Work Text:
Obanai knows he’s cold.
He knows it in the way there’s no rosy tint to his face. He knows it in the way he snaps at those around him. He knows it in the way someone flinches when they brush against him. He knows it in the way that he finds kinship in Kaburamaru. He knows it in the way that a cup of tea burns him like fire. He knows, he knows, he knows it in the way that he feels nothing like what is called love.
Obanai knows this, and it doesn’t bother him.
It doesn’t matter if he has no rosy tint, or if he snarks, or if he curses, or if that stupid tea burns a hole through his mouth. It doesn’t matter if he knows what love feels like. It doesn’t matter, as long as he does his job.
And on that note, the Demon Slayer corps shouldn’t concern themselves with such matters, either. They should just focus on killing as many demons as they can, train till they cough up blood, all to devote themselves entirely to their duty.
He watches as the demon below his blade fades to dust, and he can barely stop himself from taking an extra stab at the scattering powder— worthless demon with it’s worthless blood demon technique, triggering worthless insecurities that simply just don’t exist —
It doesn’t matter. Of course it wouldn’t.
He’s the snake pillar, after all.
───── ☀ ─────
The first time he sees her, he’s sitting on top of a branch he frequents, away from the too-warm summer sun.
Rengoku was late—unusually so—and it was beginning to get on his nerves. The flame pillar was one of the better demon slayers, with capabilities that even Obanai could respect, but he didn’t think that validated holding up their pillar meeting. Ubuyashiki would be emerging from his private quarters any moment now.
He knew that if they waited for too long, the restlessness between the pillars would manifest in some kind of disagreement. Of course, Obanai was not innocent from such an occurrence, but it was shameful nonetheless, particularly when having Ubuyashiki as their audience.
Letting out an irritated sigh, he inquires; “When will Rengoku-san arri—"
“Good afternoon, everyone!” A familiar voice booms, cutting Obanai off. A fiery-red figure leaps into the courtyard, and Obanai feels one of his eyelids twitch.
“You’re late, Rengoku-san.” Shinobu smiles from where she stands. “But, welcome. I’m glad you are doing well.”
“Likewise.” Rengoku beams, before taking a sweeping look around him, like he was searching for something. “I apologize for my tardiness. I had an important decision to make, is all.”
Obanai is tempted to point out that nothing could be more important than the activities of the Demon Slayer corps, when Rengoku suddenly shouts, “Kanroji-san! You can come out now!”
There’s silence, and then some rustling. A dash of pink pops out in the near garden, before emerging.
Confused, the snake pillar watches as a girl, not too far off from his own age, pulls herself from behind one of the decorative plants, and heads towards the other pillars. How Obanai didn’t detect her presence initially is a mystery, but his breath momentarily freezes as he takes in everything that is this stranger.
Peculiar hair, symmetric beauty marks, porcelain skin. Round eyes, a faint blush, a considerable figure. An interesting uniform, small hands, an apple like face—
Kaburamaru flicks his tongue out, and whatever sparks of that foreign feeling inside Obanai dies instantly. Right. Of course. She’s just like anyone else, and from her terrified expression, she must be just as pathetic. How disappointing.
Humans, they’re all weak like that. He wouldn’t concern himself in such matters. He silently thanks his albino snake for grounding him, and he brings his focus back to the conversation at hand.
“Hello, Kanroji.” Rengoku nods, “Everyone, I want you to greet our new pillar.”
Ah, so this is what the meeting was for. Obanai wondered when the vacant pillar spot would finally be filled—the demon slayers are growing weaker, constantly. He’ll keep his expectations appropriately low.
An awkward beat between the pillars and Mitsuri passes before Rengoku tilts his head slightly towards her. She seems to know what this means, and grows flustered with each second. There’s a moment where Mitsuri lets out a jumble of indecipherable words, before throwing herself down into a deep bow.
“My name is Mitsuri Kanroji, Pillar of Love! Please take good care of me!” She shouts, before slowly rising back up.
Obanai feels his chest stop, again. Mitsuri is extremely flushed, sweating like she just ran to the capital and back. Her hands are grasped daintily on top of her chest, in a weak attempt to cover herself. She has a smile on her face, and although timid, it is so warm, so kind, so gentle, like a spring day. He wonders if this is how Kaburamaru feels when basking, he wonders if it burns, he wonders what this feeling is, because he hates it, hates it—
“ Love Pillar?” Sanemi exclaims, and his face scrunches up in the way Obanai always thought was unsightly. “The hell is stupid-sounding breath?”
Mitsuri’s smile falls, and she returns to a stuttering mess, her hands waving around as she attempts to explain herself. Rengoku steps in, saying, “Breath of Love is just based on Fl—”
Before Obanai even realizes it, profanity slips through his lips. “Shut the fuck up, Shinazugawa.” Obanai leans dangerously away from his branch, and he can feel Kaburamaru tightening around his neck. “You trying to insult derivatives, all because your own breath style is weak?”
A few seconds of stillness pass, before Sanemi’s face slowly breaks into a livid smile and popping veins. “You bitch,” He grinds his teeth. “You wanna say that again?”
Mitsuri appears crestfallen, and Shinobu’s expression grows increasingly annoyed. Sanemi is already prowling towards Obanai’s tree, and Gyomei looks ready to scold the two of them, before a gentle voice cuts through the air.
“Children, let’s be nice.”
Everyone freezes as Ubuyashiki walks onto his terrace, slowly sitting down into a comfortable position. His wife follows silently, with two of their children placed at each side of the entrance.
Quick. He’s here. Obanai jumps from his branch and in one movement, sweeps into a bow on the ground. From the corner of his eye, he can see his fellow pillars doing the same, with Mitsuri delayed just slightly. Obanai momentarily questions if she’s an airhead, but rips his attention away as soon as the thought crosses his mind. It’s unimportant.
“Please, keep your heads up.” Ubuyashiki laughs softly. “I hope we’ve all welcomed the Love Pillar warmly?”
Obanai can feel Sanemi’s glower, but he ignores him.
“She appears to be very sweet, but her abilities have yet to be observed.” Shinobu says, and Mitsuri looks down at the ground.
“I can attest to them.” Rengoku crosses his arms, grinning with confidence. “She’s a very strong individual.”
You’re probably just saying that because her style is derived from flames , Obanai thinks bitterly, but the irritation lasts only a few heartbeats. Rengoku has always been a genuine person—yes, that’s all. Obanai recalls how he didn’t catch Mitsuri 's presence, and his doubt begins to fade. Ice settles back in his stomach, the tips of his fingers, his chest.
The fact that he hadn’t realized his body heat up was terrifying.
“As you all are.” Ubuyashiki’s look is kind, and the meeting continues.
───── ☀ ─────
“Iguro-san.”
Obanai halts, one foot in front of the either. He knows that voice, just heard it not too long ago, the lilting kind that he can’t stand. Doesn’t want to hear.
Something uncomfortable worms it way into the pit of his stomach, between the cracks of ice in his chest, not burning, not painful. But it makes him uneasy, like the splits are growing the more the feelings digs into them. The numbness in his fingers legs fade away, and he begins to feel pins and needles.
“Iguro-san?”
Obanai breathes. “Kanroji, right?”
She smiles brightly, and Obanai feels the need to cringe away from it, lest he gets burned; “Yes!”
“Do you need something?”
Mitsuri pauses, and her grin grows sheepish. “Um…” She hesitates. “I just...Just… Just wanted to thank you! For standing up for me. I really appreciate it. Thank you, really.”
As Mitsuri trails off, the pins and needles spread, something is burning, or maybe not, he can’t tell, he shouldn’t be feeling so scared, this isn’t something he needs to be involved with, it’s not-
He takes another breath, and his limbs go numb again, and whether he’s breathing in smoke or frost, he can’t tell.
“It wasn’t for you.” Obanai says briskly. “I just don’t like the Wind Pillar.”
Mitsuri's smile falls again for the nth time, and something like hurt flashes in her tourmaline eyes as he walks away. If Obanai notices, he doesn’t care. And if Kaburamaru flicks his tongue as the snake pillar is walking away, Obanai pretends that the serpent is agreeing with him.
───── ☀ ─────
Obanai watches as leaves fall to the ground. Sometimes, he spends so long around the purple embrace of wisterias, that the idea of trees not lasting the entire year slip his mind. Red, orange, yellow, brown, he counts the falling colors one by one as a crisp breeze bites into him.
Kaburamaru curls in closer.
It’s only been a month since the last pillar meeting, and even longer since the last time he’s been assigned a mission with someone else. He can remember the lingering taste of trepidation as his crow screeched exactly that; “ Westwards, eliminate the demon horde with Pillar Kanroji! ”
He’s standing against the surrounding stone wall of her estate, and he doesn’t want to wait, doesn’t want to go, doesn’t want to see her. The violent colors marking autumn swirl around him, and Obanai considers leaving without her—
Suddenly, something warm, fire, the sun, wraps around his idle hands, and he can hear something crack in his ears.
“Iguro-san!” Mitsuri exclaims, her impeccable face pulling into a worried smile. “The weather is getting colder! Look, your hands are freezing, you should wear something war—”
Obanai couldn’t stop her, he didn’t see it coming, fissures are spreading in the glaciers, he can feel the ice cracking, the sudden temperature change—
Obanai tears his hand from Mitsuri’s grasp, and the swordswoman pauses. The thawing hurts, it really does, and he—
“Iguro-san?”
Where, when, has this happened before? Her tone, it was familiar. Obanai attempts to clear his throat, but his words still come out choked; “I’m fine, Kanroji. I am not bothered by the weather.”
He expects the same hurt from all those days ago, yet, Mitsuri beams. “Wow! That’s so cool, Iguro-san.”
Something in his face twitches, but relief pools into his head as the ice starts climbing back up, and his limbs go back to their normal numbness. “Not really,” He mutters, but Mitsuri is already fawning and flushed. He looks down at his own palms- no blush. And that’s fine, good, actually.
He flicks his eyes back to Mitsuri, who’s begun sweating. There isn’t another compliment, but Mitsuri's excitement has dissolved into nervousness, and she clutches at her face.
He coughs. “Shall we start going?”
“Y-yes, let’s.”
Once Mitsuri smiles, he looks away.
───── ☀ ─────
Obanai stands awkwardly at the entrance, unsure of what to do. Damp, dead leaves are stuck to the bottom of his sandals, but he’s not so inclined to take them off. He’s supposed to leave, not stay, so why was he even here—
Mitsuri pops her head back in from the corner of the hallway. “You haven’t come inside yet, Iguro-san?”
Ah, yes, that’s right. Passing by the Kanroji estate on his way to another mission, which frankly, he should be heading towards at this very moment. And yet, Mitsuri catches him no matter how fast he tries to go by, and asks him to stay.
Just a little bit. His hands clench with unease, and he can feel his lungs burn. The longer he stays, the more the frost melts, and then it’ll really burn.
“I’ll be there in a moment, Kanroji.” He hopes his voice is stable, even as his limbs prickle and scream. Slipping off his shoes, he takes a step forward, following the voice. Feeling the pain in the tips of his fingers, the sensation, all of it shouted at him to turn back, to stop, but he goes anyways.
Kaburamaru hisses quietly, and Obanai takes a look into the room where Mitsuri poked her head out.
It looks like a kitchen, and the pink-haired girl is doing something, but he can’t see with her body turned away.
“...Hello.”
She jumps, and then whips around, all smiles and sparkles. “Iguro-san! You surprised me.”
He thinks about apologizing, but it’s brief— a plate of something is shoved into his face before he can formulate the words. “Would you like to try some?”
He blinks, once, twice. “What is… This?”
It’s circular in shape, and appears soft and light brown, with fruit on top. A golden syrup is dripping over it, and he frowns behind his bandages.
Mitsuri raises a fork with her other hand, pointing at the food. “It’s a western style of dessert called pancakes!” She begins to ramble; “I love western foods, so I was super happy when I got my hands on this recipe! I added some honey to it, from the bees I raised, and I think it tastes really good, and I would love for you to try it—”
She pauses, before cherry-red stains her cheeks and she begins to sweat, all discolored with disappointment.
“Ah, Shinobu told me that you don’t like to eat with others… Your bandages and all that. I’m sorry, I forgot.”
That’s right, that’s right. He doesn’t, he should really get going, people are dying, what about his duties, the melting ice—
“It’s alright.” He whispers.
She pauses, for the second time, “C-come again?”
He doesn’t repeat himself; slowly, slowly, he reaches out for the fork. Carefully, doesn’t let their fingers meet, carefully, doesn’t show his lips, but he pulls the bandages down just far enough to be able to slip in a bite of the strange dessert.
There’s an explosion of overwhelming sweetness, and he almost gags from how foreign it is— but it’s also very soft, gentle, so much like the person who made it.
Mitsuri's free hand is clutching at her face, and she’s sweating even more. She looks embarrassed, and stutters, “H-how is it?”
He swallows thickly. “It’s good. You- you did a good job.”
She goes through every expression of shock at once, before bursting into a beautiful and toothy smile, laughing.
“I’m so glad you like it, Iguro-san!”
His stomach roils with discomfort, something foreign, and he frantically tries to put a stop to all the melting ice in his chest.
───── ☀ ─────
“Thank you so much, demon slayer.” The village head is bowing, and the townspeople behind him do the same. “You’ve saved us. How can we thank you?”
Obanai readjusts his bandages, which had gotten loose during the journey more than the battle. He wants to tell the villagers that what he did was nothing notable— after all, people still ended up dying. The demon was weak; Obanai was just too late to prevent casualties.
It was a failure on his part, to fully meet his duty, is what Obanai wants to say. But someone crosses his mind, and he vehemently tries shoves it down.
Despite his efforts, he says, “It is simply my job. But if you have knowledge on the western world, I will gladly take it.”
The village people begin to chatter, seemingly sorting out any information they had. Obanai only pays it half of his attention- he’s squinting at the sky, staring at something that looks like a distant leaf traveling the winds— but that would be near impossible, because the trees have long since gone bare, and the skies, harsher.
As it grows closer, he realizes it’s a crow, and he holds his arm out for it to land. It grips onto his limb with grace, and leans forward. He notices the letter around its neck, and pulls it off gently. It’s addressed to him, from Mitsuri.
An arrow of worry spears through him, and he hastily opens the letter.
Dear Iguro-san.
This is nothing urgent, but I was afraid of forgetting. I had a wonderful idea! Let’s start exchanging letters~ I think it’ll be a lot of fun. I’d love to tell you about my day, or what I’ve cooked, or the demons I’ve killed! I’ll be waiting to hear back from you.
- Your good friend, Mitsuri ♡
He stares at the paper, and doesn’t notice his grips growing in strength until the paper lets out a weak crumple. Freeze, he should be freezing, but right now, he can’t recover like this—
“I apologize, it’s not much,” the village head interrupts his thoughts. “But it seems one of us has a western cookbook, sold by a vagrant merchant.”
Kaburamaru flicks his tongue.
Obanai straightens out the paper, folds it neatly, and slips it into his haori. “No, that’s more than enough.”
───── ☀ ─────
Obanai glances at the menu, slipping into a seat. Over several letters, he and the Love Pillar organized a small meet-up between themselves, at a restaurant that Mitsuri said she loved.
He feels on edge, with all the customers around him. He could do his job just fine with onlookers, but eating was a different matter. It’s also suffocatingly warm inside the restaurant, feeling greasy against his icy skin.
Kaburamaru slithers down into the collar of his haori, and he can’t blame him.
He looks at the fireplace several tables away, silently wishing for the fire to relent just a little— but fortunately, he doesn't stay alone for long, because soon enough he hears a familiar voice.
“Iguro-san!” The voice exclaims, the last syllable drawn out.
Mitsuri jumps into his field of vision, in her typical flushed state. “I’m sorry for making you wait!”
Obanai waves it off. “It’s alright, I only just got here.”
“Ah, is that so?” She lets out a puff of air, before sitting down next to him. “That’s a relief! Have you ordered yet?’
He shakes his head, and she calls over a waiter and begins listing off a huge portion of food. Surprise bleeds into his head, but he makes no comment, and the waiter looks like she’s accustomed to it.
As they wait, they talk about meaningless things. The weather, colors, clothing, books they read recently, things they’ve seen as they traveled about. Obanai thinks it's okay— at least, with such simple small talk, he could focus on keeping his temperature as it is. Because if Mitsuri dug any deeper, any harder, he didn’t think his ice could resist shattering.
The food arrives, and Obanai slowly puts in less and less words as Mitsuri happily munches away. The bowls stack up, and the novelty of her massive appetite fades on Obanai. He simply listens to her directionless chatter, watches her smile, could feel Kaburamaru slip outside his collar and flick his tongue.
He doesn’t give a second look at the bowls of food Mitsuri spares for him, hasn’t even touched his cup of tea— he just rests his head on the back of his hand, and admires Misturi.
He blinks. Kaburamaru’s cold scales brush by his neck, and Obanai takes in a shaky breath. The uncomfortable feeling returns, it’s back to worsen the fractures until he breaks, until he melts. Until the safety of his numbness is overcome by pins and needles, until the blood begins rushing back to his skin, until he’s burning and no longer ice—
“Iguro-san.”
He stops for a moment, but he can still hear the distant cracking of glaciers in his ears. “Hm?”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you decide to become a demon slayer?”
Obanai’s distracted, it’s a distraction, thank god, but he can’t even say anything. It’s too soon. “The typical story.” He says. “Revenge; nothing new.”
Mitsuri nods, appearing slightly dissatisfied with his answer, but she quickly stuffs her face full of food again, and the disappointment disappears.
He can’t help it—The albino snake tightens, as if to discourage him, but he asks anyways. “What about you, Kanroji-san? Why did you pursue the path of a pillar?”
She gives him a wide-eyed look, like his question came as a surprise, and she takes a long sip of her tea before suddenly exploding into a blush.
“Well… It’s a bit of a silly reason.”
He says nothing, and it’s enough of a prompt, because Mitsuri continues.
“I want to get married. Is that weird? Girls like guys who are stronger, you know? But my body composition is all weird, and I eat so much, I scared away all my suitors… I had to hide who I was, but then I realized, the pillars are all super strong!” She puts down her chopsticks, and begins to clutch at her face. “I don’t have to hide who I am, because everyone’s even stronger, and extra cool!”
She continues gushing about the pillars, complimenting every single one of them, but Obanai can barely register it. Become a demon slayer, to… Get married ? Umbrage fills his limbs, pulling in the pieces of ice that broke apart, restoring the frost, making him go numb. What nonsense. A demon slayer should commit completely to their role— live to kill demons, to live for the execution of demonkind, to live to devote their entire being to that single purpose— not sacrificing such superficial desires is a sure cause for a weak demon slayer, because they have not dedicated themselves enough to take the risks—
But he looks past the glaze over his eyes, and Mitsuri's face is so bashful, soft, gentle, like looking at the incarnation of spring, and just entirely warm . And that warmth floods through him, breaking away all the ice, threatening to melt everything he is, to drown him.
And, when he opens his mouth to express his disapproval, he finds the words stuck in his throat, unable to rise past the surface of the foreign feeling.
“I don’t think that’s silly.” He chokes.
Mituri’s smile grows in size, and Obanai, sinking below dread in the face of his hypocrisy, wonders how he hasn’t burned away to nothing yet.
───── ☀ ─────
Obanai watches the ash of the dying demon swirl into the air alongside the flurries. A thin coat of snow covers the grass, and white speckles mix in with the remains of the demon. He could feel each flake of snow land on his face, melding with the coldness of his body.
The crying, lower-ranked demon slayer that they saved just now is sniffling on the ground, and whether it was from the snow or the fear, he couldn’t tell.
“Pathetic.” He gives the demon slayer a look of distaste, the click of his nichirin blade sliding back into its hilt echoing throughout the clearing. “It wasn’t even a strong demon.”
“They’re learning.” Rengoku, who was just across from him, looks at the demon slayer as well, with his regular smile and wide eyes.
“That’s not an excuse.” He readjusts his bandages, maintaining his cold gaze. “The new demon recruits are weak. They don’t know what it means to devote themselves to their duty.”
“I’ll teach them.”
“You can’t teach someone to let go of their desires. That’s something they have to discover on their own.”
Rengoku is staring at him now, his smile gone and replaced with something more neutral. Obanai stares back, and several seconds pass before the Snake Pillar decides it's about time they leave—
“You’re wrong.” Rengoku states matter-of-factly.
Obanai could feel his eyelid twitch, and annoyance makes a vein pop. Rengoku sure is brash, to say that to a senior’s face. “What?” He snaps.
“What it means to devote yourself to your duty.” Rengoku repeats. “You’re wrong, Iguro-san.”
Obanai can feel his muscles tense in growing irritation, and he wants to give the Flame Pillar a piece of his mind, but Rengoku keeps paving on.
“There’s nothing wrong with desires. It’s what drives us, as humans, shapes us to be who we are. I think it’s sad, to not have a desire. Desire serves as motivation, and our goal to kill demons is a desire. That’s what makes us so strong.”
Rengoku says this so firmly, so confidently, that Obanai feels deeply perturbed. He wonders if this is how Mitsuri feels; another crack, the cold is faltering, the flurries aren’t as comforting anymore—
He turns away as Rengoku helps the rookie demon slayer onto their feet.
───── ☀ ─────
The snow is up to his knees, storming around him, whipping against his face and hair. The wind howls with menace, and Kaburamaru is underneath his uniform, wrapped tightly around him.
“Bet he’s freezing!” A voice giggles.
“Yes!” Another one. “How stupid!”
He squints through the dense white surrounding his vision, and breathes in the cold. He’s numb, his chest filled with frost, ice in his veins. But the snow simply joins his own coldness, and he slowly raises his blade.
“Haha! He moved!”
“Thought he was ice by now!”
Deep breathes. The cold doesn’t bother him. Wait for the warmth—
Suddenly, he’s knocked back and flaming pain tears into his shoulder. He blinks rapidly, and he sees a flash of a spined figure through the snow.
“Yuck, yuck!”
“What?”
“He tastes like cold meat.”
He grimaces beneath his bandages, and regains his stance. The wind is annoying, but now he knows how these demons move.
“Cause he’s been freezing!”
“No, I mean he tastes like a body that’s been dead for days!”
“Well, then let’s just kill him.”
Another breath.
There.
He leaps forward, his blade cutting through something. He clicks his tongue as a scream rips through the air- the storm was inconvenient- it threw his aim off, and he knows from the screaming that he probably hit the chest rather than the neck.
He blinks away the snow clinging to his eyelashes, and he partially registers the demon in front of him. A long tail, thick claws and a back covered in heavy grey spines, stretching from it’s head to the tip of it’s lashing tail.
“How dare you!” It screeches, dark eyes wide with anger. It grips at the wound below its breastbone, but once it moves its hand, the wound is already healed. “You’re not even worth another bite.”
“Kill him!” The second voice screams.
Obanai takes a second stab, but the spined demon jumps backwards, and he misses. There’s a chattering sound, before he suddenly feels a cut at his cheek and arms. He drops to the ground, rolling out of the snow and leaping to the side as he feels more projectiles shoot past him.
The black-haired demon slayer squints through the snow storm, and he can make out spines stuck in the snow where he was just a few heartbeats ago. So that’s how it fights.
The spined demon laughs and rattles its back. “Scared now, huh!”
Obanai says nothing, and simply repositions his sword.
One more rattle, and then the spines are shot everywhere. “You can’t dodge this!” It screeches, delighted.
He breathes. One, two, three steps—
Second Form: Venom Fangs of the Narrow Head
—He can feel himself slipping through each spine, like a dance, a snake, a serpent. Before the demon even realizes, it’s head falls to the snow, and is already disintegrating wordlessly by the time the second demon screams.
“You snake!” It shrieks. “You evil, annoying snake!”
Obanai turns around, the crushing of snow beneath the second demon’s feet ringing in his ears. It’s a disgustingly bloated demon, with odd, fin like structures at its side and spikes lining its arms.
How easy.
The bloated demon lashes out at Obanai, but he effortlessly dodges, jumping up and above it’s head. He strikes out but fails as the demon raises its arm and deflects the blow with its spikes. They extend upwards, and Obanai has to twist midair to avoid them.
He lands with a grunt onto the snow, and before he can get back on his feet, the demon is on him, hands around his neck and snarling. “That’s what you get, you snake!” It spits.
The weight of the demon is heavy, crushing the air out of his body, and the demon begins to grin.
“You’re so cold, from the inside out,” It tightens its iron hold. “I can tell, just by touching you!”
Less and less air reaches to his body, the grip is growing stronger, the demon’s grin is wider, continuing to scream useless things, and the storm continues, uncaring—“Shut the hell up.” Obanai squeezes out, his breath scratchy.
The demon halts, a flash of confusion passing on its face, before its head slips off. “How?!” it squawks. “How, how, how?!”
Obanai coughs, his breaths coming out in wheezes, but he still gives the demon a condescending look. “A serpent can’t get held down by such weakly things as yourself.”
The demon finally quiets down, and Obanai sits up and closes his eyes, thank god it was dead, it’s screaming was so annoying—
“It’s fine.” It mutters. Obanai snaps his eyes open, and the demon has a gleeful expression. “No one can like you anyways, you’re frozen.”
Anger fills his veins, he should know better than to get riled by a low-ranking demon, he shouldn’t care so much in the first place, and the snowstorm is already blowing it’s ashes away but how dare it speak as if it knew him—
He stands up, but dizziness hits him like a boulder, and darkness begins to eat at his vision. He fumes, silently, as he slowly slips into unconsciousness and the demon’s hysterical laughter drifts away.
───── ☀ ─────
His eyes snap open, his hand reaching for his blade—oh,
He blinks once, twice, and all the tension and anger in his limbs relax. He’s in the Butterfly estate’s infirmary. He’s relieved to see Kaburamaru curled up on top of his chest, and he begins to look around.
At the table, he spots Shinobu writing something down. He thinks about calling out to her, but as he expects, she turns around without him saying anything.
“Awake, are we?” She’s wearing her normal, serene smile.
Obanai nods slightly, and he slowly sits up. Pain shoots through the shoulder where the demon bit, but it’s dull. “How long was I out for?”
“Only a day.” Shinobu writes something else down, before giving him a look with raised eyebrows. “You need to be more careful. Just because you’re not bothered by the cold, does not mean you aren’t .”
Obanai looks away, and simply lets out a grunt in acknowledgement. A few more minutes pass, and just when he’s wondering when she’ll leave, the Insect Pillar gathers her papers and stands up. “Iguro-san,” She stops as she’s about to pass his bed.
Obanai looks at her for a second longer, before responding. “What?”
“Do you know what ‘cold feet’ means?”
He narrows his eyes. “No.”
“It’s a western saying that Mitsuri taught me. It means to be stopped due to your own fear.” Shinobu smiles, and Obanai can feel a variety of emotions boiling about, burning, with indignation at the forefront.
Before he can ask her why, why she would tell him such a thing, she’s already gone, her butterfly haori flowing behind her as she exits the infirmary.
He stares in her wake with disbelief, but soon, discomfort and unease worm their way and settle next to the ice. He tries to breathe hot air onto his hands, but they remain as cold as ever, and that’s a comfort— he half expected them to relapse into pins and needles, with how up and down his numbness has been lately,
Anxiety turns into anger, and he can feel the frost solidifying, until he was just that. Desire to be liked? How stupid. Desire is strength? Rengoku is the wrong one. It’s weakening him, changing him, a distraction. He’s fine as is— being cold , is fine.
And he thinks this, furiously, over the next few hours, all the way until Mitsuri comes. She barges in, braids a mess, like she came straight from finishing a mission.
“Iguro-san!” She wails, and throws herself at the head of the bed. “I got so worried when I didn’t get a letter from you in over a week!”
Obanai says nothing as Mitsuri continues to ramble on about her worry, which eventually trickled off into what her mission was—and all the while, anger simmers behind Obanai’s mouth, and for no real reason that he could pinpoint. He wanted to shout, ask why she had to change him, why she was affecting him in this way, how could she—
“Kanroji”
She was in the middle of talking about some kind of candy that the village children gave her, when she perks up at her name. “Yes?”
“I have a question.”
“What is it?”
Obanai thinks, simmering, growing tired. “There’s this acquaintance I have… He met someone, that completely flips his beliefs on things. He can’t say anything against her, and there’s this weird feeling he gets…”
So Obanai tells her everything. Under the guise of an acquaintance that never existed in the first place, getting in so deep that he begins to care less about her figuring out the truth, and more about how she’ll react, if she’ll care at all, if talking helps at all, and if there’s any hope for him left, to remain as cold as he’s been.
Mitsuri thinks for a long time, her eyebrows scrunched up and concentrated. Her cheeks are blushed, and she taps one with a finger. Obanai waits, holding his breath. He doesn’t want to be told that he’s wrong, horrible, anything.
“Well, isn’t that just love?”
Obanai stares at her, and she stares back. A few more seconds pass before she starts waving her hands and blushes excessively. Sweating and with a trembling voice, she exclaims, “D-don’t give me that look!”
He does anyways, and she frantically begins to explain. “Well, love can change even the most stubborn people, you know? He adores that person enough to let them influence them, for the better. He just wants to see the other person happy, and consequently, he ended up learning new things about himself. It’s hard to describe, but I think your friend is scared because he’s not used to those kinds of feelings. Like, he has unreasonable ideas of what would happen, but you should tell him that he doesn’t need to completely flip who he is as a person to love whoever! It’s supposed to be mutually beneficial, that’s just want love is.”
Mitsuri hesitates, and then adds, “Well, that’s what all my love stories tell me. But still!”
Obanai observes the Love Pillar silently, and it’s like the light of the sun suddenly hits just right, or he’s just been blind, because she’s just so beautiful , and he understands.
His face, unused to such an action, tugs into the faintest of smiles. The ice melts away, all of it, and even if it’s not forever, Mitsuri doesn’t burn. She’s warm, and he takes it all.
“Thanks, Kanroji.”
Even if Mitsuri couldn’t see his smile, she does the same, and Obanai feels even warmer.
───── ☀ ─────
It’s spring, the flowers are blooming, and Obanai is doing okay- it’s love, so he’ll accept her warmth. It’s love, he doesn’t need to change who he is, but influence is alright.
Mitsuri is away in the distance, gushing over the flora—the ice is still there, but now Mitsuri's warmth is, too. So, Obanai was alright.
He’ll wait as long as necessary. There isn’t any rush, and he’s still dedicated as ever to killing as many demons as possible—that much hasn’t changed. But he knows now, as loyal as he is to the Demon Slaying Corps, he could spare some of that devotion to Mitsuri .
He loves her. And he’ll wait until she can say the same for him.
fin.