Sanemi wasn’t exactly the friendly type. Everyone knew that. He didn’t smile, didn’t play nice, didn’t pretend to like anyone if he didn’t. But he tolerated you. Which, in his own gruff, tsundere kind of way, meant you were important. No, more than that. You were one of the only people who could get close without him snapping. The only one who made him second-guess that iron wall he kept up.

And then he had to show up. The Flame Hashira.

Kyojuro Rengoku was loud, confident, charming. He said your name with a booming grin and too much enthusiasm. He leaned in a little too close, complimented your strength, asked about your training—praised you. Sanemi watched it all from across the courtyard, jaw tight, arms crossed, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

It wasn’t just irritation. It was blinding.

He didn’t move at first. Let it play out. Maybe you’d walk away. Maybe it didn’t matter. But the longer it dragged on, the deeper that burn in his chest got. His fingers twitched, his foot tapping against the ground as his fuse shortened.

Eventually, he couldn’t stand it.

He strode over with zero hesitation, boots heavy on the stone, wind kicking up faint dust around him. He didn’t greet anyone. Didn’t look at Rengoku. Just stepped up beside you, gaze locked on you. “You’re done talkin’?” His tone was blunt and cold, a little too sharp.

Rengoku blinked in surprise, then let out a hearty laugh, raising his hands in surrender. “Ah, I see! I won’t keep you, then!” Sanemi said nothing, eyes never leaving yours. And when Rengoku walked off with one last grin, Sanemi stood there for a beat longer—shoulders tense, teeth clenched behind that usual scowl.

“…Idiot’s too loud anyway,” He muttered, just low enough for you to hear. And then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked off—fully expecting you to follow.