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Suddenly, Sanemi’s crow violently ruined the peaceful and kind of romantic moment.
“𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓! 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓! 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍! 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓!”
You groaned immediately, slapping your hands over your ears like a sleep-deprived toddler.
“Bro shut it!! Sanemi, shut that crow up before I commit actual murder!”
Sanemi looked just as annoyed, his eye twitching while the crow continued screaming like it paid rent to be obnoxious.
“𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓! 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎—”
SMACK.
Sanemi grabbed the closest thing on your nightstand (a book? a vase? a poor innocent rice ball?) and chucked it at the window. The crow screeched and flapped away in full trauma mode, leaving a single feather to float dramatically to the floor.
He sat back down, muttering curses under his breath. “Damn bird has the worst fucking timing. I should've cooked it for lunch.”
You sighed, deadpan. “There goes our emotional moment. Again. Ruined. By a feathery menace.”
“You wanted peace?” he scoffed. “Then don’t attract every damn crow and simping boy within a fifty-mile radius.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Sounds like someone’s a little jealous again? How many times you goin' be jealous?”
His eyes narrowed. “Of what? Those losers?”
You smirked, poking his arm. “Oh yeah. You’re real confident for a guy whose ears turned pink the second I hugged Obanai.”
He stiffened. “That was not—I wasn’t—shut the hell up.”
You laughed and leaned back a bit, shaking your head. “Damn. Sanemi’s jealous and soft today? What a wild combo.”
“I am not soft.”
“Mhm. Sure. You yelled at a bird for interrupting us, and now you're still here acting like you don’t care.”
His jaw clenched, and he stood up abruptly, grabbing his haori. “Tch. Not like I can stay, anyway. Got a mission. West. Figures.”
You blinked up at him, surprised. “Wait… you’re actually going?”
“Yeah. What do you think, I’d skip it for you?” He smirked for half a second, but his eyes flicked over you, checking your wounds like he didn’t trust the nurses to do it right. “I’ll be back.”
“Don’t die, Wind Daddy.”
He froze mid-step, then slowly turned to glare at you. “You wanna say that again?”
“Not if you wanna live peacefully.”
He shook his head and left, muttering, “Dumbass,” under his breath.
But just before he closed the door behind him, his voice came a little softer—barely audible.
“…Get some sleep, brat.”
And then he was gone.
As the door clicked shut behind Sanemi, you laid back with a groan, tossing your arm over your face.
"Ugh. Finally.Rest"
You waited a beat.
The door creaked open again.
You sat up, blinking. “That was fast, damn—what, forget to yell at me some more—?”
But it wasn’t Sanemi.
Obanai Iguro stood there, pale eyes unreadable behind his wrappings, the candlelight flickering softly over the curve of Kaburamaru around his neck. Silent. Calm. Watching.
“Oh,” you said flatly, dropping back against the futon. “Snake boy.”
He shut the door behind him.
You sat up again, sighing. “If this is about the Entertainment District thing, I wasn’t hiding. I went with Tengen. I fought. Don’t start.”
“I know,” he replied, voice like cold steel under silk.
You blinked.
“Okay, wow. No passive-aggressive accusation? No 'reckless brat' insult? Who are you and what’ve you done with Obanai?”
“I don’t waste time on pointless lectures,” he said, stepping further into the room. “Especially not for someone who wouldn’t listen anyway.”
“Rude,” you muttered, but there was no real heat in it.
His eyes scanned your room—the mess of folded bandages, the cracked remains of a flower vase, the blanket you’d kicked halfway off in your sleep—and finally settled on the untouched flowers Sanemi had left by your side. His jaw shifted slightly beneath his bandages.
You followed his gaze and grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Pretty boy with rage issues got here first. He left me those, y’know.”
“I noticed.”
You tilted your head. “You jealous?”
“No.”
Too fast. Too sharp.
You raised a brow. “Mmm.”
Obanai reached into his sleeve and held something out to you—a small cloth bundle, neat and precise.
You stared at it suspiciously. “...Is that gonna bite me?”
“Open it.”
You did. Candied chestnuts.
Your mouth opened slightly. “Wait… you actually remembered I like these?”
“You said it once,” he said stiffly. “Back during training, when you wouldn’t stop complaining about how rough it is.”
“Okay, but that was like...weeks ago. You remembered?”
Kaburamaru flicked his tongue. Obanai glanced away, muttering, “You talk too much. It’s hard not to remember.”
You blinked, a little stunned. “You soft-hearted liar.”
“I’m not,” he said, immediately defensive. “You just have a loud mouth.”
You laughed. Actually laughed.
“Obanai,” you said, sitting up straighter, “Are you actually being nice to me right now? Am I dying again? Be honest.”
He crossed his arms. “Don’t make me take it back.”
“Okay, okay,” you said, carefully placing the chestnuts beside your pillow. “Seriously, thanks. That was… unexpectedly sweet.”
There was silence.
You looked up at him. “You can sit, y’know.”
He hesitated, then slowly sat in the wooden chair beside your bed—stiff posture, like he wasn’t sure if he should be there.
You tilted your head. “You always this awkward or am I just that powerful?”
“I’m here because I heard you nearly died,” he said flatly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Wow. You’re like a bouquet of insults wrapped in cold trauma and eye contact.”
“I’m going to leave,” he said dryly, standing slightly.
You reached out and grabbed the edge of his sleeve.
“…Don’t.”
He stilled. Didn’t look at you. But he didn’t pull away either.
You let go, rubbing the back of your neck. “Sorry. I just… I dunno. It was nice seeing a familiar face. After all the blood and screaming and trauma, y’know?”
He nodded once.
Silence stretched for a beat. Then you muttered, “You’re not the worst company, Iguro.”
“And you’re not the loudest brat I’ve ever met.”
“Thanks… I think?”
He stood then, smoothing out his sleeves. Kaburamaru slithered slightly around his neck as he made his way to the door.
You watched him quietly, a little warmth blooming in your chest despite yourself.
And just before he slipped out, you called after him.
“Hey. Thanks, for… remembering. Even if you’re emotionally constipated.”
He didn’t turn around.
But you swore you saw his ears turn pink.
Then the door clicked shut.
You leaned back again, staring at the ceiling with a smirk.
“…Damn. Snake boy brought me snacks. Am I hot or just concussed?”
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