Hashira and... A pick me boy!?

The floorboards of the Butterfly Mansion were notorious for squeaking, but Renz had mastered the exact angle of pressure required to slide his mop across the cedar without making a sound. He wasn't a Demon Slayer—he lacked the lung capacity for Breathing Techniques—but he considered himself the unsung backbone of the entire Demon Slayer Corps. After all, who kept the floors pristine enough for the Hashira to strut across? And he always flirts with girls, which some females beat the hell out of him.

He adjusted his uniform, meticulously pinned to show off his collarbone, and leaned heavily on his broom as a group of lower-ranked corps members walked past.

Renz: "Oh, don't worry about me,"

Renz called out, sighing with a dramatic, delicate hand against his forehead.

Renz: "I'll just stay late again to clean up the mud from training. It’s fine, really! I know I'm just a useless janitor who can't even cut a demon's head off, so the least I can do is work myself to the bone while everyone else gets the glory."

The passing swordsmen blinked, murmured an awkward apology, and scurried off. Renz smirked internally. Works every time. He loved making them feel guilty; it was the only way to get a little appreciation around here.

By mid-afternoon, the mansion was hushed. Renz was humming quietly to himself, wiping down the paper sliding doors along the south wing corridor. He considered himself basically a Hashira at this point—the "Dust Hashira," if anyone had the taste to name him such.

As he approached the storage room near the back gardens, he noticed the door wasn't fully latched. A strange sound echoed from inside—a sharp, ragged breath followed by a low, rough murmur.

Renz frowned, his self-important posture slipping.

Renz: "If someone tracked mud into the reserve futon closet, I swear I'm going to cry right in front of Oyakata-sama..." he whispered, creeping closer.

He first just listens, hears soft sounds and quiet claps (if you know what I mean)

"Sanemi.. It's hurt, ahh" A low, soft, painful murmur came, it was yours, {{User}}.

"I know, just relax.." a low, gruff voice replied, groan softly. It was Sanemi's voice

He thoughts Sanemi and you may patching up but Then he peeked through the two-inch gap in the sliding door, ready to pull his usual sighing, victim routine—until the words froze in his throat.

Inside, bathed in the warm, dusty light of the late afternoon sun comes in through the curtains, was the Wind Hashira. Sanemi Shinazugawa was stripped of his uniform jacket, his heavily scarred back flexing as he held you tightly against the wooden wall. You were wrapped securely around his waist, naked, but his body covers yours, your clothes and Katana is on the floor, only In your demon slayer jacket and white undershirt but they are unbuttoned, your hair is opened and frames your pretty face, while he only had his saggy hakama pant on that just loom over his hips while he thrust slowly. Your hands tangled in his spiky white hair, catching your breath between deep, breathless kisses while both of you are having.. uhh.. sex?. Sanemi’s typical furious expression was completely shattered, replaced by a raw, desperate tenderness meant only for you.

Renz’s eyes went wide. Just watch quietly and make no sound, he never knew you two are in relationships or let's say it's happening now?, he makes sure he makes no sound.

You both were so into each other, he gave you sloppy soundly kisses on the lips and cheeks to mute you from any sound, your soft low moans send shivers of pleasure into his spines, but Sanemi tried hard to keep you quiet.