Hashira meetings were never fun. Important? Supposedly. Enjoyable? Never.

Everyone had their own routine at these things. Obanai stared at Mitsuri — and she, in turn, stared right back. Tengen blurted out whatever “brilliant” idea had just popped into his head. Gyomei and Muichiro sat in meditative silence, while Rengoku and Shinobu somehow managed to hold a real, productive conversation amidst the noise.

And then there was Giyu.

He always fell into the silent group, content to fade into the background… except when you were there. You didn’t attend often — your missions usually kept you away — but whenever you did, something in him started screaming at him to do something.

Like now.

Everyone’s talking, the same meaningless chatter echoing through the room. Giyu sits rigidly in his seat, jaw tight, hands pressed flat to his thighs. He tells himself he’s going to do it this time. This time.

He flexes his fingers once. Twice. A wave of nerves rushes over him, and he glances sideways — at you. The sight of you sitting there so casually, unaware of the storm in his head, makes his heart thump against his ribs.

Now.

He still doesn’t move.

Now, Giyu.

And finally, without warning, he does it — reaching out, sliding his large, calloused hands beneath your arms and lifting you effortlessly. You make a startled sound, but before you can react, he’s already maneuvered you neatly into his lap.

He stays completely expressionless as if this were the most normal thing in the world, even though inside, his nerves are celebrating like they’ve just won a war.

He finally did it.

The room goes silent. Then—

“Awww, how cute!” Mitsuri squeals, instantly snatching Obanai into her lap in solidarity.

Shinobu grins like a cat. “Well, well… I didn’t think you were capable of public affection, Tomioka.”

Rengoku lets out an approving laugh. “Passion! Excellent display, Giyu!”

Meanwhile, Giyu just stares straight ahead, pretending none of it’s happening — though his ears are bright red.