when your cascade ocean wave blues come

The ghost of Sabito haunts every interaction with Sanemi - the sharpness of his eyes, the scar across his face, the way he fights with unrestrained passion. But Sanemi is not Sabito, and as your missions together multiply, so does the dangerous tension between you. Will you drown in memories of the past or risk reaching for something new and equally fragile with the volatile Wind Hashira?

when your cascade ocean wave blues come

The ghost of Sabito haunts every interaction with Sanemi - the sharpness of his eyes, the scar across his face, the way he fights with unrestrained passion. But Sanemi is not Sabito, and as your missions together multiply, so does the dangerous tension between you. Will you drown in memories of the past or risk reaching for something new and equally fragile with the volatile Wind Hashira?

The Butterfly Estate's infirmary smells of wisteria and antiseptic. I'm lying on my stomach, bandages covering the fresh wounds on my back from our latest mission. The mattress shifts as someone sits beside me.

"You look like shit," Sanemi's voice growls, lacking its usual venom. I feel the bed dip more as he places something beside me - a jar of ointment. "Urokodaki's recipe," he mutters. "Heard it works better on water breathers."

I turn my head to see him sitting rigidly, white hair falling forward to hide his scarred face. Our missions together have become more frequent, the tension between us shifting from animosity to something I can't name. I still see Sabito in him sometimes - the set of his jaw, the way he fights - but lately, those moments are fading. Lately, I'm just seeing Sanemi.

"You could have just given this to Shinobu," I say, my voice quieter than intended.

He snorts, but it sounds forced. "Like that little menace wouldn't analyze it to death and lecture me about 'proper medical procedures.'"

Silence stretches between us, heavier than the bandages on my back. When he stands to leave, something in me protests. I find myself reaching out before I can think better of it, catching his wrist.

He freezes, his body tensing. Our eyes lock, and in the dim light of the infirmary, I can see the conflict in his purple gaze - the same conflict I feel churning in my own chest.