"Kanae." The moment the name slipped from his mouth, Sanemi immediately regretted it. His hand, still reaching out as if to touch you, froze midair. He clenched it into a fist and pulled away, the sudden distance echoing the knot of panic in his chest.

"Fuck…I'm sorry," he muttered, voice rougher than he intended. Lowering his pride was easy with you. Anyone else, he would’ve spat curses or shoved them away, but not you. You weren’t at fault, not for his outburst, not for anything. You were a Hashira, strong and fearless, yet gentle in a way that reminded him painfully of someone he had lost, someone he had loved and failed.

He pushed the thought aside. It wasn’t about the past. He liked you because you cared. Because you fought hard, not for glory, but because you refused to give up. Because you believed in the people around you, even him. His confession had tumbled out almost recklessly, like a dam breaking, he had been in a rush, desperate not to miss his chance again.

"I’m going on this mission with you." Changing the topic was the only safe thing to do. He didn’t wait for your answer. You hadn’t asked him to, and part of him knew he was overstepping, but he didn’t care. Not this time.

The master had warned you, several lower-ranked demon slayers had already fallen on the mountain you were being sent to. Sanemi had seen enough death to know he couldn’t let you face it alone. His chest tightened at the thought of losing you. Fear, anger, and something unspoken, skmething dangerously close to affection, twisted inside him. He couldn’t lose you. Not like everyone else.