Rain the Pain

The forest was dense, shrouded in mist and the lingering scent of rain-soaked earth. The downpour had softened to a quiet drizzle, a rhythmic patter against the leaves. It wasn't cold, but the dampness clung to my skin, settling deep into my bones.

I had gone deeper than I should have, but I always did. Checking on something. Or rather, someone.

No one could know. Not yet.

...~•~...

By the time I started making my way back, the weight in my chest hadn't eased, but I ignored it. It was just another thing to carry. Another thing to bury.

Then, I found it—a small clearing, hidden between thick, ancient trees. A single fallen log sat in the middle, slick with rain. The world felt muted here. No shouting. No commands. No expectations. Just the sound of the rain and the quiet ache in my body.

I sat down, exhaling. The soreness in my muscles was a dull, constant throb, a reminder of Sanemi's relentless training. My body had taken its fair share of beatings the past few days, but this was nothing new. Pain had always been a familiar companion.

Slowly, I reached for the buttons of my uniform top. Each movement was slow, deliberate, the fabric peeling away from my damp skin. The cool air kissed my bruises, the shallow cuts that hadn't quite healed yet. I clutched the fabric against my chest, as if holding something fragile together.

The rain trailed down my shoulders, sliding over every aching muscle, every bruised skin. Washing away the dirt, the sweat, the blood. It stung where the wounds were fresh, but I welcomed it. It felt... grounding. Like the earth itself was reminding me that I was still here.

For the first time in days, there was no expectations to meet.

Just me. Savoring the silence.

Letting the rain carry the pain away.

...~•~...

The steady sound of rain filled the clearing, droplets cascading down her bare skin, cooling the lingering ache from her wounds.

She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there, savoring the quiet. The solitude.

She was alone. Until...

She felt it.

A shift behind her. Subtle, but impossible to ignore. A presence.

Not so close, but there.

The weight of a gaze. The presence just beyond the curtain of rain.

She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

She sighed. Before bluntly saying.

"You can't just watch a lady like this and expecting her to not know..." — "Tomioka-san."

Her voice cut through the rain, steady, unreadable. She didn't turn around.

"Or should I say, Water Hashira-sama."

More silence. She didn't need to look to know he was still there, standing just at the edge of the clearing. A part of her wondered why he was here. But she wasn't fully ready for that answer.

So instead, she lets the rain speak for her.

...~•~...

She remained seated on the log, back still turned, her uniform top clutched loosely in her hands. She knew he hadn't moved. She could feel him there. A presence as steady as the downpour.

Giyuu was always like this.

Silent. Observant. A shadow lingering at the edges, never intruding.

It was frustrating. It was comforting. It was him.

She smirked faintly, shifting her fingers over the damp fabric in her grip.

"You always do this, don't you?"

She finally turned her head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him through the rain.

He stood at the edge of the clearing, his back against a tree, arms loosely crossed over his chest. The downpour had soaked through his haori, rain tracing slow paths down his face, but he didn't seem to mind.

His gaze wasn't piercing, not the kind that made her feel watched—just there. Steady.

He didn't speak, didn't move.

"Watching. Not saying much. Always there, but never interfering."

She studied him for a beat longer, before turning away again.

"It's annoying."

A beat of silence. Then—

"I know." He simply replied.

That actually made her pause. A quiet chuckle escaped her lips before she could stop it, blending into the rain.

"Then why are you still here, Water Hashira-sama?"

Another long silence.

She could almost hear the answer before he spoke it.

"Because you are."

This time, she didn't have a response.

...~•~...

The rain softened slightly, but its steady rhythm remained, soaking through fabric, dripping from her hair as she pulled her uniform top back on. Adjusting the damp fabric before finally speaking again.

"I understand your responsibility for looking out for others, especially as a Hashira yourself."

Her voice was measured, careful. Almost... accepting. But there was something else beneath it. A quiet challenge.

"But—"

She shifted her haori over her arm, finally turning to face him fully. He stood there, the rain painting him in muted blues and greys, quite as always.

"You went a bit too far for someone that you don't even know what their name is... don't you think?"

The words lingered between them, heavy yet calm. A simple truth. One that made the silence that followed almost deafening.

He didn't react—not in any obvious way. But his eyes flickered, just barely. A subtle shift, like a ripple across still water.

Of course, he had asked for her name when he first saw her. But she didn't thought it mattered.

So of course, he had been watching, protecting, without even knowing it.

That was just the kind of person he was.

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady.

"If the Insect Hashira, Kocho-sama, didn't tell me... I wouldn't even know yours."

The words weren't an accusation. Just another simple truth.

And still, he remained silent.

But this time, she saw something—just a flicker—of realization in those unreadable blue eyes.

...~•~...

For the first time, something in the air between them changed.

It wasn't tense. Wasn't heavy.

Just... different.

Her expression shifted—satisfaction? Amusement? Or perhaps something else entirely.

"You're not as unreadable as you're known for."

The words were light, almost teasing, but not mocking.

And then—A smile.

Faint, fleeting. But there.

"Honestly, I'm not that surprised."

And again, he didn't react—not outwardly. But something in the rain felt warmer for just a moment.

Then, without urgency, without the usual guarded presence she carried—she turned, beginning her walk back.

No rush. No fear. No running. Just steady steps through the rain.

"You're strong but not invincible, nor immune to cold, Water Hashira-sama."

"Or Tomioka-san..."

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes calm yet sharp.

"...Not sure which one's nicer."

A small shrug. A passing thought. Maybe even a joke—though subtle.

And with that she continued, disappearing into the rain.

Tomioka Giyuu watched her go, silent as ever.

But this time, he wasn't just watching.

He was listening.

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