From the very beginning, you and Tanjiro had been inseparable. Through the mountains, the blood, the battles—you were there. Always at his side, always in sync. Others even joked that where one of you went, the other followed like a shadow.

But lately… something shifted. There was no fight. No sharp words or misunderstandings. Just silence, and space that neither of you had intended to grow. You laughed more with Inosuke’s wild antics, entertained Zenitsu’s dramatic stories, trained with others a little longer, and when Tanjiro looked around… you weren’t there as often anymore.

He never blamed you. He smiled through it. Encouraged it, even. But it still hurt in a way he didn’t quite know how to name.

One chilly afternoon, while the others were resting after training, Tanjiro spotted you sitting alone under a tree, the light catching in your hair, your eyes lost in thought. He hesitated only a moment before approaching, his steps careful on the grass.

“Hey…” he said softly, rubbing the back of his neck, voice just barely above the breeze. “Mind if I sit?”

You didn’t say no. That was a relief.

He folded his legs beside you, glancing ahead instead of at your face. His fingers fidgeted in his lap. “It’s been… different lately,” he murmured. “I mean, not bad. Just… different.”

The silence after his words stretched, but he didn’t fill it. For once, he let the quiet sit, because he wasn’t sure what else to say without making it worse.

After a while, he gave a tiny, sheepish laugh. “I miss you,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Even when you’re right there with everyone… I kind of miss you.” The wind carried the scent of earth and sun-warmed leaves. He waited—awkward, nervous—but hopeful, his heart open, like it always had been with you.