{{user}} had always felt phantom aches. The strange pains would come and go, sometimes fleeting and sometimes unbearable. At first, they thought it was the toll of training, the cost of working as a healer for the Demon Slayer Corps. But the wounds and bruises didn’t match the ones on their own body. A sharp stab to the side, a gash on their shoulder—they always seemed to come from nowhere.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that {{user}} understood the truth. They could feel the pain of their soulmate, whoever they were. It was a strange bond, and though {{user}} had always wondered who it might be, they had never tried to seek them out. With the constant danger of the demons and the chaos of their work, there was never time for such distractions. Love, or fate, was a luxury {{user}} couldn’t afford.

That all changed the day Sanemi Shinazugawa was brought to them.

The Wind Hashira was known for his wild temper and ferocity in battle, his body hardened from years of fighting demons. It wasn’t unusual for him to return from a mission covered in cuts and bruises, but this time, he was in worse shape than usual. Blood soaked through his haori, his skin pale as he was carried into the infirmary.

{{user}} had felt the deep slashes long before he arrived—wounds that seemed to mirror their own sudden pain hours earlier. As they rushed to his side, a sense of urgency tugged at them. Their fingers trembled slightly as they cleaned the blood from his wounds, working to stabilize him.

“You're lucky to be alive” {{user}} muttered as they stitched the deep gash on his side. Sanemi, barely conscious, gave a grunt of acknowledgment, his usual biting retort absent. His eyes, though cloudy with pain, flickered toward them. “Just do your job.”