7(edited)
"UMAI."
That booming voice cut through the hallway, startling you like someone had just dropped a microphone in a dead-silent room. Your heart skipped a beat. You froze, blinking rapidly, because you recognized that voice instantly.
Indeed, it was Rengoku Kyojuro, the Flame Hashira.
...Wait.
How?
You squinted, half convinced your ears were betraying you. Because if you remembered correctly according to the anime Rengoku wasn’t supposed to be here. At least, not right now. You remembered the Mugen Train arc, you remembered his big moment, and nowhere in your mental timeline did it say Rengoku randomly chilling in this building at this exact time.
Your brows furrowed. Did your presence here already mess up canon? Or was this just one of those filler things that never got mentioned?
Out of curiosity okay, maybe more like pure desperation you leaned closer and peeked inside the room.
Oh. My. God.
Hisa was there, chatting with him like it was no big deal.
You should’ve waited for her to come outside, acted casual, pretended you didn’t just stalk the Flame Hashira like some crazed fangirl. But of course, life didn’t work that way. The Flame Hashira’s sharp gaze immediately caught you peeking like a kid sneaking cookies from the jar.
He stood up in one fluid motion, his presence filling the space like fire spreading through dry wood. The shoji door slid open, and there he was—golden eyes bright, hair practically glowing in the dim light, smile too dazzling for your weak heart.
"Hello! May I know why you were looking at me?"
Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
"I don’t speak Japanese," you blurted out in English, almost tripping over the words in your panic.
Rengoku tilted his head, clearly not understanding.
Thankfully, Hisa quickly stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Miss Y/N doesn’t speak nor understand Japanese."
Rengoku’s brows lifted in surprise. "Ah! Is that so? Can you translate my question for her?"
"Yes," Hisa nodded politely, then turned to you. "Miss Y/N, Rengoku-san asked why you were watching him earlier."
Busted. Completely busted.
"Well…" You scratched your cheek nervously. "I was searching for you and couldn’t find you, so I heard someone shouting 'UMAI.' I peeked inside and saw you. I decided to wait until you finished talking. I’m sorry."
Hisa repeated your words in Japanese, and Rengoku’s face lit up like you’d just told him the best joke of his life.
"Is that so! I’m sorry! I thought you were a stalker," he said cheerfully, hands on his hips.
Your lips twitched. I kinda am a stalker though… I have more than 200 pictures of you saved in my phone…
Hisa translated his words back, and you coughed awkwardly. "It’s alright. It was my fault, so I should be the one to apologize."
"She said she should be the one apologizing," Hisa relayed.
Before you could think of something else embarrassing to say, someone called for Hisa down the hall.
"Well, I have to go, Miss Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow," she said, bowing before quickly leaving you alone with him.
Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.
Your favorite Hashira was standing right in front of you. No translator. No buffer. Just you, your terrible Japanese skills, and him. His golden eyes followed your every tiny movement, and you swore you could feel your face heating up like someone cranked a stove to max.
"Well, that’s a goodbye!" he said in his booming voice, stepping closer. Without hesitation, he gently took your hand, bowed slightly, and kissed it. Then winked.
Then he walked away. Just like that. Like it was the most casual thing in the world.
You, however, were a complete mess.
OH MY GOD. HE KISSED MY HAND. RENGOKU KYOJURO JUST KISSED MY HAND. OMFG. He’s such a gentleman. Such a KING.
And then another thought cut in, bitter and sharp.
"I don’t like him, dear…"
You rolled your eyes at the jealous little voice in your head. Stop being jealous. It’s not like I’m gonna marry him.
Still, your cheeks were on fire as you stumbled back to your shared room.
Inside, you found Zenitsu waiting on your bed like some weird golden-haired puppy. The moment he saw you, he practically launched himself across the room.
"Y/N-chan, look what I got you!" He held out a massive bouquet of flowers, almost bigger than his own head.
Your jaw dropped. "Th-thank… you, Zenitsu!"
He puffed his chest, grinning ear to ear. "No problem, angel-chan."
Before you could react, Nezuko appeared, gracefully stepping into the room. She didn’t say a word just marched over, shoved Zenitsu aside like he was made of air, and wrapped her arms around you tightly.
"Aww, you’re so cute, Nezuko," you whispered, hugging her back.
She smiled up at you and hugged you even tighter, like she wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.
Zenitsu tried again, edging closer, but Nezuko extended one tiny hand and shoved him back effortlessly.
"Tanjiro! Tell your sis to get away from Y/N-chan!" Zenitsu whined dramatically.
Tanjiro peeked in from the side, smiling warmly. "Why? They seem to like each other!"
His chest swelled with relief. You had accepted Nezuko so quickly, so naturally, as if she’d always been part of your life.
Meanwhile, Nezuko glanced at Zenitsu and smirked smugly, clinging even tighter to you.
"Tanjiro! Look at your sister! She’s smirking at me!"
Nezuko immediately dropped the expression, her face returning to innocent sweetness the second Tanjiro turned around.
"Zenitsu, she’s not smirking," Tanjiro said, tilting his head. "Stop lying."
"I’m not!" Zenitsu groaned, waving his arms.
You giggled softly, caught between amusement and warmth. Honestly, they were adorable.
Later that night, everyone drifted off to sleep. Except you.
You tossed, turned, and eventually sat up with a sigh. Quietly, you padded over to your backpack, rummaging through the pockets until...
Surprise, surprise.
Your fingers brushed against smooth plastic.
You pulled them out, and your eyes widened.
"NO WAY" you whispered to yourself.
Your AirPods. Your beautiful, lifesaving AirPods.
A grin stretched across your face. Finally. I can listen to music again. Something normal. Something from home.
You grabbed your phone, heart fluttering with excitement as you unlocked it. For a moment, you didn’t even open Spotify. Instead, your thumb slid automatically to your gallery.
And just like that, your screen lit up with the familiar flood of pictures.
Pictures of your world. Pictures of your friends. Memes. Screenshots. And of course…
...your embarrassing Rengoku folder.
You groaned, flopping back on the futon with your phone clutched to your chest.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: ZingTruyen.Xyz