Again!

Akaza's head flew off his miserable shoulders without so much as a flinch from the pale demon. The blood from Akaza's neck was hardly allowed to fall. Quickly, too quickly, the ex-kizuki had grown his skull back, the bones snapping into place, teeth assorting themselves as that smirk grew back, the muscles and skin reforming around it. Kokushibo snarled as he slashed again, this time taking the wretch's legs.

Akaza only flipped over in the air, using his hands to catch himself as his legs grew back just as fast, catching him by the time he was done with his front handspring. The demon had the gall to land and smile.

"Is that all you got, One? I thought you -" Kokushibo didn't let the traitor finish that sentence before he tried to behead him again. This time the demon threw himself backward, missing the blow by mere centimeters with all the confidence his blood art allowed him to hold.

Kokushibo snarled and pressed the attack.

Again!

Again!

AGAIN!

He couldn't just let this insect get away with taunting him, irking him, disrespecting him; disrespecting the name of Muzan's Twelve Kizuki! Akaza had trembled in his presence before and he would do so again!

"You're getting sloppy." His descendant's scathing tone sunk as deep as his red blade, splitting Kokushibo's stomach open as the boy passed low. He'd taken advantage of Kokushibo's intense focus, no... no the demon had failed to remember he had other foes than the infuriating striped ex-moon. There were other foes to deal with. In response to the boy's ambitious taunts, Kokushibo whirled on his heel and tried to slice that child in two.

Descendant or not, his insolence would not be tolerated!

He was stopped by an axe to the face, shoved there by the stone pillar's brute strength. Its blade also burned red from where it had scraped against the Mist pillar's sword and Kokushibo snarled as his face was nearly split down the middle.

"Your attention has lapsed." The stone hashira joined in the taunting, ripping his ax and himself away. His observation held no malice or jeering - just simple recognition which somehow made the wound sting even worse.

Kokushibo truly snarled as he guarded his face, his blade at the ready.

The wounds inflicted by crimson nichirin blistered raw and open, his cells screaming in protest as they were forced to divide and rebuild over that warm, condemned injury. It took more energy to regenerate, and more energy to stay alert...

He hissed as Akaza's fist collided with his side, an explosion of air pressure shattering one of his ribs despite his demonic cells cushioning the rest of his body. The fury of such disrespect hurt more than the blow. It writhed in Kokushibo's chest and roared in displeasure. There was something else too, something that churned uncomfortably in his gut, gnawing on ancient parts he'd stowed away long ago.

The hashiras had learned the power of the red blades. They'd unlocked their marks. The slayers were growing wiser and Akaza wouldn't die! No, the demon threw himself into battle with a new kind of ferocity. There was no hesitation with his attacks, no fear in his eyes. In any of their eyes!

There was cold determination. When was the last time he'd faced someone with such certainty? Doma, perhaps... the night he'd betrayed the Kizuki, and before that, the only one to stand against him fearlessly had been...

"Lost in your thoughts, One?" that damned traitorous insect was taunting him again, throwing attacks from farther away which the Upper Moon shrugged off without a flinch. Kokushibo burned useless memories away with his cold fury. Akaza moved in and struck for his neck. Kokushibo reacted as only he could.

He had Akaza bested in all regards, even if the Ex-kizuki could predict his movements and find the weaknesses in his attacks, it did nothing if the traitor couldn't react in time. All Kokushibo had to do was eradicate him permanently.

Like the talon of an eagle, Kokushibo's hand snatched Akaza's face, cracking his skull under the weight of his hold, but not shattering it... yet.

"If you will not die with some semblance of honor," Kokushibo seethed in a growl, relishing the way the demon flinched under his tone, his pale arms flying up to lock Kokushibo's outstretched one in an iron grasp; "then you leave me with no choice but to erase you from demonkind!"

Akaza's eyes widened in recognition as Kokushibo's cells opened their maws to devour Akaza whole. If Kokushibo could not kill Akaza then he would absorb the tenacious rat - devour him if necessary!

His fingers began to meld with Akaza's flesh, a most uncomfortable and displeasing sensation but a necessity for this fight to end. He could not just let Doma escape! He could not just exchange meaningless blows with the mortals! He had to press past this standstill, and put an end to this war of attrition!

"You fucking bastard!" Akaza roared, muffled as his face was now being absorbed into Kokushibo's very self. It would take a moment or two, even in Akaza's starved state he was a powerful foe whose cells would fight tooth and nail to remain sentient. This was something Kokushibo reserved for those with surprisingly strong blood arts, something typically reserved for far weaker enemies who didn't deserve the strength they'd been blessed with. Absorbing them as a whole instead of eating them piece by piece was a far more uncomfortable process but with an incredible return of power. Absorbing something like Akaza? It would be difficult but at least some good would come out of the traitor's miserable existence.

Kokushibo didn't have many moments - not with the two hashira now flying for his neck. He was forced to give up the ground he'd so preciously guarded, retreating in a moment of self-preservation (not cowardice - never cowardice), Akaza stuck with him by definition, the writhing demon fighting every step of the way. The demon tried to claw Kokushibo's face apart but all that did was invite their cells to mesh further, Akaza's hand now adhered to Kokushibo's face which made visibility less than ideal, his feet kicked out at Kokushibo's side where they too began to be absorbed.

The demon seemed to recognize his mistake as the striped abomination ripped his arm clean off, desperately trying to do the same to his head and legs, it seemed. He tried to rip everything away, writhing like a fish on land, scratching meaninglessly at Kokushibo's flesh as he tried to escape.

"Accept your fate!" Kokushibo roared, dodging another blow from the Mist Pillar before pulling the Akaza in two. Mid-absorption, Akaza wouldn't find the strength to regenerate, he'd put everything he had into resisting Kokushibo - surely. All he needed was the upper half anyway... hopefully.

He lost an arm to the rock pillar but that hardly seemed of consequence now. Akaza was half-melded with him, halfway lost to the abyss. Just a little further and this would all be behind them. With Akaza out of the way, Kokushibo would have nothing to worry about.

"I'm not going to fucking die!" Akaza screamed against Kokushibo's skull. His blood scraped against Upper One's veins, revolting in a desperate attempt of survival as Kokushibo's cells neutralized such bothers before ripping them apart. Another unfortunate reality when absorbing a foe was their final moments. Mixing demonic blood came with uncouth circumstances. The blend of memories, sensations, and power was the most uncomfortable phase, especially when Kokushibo was forced to fend off two hashiras. It felt as though Akaza was under his skin, scratching at his skull, scraping at his skin, screaming in his head!

Annoying.

Kokushibo did his best to ignore it all and sent his descendant flying, striking him with the hilt of his sword. He was able to chase the stone pillar away with a grand technique that ripped apart all in his path. He'd bought himself precious seconds and that was all he needed -

Soon Akaza would be no more.

"Fight! Fight Akaza!" It was neither Akaza's nor Kokushibo's voice. It wasn't Muzan. It wasn't either of the hashiras. Time seemed to slow as his senses raced to decipher how someone had snuck up on him.

"Don't you dare give up!" Another presence, at his side??

Kokushibo whirled to the side where Akaza was halfway absorbed and found himself facing two sets of rageful eyes. One was Akaza with his sickening sclera and bright pupils that contorted in pure fury, the other had softer eyes. It was a human woman, round-faced, with gentle, soft magenta eyes that burned with surprising rage. She stood right next to Kokushibo, placing a hand on Akaza's shoulder (the one that wasn't now hallway on Kokushibo's side). She stood beneath Kokushibo's right arm without a hint of fear in her form as she glared up at Upper One all too hatefully. 

"Don't you dare join me so soon." the woman pleaded, directing her attention back to the demon writing on Kokushibo's side. "Fight!"

Logically, Kokushibo knew she wasn't there. Though he sensed her and heard her, he saw right through her. She had no organs, no bodily form. Her presence was wholly confined to his brain; a hallucination then? That was certainly a new experience, though he did not recognize the woman. That would make this Akaza's mental fantasy - the evidence of the demon's collapsing mental state perhaps?

"This guy looks like a chump, you take him - easy!" Another one appeared, a fit man in a gi and a familiar smile - Akaza's smile. This one stared Kokushibo down with all the audacity Akaza did, the idiotic confidence too.

"Set your heart ablaze! Go beyond your limits! Live Akaza! You must!" A hashira!? The presence erupted like an explosion, firey eyes appearing behind Akaza's figure. This one was harder to see and with him came more figures, dotting Kokushibo's attention.

Ah - now it made sense, that would also explain why time had seemed to slow. Akaza's life was flashing before his eyes and unfortunately, Kokushibo was here to bare witness to it.

"You will die," His cells hissed to the demon who was nearly fully absorbed. "You will die this time and you will not come back. Stop fighting!"

"Never stop fighting!" the damned woman demanded, holding Akaza firmer.

"You would not leave us so soon!" The hashira with fiery hair grinned confidently, eyes burning above a bright smile.

"You can do it Akaza! You can do it!" The half-breed appeared, then an older boy - her brother perhaps. They were cheering on the pitiful excuse of a traitor, the chimera squeezed her eyes as she vied for the ex-kizuki's success while the boy seemed to through his entire heart into it.

Time truly had slowed and Kokushibo was cursed to suffer such a purgatory, watching in annoyance as more and more visages appeared.

"You've got this!"

"No fucking sweat, Three, this is nothing!"

"Don't let this asshole beat you! You're too tough for that! Way too tough!"

"Don't you die on us, Akaza! Don't you dare!"

"Fight! Akaza! Fight!"

They were not real! They were not real!!

Not the disgusting presence of Ex-Upper Six. Not the way they cried with more affection than Kokushibo had ever heard them share. Not a hashira who smelled of flowers or the two sisters at her side. Not the three little girls with butterfly kimonos who seemed to try and pull at Kokushibo's leg, two of them far more visible than the third.

Not Doma - no, he was far away by now, condemned to Nakime's tormenting shifts and strings. But, an imagined figment of the demon stood at Akaza's side, begging him to fight, assuring him that he would live. He wasn't real! Neither was the human pet at Doma's side, standing resolute with emerald eyes and certainty in her voice.

"You will live, Akaza!" she assured, her voice strained as she called for him. "You will!!"

All of them were figments of a dying demon's imagination. All of them! None of them were real! None of it!

None of it!!

"Michikatsu."

If time was once slowed, it had stopped completely. Kokushibo could not move fast enough. He could not twist his head to find the source of the voice without feeling as though he was moving a mountain with it.

No...

No that - that - that was impossible. That voice was not something he could ever hear again! That voice was to never haunt him again!!

No!

Beyond the scores of ghosts, far beyond Kokushibo's range, at the very limit of where one could stand was a spirit with an unmistakable ponytail of cascading fire and an impenetrable stance. His face was just barely visible in the distance, but there was a pain in the echoing words and a soft frown on its lips, Kokushibo knew it too well.

"No..." It was not fear. Fear didn't do the emotion Kokushibo flinched under any justice. It would never encapsulate the horror, the terror, the way every fiber of his body flinched in pain, hate, regret, rage, and gut-wrenching, paralyzing hysteria.

Suddenly, time returned back to normal. The ghosts faded in a mess of blood, sparks, and blades.

Against all rhyme or reasons, Akaza ripped free. Taking advantage of Kokushibo's shocked state, his cells all raced back together, colliding with one another as they reformed the demon who ripped out of Kokushibo's side like an overgrown parasite, roaring in anger and determination. The ex-kizuki's teeth ripped into Kokushibo's hand and tore it clean off. At the same time, the young hashira's blade took one of Upper One's legs and the rock pillar took half his head.

Kokushibo stumbled and his three foes didn't give him a moment to breathe. Attack after attack, he was met with steaming red blades that clashed against each other in grand explosions of sparks and power. Akaza acted like a rabid beast with the ferocity with which he ripped into Kokushibo, his second near-death experience at Upper One's didn't seem to phase him in the slightest, only enlivening his violent nature. 

Every touch was empowered with a new, terrible memory. Every time his cells came in contact with Akaza's wretched form he saw them all again. Like a legion of soldiers, the ghosts appeared at Akaza's side, flashing like lightning or the sparks of nichirin swords, his cells remembering too well Akaza's... displeasing defense mechanism. Every time Akaza struck Kokushibo saw...

He saw.

His heart clenched, and his lungs clung to one another as every cell in his body tried to recover from such a memory. Why... why had he appeared? Surely Akaza didn't see him in his final moments... so then why had he appeared!? Why did he continue to appear!??

Something to do with Akaza's cellular defenses? Was it some demon art? Something to mess with his mind? Or was it the pure earnest desires of Akaza feeding something long dead in Kokushibo, memories sprouting from dangerous places that should've been as dead as Akaza was supposed to be.

"Sloppy," the damned descendant scoffed as he raced by Kokushibo once more, this time, the Upper Moon was able to deflect the blow. FOCUS! Kokushibo regained his posture quickly, sidestepping the ferocious swing from the Rock Pillar.

Now they were stuck at another impasse. Kokushibo was surrounded, the three foes boxing him in a triangle. Akaza was snarling, drooling from the sheer amount of energy he'd thrown into everything, but not giving either human a second hungry glance. Kokushibo's descendant was steading his breathing, preparing another lunge, guarding his newly armless side that was stained with his own blood. And the Stone Hashira? He stood swinging his flail and looking for an opening as only those with access to the transparent world could. He donned two large gashes in his face and a thick wound in his side, but he hadn't seemed to slow at all.

Kokushibo took the moment to center himself. He was Upper One, the second strongest being in the world. He was phased by nothing, was scared of nothing, and there was no way he could lose here. There was nothing these mortals could do to -

"Michikatsu Tsugikuni," it was a giggle that snatched Kokushibo's chest for a moment. There was a woman directly behind him, a familiar laugh on her lips as she tried to cover her mouth. He didn't even need to turn around to remember how her eyes would curl in mirth. "It's a good name!"

No... no... why was he still seeing the ghosts!? Akaza had not touched him! Why were there phantoms in his shadow, clinging at the corners of his peripheral?

"Leave me," He ordered coldly, growing terrifyingly still.

He was answered by the damned boy lunging for him. Kokushibo moved faster than the eye could catch, deflected the attack, and sliced for the boy in midair. The boy twisted to avoid it, his black and turquoise hair masking his expression for a moment. 

"You're not getting away from this," the Stone Hashira denied from the side, spinning his flail even faster. "You cannot run!"

With that, he release his spiked flail and let it rage towards Kokushibo who let himself seethe.

It was not him who would try to run! He was powerful! Unbeatable! It was them who should be fleeing! Scrambling away in terror!

With a roar nearly unbefitting a demon of his stature, he lunged into the attack, deflecting the flail and racing toward the large demon slayer. If he could not dispose of Akaza, then he would deal with these problematic slayers first! They could die! They could scream! After them, he would rip Akaza apart again and again and again until he finally died!

Unfortunately, even if he solely focused on the slayers, Akaza still proved to be a problem. He was there, in Kokushibo's way, exchanging blow for blow, dodging attacks as best he could for a moment before he was woefully overwhelmed. Of course, by then, the two hashiras had descended again and Kokushibo was left dancing the fight of death. His blade grew and extended to its fullest capacity but even that seemed to fail in the face of his foes.

Every time a demon slayer faced an unavoidable blow, Akaza, who saw every attack and knew every move, would throw himself into the blow with a fearlessness unmatched. Every time Kokushibo wasted precious moments dealing with Akaza, the two hashiras took that time to regroup, reset, and strike!

And then...

"Michikatsu..."

If it wasn't the woman, it was him. In the shadows, in his peripheral, too far to be seen or a mere breath away, at Kokushibo's blind spot.

"Michikatsu."

"What did you do to me!?" Kokushibo roared as he snatched Akaza once more as a snake strikes a mouse. It only worsened the visions. The demon writhed in his grip, snarling up at him like a rabid dog. "What did you do!?" Kokushibo hissed his demand.

Akaza dared to look confused and Kokushibo roared as that damned light laugh jingled in his head. His wife. What was her name? He'd forgotten after so many years - so then why was her laugh so vivid!? She'd never been important - he'd discarded her memory years ago! There was a baby crying somewhere too, just as annoying as it had been in his human life.

"Michikatsu!" That voice... it wasn't the light jingle he just barely remembered, it was the tone that haunted the waking nightmares he'd walked. It was the voice of Kokushibo's bane. His envy. His hatred and fear incarnate. 

His brother...

"Michikatsu." Yoriichi... it was Yoriichi calling for him. A child's voice calling for him from down the hall. A young man's tone greeting him from across the street. An old man condemning him beneath the moon.

He hated that name. He hated that voice. He hated and hated and hated!

"What's the matter?" Akaza hissed through clenched teeth as he ripped free of Kokushibo's grip. "Scared of death?"

"You've poisoned me," Kokushibo accused. He wasn't here - Yoriichi wasn't here! He was DEAD! Kokushibo ensured it! He'd seen it! He'd slashed the cursed body apart, he'd seen his brother, once old and decrepit, butchered in that field where they'd held their last stand. His brother had been mortal - weak!

Except every cell in his existence screamed otherwise. Yoriichi was many things, but weak... he hated himself for thinking it, for knowing it; his damned brother had been anything but weak. Not once in his life had Yoriichi been anything other than refined power, even when no one else recognized it.

"Are you scared?" the child was back, slashing through Kokushibo's supposedly unyielding swords, a scornful look in his eyes as he cleaved through his ancestor. "And you're supposed to be the second strongest demon? Pathetic."

And perhaps it was the constant grating on his skull. The intimidating, insurmountable mountain he never could climb. The arrogance of those around him that mistook his honor for weakness. Perhaps it was the final call from afar, calling a name he'd long forsook from a man he wanted no more than to strangle (why, why was his heart screaming against such a sentiment?).

His chest began to burn, and that flame burst into a roar that erupted from his lungs and revitalized the power in his swing. Akaza had to race to push the child of a hashira out of the way. The demon had saved one hashira, but not the other.

The Stone Pillar lost the lower part of his left leg, grating his teeth as the blow sliced it clean off but betraying no hint of fear.

"You question me!?" Kokushibo roared, and the damned child only sneered as he rolled to his feet.

A baby was crying again in the back of Kokushibo's mind. A child was laughing... Father! it called incessantly, annoyingly, constantly!

"You taunt me!?" Kokushibo challenged again, drawing the memories out with his raw voice. Akaza growled in response.

The memory of a sword being unsheathed in the moonlight.

"You think I am to be bested!?" Kokushibo bellowed, watching as the stone hashira recovered from his dodge. He'd fallen to his hands and remaining knee, keeping a firm hold on his ax and pulling his flail closer. He did recover though, standing with incredible balance and preparing himself for another attack.

Two boys in the sun danced in his mind; two brothers...

"I am Kokushibo!" The demon howled. "I am Upper Moon One! I am power! I am favored! I am death!" And with that, he lunged.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The biwa sang out again and again, shifting and twisting, trying to force Doma away. He was teleported from room to room, forced to fall, twist, soar, and plummet. If he had any clearer headspace, he would've had room to fear. To fret. To crumble. He would've stopped and tried to take note of his surroundings, tried to plan a way to avoid Nakime's gaze.

He would've stopped to think about a lot of things.

Akaza; beheaded. He'd seen it, watched it, helpless to stop it and hopelessly frozen in that moment. It wouldn't have taken anything for Kokushibo to take him next, to have raced past Akaza's dead form and kill Doma then and there. But... in a miracle or a blessing or by the grace of Akaza's iron will... He'd watched his best friend die and come back. He watched Akaza's head grow back and he watched him smirk.

There was a lot to think about there, but he didn't think at all. Not about Akaza, not about the little boy he left fighting Upper One with a missing arm, not about Gyomei, the abandoned ally who'd saved his life. Not Nakime who was making his life hell. Not Muzan who had designed true hell. Not the slayer who'd died in his arms. Not Inosuke. Not even Kotoha.

All he could think about was Mirakuru. The baby in his arms, who would babble, her gums full of fangs. The little girl trailed after her brother like a duckling, grinning the whole time. The little girl who'd sit in his lap and read him all the stories she could get her hands on, asking him how to pronounce a word or asking for definitions in the middle of his follower's prayers.

His little girl. Here. Alone. Afraid. Here...

He hadn't even thought to ask how or why. Hadn't dared to wonder what she was doing here. All that mattered was she was alone in the Infinity Fortress. Alone in Muzan's personal playground. Alone in the den of true wolves. Even if Muzan didn't get to her first...

Hantengu could be cruel if he knew he held all the power. He may not toy with her out of fear of Muzan, but he wouldn't hesitate to terrify her.

Gyokko... Gyokko loved children just as Doma had once loved women. He'd torment her; toy with her, torture her, butcher her -  gods it tore Doma apart to think of it. Please not Gyokko. Please.

Not Muzan either but please not Gyokko. And what of the replacement moons - what of the other demons who ran amock in this hell? Just... please not Gyokko.

Not his Mirakuru. Not his baby.

It was not for Nakime's lack of trying. It was not due to any divine intervention or godly miracles. Doma's blood sang, pulling him constantly towards that bundle of fear and pain that he knew, he knew was Miku. No matter where he was sent, he ensured to take off like a bullet in a straight shot for where her blood called for him, the cells they shared connecting them in a true instinctual way.

Walls gave way to his strength, doors crushed beneath his feet; very floor cracked against his heels. Furniture, ceilings, lamps, stone, wood, paper, it was all the same to him. He had to get to her. He would get to her. There was no choice but to get to her! He had to!

Unknown to him, Nakime was having other issues - other... distractions. She was robbed of her attention for a precious few moments and Doma unbeknownst to him, took advantage of it.

Even if he had known, it wouldn't have mattered anyway because he found her. He crashed through a wall and watched her turn a corner. The splinters he'd created hadn't even begun to fall by the time he had closed the distance between them. Had he possessed any more logic in his frazzled state, his heart would've jumped into his throat at seeing the blood that covered her. Had he had any more space in his head, his stomach would've dropped at the anguish on her face or the grief in her scent. Had he had room for any thought other than relief, he would've felt bone-chilling guilt followed by pure fear.

He didn't. All he knew was he saw her, he could get to her, and get to her he did. He was there faster than should've been possible, scooping her up into his arms and breathing a sigh of relief as she sobbed, feeling his own eyes well with tears. They were together. She was alive. He had her. She was safe.

He had her.

"PAPA! Papa! Papa," she wailed as she clung to him with everything in her frame. She cried his name like a blessing - a cruel mockery of the tone his cultists used to use but so, so much more precious to him.

"Shhh, shhh, I've got you. I've got you," he fell to his knees as he held her, cradling her head as she cried into his shoulder. She was so small it seemed, her spirit and brightness robbed from her form as she crumpled in his arms. So small. She was so scared... it poured off of her and made Doma's heart scream in agony.

He hadn't been there. He hadn't protected her... 

It was then he smelled the blood, human, but not Miku's. It was then he smelled him.

Like a force of nature, the demon king slammed into Doma's senses, clutching his lungs in a steely grip of terror. He was moving so fast -

"DOMA!!!!" he crashed through the corner Miku had run around and Doma knew nothing else as his mind went truly blank, his body restored to pure instincts; every cell in his body made him flee. Miku screamed in fear and clung tighter to him at the sight of Muzan's rageful expression, Doma only scrambled to his feet and fled for his life, his nails tearing up the floorboards with how viciously he pulled himself to his feet.

"Don't let him get me! Please don't let him get me!" Miku sobbed into Doma's shoulder and Doma wished he had more soothing words. He wished he possessed enough sanity to comfort his daughter while he fled

He did not.  Not an ounce could be spared for the girl in his arms.

Every sense. Every fiber. Every miserable cell in his body pressed him onward as adrenaline feeds a hare racing from a fox's jaws.

A better metaphor would be if the hare had a broken foot. He was nowhere near as fast as Muzan; nowhere close in power scale. He'd nearly died to Kokushibo and he'd had help - what was he supposed to do against the demon king!?

The answer was probably; die. But, his mind refused to accept that - his body refused to accept that. He held Miku close as the demon lord caught up, protecting her, shielding her as the attacks ripped into his back, tendrils wrapping around his ankles and slamming him to the ground. Miku yelped as they both impacted the floor and Doma hissed as razor-sharp appendages tipped with bones whipped through his flesh, biting down to his own bones.

He rolled to his side and pulled Miku into his chest as the demon lord pounced, a clawed hand pushing Doma's face into the floorboards until there were splinters in his cheek.

He growled and at his whim, the blood Muzan spilled so readily froze, erupting into furious piercing icicles that tried to pierce the demon king, trying to shield the father and daughter pulled prone to the ground. The ice shattered on impact with Kibutsuji, his skin causing the blood art to falter, falling to useless crystals all around them in what may be Doma's final snow.

"You." There was so much malice in it that Doma felt his heart leap into his splintered throat.

He managed a glimpse, a pathetic glimpse at their hunter. Muzan Kibutsuji was a demon in its truest sense, his eyes nearly glowing red as his form stood shadowed, a plethora of whip-like limbs thrashing to reveal the demon lord's anger.

This couldn't be it - not like this. Not with Miku in his arms!

"AWAY!" 

The command shook the air for a moment and in awe Doma watched the great Kibutsuji freeze. Nothing happened for a mere millisecond and Doma watched at that moment how Muzan's eyes switched from vindictive fury to annoyance, to recognized shock.

And, as if he was a mortal affected by one of Hantengu's wind attacks, the demon lord flew. He crashed through floors and floors of the infinity fortress, screaming in fury as he went, his whips finding no purchase as they tried to catch their lord.

Doma lay there for a moment, dusted with frost and covered in blood, unable to believe what he'd seen. He sat up slowly before looking down at the girl trembling in his arms.

"Please..." she begged hoarsely, her voice cracking in a weak cough. "Please, let's go... I want to go... I want to go home."

The distant bellow of Kibutsuji fueled Doma well enough and he scrambled to his feet as best he could. His legs were marred from the attack and his back was ripped open in ways he was glad his daughter couldn't see, but after a few steps, he was able to run once more.

Despite his exhaustion, he managed another blood art and five copies of him appeared at his side, formed of the blood off his back and carrying his scent. Muzan would be able to tell the difference once he was close enough but Doma would take any advantage they could get. As a bit of insurance, he took a hand off of Miku and rubbed the human blood that clung to her clothing on two of the copies, the crimson staining their shoulders.

For the first time, he wondered where the blood had come from. It wasn't Miku's he was certain... but it was familiar...

He couldn't find it in himself to care, truly. At his order, the ice clones split off in multiple directions and Doma began to breathe.

"Mirakuru, you need to hold your breath, okay? Close your eyes. Don't open them or breathe until I say so." Doma instructed carefully as his breath crystallized around his head.

His daughter looked up at him and gave a small nod, wiping her eyes before squeezing them shut. Her sobs ceased as she switched off the human mechanisms she'd learned to forsake in times of need.

Once he was certain she had obeyed, Doma breathed heavier. His copies would smell of ice, so it was best he did the same. Small shards of ice formed around him, deadly to the eyes and the lungs, a cruel trick he used to employ all too readily, but one that now served a greater purpose.

He too would reek of a blizzard and maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to fool Muzan. Both Miku's and his skin crystallized with ice until they were almost blue and the cloud of microscopic snow moved with him.

It had to be enough. It was all he had.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

There were few words Kanae could find to describe how she felt. Or maybe there were too many...

She was furious, in some regards, a deep flame in her gut seethed with the destruction - the tainting of her safe haven, but that flame was fueled more by hurt than anger. She had lost her home once and this felt like it had happened all over again, but with that thought came gratitude. 

The first time she had lost her home had been a mess of confusion, pain... and so much blood. This time was different. She had not screamed or wailed. She had not cowered or begged. She had drawn her sword and fought.

She had not lost Kanao. She had not lost Shinobu. She had not lost Aoi. She had not lost Kiyo. She could see them tending to the wounded, Shinobu's rage hidden in her eyes, and Kanao's usually stoic face tight as she kept looking back the way they had run. Aoi was keeping herself busy, refusing to stand idle or sit as she ran patient to patient, giving in to requests that she would've usually called ridiculous. Kiyo... Kiyo was quietly tending to the more fearful slayers, putting on a brave, brave smile.

Once the gratitude passed, there was grief. She shouldn't be grieving yet, not while there was so much to be uncertain of, not when there were others to be tended to...

But she thought of Miku. She thought of Sumi. She thought of Naho.

She would think of Kotoha's expression before running into battle. Of Sanemi. 

And for a moment she would want to collapse and scream at it all. Rage against heaven and earth alike as the anger returned and burned so bright it threatened to take everything with it. Then the hurt would seep in again. Then the gratitude. Again and again, like a sick predictive wheel, until it had cycled so many times into a mess nearly untranslatable.

So she did what she always had. She put on a placated smile, she found things to celebrate. They'd only lost one room of injured slayers - that was about five in total which was a blow, but nothing compared to what it could've been. A few had died in transit. Many more were wounded but the prospects were far better than she first feared.

Forty slayers lived. Forty slayers thrived. Forty slayers had looked death in the eye tonight and survived.

The sounds of distant battle had grown faint and nearly vanished altogether which made Kanao stand guard, perched in a tree as a watch, the young girl's eyes were the best of the lot. They'd taken shelter in a clearing Kanae knew well, just up the road from the estate. The trees they were surrounded by were wisteria trees, though their flowers had all fallen off in the later summer. They wouldn't offer much protection but it was something. There was a river not too far and Aoi had already set up fires to boil water in (she'd also had the foresight to grab such supplies). Kanae thanked whatever gods there were in this cruel world for giving her Aoi and her quick thinking.

Other injured slayers had grabbed things too; bedsheets and pillows, gauze and medicine, crutches and stitching kits, anything and everything they could carry. They had a true makeshift camp forming. She couldn't help but smile to see so many people coming together, smiling in relief as they whispered amongst themselves, standing guard over one another and soothing those shaken up.

They'd survived.

Kanao signaled with a flash of her sword - twice, to indicate friendlies and Kanae rushed to the edge of the clearing. She heard them before she saw them and her heart soared and plummeted all at once.

Striding through the woods with familiar anger in his gait was Sanemi, covered in blood. Some of it was his, some wasn't. It dripped off him as if he'd bathed in it, staining his clothes and his sword. He was limping, Kanae noted immediately, and he was guarding one of his sides, his free hand was slipped under his unbuttoned uniform to stem some sort of wound between his ribs, or perhaps it was on his stomach.

And behind him... was Genya. For such a tall child he hunched over himself so much, trailing behind Sanemi like a kicked pup who was too scared to come any closer. Kanae had no doubt he had been subject to curses and belittling this entire trip and something in her already worn psyche grew taut.

Sanemi was alive. Genya was here.

When had Genya arrived? From where? Had he immediately gone to the front lines - to Sanemi? Of course... of course, he would've, that brilliant child had Sanemi's bleeding heart but no seething martyrdom to show for it.

He'd come to help and charged headfirst into danger. 

"Sanemi! Genya!" She called and watched the eldest bristle whilst the youngest cowered.

"Kanae!" there may have been a relief in Sanemi's voice, but it was overcome by anger. "Kanae! This idiot needs fucking attention!"

"Sanemi, what happened!?" she demanded as she came to his side. When she'd last seen him, he'd been fine. Some of the wounds were clearly self-inflicted but others - had there truly been that many to overwhelm the dreaded Shinazugawa?

He ripped away from her touch and pointed his sword at Genya who averted his gaze. He hadn't flinched as the blade was turned on him but that didn't mean the action didn't feed the rage in Kanae's gut.

"This fucking moron ate demons! He thought it would be a good idea to jump into a warzone! With no breathing style, no real experience, and -"

"I have experience!" Genya objected desperately and Kanae saw clearly the demonic residue clinging to his sclera. It was fading now, as Gyomei had informed her, but it was a little startling.

"Like fucking hell you do," Sanemi seethed.

"Sanemi," Kanae warned because she knew where this was going.

"You're undisciplined, unskilled, useless in battle, you can't even follow simple orders -"

"So I should've left you back there!?" Genya growled, he must have mustered up the bravery somewhere along the bloody path.

"Yes!" Sanemi roared and the way Genya jumped made Kanae seethe.

"I didn't get hurt!" Genya was desperate now. "I knew what I was doing - I wanted to help!"

"Oh, you fucking helped!" Sanemi sneered in an accusation Kanae didn't understand.

Genya did though, his eyes flitted to Sanemi's leg and the boy seemed to curl even further in on himself.

"I didn't - I didn't mean for you -"

"Oh fucking spare me!" Sanemi seethed, taking a threatening step toward the boy.

"That is enough!" She came between them, well, she came before Sanemi, slamming a hand against his chest to stop him which made him reel - damn, she must've hit an actual wound. "Go sit with the other until I look over your wounds!"

 "I'm fucking fine! Nothing out of the ordinary! He ate demon flesh and transformed into a fucking monster!" Sanemi seemed to have forgotten who he was talking to, and Kanae had found her limit.

She slapped away the finger he'd so aggressively pointed toward Genya and took a step closer until they shared a space only reserved for more tender moments. There was no tenderness there, only the residue of her patience simmering in her low voice.

"You will go sit with the injured. You will stop yelling. You will do what I say. And you will stop verbally abusing a loyal member of our Corps who gave all they had to defend my home;  Do we have an understanding Sanemi Shinazugawa?" Her tone was controlled, and heavy, it could've cracked the earth open, and it certainly made Sanemi step back.

She didn't wait to see his reaction, turning around to face Genya instead.

"Are you injured, Genya?" she asked curtly.

"No - no, but Nem - I mean Sanemi -" the boy began.

"If you are not injured, and feel fine enough, would you mind helping Kiyo with the wounded? It'll be minor attending chores, but we're short on staff and need the help; she'll show you what to do." It was less of a request and more of a demand. He needed to get away from his brother, for all of their sakes.

"Absolutely," the boy gave a firm nod and hurried away, glancing back only once at his idiot of a brother.

Once he was out of earshot, Sanemi seemed to take a breath.

"Kanae, I'm - " he began and her steely gaze seemed to silence whatever excuse was about to spill from his lips.

"I do not care for your justification. Go to the wounded. I will be with you in a moment." Perhaps in a different situation, she would care for how his eyes seemed to ache at her tone, but not now. Not here. Not after everything.

Obediently, the wind pillar went to sit where he was assigned and Kanae walked over to Kanao to relay her orders and remind her to keep a watch out for Kotoha. The quiet girl gave a polite smile and a nod, her gaze slipping beyond Kanae to the two brothers. 

Then she was off to the trees again to scout, leaving Kanae standing in the overgrown grass.

Kanae stood there for a moment, took a breath, gathered her will, and strode back to the camp... back to Sanemi. Her heart was still. Her anger was pacified. It wouldn't do anyone any good for her to act snappy no matter how she felt.

He sat with a familiar frown on his face that most would mistake for anger - Kanae knew he was brooding. Good. Let him wallow in the self-inflicted misery he so readily asked for.

She gathered her supplies before coming to sit at his side.

"Your leg," she asked and he dutifully rolled up his pant legs to reveal the wound.

"It's not deep," he tried to defend.

"It's severed part of your tendon, if not treated this could cause permanent damage," Kanae denied as she surveyed the wound. And he had the audacity to say he wasn't injured.

She worked in silence for the next few minutes, cleaning and stitching up his leg, knowing, grieving, and hating that Sanemi didn't seem to flinch once. His pain tolerance was a blessing and a curse.

"The demons are all taken care of, far as I can tell," Sanemi spoke first, and he spoke softly, his gaze averted from Kanae and her work.

Kanae only hummed in response.

"Killed everything I could, chased some down... and circled back to see if I missed any. Those demons of yours were fighting some other demon but seemed to have it handled by the time I passed. I chased down the rest..."

"You saw Gyutaro and Daki?" Kanae inquired.

"Not really. I heard them... and sensed whatever it was they were fighting. But I was too busy chasing down the stragglers trying to get to you," Sanemi denied. "By the time I got the last one, I sensed they had finished off whatever issue they had."

Kanae hummed again, thoughtfully. "They haven't returned yet."

"They can't be that far behind me... and before you accuse me of anything I didn't leave them behind because I don't care -"

"I didn't say anything," Kanae retorted, tying off the stitching maybe a tad too firmly. Sanemi's breath did hitch and Kanae felt guilt roil in her gut. "Sorry."

"M' fine, like I said," Sanemi denied, the bite coming back to his tone. "Genya's the one who's messing with things he doesn't understand -"

"Sanemi," Kanae warned. They would not rehash this argument here. 

The man took a long breath as he looked away, pulling his leg out of Kanae's hands and trying to roll his pants back down.

"Don't you dare, I need to wrap it," Kanae reprimanded, and reluctantly, Sanemi splayed his leg back out.

"Sorry," he responded quickly so Kanae tried not to look into the apology.

She bit her tongue and placated her anger. "I'm glad you're alive," she offered, and that was true. There were seven other things she wanted to say but it would be pointless here. It would be pointless no matter where or when she said it, but even more fruitless now.

They descended into silence once again as she wrapped his leg, her fury starting to waver, it's lingering touches remaining on her brow. After his leg was done she moved to his side which was an angry but light gash. After that, she tended to the self-inflicted wounds on his arms.

"How many did we lose?"

The question gutted her. She knew he didn't mean ill, in fact, he asked so softly he probably was going to blame himself for every answer she gave. So she gave nothing and continued to wrap, continued to work.

He must've seen something in her stance because the question changed.

"Who did we lose?" he asked knowingly, pain in his gaze.

And Kanae was the eldest, so Kanae would always stay strong. She'd always gather herself up. She'd always put on the brave face, the steadfast face. She would not waver, she would not bend. She would be stone if she needed to be. She would not add fire to Sanemi's self-built pyre.

"We lost an injury wing in the very first few moments; five slayers all told. We lost one on the way here, many more were grievously injured but granted we have enough supplies, they should make it. I will need to write to Ubuyashiki-san immediately and ask for medicines from nearby wisteria houses -"

"Kanae..." his hand steadied hers and she swallowed.

"Who did you lose?" he asked.

She stared at the arm she was wrapping and willed her chest to stop screaming.

"Kanae..." Sanemi begged.

"Naho, Sumi, and Mirakuru were all taken by the bubble blood art that summoned all the demons here. They're missing from the field," she answered resolutely as she finished wrapping. It didn't sound real yet, it sounded too distant.

Sanemi's eyes widened at the first two names.

"Kanae..." there was the guilt she didn't need. The pity she didn't want. What did he feel guilty for; the inevitable demons that got past him, or the tantrum he'd thrown a moment ago over Genya? 

Did it matter?

"You are to stay off this leg for a minimum of a week, even with your recovery breathing," she recited. "You may have a bruised rib so I want you to lay still -"

"Kanae," he grabbed her hand as she started to stand. "Kanae, I'm sorry..."

And it wasn't fair. She was the one who urged him to be vulnerable. She was the one who held him when the walls eventually came down. It just wasn't fair that he could see right through her.  She hadn't seen it happen. She... she hadn't... she hadn't even been there... she didn't even know what had become of them - they could be fine. Perfectly fine...

"It had nothing to do with you Shinazugawa. It was out of your control -" she stated, saving him from his own idiotic self-loathing.

Except... it didn't placate him. It wasn't what he was looking to comfort and that scared her because if he wasn't asking for himself then he was asking for her and she - she didn't want to deal with that conglomeration of contradictions.

"Kanae," he saw her and Kanae wasn't sure she'd be able to handle that while being the hashira the survivors needed. So she didn't, she pulled her hand out of his and looked out over those who were hers to protect.  She took a breath, stared at him, and couldn't muster the mercy she needed to smile. So she only shook her head.

"It is the way we live, Shinazugawa."

And with that, she moved on to the next patient.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Genya would admit he was pretty awkward when it came to the whole tenderness, caretaking, and medical aspects of the butterfly estate but Kanae always seemed to find a way to rope him into it with ease. It had never been easy for him, but his screw-ups never discouraged Kanae or Shinobu from sending him on errands.

Secretly, maybe, if he was honest with himself... he liked it. He at least liked how confident Kanae was shoving him into this world.

He liked the way Kanae smiled at him and though he'd embarrassed himself so, so many times in front of the butterfly girls, they never stopped giving him a chance. So many bowls broken, so many medicines spilled, so many mistakes... and they never sent him away. So, when Gyomei gave him a break from training or went off on some mission Genya wasn't to follow him on, he'd wander to the estate and try to learn. 

He told himself it was practical.

It's probably good knowledge to have; how to fix someone up when they're on death's door. Then again, he hadn't done much learning in that regard but he could carry water basins around like no one's business. Yeah... it was kind of pathetic when you thought about it...

If he was honest with himself, he'd recognize he was desperate for something he hadn't had in years. At that was also pretty pathetic, but that was kind of his entire existence.

"Please stop wiggling, I don't like this any more than you do!" Genya stopped a few feet behind Aoi as she struggled to finish wrapping a very unhappy slayer who was biting his hand to try and keep quiet while keeping his wounded leg still.

Genya would... wait until she was done... yeah... 

"Oh, Genya!" Dammit, she sensed him. Her bright blue eyes turned around as she tightened the bandage, eliciting a yelp from the slayer. "I didn't know you were here! What do you need?"

"Uh... see - " dammit. What was he asking? What did he need? Why was she staring at him... Fuck. Uh oh. What was he supposed to do? Get it together; "I'm... fine."

Brilliant. I'm fine. Oh, genius Genya. Flawless even.

"I'm glad you're alright. If you want to help, Kiyo's over by the river refilling some water pitchers. She'll need help carrying them back!" Aoi explained simply before returning back to her work.

THANK THE BUDDHA, she knew what he meant. Genya hurried away as fast as he could, trying to conserve what semblance of respect Aoi held for him which by now... was probably nothing. Idiot... he should've rehearsed what he was going to say before walking right up. The girls always got him tongue-tied. It wasn't his fault! He panicked, okay!?

They were either too cute, too serious, too professional, too cool, or just... too something! 

He wandered for a bit, using the fading demonic senses to sniff out the nearby river and the butterfly girl near it. Kiyo was at the water's edge, ankle-deep, filling up a white pitcher in the river. There were four empty bowls behind her and two full ones. Genya was almost scared to ask how such a little girl had carried so much ceramic so far.

He jogged up and was about to open his mouth to ask... actually he had no idea what to ask. Or what to say. Dammit, he forgot to rehearse!

What should he say? Something along the easy, simple lines of; hi, I'm here to help. Let me carry the bowls back. Yes. Perfect. Just spit it out -

It didn't matter much though because he got closer and recognized a few things that made his chest seize. The pitcher was full, the river water was running into the simplistic vase and flowing right out again. Kiyo stood bent over her work, sniffling softly.

Crying. She was crying.

"Kiyo?" Genya asked softly and the little girl jumped, scaring both of them.

"Oh! Oh, Genya!" She cried in shock and hopefully pleasant surprise. She pulled the pitcher out of the water and quickly wiped her eyes as she put on a weak smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I... uh... I came to help," he managed as he tried to figure out what to do. Should he ask her what's wrong? Would that be invasive? Should he comfort her? Would that be creepy? Should he pretend he didn't see anything? Would that be heartless? Fuuuuuuuuck -

"Oh... help with what?" Kiyo chirped.

"Uhhhhhh," Genya managed as his mind blanked once more.

"I'm alright. If you want, Aoi's up the hill. She'll probably need help bandaging or treating," Kiyo dismissed.

"Uh... sure..." Genya supposed dumbly knowing full well Aoi needed no such help. Okay, so that marked off Aoi, Kano, Kanae, and Kiyo. That didn't leave a whole lot of other options if he decided to ignore the fact that Kiyo had just been crying in a river. Which he really didn't want to.

"Where's Sumi and Naho?" he asked instead because that was all his mind permitted. They'd probably know how to help. 

That was the wrong thing to say.

It was DEFINITELY the wrong thing to say!

The girl hiccupped clutching the huge water pitcher closer, her entire frame trembling as huge tears poured out of her eyes. Faster than Genya could think, he was there. He took the pitcher out of her arms and tried to think of what he was supposed to do next other than kneel in the river and look stupid which he was doing very well at the moment.

Hell, he did that well all the damn time.

"I - I'm sorry," he tried to say.

"They got taken," Kiyo admitted in a small whimper as she madly tried to catch her falling tears. "They - they got taken..."

"Taken?" Genya echoed in shock.

"There was this bubble and... and it got them," She explained as she straightened herself up and tried to compose herself. "Sorry. I - I can take that back now."

"No no, I got it," Genya defended, holding the pitcher a bit closer, almost guarding it. "I don't mind. Uhhhh, actually... see, Kanae sent me to help you."

Kiyo nodded and waded out of the river to start filling a new bowl. That was probably Genya's queue to take his leave but he had no idea where to take the water, what to do next, or if it was even morally acceptable to leave a ten-year-old alone while she was in the midst of a grieving session.

And shit... fuck...

Naho. Sumi...

So he spent the next three minutes trying to figure out how to set the pitcher down on the uneven earth before turning back to the kid.

"That... uh... I'm sorry, that must've been terrible to see." Oh yes. Very good Genya. Remind her how terrible it was. Genius move. Brilliant in fact, you fucking moron. He could've broken the water pitcher on his face for that or laid face-down in the river to end his suffering; it would've hurt less.

Kiyo was silent and that was arguably worse. Maybe Genya would be lucky and some freak demonic curse would overtake him just like Sanemi had ranted about, and he'd die before this conversation could kill him. A guy could dream.

But he wasn't dead yet and so he picked up an empty bowl and went to the water's edge to fill it up. Kiyo's bowl was already full but she hadn't pulled it out. She stood there, staring...

Genya reached out, slowly, hesitating quite a few times before placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey... you okay?" He asked before mentally berating himself. Yes, Genya, clearly she was okay.

The kid stared at the water before sniffling. "No..."

Genya put his bowl to the side and tried to take Kiyo's full bowl. She wouldn't let him. She gripped that bowl until her knuckles were white and Genya was fairly certain it wasn't in anger.

"I... I ran away..." she murmured.

Genya wasn't quite sure what to say to that.

"From... what?" he finally decided to ask after his feet got ice cold from the river.

"From the bubble," Kiyo confessed, her shoulders trembling as her breath hitched. "I ran away when it caught Naho and Sumi."

"Oh," Genya understood. "That's... that's okay though, you -"

"Miku ran towards it," Kiyo cried finally and her voice seemed to break the midnight air. She finally released the bowl and Genya managed to put it to his side as the kid began to sob, plopping down on the shore as she rubbed her eyes.

Fuck oh fuck how to comfort a sobbing child. If his mother had any say in the afterlife, could she reach through the veil and help him out!?

"Miku ran towards it! She wasn't scared! She didn't let herself get scared! She saw they were in danger, she saw they were scared and she went with them! I didn't! I was... I was... I was too afraid..." She hid her head in her knees as the floodgates broke. 

"Kiyo..." Genya didn't dare touch her. He didn't dare do anything except sit close and worry.

"I failed them...  failed Naho. I failed Sumi. I'm a bad friend... I'm... I'm a bad sister..."

"No, you're not!" Genya said it so certainly he surprised himself with his tone. But he was certain.

Kiyo didn't look up.

"It - it's normal to be scared and - and you can't be upset about what happened at the moment! We - we just freeze sometimes. It's no one's fault, it just happens!"

"But Miku could move..." Kiyo breathed, looking up slowly. "She didn't freeze... "

And suddenly Genya was a kid again, and Sanemi had moved while he had sat there; scared, uncertain, cold, blind, bloody...

"Some people just... can," he managed finally. "I guess... I guess some people just can't freeze."

Nemi never did. 

That didn't help Kiyo though. She was sitting up, her eyes still watering as she tried to wipe them dry.

"It's not your fault, you know... the freezing," Genya managed finally. "And - and no one blames you. They can't. And it's not your fault either so you shouldn't blame yourself!"

He was a fucking hypocrite, but hell he needed to be right now. Kiyo was silent as she went to stand.

"Do you want a hug?" He said it faster than he thought it. He could remember his sister, Sumi ( the name similarity hurt all over again) used to say hugs were magic to a sorry soul or something... she'd never gotten to Kiyo's age but maybe it would help.

Or maybe Kiyo would just think he was a creep and it was a terrible idea and he should probably just drown himself now to avoid the awkwardness -

But he got an armful of ten-year-old instead. It kind of shocked him, honestly, but it was easy enough to remember how to hug little kids. It had been a while... It was painfully nice. No, it was just painful if he was honest, having a kid weeping in his arms again. He didn't think he had much heart left to brake, but it seemed he was wrong and his heart was the perfect shape to shatter over another grieving child.

It was reminiscent of a different time. Not necessarily a kinder one, but one where there were more children Genya could and would hold.

"It isn't your fault," Genya reiterated as he squeezed Kiyo just a little tighter. "It isn't anyone's fault but the demon."

Even then... he'd never blame his mother, not for what she did. He - Never. He'd blame Muzan to hell and back but he'd never, ever blame his Mother. Not for Sumi. Not for Teiko. Not for Hiroshi. Not for Koto. Not for Shuya.

"Thank you," came a little muffled voice from their embrace and Genya smiled a little. Just a little.

The awkwardness didn't necessarily go away, but it did ease. They filled up the rest of the bowls and began to ferry them back to the camp in comforting silence. Genya would pretend he didn't notice when Kiyo wiped her eyes and Kiyo would make sure to go deal with Sanemi's area of the wounded. A fair trade-off.

On their third trip, they arrived at camp to a commotion in the back, where Genya had left Sanemi. The demons were there, the two siblings; Ribbon and Sickle.

Ribbon was sobbing; loud, ugly sobs ripped from her chest as she clung to the person Kanae knelt next to. Genya didn't really mean to pry, but it seemed everyone who could stand gravitated toward the scene. 

It was the human woman. Genya tried to rack his mind for her name but was faced with a complete blank. Ex-Upper Two's Partner. The one with the kind face who smiled at him in the halls and laughed when her daughter brought him flowers. She had a kind sort of face and a kinder laugh.

That face was now covered in blood. Kanae was working quickly, marrying together bits of flesh as she stitched, Aoi running to her side with antiseptics and disinfectants. There was a cold sort of method to it, Kanae's face seemed to be carved of stone as her hands trembled the slightest bit, hardly noticeable if Genya didn't know, by experience, that a hashira's hands never trembled.

Ribbon was still sobbing as Kanae forced her hands away from the woman's figure.

"Please - please, save her! Save her. Please, please please please - " It was like a child clinging to their parent's corpse, Genya would know. Her pale claws were clamped around the human's arm as she sobbed, hiccupping through her tears.

"Daki, you need to step away!" Kanae demanded sharply. "Gyutaro!"

The hashira looked to the second demon and so Genya did too. Sickle, Gyutaro was his name, was the opposite of his sister in some ways. He made no sound. He didn't move. He didn't even blink. He just knelt there at the woman's side, staring at her mutilated face, blind and deaf to all else, tears streaming down his face.

Realizing she'd find no support from Gyutaro, Kanae snapped back to Daki.

"Daki!" her tone quieted the desperate please of the ribbon demon whose hands had flown to cover her mouth to muffle her sobs. "Daki," Kanae took a calmer tone, her fingers now covered with the human woman's blood.

Daki finally ripped her eyes away from the woman, her hands shaking as she pulled them away from her mouth and looked to the hashira.

"I am going to save her," Kanae vowed. "But I need space. Take your brother, gently, and go take care of yourselves."

The demon's eyes flitted between Kanae's eyes, the human woman, and the collection of slayers that had begun to close in, each one more nervous than the other. 

"You promise?" She asked weakly, delicately. "You promise she'll be okay?"

"I promise," Kanae vowed. "But I will not have you watch this."

It was apparently all the demon needed because suddenly she was at Sickle's side - Gyutaro - Genya had to remember that name. 

"Gyutaro, we have to go," Daki pleaded, jostling her brother. The sickle demon didn't even blink, almost hypnotized by the scene. "Gyutaro! We can't stay - Kanae said we can't stay."

"We stay," came Gyutaro's hiss and every slayer took an instinctual step back. Everyone except Kanae.

The hissing of metal awakened Genya from his own clouded mental state. He whirled to his side at a slayer who had nearly drawn their sword on instinct and realized, within a terrifying moment, that the slayers at his side weren't there enraptured by the grief and the empathetic pain, but were there to stand guard. To attack if necessary. So many stood eyes wide and arms ready as they took in the two demonic siblings.

"Put the goddamn swords away! Put them a-fucking way!" Sanemi's voice snapped from Genya's right. He didn't dare look at what state his brother was in.

"Gyutaro, we have to go!" Daki's plea came again. "Gyutaro they're scared of us, we have to go -"

"I'm not leaving," Gyutaro denied in a growl, almost desperately.

"She told you to fucking leave!" Sanemi's voice grated.

"I'm not leaving!" Gyutaro's voice finally broke as he shook his head, bowing low as he tried to hide how his tears ran faster. "I'm not leaving her..."

"She's not asking you to leave," Shinobu was there, she brushed past Genya, rushing onto the scene as she gently pushed slayers away. She came to the demon's sides and set her jaw as she looked over the woman herself. Her eyes hardened as she saw Kanae's work and without a shred of fear she put a hand on Daki's shoulders.

"Come with me, we'll stand a bit off so you can watch, but not impede," she instructed.

"But -" Gyutaro went to argue.

"If you truly want her to survive, you'll stay out of our way." Shinobu did not have the same type of anger as Kanae. Kanae's voice commanded was like a gust of wind, Shinobu's came like a dagger. It made Gyutaro stumble back as he stood, his sister catching his arm as she led him away, their eyes never leaving the woman laying still on the grass.

"Alright, everyone! Back to your beds! Back to your posts!" Aoi barked her own orders, shooing everyone away.

Kanae was fully focused on her work, clotting the blood in the woman's neck with a once-white towel as she sutured.

"They didn't get Miku back..." Kiyo was at his side. The little girl's hands shook as she stared at a scene a kid her age probably shouldn't have stared at, but Genya knew she'd seen worse... treated worse, daily probably.

Genya couldn't find a thing to say.

"That means Miku and Naho and Sumi are... they're gone..." Kiyo breathed to herself... and Genya couldn't do anything. He just stared.

The woman was laying so still and seemed so pale, and was covered in so much blood... Genya couldn't help but wonder...

He could help but remember.

"Don't you die," it came from Kanae. She tied off a stitch before grabbing the unmarred side of Kotoha's face, tilting it so they could look eye to eye. "Please don't die. I promised Doma I would keep you safe. I promised Daki and Gyutaro you would live. Please... don't make me a liar. Please Kotoha."

Genya stared at her face and saw for a moment, a different woman. Another kind woman, covered in her own blood, laying still on the earth...

Oh... he was frozen again.

Kanae finally finished off the stitches, ripping off the last thread before throwing her head against the woman's chest to find a heartbeat.

"Come on Kotoha..." the hashira willed as she listened.

Oh... that's right. The woman's name had been Kotoha.

 Kanae pressed her ear against the woman's chest and threw a hand on Kotoha's neck, the uninjured side. Time seemed to stretch on for a century.

At some point, Kiyo had grabbed his hand, clinging to it and he had clung right back. It was inexplicable in a way. He'd never had an earnest conversation with the human woman, but he knew what she meant to the butterfly estate. He knew what she meant to the demons now weeping out of earshot. He knew what she meant to that little girl with rainbow eyes who had curled her nose when she first smelled him.

"You're like me!"

He wasn't, and he told her so, but that didn't stop her from handing him flowers whenever she could with a fanged grin.

And somehow just knowing all of that was enough so that when Kanae let out a long breath, a weak and pained laugh in it, Genya felt the icy hold of fear release. He felt as though he could breathe again... felt that he could smile. The flower hashira sat up slowly, wiping the sweat off her face and inadvertently covering a part of her tired expression in blood.

"She's alive..." she breathed.

Kiyo began to cry, Daki and Gyutaro fell to the earth holding each other, and Aoi allowed herself to breathe as she ran up with extra bandages. Within the next minute, Kotoha's face was wrapped, the bloody side of her face hidden from the starry sky and her expression almost peaceful beneath it. Kanae knelt there for a while, looking over her friend and smiling, weakly.

Genya managed to unfreeze. He managed to look down at Kiyo with a weak smile and watch her do the same threw her tears. He managed to look over the slayers and feel relief at how many were still standing, how many were still alive. For a moment, it felt like everything was going to be okay.

Then the crow called.

"THE MASTER'S BEEN ATTACKED! CAWWWWW! THE UBUYASHIKI ESTATE HAS BEEN ATTACKED!"

The hearts and breaths were stolen from everyone who heard it and Genya, damn him, he shouldn't have, but he had to. He turned to see Sanemi's reaction, he turned to see how the words carved his brother down further.

Sanemi looked as if he'd been gutted. Kanae looked no better. The demon's eyes were wide in horror as they watched the crow fly overhead. And Genya, as always, felt the words freeze him.

Kokushibo: I hated being human. I hated everything. I miss nothing. I hate you all. Leave me alone. I hate this kid. I hate this man. I hate this pale-ass basketball. I have never seen that ghost man in my life -

Yoriichi: *appearing from the depths of Kokushibo's subconscious* Look at me, brother. Look at me.

Kokushibo: I am... shooketh. I am... not girlbossing. I... am not doing well, in fact. I would like to go home now.

Akaza: I'M DOING FUCKING AMAZING!

Muichiro and Gyomei: You've nearly died twenty-nine times.

Akaza: AND I'M ABOUT TO MAKE IT THIRTY! NEAR-DEATH BINGO FOR THE WIN!!!! *charges*

Meanwhile, Doma: 

Meanwhile, Kanae: I am doing... okay rn. I'm holding it together. It's hard but I'm managing and it's all gonna be okay. I am -

*Sanemi has entered the chat*... *Insults Genya*

Kanae: I love you so much and I'm glad you're alive but I HATE YOUR GUTS RN. LEAVE YOUR BRO ALONE! AT LEAST HE'S ALIVE YOU FUCKING MORON! I AM ABOUT TO LOSE MY SHIT. NO ONE LOOK AT ME; DON'T EVEN TALK TO ME I SWEAR TO GOD! WHAT DO YOU MEAN KOTOHA'S HURT? GET TF OUTTA MY WAY -

Sanemi: I sense I have fucked up in some way...

Genya has made the achievement: You are now the Big Bro

Kiyo has made the advancement: Childhood trauma~

Sumi and Naho have made the advancement: Unfortunate Character Development

Miku has made the achievement: Character Development,  Daki and Gyutaro would be proud

Meanwhile:

Mitsuri: Damn... I feel like we're missing some really critical plot stuff. We've barely had any screen time and I just can't help but feel like a bunch of chapters have passed since we went out on this mission. That's usually a bad sign...

Iguro: Oh... so... do you think we should head back? We don't have to get food. We already had dinner and if you have a bad gut feeling -

Mitsuri: WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?! OFC WE'RE GETTING A ROMANTIC DESSERT I'm sure everything's fine! Do you know what you do when you're stressed??? EAT! GO ON A DATE! HAVE FUN!

Iguro: Absolutely - didyoujustfreakinsayDATE!??? 

Iguro: Fuck the corps, never heard of em. What are you hungry for bby? :D <3 <3 <3 <3 <3