Chapter 5: Games Day: Laughter and Jealousy
The harsh sun beat down on the packed earth of the training grounds, turning the air thick and gritty. Sweat stung eyes, and the constant clash-clang of wooden practice swords against training dummies formed a relentless, percussive backdrop. But today, the usual grim intensity was broken by bursts of laughter and shouts of encouragement. Games day.
Anne stood near a water barrel, her cream-colored off-shoulder top already damp at the edges, sleeves pushed up her tan arms. She rolled a plump water balloon between her palms, mischief dancing in her large brown eyes. Across from her, Giyu looked profoundly out of place. His mismatched haori seemed even more incongruous amidst the frivolity, his expression carefully neutral, though a slight stiffness in his shoulders betrayed his discomfort.
"Ready, Tomioka-san?" Anne called, her voice bright and carrying over the din. She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, her knee-high socks collecting dust. "Don't you dare let me down. This is serious business."
Giyu gave a curt nod, his focus entirely on the fragile sphere in her hands. He held his own balloon awkwardly, as if it might detonate spontaneously. "Just throw it."
Anne laughed, a clear, melodic sound that turned a few heads. "Confidence! I like it!" She drew her arm back, telegraphing her throw with playful exaggeration. "Don't flinch!"
The balloon sailed in a high, lazy arc. Giyu’s movements, honed by lethal precision, were almost comically fast for the simple task. He stepped forward smoothly, hands coming up to cradle the balloon with surprising gentleness. It landed with a soft plop, perfectly caught. A murmur of approval rippled through the small crowd watching the water toss events.
"Nice hands, Hashira!" someone yelled.
Anne beamed, clapping her hands together. "See? Natural talent!" She beckoned him closer. "Okay, now back up a step. Let’s see that Water Breathing footwork!" Her eyes sparkled with teasing warmth.
Step by careful step, they distanced themselves. The throws and catches became a surprisingly fluid dance. Giyu, initially rigid, found a rhythm. The focus required to catch the delicate projectile without breaking it mirrored the concentration of battle, yet lacked the deadly stakes. He watched Anne’s face – the slight furrow of concentration, the way her lips pursed before she threw, the flash of delight when he caught it. Her hair swung with each movement, catching the sun. He felt an unfamiliar lightness, a loosening in his chest he couldn’t name, mirrored only by the faint, almost imperceptible softening around his own eyes each time her laughter rang out. He didn’t laugh, but the tightness in his jaw eased.
Later, the atmosphere shifted. Near the central sparring platform, Sanemi Shinazugawa stood, arms crossed over his scarred chest, kimono hanging open. His sharp grey eyes tracked Anne as she demonstrated a complex disarming maneuver with one of the senior trainees. Sweat glistened on her brow, her movements economical and powerful despite the heat.
"Not bad, Kinomoto," Sanemi stated when she finished, his voice a low rasp that cut through the chatter. He stepped forward onto the platform, ignoring the trainee who scrambled out of his way. "But let's see how it holds up against something with teeth." He pulled his own practice sword, the wood scarred and stained. "Show me that disarm again. On me." It wasn't a request.
Anne wiped her forearm across her forehead, her expression shifting from focused exertion to wary amusement. "Always looking for a fight, Shinazugawa-san?"
"Call it quality control." His gaze was intense, locked onto hers. "That trick won't save you when a Lower Moon has you cornered."
They circled. The surrounding onlookers fell silent, the air crackling with a different kind of tension now. Sanemi moved first – a testing strike, fast and direct. Anne deflected, the impact jarring up her arm. He pressed, his attacks relentless, forcing her back step by step. It wasn't a full assault, but it was brutal, demanding. Anne met him, her blocks precise, her footwork agile, but the sheer force behind his blows vibrated through her bones.
Giyu watched from the edge of the crowd, his earlier ease vanished. He saw the intensity in Sanemi’s eyes – not just competitive, but possessive. A flicker of something primal stirred in Giyu’s gut, cold and unwelcome. He saw the way Sanemi’s gaze lingered on Anne’s determined face, the slight curve of his mouth that wasn’t quite a smile.
Anne twisted, using Sanemi’s momentum against him. Her foot hooked behind his ankle, her hand snaking towards his wrist. For a split second, it looked like she might pull it off. But Sanemi recovered with explosive speed, reversing the leverage. He caught her wrist, pulling her off balance and close. Too close. His free hand clamped firmly on her shoulder, steadying her but also pinning her in place. His breath was hot near her ear.
"Close," he murmured, the word rough, almost intimate. "Real close. But you gotta commit. Hesitate, and you're dead." His thumb pressed slightly against the bare skin of her shoulder before he released her abruptly, stepping back. Anne stumbled slightly, catching herself, her cheeks flushed from exertion and something else. She met his gaze, a flicker of annoyance in her brown eyes, but also an acknowledgment of the lesson.
"Point taken, Shinazugawa-san," she said, her voice steady despite her rapid breathing. She rolled her shoulder where his hand had gripped.
Giyu’s knuckles were white where he gripped the hilt of his own practice sword, hanging unused at his side. The cold feeling spread. He saw the faint red mark Sanemi’s grip left on Anne’s skin. He saw the way the Wind Hashira’s gaze lingered on that spot, a predatory satisfaction in his stance. The laughter from the water balloons felt like a distant memory. He turned away abruptly, the festive sounds of the games suddenly grating.
The final event was trivia, hosted by a breathless Kocho Shinobu near the shaded steps. Teams huddled, arguing good-naturedly. Tanjiro, bouncing with enthusiasm, had practically dragged Anne onto his team.
"Anne-san! We've got this! I remember everything Urokodaki-san taught us about poison ivy!"
Anne grinned, ruffling his hair. "Alright, Tanjiro, let’s show these old men how it's done!" She shot a playful glance towards Giyu, who stood apart near a pillar, arms crossed, observing the crowd rather than participating. He met her gaze briefly, but his expression remained unreadable, a stark contrast to the warmth he’d shown hours earlier. Sanemi leaned against a nearby post, ostensibly watching the trivia, but his eyes rarely left Anne.
The questions flew. Medicinal herbs, demon weaknesses, obscure Corps history. Tanjiro proved surprisingly adept, shouting answers with infectious zeal. Anne filled in the gaps with sharp recall, her playful demeanor shifting into focused intelligence. Giyu found himself silently answering questions alongside them, a strange tension coiling in his chest as Shinobu announced each new challenge. Sanemi occasionally grunted a correct answer himself, loud enough for Anne to hear, his gaze fixed on her profile as she concentrated.
"The final question!" Shinobu announced, tapping her fan. "What rare mineral, found only near volcanic vents in the northern mountains, disrupts a Blood Demon Art by interfering with a demon's cellular regeneration? Hint: it's bluish-green and smells faintly of sulfur."
Silence fell. Tanjiro scrunched his face. Other teams murmured. Giyu knew the answer – Akagaraishi. He saw Sanemi open his mouth, ready to call it out. But Anne beat him to it.
"Akagaraishi!" she declared, her voice clear and confident. "Also known as 'Demon's Bane'. Crushed into powder for specialized grenades developed by the late Iguro Obanai."
Shinobu clapped. "Correct! Team Tanjiro and Kinomoto wins!"
Tanjiro whooped, jumping up and down, pulling Anne into an exuberant hug. "We did it, Anne-san! We won!" Laughter and cheers erupted from their supporters. Anne laughed, hugging him back, her face radiant with genuine triumph and shared joy. Sunlight caught the curve of her cheek, the brightness in her eyes. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered happiness.
Giyu watched it. The easy affection between her and Tanjiro. Her brilliant smile. The warmth that seemed to emanate from her. For a moment, the tension in his chest eased, replaced by a quiet, unfamiliar ache. He wanted to step into that light.
But his gaze instinctively flickered to Sanemi. The Wind Hashira hadn't joined the cheers. He stood rigid, his scarred arms still crossed. He wasn't looking at Tanjiro. His grey eyes were fixed solely on Anne’s laughing face, his expression intense, unblinking. Not angry. Not even competitive anymore. It was a look of raw, focused hunger. Possession.
The earlier chill slammed back into Giyu, colder and sharper. It wasn't just rivalry. It was a threat, silent and predatory, hanging heavy in the dusty air amidst the fading cheers. Sanemi’s stare didn’t waver as Anne disentangled herself from Tanjiro, still smiling. Giyu’s hand tightened again on his sword hilt, the wood creaking under his grip. The games were over. Something else had just begun.