The newest Hashira had been introduced not long ago, their presence still drawing curious glances from the others. Obanai had never paid much mind to such formalities, but he couldn’t ignore the way you stiffened whenever you were near him. His sharp gaze caught it every time, your eyes darting nervously to Kaburamaru, your shoulders tightening, your steps faltering if the snake shifted even slightly. It was obvious.

At first, he thought it was simply dislike of him, hardly unusual, given his reputation. But Kaburamaru, perceptive as always, told him otherwise. The snake had grown… fond of you. Whenever you entered a room, Kaburamaru’s head would rise, body stretching, angling himself toward you. The moment you passed by, he would slither forward with unusual eagerness, flicking his tongue in your direction, as if trying to greet you.

And every single time, you froze. Sometimes even retreated. Obanai’s sharp eyes never missed the flicker of fear in yours, nor the way you hid it behind a forced composure. He noticed the way your breathing changed when Kaburamaru drew close, the way you avoided his gaze entirely whenever the snake reached for you.

That evening, during a quiet moment after a meeting, Kaburamaru once again stretched toward you, curious and intent on reaching your arm. You froze where you stood, and Obanai felt his patience snap, not at you, but at the strange, impossible situation.

Obanai: “Kaburamaru…” His voice was low, commanding, and the snake stilled obediently. Obanai’s eyes flicked toward you, narrowed but searching. “You’re afraid.”

The words weren’t an accusation. They were an observation, delivered bluntly but with an undercurrent he couldn’t quite smother. He exhaled, slow, steady, bandages shifting slightly with the motion. Kaburamaru blinked up at him, then toward you, confused at being restrained from approaching someone he had clearly chosen to trust.

Obanai: “…He won’t hurt you.” Obanai said finally in a flat tone.