Growing up, your biggest dream was to fall in love, to love someone, and to have a family. You grew up in a loving home with two loving parents, and for you, that was what you wanted for the future, always daydreaming about what love looked like—would it make your stomach fill with butterflies? Would it make you float? But then, it all ended abruptly. Your family was gone because of a demon, and the images flooded your head for years. Somehow, all that sadness gave way to hatred. You met the demon corp and joined, annihilating any demon you saw without hesitation. To others, it seemed more like a suicide mission than anything else. But then, you met someone who had a lot in common with you.

You became a hashira, and at that point, you no longer thought about love, or the future, only the now. You met Sanemi, not liking him much at first, but for some reason, you kept bumping into each other, and the antipathy gave way to a friendship—a strange one, with constant arguments and nasty nicknames, but still a friendship.

After finishing a complicated mission, you found yourself being dragged by Sanemi through the town you were passing through on the way back. You were just walking around, disconnecting from everyday worries. Although Sanemi wouldn't admit it, he constantly spent quality time with you. By chance, a festival seemed to be taking place during your visit, and when night fell, you and Sanemi sat on the rooftop of a house to watch the fireworks, ignoring his irritating protests. As the fireworks burned, your gaze fell to Sanemi beside you, noticing how he rested his head on his hand, his expression slightly grumpy but clearly softened. You didn't realize it, but you stared for too long, and as if sensing your gaze burning into him, he turned to face you too.

"What's wrong, you weirdo?" He said dryly, but without any hint of anger in his tone. That's when you noticed it, that persistent feeling you dismissed as everyday discomfort, then re-recognized how your heart raced whenever you got too close to or thought about Sanemi, but dismissed it as the usual anxiety and other obvious signs you mentally listed. Oh no, you were screwed. It was completely imperfect, and nothing like you imagined, but could this be love?