Chapter Text
I never give myself the time to heal
I bury all my flaws and failures so it won't feel real
Don't wanna think about what I regret
But now I think that I'm too deep, I'm in over my head
I admit I'm a mess, nothing's picture-perfect
I confess, I've misled, thought it'd all be worth it
But now I see that I've been holding back
The things that I should've felt all along
I wanna feel the slow burn
Make sure I feel everything
'Cause I'll never learn
If I don't face myself and finally let it hurt
No matter what's killing me
I stay numb to everything
I wanna feel the slow burn
—Slow Burn- Wage War
The hardest part of being a Kakushi, at least for someone like you—and a lot of people are probably like you—is not the rigorous hours of scraping bodies off the blood-stained battlefields. It is not the missions spent into the sunrise of the next day. It isn’t the boorish paperwork that must be completed afterward, and it certainly isn’t the relief you see in the eyes of those you rescued. No, the hardest part is knowing that every corpse you load into body bags had a life and, more importantly, a name. They had dreams and aspirations, and family members who would miss them. The worst part was that it was difficult not to make connections with them when a good portion of your job had you assisting the swordsmen(and women) in recovering from their incredibly taxing and often lethal missions. The worst part was arriving on the scene of an all-out massacre and finding the person you spent months getting to know was dead. Every time, you’d tell yourself, “never again.” You didn’t want to waste your time making friends with people who were going to die tragically young. But again and again, you broke your pledge, unable to keep yourself at a distance for too long.
When you were called to the crash site of the Mugen Train, a deep-seated fear that you held onto for a long time resurfaced with its teeth gnashing at your throat. As a Kakushi, it’s your job to remain calm and collected even when faced with horrific sights. You had been on plenty enough jobs during your three years of experience to know how to swallow your grief. The Mugen Train counted just one casualty among the many injured: Kyojuro Rengoku. A Hashira fell to a demon’s violence. On your off-days, you had visited the graveyard home to hundreds of lives lost on duty, including those of former Hashira. But those deaths never felt as close to you as when you saw the puddle of blood underneath Kyojuro’s knees and his limp body bathed in the morning sunlight. His hair was still as bright as ever before, his face just as soft and kind as you remembered just a week before when the two of you were having udon together.
You finally grasped the fear that had been dormant at the bottom-most chambers of your heart: that no matter how hard you train or how badly you wanted to fight to protect your loved ones, nothing would stop a ruthless demon from bringing it all to an end. You never fully understood that fear. You never knew where it originated. But being confronted with the reality that the man who practically raised you had died, you were forced to understand.
Of course, you knew the threat of Kyojuro dying was always there. Your job reminded you of it on a day-to-day basis and you always made him promise he wouldn’t go dying on you. But you never truly attached the deaths of other Hashira to him. You thought that death could never touch him because he was a Hashira despite that title having been proven worthless to you as you buried the bodies of countless others. You mourned the tragedy of those deaths. But after living through hours of watching Kyojuro train until his palms had blisters, watching Shinjuro berate him just for him to keep that smile he always wore on his face, watching the pride in his eyes when he was finally promoted to Hashira ranking, you finally understood the magnitude of the threat the world was facing. You understood that even someone as strong as Kyojuro, who held such respectable convictions, was like a foundation built on sand. And you, a Kakushi, were no more than an architect attempting over and over to rebuild these broken foundations until the day they would inevitably crumble into irreparable dust.
You damned the shroud over your head when you saw him and realized that you were going to have to carry him home. You thought, ‘at least there’s a body to bring back,’ a somber one and no less awful. You stifled the tears begging at your eyes as you approached the weeping fledglings who were battered and broken down. You needed to be strong for them so that they had the strength to stand up again and move forward. The poor things had probably never felt such disappointment before. That’s all most Mizunoto can feel when they watch a higher-up fall before them, and it’s usually the point when most quit trying to go on. One, in particular, seemed to cry the hardest; a boy in a checkered haori.
You were going to try and assess him to avoid having to carry Kyojuro’s body, but one of your comrades reached him first and he was swept away from you. Your eyes searched for the other two boys that were with him, only to find that each of them was already being tended to. Then, your gaze found the wreckage lying beside the train tracks and you were going to decide to go help out there if it weren’t for another of your comrades speaking to you, snatching away your chance. In his defense, it would probably strike people as odd if you just walked up to Kyojuro, did nothing, and then walked away to go help elsewhere without being told to.
“Hey, can you help? He’s heavy,” the other Kakushi said over the boys who spoke to your comrades through wracking sobs. His arms were hooked beneath Kyojuro’s in an attempt to hoist him up. This was just another job for him, not unlike ones where you had to carry away the corpses of other Hashira. But his words stung you nonetheless.
Kyojuro’s head was limp, fallen between his shoulders, blood dripping from the gaping wound in his stomach that you had only just now seen. You were trying to avoid assessing his injuries and what had killed him, distracting yourself with literally anything else. But it must’ve come off as negligent on your part. All you’d seen before was blood. Blood, lots of blood.
Your lip trembled, and you thanked your shroud for shielding it from your comrade’s view but cursed it again when the tears finally came rushing out of your eyes like faucets down your hot cheeks. Still, you managed not to add any sobs to the racket coming from the boys just a few feet away. You couldn’t blame them, of course. You wished you could be there joining them, not having to work despite the overwhelming weight crushing your chest.
A soft, hoarse, “sorry,” was all you could manage before you came around to Kyojuro’s front, forced to look at his face as you lifted his legs into your arms.
Suddenly, you wished you’d taken action first so you wouldn’t have to stare at the unfamiliar guilt lunging at you from the tranquil look painted on Kyojuro’s face. At that moment, you weren’t sure where exactly that guilt was coming from until three days later when you’d returned to the Butterfly Mansion after the funeral at Shinobu’s request. Apparently, they were a bit short-staffed and she figured you might appreciate the busy work as opposed to heading off to another rescue mission where there would doubtless be more death awaiting you.
Unlike most of your comrades, the majority of Hashira knew your connection to Kyojuro or at the very least knew you were acquainted. Of course, it was much deeper than that and if they didn’t know before, they certainly knew now after the way you cried at his service.
Of the rest of them, Shinobu and Uzui knew best what your bond with Kyojuro entailed, how he practically raised you starting at age 9 until you decided that the path he followed would not be the same as yours.
Shinobu had come to join you as you sat out on the veranda. The three injured Demon Slayers who she had taken in were all tended to for the morning before you arrived in the afternoon and as strict as she could sometimes be, Shinobu didn’t mind you resting during the downtime. It was quiet for a long time which was odd for the Insect Pillar as she liked to fill the silence with chatter and teasing. But you could sense her mood was different and it made sense. The downtrodden air among the Hashira would surely linger for a while until the grief blew over and everyone moved on.
“I’m hoping things are well with you,” she finally said. “I worry about you, believe it or not.” Your relationship with Shinobu was odd, to say the least. You never knew when to call her a friend or when to call her your senior (oddly enough considering she was only 18.) But right now, you felt comfortable referring to her as your friend as she seemed to regard you in a familiar way.
“The past few days have been difficult. But I’ve been getting by,” you replied. You assumed it wouldn’t do anyone any good to pretend everything was fine. It wasn’t. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t downplay it a little.
Shinobu nodded in response. “I think the same could be said of all of us,” she said. “I told Uzui that you’d be here the next few weeks helping the boys rehabilitate. He wants to see you tomorrow since you didn’t speak much at the funeral.”
You hid the slight disdain on your face that crept in when she said that. You just didn’t know what he was going to say to you, which was the exact reason you had avoided him during the service and escaped before he could stop you. You weren’t sure he had the ability to give chase to your aversion at the time. But now he was coming specifically to see you and you dreaded the inevitable conversation.
Back when you abandoned the prospect of being Kyojuro’s Tsuguko, Uzui made his disappointment well-known to you. He believed in your potential and he wanted to watch you go on to do greater things all while ignoring the very real fears that festered inside.
“I see,” you answered dismissively and hoped to change the subject from there but Shinobu picked up on your mundane attitude.
“I thought you might want to see him,” she pressed with a tight-lipped smile.
You finally gave in as you looked out at the blooming courtyard with a tentative sigh. “It’s not that I don’t want to see him. It’s just…” you trailed off, trying to figure out a way to word it. “I guess I’m just nervous about what he’ll say. Uzui can be…overbearing sometimes,” you went on.
Shinobu tutted her teeth and waved her hand. “Oh, (Y/n),” she chided. “You know how much he cares about you. He watched you grow up just the same as Rengoku did,” she said.
You hung your head a bit at her response. She was right and you knew it. But still, there was an urge to argue with her. “You know how he acted when I became a Kakushi, right? I’m sure it got around to you,” you replied.
“Of course I do. But he only said those things because he cares. He doesn’t resent you, and he certainly doesn’t blame you for Kyojuro’s death.”
That was another fear floating around in the back of your mind: that Uzui was going to blame you; to somehow connect the twisted logic that if you’d become a Slayer, you could have protected him. Or maybe you were just projecting your guilt onto Uzui. But of course, you didn’t rationalize that in your head, and Shinobu’s mentioning of it only made you dread Uzui’s visit even more.
Shinobu could tell by the look in your eyes that you didn’t believe her. So, she sighed. “You’ll see. It’ll all be fine,” she assured you and then patted her thighs before standing up. “Hashibira will need his afternoon medication soon,” she added as she rounded the corner of the veranda, heading off to wherever else she was needed.
Hashibira. You believe that was the boar-headed boy who had been crying and wailing so loud in his husky voice, trying to calm his grieving comrades. You’d read the copies of their charts before arriving at the mansion. The boy had come down with an infection in one of his wounds that required ointment and antibiotics three times a day as it seemed to be quite aggressive.
The Kakushi who had been looking after him before your arrival had warned you, saying that the boy was stubborn when it came to taking medicine and sitting still long enough for you to apply the ointment. But you’d dealt with mulish patients before so you assured her that it was nothing you couldn’t handle.
You changed your mind about that once you arrived in his room where he lay in bed alongside the other two boys. You stated your business as usual before attempting to apply the ointment when the thrashing began.
“Get that crap away from me! I keep telling you people I don’t need it!” he howled.
“Inosuke, keep it down, Zenitsu’s trying to sleep,” one of the other boys said. You didn’t take your eyes off of Inosuke to see which of them it was. But it sounded like the boy on the far side of the room, the one with deep red hair and a scar on his forehead.
“That dolt’s been sleeping all afternoon. There’s no way I’m letting you put that on me!” Inosuke blabbered on. “Last time they did it was the last time!”
“I’ll hold you down if I have to,” you threatened nonchalantly, causing the boy to shoot right up where he was sitting while crossing his arms in defiance.
He pointed his finger directly at you. “I’d like to see you try and pin me down! In fact, why don’t we settle this right now!”
Inosuke lunged at you with a fully-stanced attack but you were unfazed by him and quickly redirected him straight to the floor.
You heard a gasp from the other boy who was awake in the room who sprang out of bed and to the floor. “What are you doing, you idiot! You could have hurt the doctor!” he yelled at the other. Just as swiftly, he turned on his heel and bowed his head in your direction, ignoring the pain in his stomach as he made the jolting movement. Meanwhile, Inosuke groaned on the floor as he just laid where you threw him. “I’m so sorry, please forgive him,” he apologized. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” you answered. “Lift your head. You shouldn’t be moving like that right now. You’re the one with the stab wound, right? You don’t want to reopen something like that,” you told the boy who only nodded.
“My name is Kamado, by the way, Tanjiro,” he said, taking his place back in bed, this time sitting up, whereas he had been propped on a pillow before.
You really should have known his name. Not just for the fact that he would be your patient for however long he and his friends were there, but also for the fact that he was apparently the one who had somehow convinced the master to allow a demon amongst them. You couldn’t remember the names of every person you had ever treated, but this one was sure to stick, as you’d heard it in passing several times within the last few months.
“Right, Kamado. I’m (L/n) (F/n),” you answered as you began helping Inosuke off the floor. With that, he allowed you to apply the ointment to his wound after unwrapping it as if you’d crossed some sort of rite of passage that enabled you to touch him and administer his oral medication.
You felt Kamado’s eyes watching you from across the room like he wanted to say something, and when you put the blankets back over Inosuke’s body after replacing his bandages, you turned around toward him. You didn’t have to look at him very long before he finally spoke up. “That was some move from before. A lot of people wouldn’t have expected Inosuke to lunge like that,” he commended with a smile.
“It was nothing,” you said dismissively. “I’m used to patients like that.” That was only half a lie. While you had dealt with patients that didn’t want to follow their recovery protocol, you’d never dealt with one that tried to attack you. Usually, they respected your rank enough to eventually do as told if they wanted to get back to fighting. It seemed that even after three years your training had stuck with you if only a little.
“I thought it was impressive,” Kamado answered, maintaining the smile on his lips and even allowing it to spread.
You cleared your throat and walked to the end of his bed, checking his chart to try and divert the subject. “Well, it looks like your bandages don’t need to be changed for another few hours,” you said after skimming the contents of the paper. You placed the clipboard back in the bin before making your way to the end of the sleeping blond boy’s bed to check his chart. His injuries appeared to be pretty minor and the only instructions were to give him pain medicine as needed. Once you put his chart away, you looked toward Kamado again. “Is there anything else you need before I go?” you asked.
“That’s all right, but thank you,” he answered.
Your eyes creased upward behind your shroud to let the boy know you were returning his smile. He was kind, and irksomely so. It was the sort of kindness that reminded you of Kyojuro where no matter what you did or said, he would find a way to look at it positively.
“I’ll be going then,” you replied, excusing yourself from the room. Kamado’s eyes never left you until you were in the doorway. When you turned to slide shut the shoji door, your eyes flicked up for a brief moment to watch his head turn toward his lap and his smile fade. The door shut in your face—shocking you as if you hadn’t been the one that did it—before you could comprehend what you just saw. It took standing awkwardly in front of the door to fully understand.
That’s right. He was the boy with the checkered haori, the one who had been knelt in front of Kyojuro as he sobbed through incomprehensible words. That was likely because you were blocking everything out for the most part.
You spent the next hour or so pacing the veranda outside, taking in the sights. By the twentieth lap around the mansion, you had memorized the patterns of decorative flowers and shrubbery that lined the walkways and ponds. You had been observing the gardeners as they tended to the plants, monitoring their progress as though it were your job. You had hoped that walking around in the fresh air would help keep your mind clear, but you could only spend so long distracting yourself before your thoughts began to wander off into places you’d rather they didn’t. You didn’t want to think about Uzui’s visit the following day. You couldn’t help stressing what he would say to you and you didn’t want to think he would be the type of person to blame you for what happened, but your mind was treading in that direction. Instead of allowing it to have its way, you went off to try and busy yourself with something else until you had to take care of your patients again.
You decided to head into the kitchen to help Aoi prepare lunch. She was making bento boxes for the patients and staff, chopping sashimi to go with the garnishments she had already set up.
Aoi turned her head toward the door upon hearing it open and inspected the eyes behind your shroud before smiling. “Oh, hey, it’s you, (L/n),” she said before going back to chopping the fish.
“Hey, how are you?” you asked her as you walked up to the counter to help, taking a glance at the recipe she was following. “I came to help out. Those three aren’t the neediest bunch I’ve ever met,” you added.
“I’m good, thanks. And be my guest,” the girl replied and then glanced over at you. “They’ve been here before. They’re usually not too needy but they like to cause trouble, more so Zenitsu and Inosuke while Tanjiro has to apologize for them. It can get annoying,” the girl complained. “Make sure Inosuke gets extra onigiri and sashimi in his. If you don’t he’ll get out of bed for more within two minutes.”
“Will do,” you answered as you finished up the rice balls, wrapping them in the nori laid out beside the bowl of rice. You zoned out as the hand movements became repetitive, retreating into your mind as you thought about that boy, Kamado. You wondered if Aoi's regard for the kind boy you met was due to the demon he was traveling with, but she tended to be a bit sour toward others, to begin with. “By the way, about that guy, Kamado,” you said, unable to stow your curiosity. “Is he really traveling with a demon? I didn’t see it in the room with them.”
Aoi grunted, rolling her eyes as she began to place the sashimi carefully in one section of the bento boxes. “Yes, he is. The whole situation is pretty annoying. You must’ve heard all about it by now though, right?” she asked.
“No, actually. The first I’d heard of it was from Kyojuro and occasionally the other Hashira talk about it, but the details haven’t exactly been clear,” you answered as you finished with the onigiri and began to arrange them.
“It’s his sister. Kibutsuji slaughtered his whole family and she was all that was left so he’s been trying to find a way to turn her human again. She’s never eaten a human before, according to Master Ubuyashiki,” Aoi explained, and your head swung toward her, eyes wide.
“Really?” you asked rhetorically. “That’s terrible. His family being murdered, I mean.” You wanted to say more. You found his perseverance admirable. He had more drive than you did, even after losing so much in the face of demons.
“Yeah. But honestly, I think he’s pretty naïve for thinking he can turn a demon back into a human,” Aoi responded as she began to stack up the bento boxes on a cart to bring them over to the room along with a kettle of tea and some cups. “Thanks for your help,” she said.
“Actually, Aoi, don’t worry, I can bring them,” you interjected before she could get too far. She stopped in her tracks before they could start and swiveled toward you. “I’ve got to check in on them anyway, so it’s no trouble.”
You watched as a flash of disappointment crossed the other girl’s features and you questioned it silently for only a split second before the confusion faded away, conversation taking its place. “Makes no difference to me,” she said, handing off the cart to you.
“It was good talking with you, see you later.” And with that, you headed off to see your patients. On your way, you stopped by a supply closet to grab some bandages and medical tape, remembering that you’d have to change Tanjiro’s wound dressings. You placed the supplies on the cart and continued down the hallway.
As you rounded the corner to the hallway where their room was stationed, the sounds of loud, pained groans found their way to your ears and your eyes got wide. You picked up your pace, rushing toward the room, simultaneously trying not to tip the cart you were pushing. Had you spent longer walking around the mansion than you thought? You were sure you didn’t need to make your rounds again until after their lunch.
“I’m coming in!” you announced in a fray as you slid open the shoji door. You let go of the cart and rushed to the bedside of the boy who the cries were coming from. It was the blond one who had been sleeping earlier. You could finally make out what he was saying in the midst of all his moaning.
“Oh, god! Kill me now, it hurts so bad!” he yowled, holding his side while his face was bunched up in pain.
“Quit your whining, all you got is a few bruises!” Inosuke scolded from the bed beside his. When he saw you come in with bento boxes, he perked up. “Is that food?” he asked, immediately distracted from the distressed boy.
Ignoring him, you rushed to the blond’s side and flipped him onto his back. Quickly, you popped all the buttons on his pajamas and moved away his hands as he groaned and fussed. The bruise on his side looked pretty bad from what you could see. You began to palpate the area to check for severe swelling. There was a little, nothing to be alarmed for. “I’ll get your medication, okay? I’ll be right back,” you said and hurried out of the room.
You returned with the boy’s medicine and poured him some tea to wash it down. When he sat up and took it, he began to calm down as the hot tea went through his system. “You’ll be all right now,” you assured him.
“Ehh, he’s just a big crybaby, you didn’t have to go rushing around like that,” Inosuke snorted. “When can we have our food, I’m starving!” he exclaimed.
“I’m not a crybaby. It really hurt!” the blond replied.
“I don’t see you whining now. Medicine doesn’t work that fast,” Inosuke pointed out.
You laughed under the blond’s stammering response. “Just a moment, I’ll get it now,” you said in reply to Inosuke’s question and began to set up the bedside trays. When you got to Tanjiro’s bed, you noticed that he had been sleeping this whole time. “He must be a hard sleeper,” you muttered aloud, capturing the blond boy’s attention.
“I think he’s just gotten used to us being loud,” he said.
You reached down toward Tanjiro’s shoulder to shake him awake, but you stopped before you could when you noticed some tear tracks across the bridge of his nose that had slipped from his eye. It looked like there was also a small puddle of tears that had soaked into the pillowcase beneath the other side of his face where his head rested. Your eyes softened at the sleeping boy, and you shook him a little more gently than you had originally intended. “Kamado?” you said to him.
His eyes fluttered open surprisingly after just a few shakes, even after he’d just slept through all of that chaos. He quickly realized what was happening and his hand flew up from underneath his blanket, shielding his face with his baggy sleeve. He tried to be discreet as he wiped his tears, but you noticed anyway. “I’m sorry, I guess I fell asleep,” he said groggily before sitting up and lifting his eyes, which were now a little red, in your direction.
You shifted your gaze toward the cart near the doorway and away from him. “It’s all right. Lunch is here,” you said and departed his bedside to serve the others their food. You started with Inosuke since he seemed the most hungry out of the others. You placed the bento box with the extra food inside on top of his bedside tray and poured him some tea. He practically ripped the dingy boar mask off his head to dig in.
Your eyes widened when you saw the face underneath was fair and unapologetically striking. It certainly didn’t match the boy’s voice or demeanor. You tried not to make it obvious you were so shocked and cleared your throat as you turned around to the blond boy’s bed to serve him next. You set down his bento box, but before you could take away your hand, he grabbed yours. “You have nice eyes,” he said. This time, you couldn’t hide your surprise as you reared your head and your eyes got wide again. “You know, I’ve always wondered what some of the Kakushi look like behind those masks. Leaves a lot to the imagination.” Was he…flirting with you? You didn’t know how to feel about it.
Tanjiro grunted from the other bed, his own eyes getting wide as his attention turned toward the blond. “Zenitsu, you can’t just say things like that!” he exclaimed, once again so quick to jump in and cover for his impenitent friends.
“What? I’m just being nice,” the boy who Tanjiro called “Zenitsu” replied.
“Being blunt like that can make people uncomfortable, you know. I thought you might know that by now,” Tanjiro said as you subtly slipped your hand from Zenitsu’s so you could pour more tea into the half-filled cup you’d given him before to take his medication.
“I’m just getting to the point. I don’t like beating around the bush,” he said. He then gave Tanjiro a sly look and smirked. “You’re just jealous because you could never be that blunt,” he crooned. You hid the grin you’d cracked behind your mask as Zenitsu went for such a low blow.
“I can be blunt!” Tanjiro shot back as you wheeled your cart over to his bedside.
“No worries, Kamado. It’s all right,” you said to try and calm the boy. You really didn’t want him to strain too hard and open that wound of his.
“Um, you can call me Tanjiro, by the way,” he said as his eyes flicked toward you, his face softening after being reassured. “I’m sorry about him,” he added with a little hint of bashfulness in the smile he flashed you.
“You don’t have to keep apologizing for them, you know,” you said to the boy.
Before you could even reach for the last bento box, Tanjiro spoke up.
“Actually, would it be all right if you saved that for later? Or if it’s too much to ask, Inosuke can have it. I don’t really have an appetite right now,” he said. This was another thing you were used to with patients who had come back from missions that resulted in the loss of their comrades: the picky eaters.
Tanjiro’s words caused both Zenitsu and Inosuke to crane their heads toward the two of you. Inosuke’s interest had clearly been piqued. With grains of rice all around his mouth, he looked ready for more.
“Tanjiro, you’ve been saying that the past two days, you have to eat something to get your strength back,” Zenitsu said.
Tanjiro looked at you shamefaced as his friend called him out, like a child that just broke something expensive. He hadn’t expected Zenitsu to say anything about it. His head turned toward his friend. “That’s not true, I ate some of my breakfast this morning,” the redhead protested. But you knew that could very well have been a lie.
“It’s all right, but you should at least drink some tea to build up your energy,” you said and offered an empty cup on top of the bedside table, wheeling the tray to the side. Tanjiro closed his lips that had once been parted, ready for more protest. He looked down at the cup, nodding in compliance before you began to pour the tea. He took the cup into his hand and watched the steam drift out the top as it rested in his lap.
“Thank you,” he murmured, not meeting your gaze.
“You’re welcome,” you replied and lifted your head as you noticed the noisy boy across the room was nearly finished with his food by now. Aoi was right, and despite her best efforts to keep him from asking for seconds, he wasn’t showing any signs of stopping his starved rampage even toward the tail-end of his meal. To avoid having to get him more right away, you looked down at Tanjiro who was blowing on his tea to cool it a bit.
“If you don’t mind, I have to change your bandages now,” you said to him, making Zenitsu wish he had some kind of horrible wound that required bandages.
“Of course,” Tanjiro responded and set the teacup aside, sitting up fully from the pillow he had propped up, and removed his blanket for you to do your job. You began to undo the buttons on Tanjiro’s shirt, much gentler than how you’d handled Zenitsu earlier. You were oblivious as said blond boy was staring aghast while you unraveled the bloodstained bandages wrapped around Tanjiro’s midsection. He stood still compliantly as you examined the progress of the wound, ensuring you didn’t touch anywhere near it.
“It looks to be healing nicely. You should heal in no time,” you assured the boy as you pulled the medical supplies off the nearby cart.
“I’ve been as careful as I can and using Total Concentration Constant to speed up healing,” the boy replied, almost as if waiting for a little praise from you.
Boys could be such dogs, you swore, always competing for attention. You decided to give in a little. “You know that technique already?” you asked, glancing at him as you began to rewrap his torso.
“I mastered it a little while ago,” Tanjiro answered.
“Impressive,” you said, placing medical tape over the loose end of the bandage after tying it securely against him.
Tanjiro’s hand slipped up to the nape of his neck and he rubbed at it as his head turned away from you. “You think so?” he asked in a soft voice as if those innocent eyes would break at a hint of doubt. You remained unaware of the fact that Zenitsu was currently glaring daggers at Tanjiro out of sight.
“Of course,” you answered, even offering an assuring smile, your eyes creasing upward. “It took me four months to master it.” You meant for this to further boost the boy’s confidence. But in incident, you managed to expose the fact that you had once wielded a sword. Your words turned all the heads in the room.
“You were training to become a Demon Slayer?” Zenitsu asked from behind you, causing you to swivel in his direction.
You began to stammer, trying to formulate some sort of response that would prevent you from having to explain or perhaps convince them they’d misheard you. But it took too long, and there was nothing you could think to say to avoid the subject. “Well…yes. I was—but I decided to become a Kakushi instead,” you finally answered, starting to hurriedly gather up your things.
Tanjiro was just staring at you, his vacant hawthorn eyes boring through you as if you just committed a crime. In reality, that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, Tanjiro was curious but wasn’t sure if he should voice his curiosity. Inosuke piped up before Tanjiro could put it nicely, having set aside his empty bento box. “Why would you want to do that? Sounds like taking the easy way out, if you ask me,” he grumbled.
“Inosuke!” Tanjiro retorted. “I’m sure (L/n) has reasons for not wanting to become a Demon Slayer. It’s not taking the easy way out,” he corrected and then shifted his gaze toward you. “Don’t listen to him. Helping out in the field in any way is really brave of you.”
Despite the boy’s kind words, you only nodded along as you finished cleaning up and set his bento box on the side table. “Here, if you get hungry later, you can have this,” you said and then walked toward the door, bowing your head. “Just yell if you need anything,” you added before leaving the room.
Inosuke would surely get a mouthful from Tanjiro after that. In fact, as you walked down the hall, wheeling along your cart, you could already hear his voice distantly chastising him.
You thought this job was going to be easy. You had no idea how difficult living with Kyojuro’s loss was going to be. The universe hadn’t given you the time to prepare. Or maybe it had, but you were too blinded by his strength to know when to start. You weren’t sure how much more you could take of this cycle of caring for these three boys just to be left alone with your thoughts right after. Thankfully, you weren’t left alone for long. As you were putting away the supplies you had used, Aoi walked up beside you.
“Hey, lunch is ready in the dining hall if you wanna join the rest of us. Kanao is there too,” she said.
You shut the closet door and turned toward Aoi. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to join you?” you asked in a low voice. Normally it wasn’t customary for Kakushi, servants, and slayers to eat together. But there was always an exception for you in the Butterfly Mansion.
Even after eating at the table with them countless times before, you felt the need to ask. Inosuke’s comment had left a pressing feeling inside of you like a heavy sword straight through the heart.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Aoi asked, rightfully confused as you’d never sounded so timid in this regard before.
All you could do was stare back at Aoi as you tried to rationalize every possible response in your head but you couldn’t in the end. “I don’t know,” you finally said. “Just asking, I guess.”
“Well, of course, it’s okay. Come on, let’s head over now while it’s still fresh,” she said, leading you along.
You went quietly to the dining hall where Kanao and the young assistants were waiting. When you entered, Kanao’s empty expression lifted toward you. You and Kanao had been friends since just a bit before she passed her final selection. Though she didn’t talk much, she was good company, especially when you didn’t want to talk to anyone and just needed someone to listen to you. She knew your situation, every detail of it, maybe more details than you remembered telling her. But she remembered them. In turn, you didn’t know much about her. Anytime you asked, the coin she flipped always seemed to decide that she wouldn’t share. Even Shinobu refused to give you any details.
She stood from her spot by the table and walked across the room, wrapping her arms around you without saying anything. You wondered if she had flipped a coin to decide whether or not to hug you just then before you even entered the room, assuming she knew you were on your way. Either way, you were glad she did and returned the hug promptly. “It’s good to see you too, Kanao,” you said before she pulled away from you.
She raised her arm from her pocket and pulled out that coin of hers, flicking her thumb to flip it. You and everyone waited with bated breath for the coin to land and to see what that decision she was making would be. “I wish you the best regards,” she said in her silky voice before returning to her seat. To anyone else, this interaction would look odd, but you knew that inside, Kanao was constantly fighting a war of decisions to make. Despite how badly she may have wanted to say more, she always let that coin decide for her. You knew that her short response to you was her way of expressing her worry and care for you, or at least that was what you chose to believe.
“Thank you,” you replied, flashing her a smile before sitting down in the empty space beside Sumi.
You exchanged formalities with each of the young assistants and the six of you spent the duration of lunch talking and catching up, managing to dance around what seemed to be the most prevalent topic currently. As the end of your meal approached, you were frantically trying to decide what to do next in your head until your evening rounds.
You decided to help Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho with laundry. The three of them were happy to have your help and you all found your way into the laundry room. It was pretty sizeable, considering there was usually a lot of laundry due to injured slayers coming in and out of the mansion and that many needed to be repaired. There was a sewing table with two uniforms sitting atop it and two folded haori beside them. You couldn’t miss the bright teal-colored fabric folded beneath the yellow haori. There were also several baskets filled with clean laundry, waiting to be folded.
The four of you got right to work folding clothes, towels, blankets, and other linens.
After a while of folding, you grew weary of it. Your eyes drifted toward the uniforms on the sewing table. “Do you mind if I sew for a little bit?” you asked the young assistants who all perked their heads at once.
“We don’t mind at all,” Naho chirped with a bright smile on her face.
You stood from where you were folding on the floor after that and sat down on the chair by the table, picking up one of the uniforms. It was pretty beat up with several rips and tears in it. Nothing you couldn’t fix. It wasn’t long before you had moved on to the second one. The only notable repair that needed to be made was the sizeable hole near the middle-right of the shirt. You could only assume the uniform belonged to Tanjiro.
By the time you and the young assistants had finished with the laundry work, there was still time before your last rounds of the day. So, you made for the courtyard. The view was usually the same between mansions like these. The peach and cherry trees were just beginning to bloom their trademark pink petals, speckling the ground as they drifted away from their branches. Their color was extenuated by the dawning evening sky as the sun began to set.
The vista reminded you all too much of your past and brought a somber look to your eyes. Right in the middle of the courtyard where there were some training dummies posted, you imagined your small, young frame holding a wooden sword at the ready while Kyojuro stood closeby, correcting your footing and forms while you swung at just ten years old. You tried to sigh away the squeezing grief in your chest but it wouldn’t settle.
At the time, you thought the regimes were unfairly extensive but you grew to look forward to them. You liked spending time with Kyojuro and his younger brother who was only a year or so younger than you. After training the two of you, you and Senjuro would often play in the courtyard while Kyojuro kept a watchful eye on you from the veranda, just like you were right now. Only there were no gleeful children to watch or protect, only slowly-fading memories that grew more distant every time you tried to imagine them playing out in front of you.
“Are you okay?”
Your heart fluttered and your body jerked in place. A voice came to rescue you from drifting away, awash in guilt and grief. For a moment, the voice sounded like Kyojuro’s, wrapping around your aching chest, coming to pull your heart from its tightening restraints. It excited you, and a surfeit of hope came surging into your veins. In just that split second, your mind justified a reality where the wounds you saw on Kyojuro’s body hadn’t been there when you and your rescue team found him; the blood in your memories washed away. In this reality, he was still here, smiling at you the way he always did. You wanted to see him when you turned around, leaning against one of the supports over the veranda with some water in his hand or maybe a snack.
This was not the reality you were living in.
Instead, the person standing behind you was Tanjiro, just slightly slumped against the awning, holding onto his injury. You quickly stood and helped him lean away from the post and into you. “Tanjiro—what are you doing out of bed?” you fretted. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room.”
Tanjiro held his hand out toward you and shook his head. “I’m okay, really,” he said and broke from you again, trying not to look too strained but you could tell just standing was taking a lot out of him. “Can I sit with you?” he asked before you could scold him.
“You really should be resting in bed right now,” you replied.
“I saw you sitting out here by yourself—and I just thought you might want someone to talk to.” He was looking at you with those innocent eyes again. Puppy-dog eyes, if you will. You stood there, considering your decision. You could get in trouble for allowing this on one hand. But on the other, sitting in your own head was torture and you didn’t mind Tanjiro’s company.
“All right, fine,” you said. “I guess it won’t hurt for just a little while.”
Tanjiro’s lips creased into a smile in an almost victorious way. He started to slowly ease himself down to the wooden platform with a grunt. You helped him, supporting his body on the way down. When he was comfortable, you put some distance between the two of you and sat down. But now that you were here, you weren’t really sure what to talk to him about. You weren’t sure he knew either, his hands resting in his lap as he looked out across the courtyard silently.
So, the two of you sat for a while, speechless as you watched the sunset, fresh colors painting across the canvas of the sky. Golden orange stretched into the azure, chasing away the harsh afternoon, the color of hearths mixing in honey and apricots.
There was no conversation but you weren’t alone and somehow that was enough for you not to recede into your head. Finally, though, Tanjiro gripped his pant legs and spoke, “I know you told me not to apologize for my friends earlier, but I’m really sorry about what Inosuke said to you.”
You turned your head at the sound of his voice staring at him without a word as he peeked at you cautiously. All you could do was wear a bitter smile, even if he couldn’t see it. “He has a point…” you replied, looking away from him.
“What? No, he doesn’t—not at all. Becoming a Kakushi is just as brave and respectable as being a Demon Slayer,” he tried to assure you, and you could feel him looking at you even turned away.
“Well, I didn’t become a Kakushi because I was being brave,” you admitted. “I was terrified.”
The clearing fell quiet again while Tanjiro processed your words. After so long, it almost seemed like he was waiting for you to go on. “I…spent years training…and every time Kyojuro told me I was ready for Final Selection, I would find some kind of excuse to wait another year to train harder. He always told me how much I had progressed with my swordsmanship, but in the end, I told him the truth. And that is that I was too afraid to fight demons,” you explained, giving him what you thought he wanted.
But his eyes were wide, his hands even held out as if to stop you from going on. “You didn’t have to explain all of that to me,” Tanjiro said. His face relaxed, his gaze never straying from you. “I didn’t know you trained with Rengoku-san.” His voice retreated to a softer, somber tone.
“Yes, I did…”
Tanjiro began to connect some dots between what you said and what had happened to Kyojuro. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with admitting you’re afraid of demons.” He wanted to offer some kind of advice to you instead of leaving things sounding like he just didn’t want to hear it. “I’m afraid of demons too, you know. Honestly, it’d be a little odd to hear you say you aren’t afraid of them. I think everyone that’s ever held a sword against one has been afraid of them. Why else would we fight against them? It’s not easy to say you’re willing to die protecting people.”
This urged you to look his way. “Can I ask you something, then?” The boy went silent, nodding his head as he waited for what you’d ask. “Why do you travel with a demon?” At Tanjiro’s understandable silence, you went on. “When you told me your name, I recognized it. Kyojuro told me about you and how the master accepted it into our ranks.”
“Nezuko is my sister,” he said. “She and I are all that’s left of our family. I’ve been able to keep Nezuko from eating humans for over two years. She’s docile and is usually pretty sleepy.” He let out a soft laugh as he spoke of his sister. “But she fights other demons too. More than anything, I just want to turn her back…because if I lose her, I’ll be all that’s left and that’s something I can’t accept. I’ve trained hard to make sure nobody else has to die at the hand of another demon.” You watched Tanjiro as he explained himself. It sounded much different coming from him rather than Aoi. His brows scrunched up, his lip quivering. “But honestly, (L/n)...I feel like all the training that I’ve done has been for nothing.” His eyes became glassy as tears built up in them. “It feels like every time I try to move forward, something else shoves me back.”
Tanjiro shielded his face from you as he wiped the tears off his eyes. “So don’t blame yourself for wanting to become a Kakushi. Because…I promise you it’s much worse going through hell to get what you thought was so far, just to watch someone die.” He looked over at you when he cleared up his face, his eyelids all puffy. “But if you want my opinion? I think you’d make a great Demon Slayer,” he said, offering a smile. “Just don’t blame yourself for choosing not to be—and definitely don’t blame yourself for his death. Rengoku-san wouldn’t blame you. That’s just not the kind of person he was.”
His words sent a calming warmth flooding into your chest and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “You’re just like him, you know,” you said. “He was always so nice and he was never disappointed in my decision—never thought the years he spent training me went to waste. He was happy for me. He made me feel like I made the right choice.”
Tanjiro let out a gentle chuckle. “That does sound like him,” he said. “But I don’t know if you should compare me to him. It wouldn’t be fair. He was an incredible person…and I hope I can be someone like him one day. But that day isn’t today.”
“Well, I’d say you’re on your way in that direction at least then,” you said.
“Thank you.” Tanjiro snuck his hand up to the back of his neck like he did before and averted his eyes. “By the way…if you want, I’d love for you to meet Nezuko sometime. It might help with your fear.”
A nervous laugh squeezed out of you. “I’ll consider it,” you answered, but you weren’t really sure you would.
The two of you spent some more time on the veranda until the sun had vanished from the sky, leaving it almost entirely dark save for the moon, stars, and lanterns hung all around the mansion. “We should probably go inside now. I have to give Hashibira his evening medication and change his bandages,” you said, bringing your attention over to the boy who seemed to have grown ever so slightly closer to you.
“All right…” he agreed as you began to stand up. His gaze remained on you as you walked over to help him up. “But (L/n)...do you think that we could do this again tomorrow? Maybe around the same time—if you’re not busy, of course.” He paused as you pulled him to his feet carefully. “It was nice talking to you and getting some fresh air…” he said more quietly. Zenitsu was right. Tanjiro was timider than a little mouse. Being blunt was not his forté.
“I suppose if I’m not busy,” you replied. Once you lifted Tanjiro up fully, you leaned him against you for support, only for him to shy away and lean against the wall of the mansion instead.
“It’s all right, I can walk on my own,” he insisted, hiding his face from you again as he turned it toward the wall, and this time it wasn’t because he was crying. You couldn’t see it, but his face was entirely red.
“If you say so,” you said, but still walked at his slower pace.
Eventually, the two of you arrived at his room, where Zenitsu was smoldering, expecting your arrival. You weren’t going to question his sour expression. Before helping Tanjiro back to bed, you took a quick glance at the window across the room which, sure enough, had a perfect view of the courtyard and more importantly, the veranda where the two of you were just sitting. You’d go as far as to say that perhaps the blond was a little jealous but you had no comment.
For a moment, you left the room to retrieve some more supplies as well as Inosuke’s medication. This time, he was much more compliant with you and only grumbled inaudible complaints as you did your job.
After that, you began to clean up the dishes from the boys’ lunch, and when you got to Tanjiro’s bedside, you noticed that he had in fact picked at his food a little after you left earlier. You paused and looked over at him, giving him an appreciative smile, hoping that what was visible of your face would get the message across.
“Dinner will be soon,” you said after gathering up the remains of Tanjiro’s bento box, looking at all three of your patients.
“Thanks,” Zenitsu muttered, under his breath, still looking pretty offended with Tanjiro.
“Thank you,” Tanjiro added on before you bowed and left the room.
You didn’t see them again for the rest of the night, having allowed Aoi to bring the boys their dinner. For whatever reason, you had this feeling that Tanjiro might be disappointed by that. But you had some more pressing matters to attend to…being that you needed to prepare for Uzui’s visit the following day. That which you weren’t looking forward to.