Work Text:
Shinobu hates that her hands are small.
She hates that she can’t reach her sewing needle when it rolls beneath a cabinet. She hates that the herb boxes keep slipping from her fingers whenever the kakushi aren’t around to help. But most of all, she hates that she can’t slit a demon’s throat with them.
That morning, however, Maeda Masao reminds her that her fingers aren’t the only things that are small.
Apparently, her breasts are too.
It’s all Maeda Masao’s fault.
The Demon Slayer Uniform Sewing Committee had released a new official uniform for every female slayer. They proudly claimed it was more durable, more comfortable, and far more resistant to wear and tear. They even had the audacity to call it the greatest innovation of the decade.
As far as Shinobu knew, cleavage had existed long before the committee did.
So this is how it was going to be. The moment that little asshole returns, she’s going to burn the uniform right in front of his face. She'll need matches, oh and lamp oil, too. She’ll suggest Kanao and Aoi do the same. Perhaps then the design department will finally come to its senses. Gods knew how much money they could save by abolishing the entire division and transferring the budget to her poison research instead.
Shinobu looks in the mirror again.
Tilting her head, she studies herself from another angle. She actually looks rather nice. Sure, the neckline is admittedly lower than she’s used to, but it somehow adds depth to her silhouette, making her look taller. There is probably some geometric or physical principle behind the illusion. She hates to admit it. But Maeda tailored the uniform surprisingly well.
She experimentally hops around the room. And her breasts stay exactly where they are. She hasn’t even bothered binding them.
Huh.
Maybe it really is the greatest innovation of the decade.
“Kochou, what are you doing?”
Shinobu immediately covers her cleavage. When she looks back, she finds Giyu Tomioka, staring at her with his flat tired blue eyes.
“Ara, Tomioka-san, that’s my line.” She gives him a fake smile. “Why are you in my private chamber?”
“The kakushi said you’d be here.”
“You still haven’t answered the question.” Her smile widens. “Why are you here?”
“I’m hot.”
She glances down at the neckline of her uniform before looking back at him. The Water Hashira thinks he's the hot one? Not her?
“I’m sorry? What did you just say, Tomioka-san?”
“I’m very hot.”
She opens her mouth in disbelief.
“Is this a prank?” She walks over and pinches his shoulder. “Did you lose a bet? Do you even gamble, Tomioka-san?”
“The kakushi said the reason I'm hot might be because I exercise too much.”
“Which kakushi told you that?” She tilts her head.
“The one who checked my temperature.”
It finally hits her. She presses the back of her hand against his forehead.
“You have a fever.”
“Yeah. That.”
“Then why do you keep saying you're hot?”
“The kakushi said that.”
Shinobu makes a mental note to quiz the entire division later. She needs to find out whether they're all just idiots or exceptionally good at flirting.
“Please, have a seat.” She points toward a nearby chair.
Giyu sits down, then begins taking off his mismatched haori and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
“Whoa, slow down.” She gasps. “I only asked you to sit.”
“Sorry, my body… it’s just really hot.”
He meant the fever.
She had to keep reminding herself that.
Shinobu washes her hands in a nearby bowl, before crouching in front of his now half-naked body.
He really is hot.
Very hot.
Since when? When did Giyu Tomioka get so hot?
Shinobu clears her throat and forces herself to focus.
Is it the muscles? But she stitched up Sanemi’s bare shoulders, fixed Tengen’s dislocated arm, and treated countless muscular slayers who arrived half-naked after sparring.
So... it’s not the muscles. Perhaps, the sweat? The one that slips from Giyu’s shoulder, tracing a slow path down the definition of his abdomen. No. Absolutely not. Slayers came into the infirmary drenched in sweat, mud, blood, or occasionally all three. Sweat had never once distracted her.
His cheeks look faintly flushed. His breathing sounds louder. The man has a fever, for god sake, she needs to be professional.
“Open your mouth, Tomioka-san.”
He opens them. But just when she places the thermometer in…
“Aren’t you cold wearing the new uniform?”
Shinobu looks at her cleavage again.
“You can wear my haori if you’re cold,” he says, reaching for his mismatched haori.
“Thank you, Tomioka-san. That’s very kind of you.” She smiles. “But I won't risk sharing your bacteria.”
“Oh.”
He sets it back down.
She removes the thermometer and raises it to eye level. “That’s pretty high.”
An infection? Influenza has been making its rounds through the Corps lately. But he’s not coughing. He hasn’t even sneezed. Perhaps it isn’t influenza. An infected wound? No. She doesn’t see any injuries, and he hasn’t been on a mission since last week. Heat exhaustion is possible. Overtraining could explain the fever if he’s been pushing himself without proper rest. Perhaps her kakushi is right. But she needs to be sure.
She sets the thermometer aside before taking his wrist between her fingers. His pulse is unusually fast beneath her touch.
“Ne, ne, Tomioka-san.”
“Yes?”
“Are you thinking about something?”
He looks away immediately.
“Tomioka-san, you can’t possibly be nervous are you?”
He still looks away.
Anyway, she needs to fix the fever first. So, Shinobu pours a dark amber liquid into a porcelain cup. It’s one of her houseblend. Should help bring down his fever quickly.
“It’s quite strong,” she finally gives it to him. “I made it myself.”
Then she hands him a wagashi box too.
“I suggest you eat this first before drinking the medicine.”
Without hesitation, Giyu reaches for the medicine and a half-bitten wagashi. He actually took that one. Out of all the perfectly shaped, untouched ones. He chose the one she already ate.
It’s an indirect kiss.
There’s a strange warmth up the back of her neck.
Ridiculous.
They had shared far worse than confectionery over the years. From sharing the umbrella on rainy missions to life-and-death battles against demons. This is a piece of wagashi… Just sugar, flour and red bean paste.
It’s not a big deal.
It is absolutely not a big deal at all.
Then why is her face growing warmer as he slowly takes another bite? Good grief. Why is he taking so long to eat the sweets? And why is he licking the crumbs from his fingers?
The absent-minded way he wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his muscular hand... Something twists in her stomach. What is that? Indigestion? No…
Butterflies.
Shinobu widens her eyes and sighs.
Fine. The Water Hashira is hot. That’s just a fact now. A fact she has to accept every time they go on a mission together. Every time he visits for a medical check up. Shinobu has to accept that Giyu Tomioka is hot.
Suddenly, Giyu stands up, picks up the medicine Shinobu prepared for him and swallows it in one go. Like it was sake. Like the man needs courage for whatever he’s about to do next.
She barely has time to process what’s happening, but he already leans down to her.
Giyu is so close. Close enough that their noses nearly touch. Close enough for her to notice the tiny crease between his brows. Close enough that his breath brushes lightly against her cheek.
Close enough that—
What am I doing? Why am I not pulling away?
“Kochou...”
Warm. Shinobu can feel her cheeks warming up with his uneven breath against her face. Giyu Tomioka wants to kiss her. To hell with bacteria. To hell with every sensible decision she ever made as a physician. They already kissed indirectly anyway. Maybe it’s time for the real thing.
Shinobu leans in and the space between them disappears. His lips are warm from the fever, so warm, it feels like hot tea.
Suddenly, Giyu pulls away with what little strength he has left. Shinobu could feel a sharp knife running through her stomach, killing away all her butterflies. Stabs them, cuts down all their wings with some kind of demon art.
“I’m sorry.” Shinobu covers her lips. “I thought...” She feels tears welling in her eyes. “You leaned in, and I... God. I’m so sorry.”
She quickly wipes her eyes and turns to leave.
“Kochou. I’m just afraid you’ll get sick too. You didn’t want the haori—”
“Sorry, I… I should go. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable.”
“Please, I—”
“I’ve always liked you, Kochou.”
“You… what?”
Giyu Tomioka… Likes her? That couldn’t be right. He barely spoke to her or anyone, really. He always seemed so distant too. Half the time, she was convinced he wasn’t listening to her or any of their meetings with oyakata-sama.
Wait. There was this tiny blush in his cheek every time she leaned over his shoulder to read a report. And every single time she poked him with a playful tsun tsun too. Whenever they shared an umbrella, Giyu somehow ended up with more rain on his shoulder than she did. She’d always assumed he simply didn’t notice he was drifting out from beneath it. But he did notice, after all. He was just making sure she stayed dry.
Oh.
Oh, no.
She’d been teasing a man with a crush on her for years. How could she even be this cruel?
“I didn’t want to look at your… cleavage. So, I looked away.”
He did look away a lot.
“But I can’t keep looking away.” He meets her violet eyes. “So I looked at you.” His gaze softens. “Really looked at you.”
“Tomioka-san, I...” She can feel her heartbeat move faster. “I also like the kiss, I… don’t care about getting sick anymore.”
His face looks even more flushed than before. It looks hot. Even hotter when he kisses her again. When his tongue moves against hers, she could taste kudzu root, then…Chrysanthemum.
She has always hated her small hands. Hated how they couldn’t reach. Hated how they slipped. Hated that they could never cut through a demon’s neck. She’d hated them for so long that she’d forgotten they could fit perfectly inside someone else’s. Giyu’s large, calloused hands wrap around her small ones as they kiss, swallowing them whole.