills.

He didn’t say anything back. Didn’t even nod.

Just stood there, wide-eyed, mumbling something that sounded like a curse and tripping over his own feet as he tried to bow and walk away at the same time.

It was humiliating.

And yet the very next day, there he was again. Shadowing the edge of your squad’s formation during patrol.

Leaning just close enough to overhear your observations. Tensing every time your voice cut through the air, commanding and calm.

A puppy. That’s what he felt like. A restless, fidgety, awkward puppy following a warrior too graceful for their own good.