(In which Mitsuri tries to acquire a baby brother, Tengen has a great day, Kotoha bonds through violence, Kyojuro cannot do feelings, and everyone else is suffering.)

"Hello Genya," Shinobu's voice always had a sort of bite to it. Like she was angry with everyone - which she usually was, but Genya had slowly learned that he'd know if that anger was directed at him.

Today, it seemed she was just peeved at the world. So her snap probably didn't mean anything.

"Mo - uh - morning," Genya choked on his stutter and cursed himself. Yep, time to go. Before he made her angrier.

He gathered up the clean towels and tried to escape her angry way of scrubbing the laundry.

"GENYA-CHAN!"

That voice - Oh god please no.

She came around the corner like a firework of pink that blew up right in his face.  Before he could mutter a word he was assaulted with a hug which placed him in a very precarious position because... uh... Mitsuri... see... okay... uh... how should he explain it?

Mitsuri - you see... uh... possessed... certain things. 

And then he, as a taller person, would get a view of certain things if he looked down. And then he'd simply implode because... uh... cleavage. So... uh.. uh... maybe he should just faint. Or die. He'd like to die actually. Maybe if he stared at the ceiling it would all just go away~

He knew it was bad when he prayed for Shinobu to intervene.

"Oh, we haven't gotten a good chance to talk how are you!?" The Love Hashira giggled releasing him (thankfully) before bouncing a more manageable distance away from him.

"Verygoodthanksbye." And he made his glorious escape. He didn't even know Mitsuri, but Kanae talked about him. A lot, apparently, which meant in Mitsuri's mind they were close. Which they were very much not. Well okay, she was technically very physically close right now but not emotionally close.

He'd tried to avoid her by literally any means because she was probably the most terrifying combination of personality traits he'd ever met.

"No Genyaaaa!" Mitsuri caught his sleeve and pouted. "We should talk! I heard Sanemi was really mean to you last night and I wanted to make sure you were okay!"

Okay. Ouch. Always nice to know that gossip about him is going around. Oh yeah, that was doing wonders for his anxiety. Maybe he should wear a sign: Complicated family issues - please do not talk to me. Or look at me. Or acknowledge me in any way, shape, or form.

Not that Mitsuri would listen to a sign of course.

Shinobu rolled her eyes and angrily began to scrub stains out of older linens.

"Very subtle, Mitsuri," she scathed.

Mitsuri stuck her tongue out and giggled: "Well I don't see what avoiding it's gonna do. Besides! I've got little siblings! I'm not totally out of my element. Now - I can't help grumpy Sanemi, but maybe I can help Genya!"

"Uh... no... thanks?" Genya cringed. "I'm... uh... okay. Very okay."

Mitsuri slowly turned to him, hands still on her hips as she studied him, eyes narrowing. Oh, she so did not believe him. This was gonna be a whole talk. A whole talk with a woman he barely knew whose optimism could probably strangle almighty Sanemi. He was gonna die. He was simply going to die under those critical green eyes. Absolutely terrifying. How the fuck was he supposed to get out of this?

"Okay!" she chirped with a smile.

Huh?

"You've gotta deliver towels right?" she scurried over to Shinobu's side and picked up the rest of the towels (which would've been another three trips for Genya). 

With a tower of towels in her arms, utterly blocking her from sight, she strode up to him.

"Do not drop them," Shimobu ordered, pointing a suds-covered finger at the love hashira. "Or you'll be washing them."

"Don't worry, I won't Shinobu-chan!" Mitsuri giggled. "Awww, you're so cute when you're serious!"

Shinobu sputtered for a moment before furiously returning to her towel scrubbing, muttering something about ridiculous hashira.

"Come on, Genya!" Mitsuri giggled at Shinobu's reaction as she pressed onward. The towels in her arms swayed precariously as she bounced out of the room. With no choice, Genya followed.

He tried to get away, and he did, but Mitsuri was horrifyingly good at navigating even with 98% of her eyesight obscured by her leaning-tower-of-towels. Every time he tried to slip away she was right behind him, prattling on about anything that came to mind, it seemed.

Her siblings. Her parents. The little cat her youngest sister just took in. How her younger brother had a crush on a local girl but was way too scared to ask to court her. She gushed when he talked about her parent's anniversary - they were planning on traveling to the city for a day, just the two of them. How romantic~

It was honestly... really weird.

That was all that slammed into Genya's head as he shrunk within himself. Here they were, delivering towels to different rooms full of debilitated, injured slayers. Haunted people. Dying people. Here she was with a sword on her belt and scars across her body. And somewhere in the country her family was having lunch together, smiling and laughing together - lamenting how they missed her. Writing her a new letter and slipping in little doodles from her younger siblings...

How the fuck was that right? No. How was that fair, a part of him asked. A part that sounded just like Sanemi's scathing tone.

"Why?" his curiosity gave him some confidence and his nerves softened the bite in that word.

Mitsuri paused her ramblings on some recipe changes in her mother's cooking. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him.

"I think she wanted to emphasize the flavor of the rice and compliment the saltiness of the fish, but -"

"No..." he swallowed a lump in his throat and voted to just stop talking. It didn't matter. Anything she said would just feed what was festering in his chest. It didn't matter. It didn't matter. It didn't -

"Why what?" she pressed.

"Uh... you mentioned your siblings. Why -" he looked at her and lost any word that ever existed -

"Oh!" she giggled. "Why'd I leave? That's easy: I wanted to meet a man!"

Now, it wouldn't be hyperbole to say Genya's soul descended into hell with the momentary fury that overcame his body. 

"What?" 

Because how the actual fuck. Why the actual fuck. How was that - why was that - that wasn't fair...

"I know - it sounds kind of silly right," Mitsuri hummed as she pressed onward. "You can be mad. I've heard a bunch of thoughts on it."

"I... No... sorry," he reigned in his stupid stupid brain. Thinking stupid stupid thoughts.

"No! Don't be!" Mitsuri laughed. "I think it surprises everyone at first. You should've seen Obanai when I first told him. He froze for like an hour, just staring at a wall!"

"... Yeah."

"But I don't think it's all that silly when you think about it," Mitsuri supposed. "The best way to love someone is to appreciate them. Especially the parts of them that not everyone else does."

Genya looked up and thankfully saw Mitsuri keep her head forward, no more piercing eyes to stoke the darkness in his heart.

"I'm super strong. And I eat a bunch. And I'm loud and confident. Ooh! And I like doing a bunch of things that are exciting, and maybe even a little messy. Sometimes, I even like fighting! It's fun to push yourself! Don't you think?" She continued and Genya felt his anger beginning to melt into a much more familiar ache.

"Some - sometimes, I guess."

Mitsuri giggled at his murmur. "Yeah, the boys in my village didn't think so either. My parents didn't mind, but they also didn't understand. I was always too wild or too much or... I don't know, just too me. I just couldn't bear to stay in that little town anymore. Obanai says it's because I'm too bright - too big a personality to stay somewhere so small. It was suffocating, you know?"

Genya didn't.

"And I wanted to find love! I wanted to find people to love! People who could understand me! And I did!" She did turn around, peering around the towels to grin with all of her teeth: "And I love it here!"

How? Genya wanted to beg. How could anyone love this? How could anyone -

"How?" his damn mouth betrayed him.

"Hmmm," Mitsuri seemed to ponder that herself as she turned back to her mission and walked on. "Well... I can go eat with Kyojuro - and I won't feel bad for eating until I'm full. And I can go spar with Kanae - and we don't have to worry about anyone telling us we're unladylike for getting all sweaty! I can go on a walk, and scare all sorts of monsters away! I can be cute too! I can meet new people, I can help people, and people can help me - and I can just be me. All of me. I think it's pretty wonderful to be all of you, and have people who like those parts of you that you didn't like before. That makes sense, doesn't it?"

That... made perfect sense. In a horrible way. In a way, Genya could understand but never imagine. Never...

"Of course, that doesn't make all the bad things go away," Mitsuri continued with a somber hum in her tone. "We're still demon slayers. People die, friends die... and that's hard. Some people will never like me - they'll always think I'm strange - and there will always be people who say terrible things to us."

Us.

Genya bit his lip so hard it began to bleed. Fuck. Fuck.

"The worst part is when people you love, say those things," Mitsuri murmured. 

The anger was back. Why wouldn't it go away? Why did she keep talking? He didn't want to be here. He wanted to leave - hide - go home -

"I was engaged, you know," Mitsuri supposed brightly. "I was seventeen! Which feels so little now. But there was this handsome young man from a good family... and I wanted him to love me so, so bad. Like really bad. I mean looking back on it he wasn't all that great but all the girls wanted to marry him and he did write nice poems..."

She laughed as if it was funny. Maybe it was.

"It's kind of embarrassing looking back now," she giggled. "He was so mean. I think if anyone called me ugly I'd just laugh at them now. I think if anyone said now what he said back then, I wouldn't hesitate to laugh at them!"

Ugly? Okay, Genya was not the best judge but had that man been clinically blind? Mitsuri was hot  - BAD THOUGHT! WHAT THE FUCK - okay but objectively speaking, Mitsuri was attractive  - OH SHIT! HE WAS BLUSHING. KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW PLEASE. BUDDAH IF YOU HAVE MERCY COULD YOU JUST -

"And yet, sometimes... sometimes I still think about it," Mitsuri's tone was softer. "Sometimes, it's all I can think about. Someone I cared about said those terrible things to me - things I know aren't true but hurt so so bad because I cared about what they thought. I think you can understand that, right Genya?"

Oh well fuck him. Okay, then Mitsuri Kanroji why don't you just stab him while you're at it? Fucking OW -

"It's different," was all he could manage.

"Maybe," Mitsuri shrugged. "But I don't think so."

"He's just hurt. He - he's mad at me and he should be-"

"I don't think you should ever say something that hurts the people you love - especially on purpose," Mitsuri interrupted. "I don't think you should even want to hurt someone you love. And if you do. The least you could do is apologize."

"You don't understand -" He bit. Anger overriding all else in him, for a moment.

"I don't," she agreed. "Sorry, I guess I overstepped."

He was silent, biting his tongue for everyone's safety.

"Maybe just... remember to find people who love you - really, really love you," Mitsuri pleaded, looking back at him. "Because... I think you're pretty cool. And I don't think anyone should be talked to like that."

He was furious. He was aching. He was going to cry. Maybe he was going to scream. 

He didn't have time to do any of it because, in a blessed moment, Kanae called to him from down the hall. He turned and took a quick breath to compose himself as the flower hashira strode up. Thank the literal heavens for Kanae.

"Genya, I'm sorry to interrupt, but Gyomei has asked to see you," she explained, gesturing for him to follow. "Mitsuri. Would you mind finishing up his tasks for the day?"

Fuck. This didn't seem like a heavenly intervention. Kanae's brows were too still, her expression was picturesque - something was wrong.

"Of course not!" the Love hashira grinned. With ease, she took the rest of the towels from Genya and bounced on down the hallway. "Bye Genya - sorry for getting super personal we don't have to talk later but I appreciate it! I'm always here for you! Bye!!"

Genya stared after her for a long, long second. At least until Kanae walked up to his side, staring at him critically.

"Are you alright? I know Mitsuri can be a little... forward."

"Yeah," Genya choked out. "Yeah, I'm okay. What's going on?"

"Gyomei has asked to talk to you."

"Is he alright?"

Kanae paused before she gave her answer: "He's resting right now."

She just dodged his fucking question. 

"But he is going to be alright?" Genya pressed, because he could with Kanae. She would let him press - and he hated how he knew that. 

Kanae's face flashed with regret but she nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder: "Genya, I'm afraid this next conversation is not going to be easy."

"Is Sensei going to live?" Genya's attention snapped over to the matter at hand.

"That is for him to tell you," Kanae murmured - which was an answer in itself.

Genya bolted and Kanae was quick on his heels.

"Genya. Genya, wait -" she pleaded. But she did not stop him. She did not chase him.

He ran up to the door of Gyomei's room before pausing. He had to collect himself. He had to at least seem okay even if his sensei would see every unraveling string in him. He took a fast breath because his breathing had never been as even as all the others around him. It never would be but this was not the time to think about that.

He opened the door and stepped inside with all the confidence he could muster. That confidence evaporated when Gyomei smiled.

"Hello Genya."

"Sensei."

A moment as they stared at each other, one in the doorway, one in the bed.

"Come. I have some... news," Gyomei beckoned. Slowly, the boy obeyed, standing at his master's bedside and trying not to tremble.

The Rock Pillar's leg stump now sat elevated and wrapped. There was a hideous gash through the man's serene face which had been stitched up but still glared at Genya from furious raw skin. The strangest thing, however, were the scars on the hashira's forearms, the remnants of some mark that had sent the hashiras into some frenzy. They looked like fractal burns, now that they'd faded - at least those that peeked out from the bandages.

The worst, however, was how gaunt Gyomei looked. "Weak" and "Himejima-sensei" had never gone in the same sentence, but that was the only fitting description for the rock pillar now. He seemed withered, his lungs rising and falling with agonizing slowness. For weeks Genya had watched it but always with the assumption that Kanae would fix it. Kanae could always fix it...

"You already know it," Gyomei chuckled, his face turning to Genya. "And for that I am sorry."

"No." It was angry denial. He knew that. He'd experience it enough - he was probably the fucking master at it. The one skill the universe kept honing for him. Haha, look at the Shinazugawa brothers - pathetic little angry children who'd never, never help anyone. Maybe he and Sanemi really were meant for each other - cursed to doom everyone around them. Or maybe that was why Sanemi hated him.

Maybe he was the curse... pathetic...

"Genya... recite your prayers," Gyomei murmured, his prayer beads diligently clinking together in his hands.

And Genya did... because at this point he'd blindly reach for any sense of normalcy. He'd do anything - anything... especially if it was with the one person he'd thought would finally be something. Nothing was supposed to kill Himejima. Nothing was supposed to take this away.

"This is the cycle of slayers," Gyomei murmured as Genya got to his fifth stanza. Maybe the hashira was recognizing that all the rhythms were doing were adding some order to Genya's hyperventilation. Maybe he just knew Genya was doomed to crumble.

He'd always been too good at reading the youngest Shinazugawa - too good.

Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry. Don't be fucking weak -

"Even the strongest must move on - and this is not the end. You know this." A hand cupped his face and Genya hissed. Leaning forward as tears slipped out of his eyes.

"You can't," he demanded. "You can't, Sensei -"

 "I have spoken to some of the other pillars. I wish you to continue your tutelage despite my absence. I inquired and the Love, Flower, and Flame pillars have all agreed. Of them, I would recommend Mitsuri or Kyojuro, though Kanae may offer some interesting insights. I have not asked the Water or Mist Pillar, nor shall I ask Sanemi. Sound has just taken the young Mirakuru Hashibira on, and I expect that shall be his sole student for a while."

"No."

"Kyojuro is an excellent master, though quite unconventional when it comes to his collection of students. Three tsugukos and not a flame breather among them. He would happily take you on, and it may do you some good to be around other slayers your age. However, I expect it could be rather overwhelming to enter a group so close-knit. Mitsuri would be a great alternative for her non-comfortive fighting techniques. She would embrace your shortcomings and strengths -"

"Stop it. Stop it!"

"I cannot," Gyomei murmured. "I am dying, Genya. And you are going to continue living."

The boy gasped and wiped his tears away. Stop crying. Stop fucking crying!

"It is alright to be upset. I am touched by it."

"Stop talking please -"

"Shinazugawa." That was a serious tone and Genya could not face it. His knees threatened to buckle under the weight of reality.

"Why?" his voice trembled. "Why?"

The Stone Pillar hummed at such an inquiry:

"It is almost fascinating, once you look past its morbidity. The mark I acquired which allowed me to stand on better footing in Muzan's lair does have some drawbacks. According to Kanae and some old slayer texts, it is the awakening of my mark paired with my age," stone pillar shrugged with a smile without finishing his thought. "This is the fate of any slayer who reaches the height of our power. It is the sacrifice I made when going toe to toe with Upper One."

"We can undo it. There has to be a way -"

"It is a slow deterioration of my muscle structure," Gyomei was always so firm when speaking. So confident. It was always like talking to a wall. 

But this wall had been safe, it had been unyielding and sturdy but that had been safe -

"It will be a slower process if my heart holds out. But, it is suspected that I shall move on from this life within the month."

How was he so goddamn calm -

"Shinazugawa."

No.

"Shinazugawa, take a breath."

No. No, it wasn't fucking fair - it wasn't fair. The first person to believe in him, to train him, to -  he had so much to learn...

"Genya."

He looked up and met that soft expression. Gyomei stared at the wall, his blind eyes crinkling under his smile: "You will be alright."

Genya's knees buckled and he clung to the bedside, gasping for air as he choked on his grief. Gyomei's hand found the top of his head and rested there for a moment.

"You are a resilient boy. You always have been. It will hurt, but you shall grow through it, like tree roots through rock. The grief is strong but it will crack and it will break. And you shall grow tall and strong around such a heavy rock."

It wasn't fucking FAIR.

"Promise me this, Genya."

He wiped his tears and bit his tongue: "What?"

"You will continue your training."

Of course, he would. Nothing - nothing - no god or demon or anything would stop him now. Not Sanemi. Not death.

"I will," he vowed.

Gyomei nodded: "You will remember those who are good to you - they are your spine and your strength."

"I will."

"And you will remember, above all else, that I, Himejima Gyomei, the Stone Hashira, took you on as a student because of your determination and unwavering fortitude. And now, I, as one of my final acts as the Stone Pillar, make you a tsuguko."

Genya stared at him. Disbelief filled his chest and then ached in his bones.

"I took you as my student -" Gyomei continued - "Because you are strong. Remember that. As a tsuguko you will be subject to rigors and trials none should face, but now that I have named you such it will rest with my comrades to continue your training. There will never be time to rest, but you have proven to me that this is a title you deserve. You have proven yourself, Shinazugawa."

Pathetic. Weak. Coward. Useless.

"Promise me you will remember that," Gyomei demanded.

"I wish you weren't my fucking brother."

"I... I swear I won't," Genya breathed, trying at least to sound the part. "I promise."

"Good... good. Never before has a slayer who cannot achieve concentration breathing risen so high. I will not pretend this is a kind burden."

"It's not a burden."

"It is. One you will bear as you have all the others. You will never stop having to prove yourself."

Genya bowed his head lower and let out a breath that shook his form: "Thank you, Sensei. I won't let you down."

They sat there for a long moment, teacher and student. Then Gyomei chuckled, perking up at something: "Ah, it sounds like the Sound Pillar's family has arrived. I expect that shall be the end of our serenity."

And despite the tears in his eyes and the sob in his throat, Genya barked out a weak laugh at the sly grin on his Sensei's face.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

"MY WIVES!"

It was utterly hilarious and heartwarming to watch the respected hashira Tengen Uzui sprint up to the three women and lift them all in a hug. They clung to him in different ways, the blonde wiggled out of his arms in a huff but kept a hold on his forearm. The shortest one climbed onto his shoulder and began to ramble about the journey and the low parts of their last adventure. The one with the longest hair beamed as she took Tengen's other hand, chiming in when the others forgot something.

Kotoha watched the reunion with a smile, Mirakuru at her side still holding her training sword. Apparently, Tengen had up and left the girl, swearing he'd return momentarily and so Miku being Miku had been insistent on following. 

Kotoha would not lie, she had held some trepidation over Uzui and his wives. She remembered tales from the cult - plenty had fled from similar marriages (oh her heart ached to remember those people sometimes. Had they survived? Had Tsu managed to evacuate them all? Was there any point in this grief? Would she ever know?) 

But - seeing the four embrace and laugh and smile, Kotoha felt her heart rest. They were happy. Those four seemed truly happy to see each other. The women did not shy or shrink, Uzui did not tower over them, they laughed and chattered like eager birds, exchanging momentary kisses or lingering touches.

"Kotoha! And my flamboyant tsuguko!" Tengen grinned as they approached. "Please, let me introduce you to my fabulous wives!"

"I'm Suma!" the shortest announced joyfully, sliding off her husband's shoulder and bowing. "It's so nice to meet you!"

"She says that to everyone, don't read into it," the blonde smirked at her wife's greeting. "I'm Makio."

"And I'm Hinatsuru," said the last, with a similar bow. 

"It's good to meet you all too," Kotoha smiled returning the casual bow. She was aware of her... appearance. Kanae had finally released her from bedrest but her face was still wrapped and the wounds on her hands were just beginning to fade into white scars. But, if such a ghastly appearance startled the three Uzui wives, they did not show it.

"You have three wives!?" Miku's shriek tore past Kotoha's ponderings.

Oh, Miku.

Tengen blanched: "Uhhhh..."

"Oh my god, did you not tell her!?" Makio turned on him in an instant.

"I - it - I feel like I definitely did," the sound pillar stuttered.

Suma was giggling as she approached: "Yep! We're all married to each other!"

"You can do that?" Miku gawked.

"Sometimes! Especially when you want to!"

Makio was getting heated: "I can't believe you didn't tell her about us!"

"I definitely told - wait, no, that must've been her brother -"

"OH MY GOD, TENGEN!"

"In my defense! uh... I'm sorry?"

"Makio, leave him be," Hinatsuru laughed. 

"Aw hell no I've missed out on tormenting him for months!"

"A true agony, to be apart," Tengen smirked, suddenly grabbing Makio's hand and leaning closer, a smirk on his lips. "My ego was growing unfathomably deep without you here to humble me."

Makio sputtered: "Oh - don't you get flirty with me, bastard!"

"I think we should let them reunite, don't you?" Kotoha chuckled looking to Mirakuru.

"Awww... but I wanted to train," the girl muttered. "He said we'd train -"

Kotoha carded a hand through the girl's hair: "There will be time for that later -"

"MY BELOVEDS! WATCH! LITTLE MIKU CAN DO A FLAMBOYANT FLIMP!"

Oh, and they were off.

"I sure can!" Miku nodded eagerly, running up to the group. "And I can slice someone's head off too!"

"She learned from the best," Tengen preened.

"Please, she probably fights like a block of steel knowing your methods," Makio rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her.

"Show us! Show us!" Suma cheered eagerly, sitting on the porch as Miku scampered to the lawn and prepared herself.

Kotoha leaned on the nearby beam and smiled as her little girl executed that flip of hers and grinned: "See! See, I did it!"

Tengen was clapping heartily, cheering at her flamboyance... and Miku was beaming. That was the truly wonderful thing, Miku was beaming.

Hinatsuru had caught something in her footwork and stepped up to adjust it with praise and gentle critique which only broadened Miku's smile when she landed even steadily after her flip.

"Mom! Mom, did you see?" she turned and Kotoha tried to match the joy in her daughter's eyes.

"I did! You're doing wonderful!" she laughed.

Miku went on, showing off her favorite moves. Occasionally she'd get critiqued, but then someone would take the time to show her what they'd do differently - which sometimes sparked debate.

"No - no, do not show her how you switch footings!" Suma begged.

"It works though!" Makio snapped back. "Especially for something like this!"

"You fell on your face just last week doing this!" Suma stomped her foot. "Miku- Miku listen to me, do not jump to switch your footings."

Makio snickered: "Nah. Stay unpredictable. They're not gonna see it coming."

"They're gonna see it coming."

"Oh yeah, says Suma."

"What's that supposed to mean!?"

"When's the last time you had a successful stealth mission again?"

"That's NOT FAIR! YOU botched the last one! YOU kicked our boss, not ME!"

"I am going to agree with Suma here," Hinatsuru offered. "It's better to stay balanced."

"Really? I'm kind of with Maki," Tengen supposed. "Jumping isn't a terrible technique if you need to dodge."

"Doing it every time allows your opponent to read your moves. And risks your balance."

"Well I'm not going to tell her to do it every time -"

They debated the semantics for a moment longer before deciding to teach the young girl both methods of stance switching which of course Miku was thrilled by. Another half hour of watching made Kotoha realize they weren't going to stop anytime soon and, unfortunately, she was very much of her element in this.

"Are you alright?" Hinatsuru gently walked up to her with a smile: "I know we can be much and if you're uncomfortable with us all here with Miku -"

"No, no it's not that. It's actually nice watching you all," Kotoha laughed. "I think the different mindsets will serve her well."

"Me too - it's always good to have several opinions bouncing around," Hinatsuru nodded.

They watched Makio and Suma argue for the seventh time as Tengen went on to display a new kata for his student, which the girl copied diligently.

"You're Kotoha, right? I don't think we were truly properly introduced," Hinatsuru grinned.

"I am."

"I've heard quite a bit about you," the woman smiled.

"Oh, I'm sure," Kotoha laughed. "It's hard not to, I hear."

"Maybe," Hinatsuru shrugged. "But that's not always a bad thing."

They watched in silence a moment more before Kotoha broke it: "Do you all slay demons?"

"Oh yes," Hinatsuru nodded: "We were all trained to fight from the cradle."

"Really?" 

"Yes. What about you?"

"No, I'm afraid I'm not much use on the battlefield at all," Kotoha sighed.

Hinatsuru smiled: "I'm not sure I believe that, given your history."

It was impossible to ignore how those dark eyes lingered on Kotoha's bandages. Kotoha, for her part, glanced down at her scarred arms, which no longer itched or stung as they once had. 

"I think you've known plenty of battlefields," Hinatsuru murmured, almost sorrowfully.

"Yes - well, I think my appearance also lends some insight into my... physical shortcomings."

"You're alive, are you not?" the younger woman smiled: "I think that's indicative of a great warrior."

"I am no fighter."

And Hinatsuru laughed at that, softly: "Well, I don't think that's a bad thing at all either!"

Kotoha chuckled: "It feels it sometimes."

It was hard to not notice how the other woman's eyes lingered on Kotoha's bandages or the scarring on her hands.

"Would you like to learn?" 

The offer came rather suddenly and Kotoha startled: "Sorry?"

"To fight?" Hinatsuru smiled, gesturing to where her wives were sparring with each other - or maybe actually tussling, it was hard to tell.

"I'm... I'm afraid I'm too old. This body doesn't work as it used to."

"Then some subtler techniques. Knives or kunai. We're bound to be here a while!"

Kotoha laughed at the offer but it lingered for a long moment in her mind: "I... could I think on it?"

"Of course! If I could be honest - I'd just like the excuse to get to know you."

"Am I that interesting?" Kotoha teased.

Hinatsuru nodded: "I'd say so. Not everyone can live the life you have."

"I could say the same thing to you."

And the ex-shinobi laughed at that: "You definitely could."

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

It was never silent in the estate. There was always someone coming or going, always someone walking the halls with a purpose. Their steps continued like an everlasting cycle of breaths, easing and surging with the busier times of the day. Idle chatter reached Kyojuro's ears, though slightly garbled distracting him from his writings, in moments. He could not tell what was said, most of the time, but the mere presence of life was a kinder type of distraction.

It seemed life was returning to the estate with every wall they fixed.

The scratching of the quill, the rustling of the papers, his constant, steady breaths. He strained to hear it - All of it, everything was too quiet.

Especially Akaza.

The demon did not stir as he slumbered - each breath took the better part of an hour so the demon sat there like a corpse beneath covers that offered him no warmth. Such a boisterous, proud demon sat so serenely - so dull.  And such things did not sit well with Kyojuro. Kanae had assured him as best she could, but her knowledge of demons was limited to what lay right in front of her. Akaza's struggles were a mystery to all, and perhaps that was what frightened him most.

Frightened was the wrong term. It had to be. He did not feel fear over such things, and hadn't in a very long time. Loss was the unfortunate reality of life and after his mother's final breaths, he'd kept such matters close at hand. It was what made him a good teacher and a reliable slayer.

It was what kept him different from his Father.

He did not - could not - fear for Akaza's sake. Such things were useless. He did... worry. He worried that there were some fates worse than death, and Akaza had already been subject to one of them. It was gutting to think of his brilliant spirit trapped in another. But... Tanjiro had eased those more superficial fears.

Nezuko did not remember the year she slumbered. Indeed it seemed she was at peace the whole time, and Akaza smelled the same way. 

Which left Kyojuro to idle uselessly at the demon's bedside, unable to leave, but failing to justify why he should stay. So, perhaps to satiate that, he made himself a reason.

Should Akaza slumber for years, as Tanjiro theorized, the demon would want to be kept up to date on such matters. It had taken several days to write down what had happened after the demon's collapse: the news of the Master, the loss of Suma and Naho, the deterioration of the corps, but the revitalizing of it all too. Kyojuro hoped he knew the demon well enough to note what he'd care most for. This was something he could do. Something he could help with.

Naho and Sumi had taken up a fair few pages. The details they had of their death, their funeral - the news would be fresh to Akaza whenever he did wake, even if the rest of them had moved on. As would the Ubuyashiki's deaths. He planned to come right back to this bedside after the funeral to note all that happened. Because he was certain something would happen. It seemed most were dreading that fast-approaching date.

He enlisted Doma to help with news regarding the family, something the demon had done too eagerly, writing notes of his own but offering them to Kyojuro to organize.

Daki and Gyutaro missed him. Doma did too, though he hid it well in his letters, Kyojuro felt the need to add such matters. Inosuke was impatiently awaiting his awakening so they could spar. Kotoha visited every day to replace the flowers in the corner of the room. She wished him well.

Tengen was another good resource for Miku's growth, and Kyojuro knew well enough Akaza's fascination with his ward's training. He would want every update on both Hashibira children's progress.

Miku was learning Sound Breathing, and taking to it well. Inosuke was diligent in his training, claiming he never wanted to be at the mercy of an Upper Moon again - the boy had used more colorful phrases, but the intent was the same. They were relearning their forms and stances, Miku beginning her first few katas. 

Other than the usual updates, Kyojuro often found himself wanting to write more. The issue was what? What should he write? Such a conundrum left him staring at an empty parchment helplessly. It had never been hard to speak with Akaza, but this was not Akaza.

It was like he had a million things he wanted to say, but not a single one to write.

Every letter felt akin to a report written for the master. Every note felt too professional. These topics would be what they talked about over their nightly spar, with laughs and jabs and a joke or two. It would be casual and earnest, pulled from each other through familiar dodges and strikes, never enough to break but always enough to wince.

He missed it.

For the practice and utility, of course. It was not the same returning to his old training methods without a reliable partner to practice with, but it would have to be...

Perhaps he should write about that. 

No. These letters were to celebrate Akaza's eventual awakening. He would not make Akaza feel guilty over his situation. Kyojuro was perfectly capable of keeping his training schedule just as fearsome as it had been with Akaza present.

It just would not be the same.

"Oh! Sensei!" 

A familiar voice interrupted Kyojuro's conflicted musings. He looked up from the paper and grinned as two familiar siblings opened the door and stepped inside.

"Kamados!" he greeted, laughing at the earnest smiles that greeted him.

Tanjiro came bearing a collection of flowers and Nezuko's eyes lit up as she ran up to where he sat.

"Miss Hashibira asked us to bring these," Tanjiro explained happily as he wandered over to Akaza's bedside. Nezuko, meanwhile was patting Kyojuro's head - her usual affectionate greeting.

"Wonderfully kind of you, Kamado! Is she otherwise indisposed?" the Flame Pillar wondered, it was rare for Kotoha to deviate from her schedule.

Nezuko hummed and nodded. The demon girl had made leaps and bounds post-transformation. She carried herself with an alertness in her gaze and had begun catching key phrases and tones. Tanjiro was ecstatic and if Kyojuro was honest, he was as well.

The young girl pulled away and mimed something akin to throwing something before grinning through her bamboo.

"She's... throwing something?" he supposed.

"Yes, Miss Hinatsuru is teaching her how to use kunai!" Tanjiro grinned as he pulled the old flowers out of their porcelain vase and began arranging the new ones. 

"Ah! Then Tengen's wives have arrived! Have you gotten a chance to meet them?"

Nezuko nodded eagerly, chewing on her bamboo with a pure level of excitement.

"They're very nice," Tanjiro offered. "Nezuko really likes Miss Suma."

Nezuko seemed to agree, lighting up at the name.

"Wonderful!" Kyojuro grinned.

Tanjiro finished his duties, but lingered as his gaze drifted to Akaza: "He smells happier."

Kyojuro faltered at that.

Nezuko, seemingly drawn by Tanjiro's attention, also wandered to the demon's side. She leaned over Akaza's form, brows drawn tight in consideration before her expression once more lit into a smile and she diligently pat his head. It was almost as if she was deeming him 'healthy', and funnily enough Kyojuro found himself completely trusting her judgment.

"Happier?" he echoed as Nezuko took to wandering the room and humming.

"Yes! I think a part of him recognizes you're spending time with him. He smelled tense the last time I visited him - but he's much better now! I wonder if it's because you're here?"

"He is fond of company," Kyojuro supposed.

"Yeah. He was happy when Inosuke came in with me - but this is more... relaxed?" The boy scrunched his nose as he tried to decipher it: "I'm not sure. But I think he appreciates you, Sensei!"

Kyojuro turned away and found himself smiling, something strange in his head: "Your optimism is empowering, Kamado."

"Thank you!" Tanjiro grinned.

Nezuko had drifted to the door and was looking down the hall eagerly, her eyes fixated on the nearby window that showed the glorious night sky. She looked back to her brother and gave a louder hum. Tanjiro's attention snapped over and whatever communication they had was between them and them alone.

"OH! You're right! Excuse me, Sensei - I promised Nezuko we'd have dinner with the Uzui family! Miss Suma invited us and Nezuko doesn't want to be late!"

Nezuko hummed loudly in agreement, waving at Kyojuro before she started off into the hall. 

"I'm coming!" Tanjiro called, bowing once to Kyojuro with a smile: "See you tomorrow, Sensei!"

"You as well, Kamado. Do remain cognizant tonight, my friend can be drawn into more unruly dinners. I recommend you do not indulge in any alcohol he offers you."

"Of course!" Tanjiro grinned. "Though I'm sure Master Uzui wouldn't -"

"I... am not," Kyojuro chuckled.

"Oh... well... Oh well!" And with that Tanjiro was gone, calling for Nezuko to wait up for him after he closed the door. From the sound of her distant response, she was not.

Which left Kyojuro sitting there once again in absolute silence, a familiar ringing in his ears as he leaned back at looked over at Akaza.

Happier. Relaxed. 

Kyojuro could see no difference, but something about the thought made the tightness in his chest ease. Suddenly, he didn't feel quite as useless anymore. Softly, his quill scratched words into the parchment.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The wretched day came like its inevitable dusk. As night fell, the butterfly estate's residence grew soft and solemn - a mourning fog dampening all else. All moved as one; every slayer rising as the sun began to set, helping others who could not steadily stand and taking to the road.

The lanterns burned like quiet stars on Earth. Footsteps rasped against gravel roads. The wind blew and the crickets played but all else was quiet. Slayers came from far and wide, bearing gifts or mementos - some empty-handed, some with candles, but all silent as the graves they walked to. All solemn, just as the five new graves they stopped before.

Kagaya had asked to be buried next to his children, both those in blood and those of nichirin steel. Amane had asked to have a private funeral. The compromise had been that the two would be laid to rest in the slayer's cemetery with only Kuina and Kiriya there to fall apart however they needed. After that, the rest would mourn.

Kanae led the group from the estate, holding her lantern high and keeping the pace even. Shinobu was to her right bearing pruned branches of blooming wisteria, Kanao and Aoi were to her left - both armed with the swords they'd been granted by Kagaya's hand. It was odd to see Aoi armed, Doma thought, and yet the weapon rested so easily on her waist. At her side was Kiyo, holding a candle in one hand and Kanao's palm in the other.

Mitsuri and Rengoku assisted Gyomei - he'd insisted on walking to the grave sight on his own accord and no one would deny him. The rest were peppered around the mass of slayers who migrated to the gravesite. Doma was at Kotoha's side, his heart heavier than ever as he watched this trickling sea of mourners drift through the young night.

Kiriya had asked that they wait for nightfall to mourn... and Doma feared that such a choice had been made with him in mind. To hold off the mourning of the master till nightfall - when the demon slayers were to be most diligent. When there was work to be done? It hadn't sat well with some - especially if the decision was made for the simple sake of letting a few demons mourn a man who postponed their inevitable death. Logically it made no sense.

Doma, though... Doma was grateful for whatever reason swayed Kiriya's mind.

Inosuke and Miku walked before him, Gyutaro and Daki shouldering them - expressions unreadable as Daki's ribbon wrapped around her brother's hand. They held no gifts nor offerings and honesty, were out of place in this grieving array. All around them was the smell of salt and loss. Faceless slayers joined their migration, without a breath of a greeting or sob. It was the procession of steel and blood.

And Doma couldn't help but feel alienated from such good souls.

The graveyard itself gutted Doma. To bear witness to the sheer size was enough grief to last all of Doma's lifetimes - or so he thought. He'd thought Kotoha's descriptions were horrifying, but seeing it did true justice to his and his kind's sins. All the processions of slayers - from all corners of the country - filled the field of resting dead, careful not to trod off the thin gravel paths. They all moved like a slow stream to two graves already showered with grieving gifts and flowers.

Not a word was spoken unless it was to the graves. The hashira hung back, allowing their subordinates to walk up one by one and give their parting words to Kagaya, Amane, or the four small graves nestled between them. Doma did not miss how there was space left for two more. He grabbed Kotoha's hand as something bubbled up his throat and threatened his composure.

The gifts were already piled high around the graves: flowers in the back. Candles and mementos in the front. There were children's drawings - gifts from the young ones in the crowd. Retired slayers, elderly slayers, new slayers, spouses, saved victims, Wisteria House members, doctors, swordsmiths, everyone. One by one by one they left their final words to the cold grave. They carried that weight with them and it seemed to compel their stride.

It was a slow process, but it all moved with a sense of purpose - a determination Doma had come to know in these people. It was midnight by the time the tsugukos took their places.

"To mourn is to love, and to love is to keep living." Or so whispered Tanjiro as he placed his hand on Kagaya's grave, Nezuko standing resolutely at his side. The young Kamado demon stared at the graves for a long moment as her brother stood, a significance in her pink irises that hadn't been there before. She gave the smallest of bows before taking her brother's hand and allowing the next slayer to say their peace - Genya. A newly declared tsuguko under Gyomei - or so whispered the butterfly staff.

The boy bowed resolutely - as a soldier would - and straightened himself despite a trembling jaw. Then came Inosuke and Miku. Inosuke wasn't afraid to smile as he approached the grave, crouching down before the smaller ones and raising his head.

"We'll fuck em' up for you," he supposed. "You can be sure of that."

Perhaps not as respectful as those around him would want, but Doma knew well enough the softness in Inosuke's volume. Kotoha did too. Miku, on the other hand, said nothing. She stared at the graves for a very, very long moment, before turning and following her brother. 

Zenitsu was the final of the four boys to pay his respects, and he came bearing something wrapped in thick canvas - longer than his arms, and he carried it as if it weighed more than a cart. Gingerly, he lay it at the foot of the graves - and Doma did not miss the stares on the young Thunder Breather.

It was a thunder breather who'd slain Kagaya, Amane, and their innocent children. It was a slayer who had betrayed them. And Doma watched as those facts rested on the young boy's shoulders.

"I will avenge you." It was the sternest Zenitsu had ever sounded - and it was barely a whisper as he unwrapped his offering. It was a golden sword, chipped, with a well-word handle. A blade that had not been used for years but must've seen thousands of battles. Zenitsu placed his palm on the handle and took a long breath. "I shall atone for the sins of the Lightning Breathers. I will slaughter Kaigaku Inadama, and redeem Master Jigoro Kuwajima. On his sword, I swear it."

The blond sat there a long moment before standing, the weight of his words squaring his shoulders as he joined the others.

Kanao and Shinobu were the final tsugukos to pay their respects. Shinobu diligently propped the wisteria trimmings around the grave - where she got branches still in bloom was a mystery, but they framed the graves as a final act of protection.

"Do... do we have to go up there?" Daki hissed in Doma's ear as she leaned over his shoulder.

"...No," Doma murmured.  It felt wrong to be in the graveyard as an old enemy of these humans. He wasn't sure paying respects to their murdered master would feel any better.

"Good," Daki muttered, falling back.

It seemed her disdain did not die with Kagaya. Doma looked to Kotoha to see if perhaps she wanted to, but she stood resolute and watched it all, the bandages on her face failing to hide the determination in her eyes. Perhaps, somehow, he'd find whatever strength she saw in this. Perhaps if he watched long enough, he'd understand how this gutting regret empowered these people when all it seemed to do was tear him apart.

With the last of the tsugukos finished, it fell on the hashira to say their final words. The slayers stood in a crowd of lanterns and dark uniforms, a prepared audience as they looked to their leaders. The hashira, however, stood in a line before the grave, and it seemed none of them desired to take the first step.

That hesitation lasted only a moment as both Tengen and Kyojuro stepped forward, startling each other.

"You can -" Tengen began.

"No. You." The flame pillar stepped back in line and, silently, Tengen was the first to go silently to his Master's grave. Well, it was silent until he sat down in front of Kagaya's grave.

"Sorry," the Sound Pillar murmured as he pulled out two small cups and a bottle of Sake from his belt. "I know you weren't much for drinking,"

Diligently he poured two cups and toasted, the fine pottery chiming like a bell as he tapped the one sitting before the grave, beside the golden sword. Tengen drank his cup in one fell swig, smiling as he wiped his lips and nodded: "But thanks for putting up with me. Until next time."

He left the full cup there as he stood and stowed the bottle back on his belt. As he fell back in line, Kyojuro stepped forward.

That was a much more solemn farewell. Kyojuro knelt before the grave, bowed, and stayed there for a long moment before standing and doing the same to Amane's grave. Then Hinaki, Nichika, and Kanata's.

Sanemi did the very same - anger bubbling with every bow until he ended at Kagaya's grave. He unsheathed his blade, slowly, and held it out before him - its green sheen glinting in the lantern's light. In a swift moment, he ran his palm down its blade, slicing it open and staining its edge with crimson. The smell was abrasive, but none of the demons swayed at the now familiar scent of Marechi.

"To give until we cannot - that is the way of the slayer," he rasped, staring at the blood on his hand. Slowly, he knelt and rubbed the blood on the stone footing of Kagaya's grave. The red stood out starkly and as the hashira stood it was clear that not everyone approved of his decision - several slayers scowling at such a display.

But Sanemi Shinazugawa stood there, blood dripping from his fingertips as he stared and stared.... and stared... perhaps he would've stood there forever, but someone coughed and the Wind hashira was startled out of whatever daze held him.

"I shall give all I am - as you have. That's... my vow to you, Master. All I am," the man breathed finally, sheathing his sword and returning to the line.

Mitsuri came next, sniffling as she walked up with her arms full of flowers. She knelt before Amane's grave and placed a bundle of flowers.

"Thank you... Kaa-san," Mitsuri breathed. "You rest now, we've got it from here. I'll take care of them."

She did the same to the graves of the young girls and to Kagaya. "Thank you." "Rest well." "Thank you." "Rest, we'll carry on."

When it was all done, she took a step back and looked over her handiwork: "We love you," she stated - and it was the loudest anyone had dared to speak. "We will not forget you. And -" She rubbed her running nose and sniffed again - "We'll avenge you. We'll stop this. Once at for all. That's my promise!"

She returned to her space and Obanai passed her, stopping to put a hand on her shoulder - some unspoken conversation happening between their gazes. Mitsuri nodded and wiped her eyes, agreeing and softly, Obanai handed her the white snake on his shoulder before he pressed on.

Mitsuri held Kaburamaru closer to her chest as the Snake Hashira knelt before the graves and bowed, long and slow. He said not a word, but stood and placed a hand on the bandages on his face. For a moment, it seemed he was about to peel them off, but paused and instead reached out and placed a hand on Kagaya's gravestone.

"Destroy Demons," he murmured. "May your memory die alongside all demonkind."

At that was that. He turned around and came to Mitsuri's side as Gyomei limped forward with help from his new crutch.

He did not kneel, but his bow was no less reverent, and his tears only poured down his face.

"You were good people," Gyomei announced. "The best, perhaps. And every life you saved will forever stay in your debt."

Simple. But impactful. Mitsuri sniffed again.

Gyomei returned and Kanae looked to Muichiro, offering him to go first. The boy stared at her for a long moment before walking forward. He was stoic, slow - another soldier in a child's form who held his head high and kept his jaw set. Doma could not see the boy's eyes, but he had to figure they were dry and firm, just as all the other slayers.

The Mist Pillar bowed to Kagaya. He bowed to the children. But he paused as he reached Amane's grave. At first, Doma thought the boy may have forgotten what to do - he was so still,  it was as if he was lost, staring at a grave with no knowledge of what it meant.

"You..." it was a fight to find his words. It was only then did Doma realize the hashira was trembling. 

"You saved me." They were breathy words as the boy confessed: "You saved me - you saved all of us... and... and I... I -"

There was a breath - or rather a hitch in his lungs. That hitch turned into a gasp which brought the boy's remaining hand flying to his face to quench the tears suddenly spewing from his eyes. It was a moment of death and silence.

Then he sobbed. A broken, defeated sort of sound as if it regretted ever spilling into the air - maybe it did. Maybe it was wrong for a hashira to crumble so. Perhaps it was worse that a young boy was sobbing for something no one could truly understand.

Tengen, Kanae, and Kyojuro - they all took a step forward: tradition and professionalism be damned. But Mitsuri sprinted. The boy fell to his knees in front of Amane's grave, holding his hands to his chest as he doubled over and gasped for breath. Mitsuri was there, sobbing just as loud as she knelt at his side.

"It's okay. It's okay," she breathed softly, Doma's demonic ears strained to make out such quiet words as the other hashiras fell back into place.

But the damn had broken. There was a hiccup from Aoi as she wiped her eyes, and she only cried louder as Kanao took her hand. Another slayer covered his eyes and began to cry. Then another. Soon the silence was full of muffled tears as the crowd of stoic masks crumbled.

With Muichiro, they sobbed. 

"I'm sorry!" the child choked at the young grave. "I'm sorry. I forgot - I forgot you - you helped me, you cared: I'm sorry -"

It was so quiet and yet the boy's distress shook his body even when held up by Mitsuri's steady hold.

"I'm sorry..." he seemed to pray desperately as he fought to regain composure. Mitsuri shook her head with vigor and hugged the boy close.

"They wouldn't mind," she promised.

"I never, never told her - She saved me - I didn't remember -"

"You do now."

"I don't!" It was the quietest wail Doma had ever heard - and he just barely heard it even with his demonic senses.

Mitsuri either had nothing to say to that or spoke louder in how she knelt at the pillar's side. They stayed there for a long moment, recovering faster than the rest of the crowd. The Love pillar offered Muichiro a hand to stand, but he had no issue getting back on his feet, his arm clinging to his side and slowly drifting to his empty shoulder.

Then he turned, and if it wasn't for the red in his eyes or the flush of his face, it would be impossible to guess he'd ever faltered in the first place. He took his place in the line of warriors and held his head high, staring at a horizon no one else dared try to find.

Finally, Kanae stepped towards the fresh earth and unblemished stone. She centered herself between the five stones, slowly getting to her knees. With a measured sort of grace, she unstrapped her sheath and sword - laying it at her side as she knelt perfectly still. She stayed there for a moment, hands in her lap and head held high. And then she bowed.

Her forehead rested at the foot of Kanata's grave, her hands nestled in that hallowed earth. It was a silent bow, but in a breath, the other hashiras had followed suit. What weapons they had were placed to their sides and upon that gravel they gave one final farewell to their old master.

The tsugukos immediately followed in their mentor's stead, then retired slayers, and soon most everyone was on their knees.

Everyone, except a chosen few, and the demonic family in the back. Doma's knees almost buckled under such pressure but he was stalled by older weights.

What right did he have to mourn? What right did he have to respect a good man - 

And yet he bowed anyway. He did not fall to his knees - perhaps that was respect enough, but it was wrong to grant such a man the same prostration Muzan demanded of his demons. At least... Doma hoped so. He lowered his head and took a long breath to cool his chest.

Almost an entire family, murdered in a night. Two orphans - a brother and sister left to pick up their father's burdens. A good man - a better man than Doma. A good woman. Innocent children.

If nothing else - if nothing else, Doma had to hope they were granted some sort of peace. Peace in knowing they were loved. Missed. That others survived. That all was not lost.

Not that such things would grant him any peace. Not that such thoughts would quell a heart wicked as his. But if he kept selfishly glancing between his children and the graves, if he kept breathing in guilt and breathing out relief - who was to know?

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

They were so little.

Tamayo hummed as little Kuina finally closed her eyes, eyes still swollen but her lungs even in rhythm. Sobbing was a tiring endeavor, the demon lamented.

Kuina's brother had fallen asleep almost instantly after coming home. It had been good to allow them to sob - as children should - in front of their family's graves. Witnesses were too cruel for protegees like this.

It was quiet now, with the two sleeping. Tamayo had hidden them in a wisteria home - or more aptly, Yushiro had hidden them. The wards were double-checked - no - triple-checked at every waking hour. If not by Tamayo then my Yushiro who had surely sensed the despaire she'd fallen into.

She cursed herself for it, but she was also too sentimental to separate logic from this.

Losing Kagaya was a blow to her, doubtlessly. He'd been a pragmatic man - someone who looked forward and saw a future for humankind. Someone who had smiled at her, because in his mind the evil in the world was not the fruit that fell off the rotten tree, but the sick bastard who kept planting such demonic roots. 

He'd been inspiring. It had been nice to hope again. To trust again.

But he was a human, and Tamayo knew too well the fragility of mortals. He had been dying from the moment she met him, withering away in a fate too cruel for a mind like his. Perhaps it was evil, but she considered his destruction a mercy. Besides, some evils harm no one, and silent thoughts posed no more bite than Chuchamaru when you scratched his favorite spot.

The demon pulled some of Kuina's hair out of her face and held back a surge of affection that demanded she pull closer. Those were old instincts. Old - ancient habits that had awakened far too late...

No. No, she would not get caught up in this. She would not.

The demon stood, checking once more that the children were tucked in before leaving the room swiftly. The longer she stayed, the further her thoughts would stray.

Anger. That was what she needed right now. Rage. Fury. Revenge.

She needed Muzan writhing on a thorned spike, screaming. Begging for mercy. She needed him singing in agony as the sun ate him cell by cell by cell - she needed his blood on her hands. She needed him dead. Choking, cowering, screeching, sobbing, wailing - all of it.

If she imagined it cleanly enough - she could taste his blood again. She could see that old expression - the one he'd only made once in her presence: horrified shock. 

Yes. Yes, those were safer thoughts. Thoughts fit for a fallen demon. A traitor.

"My Lady?"

Tamayo looked over her shoulder and found her familiar shadow.

"Yushiro," she smiled. 

He did not smile in turn: "Are you alright?"

Ah, she'd gotten away from herself. Long claws slipped back and her fangs dulled. She hoped her eyes fogged over - such ugly things her pupils could be when she got lost in her thoughts. 

"My emotions got away from me," she murmured her apology: "I am sorry to frighten you."

"You could never frighten me, My Lady!" Yushiro vowed, lighting up. His words gutted her, but at least he was quelled. He always acted like that around her...

He loved her. 

She knew it well and had known it for years. She'd spent too long wondering if it was something she did wrong - something in the demonic transition that had cursed Yushiro with the same infatuation so many demons were subject to under Muzan. But no, Yushiro just... loved her.

Something she could never return. He knew it. He'd never pressed the matter again...

"You don't have to! My Lady please... just... let me help you! Please let me stay with you - let me help you! That would be enough!"

And it had been. For a hundred years, it had been... he had stayed.

Still...

She was a monster—an ancient, powerful beast who existed to oppose the strongest demon. Yoriichi may be that man's ghost, but she was Muzan's shadow. Plenty forgot that - perhaps it was easy to forget it when she let herself seem gentle. When she forgot to be cruel. Her blood art was strengthened by the hundreds she'd devoured at the foot of a monster. No matter how pretty it seemed - how gentle she made it - that did not change its origins. 

She could never let herself forget that.

Yushiro was a child, in the grand scheme of things. A lovesick boy who'd been bewitched. 

"I'm... Excuse my frankness - but I'm concerned!" Yushiro pressed. She was trying to walk to her room, but he took step with her so easily, in a dance they knew well.

"Do not be concerned," Tamayo smiled. "I'm fine."

The boy bit his lip - as he so often did when he wanted to disagree.

"What is it?" Tamayo stopped silently and turned to her ward.

He paused as well: "Please forgive me... I ... I just think we've been with these humans too long for your own good, Lady Tamayo!"

She voted to ignore the implications there.

"We cannot leave the slayers at such a precarious time. We made a promise to Kagaya -"

Yushiro did not falter: "To ensure the safety of his children, yes. We've done that."

"For now. But Muzan will return," Tamayo drifted to a nearby window and looked out to the dim forest. "We will want to finish what he started. He's too proud to fail like this."

"Then we should be far away when he does!" Yushrio hissed. "My lady, he will want your death too."

"I do not fear death." An easy enough response. A true one too.  She double-checked the window was latched.

Death would finally chase away bloodied claws and the memory of a scream clawing out of her throat. Perhaps she would finally rest without envisioning how well little broken bodies rested in her arms.

"My Lady no!" Yushiro begged. "Surely splitting up is better. Leaving the two children here would be safe for them. And we could leave these slayers -"

"These slayers will be Muzan's destruction. I intend to be there for it."

"My Lady if he strikes again and we are here -"

"I am not leaving Kiriya or Kuina." Her gaze flickered over to Yushiro who paled. That's right, boy, remember the monster you love. Remember the beast beneath Tamayo's skin. Remember the horror you follow so loyally.

"But..."

"If Muzan comes. We fight. If he doesn't. We stay."

With that, she left the window and departed for her room.

"My Lady..." it was such an earnest call from Yushiro that she let herself look back. 

His eyes were wide, pleading with her with fear, and a dangerous acknowledgment of reality: "My Lady, they are not your children... you - you owe them nothing..."

She stared at him for a very long time, her expression unchanging despite how her congealed blood rushed to her ears. She was the picture of composure as she turned and returned to her room. Yushiro called after her in a desperate apology that she would assure later. He was not completely out of line - and he had always held her best interests in his heart. But that did not mean she could not seethe. She would confront him later, but for now, the world was dark and her chest was tight.

Closing the door created a space of peace. Here she was safe. Here she was not seen. Here she could break.

But she didn't. She stood at the door and stared, trying to let herself cry. Trying to get those old emotions out of her chest, but they'd rooted themselves deep in her heart and were content to fester like an infected wound.

She could not cry anymore. She had run out of tears long ago.

Yushiro was right, in some regards. Kagaya and Amane's orphans were not hers. Not only was it inappropriate to try and take the parental role with those two - it would endanger them. Her presence would only make the target on their back larger.

It was ideal that she and Yushiro stay on the move - always.

But Kuina had clung to her dress so, so tightly - she'd sobbed in her arms. Kiriya had hidden behind her, because she had been safe to them. They thought her safe - they thought her good enough. It had been near instantaneous.

A monster had chased them, and they'd run into her arms... 

She had seen them, plenty, in her secret visits to the Master's quarters. She had known their names and deciphered their faces. And yet... after Kaigaku had fled, Kuina had grabbed her hand. 

And oh had it been so vulnerable - so trusting. So... pure.

It was the same sensation as Nezuko's hands, cupping her face. Staring at her with absolute adoration... familial adoration. It had shattered her back then, to see a demon who knew exactly the horror she knew, but still love. Still love her. An absolute stranger - a child - had reduced her to tears for the first time in centuries.

These children were different, and yet very much the same. She did not wonder why they had endeared to her heart. 

There was a corpse in her arms. A child's corpse. A ten year old's corpse. She knew her she knew her she knew her she knew her - them. Them there were many and they were dead -

The blood on her tongue began to burn.

She was a simple monster, as all demons were. A shell of a mortal with lingering bits of her first life. You did not escape what damned you. You did not forget. Even the mind lost it, the body remembered. Such was the curse of all demons.

"Kaa-san!" Someone was wailing. Sobbing. Screaming. Clawing at her arms so, so feebly. "Kaa-san please... please... plea...."

Such was her curse. Her sins.

She sat at the desk and went back to work. She would stay. She would keep her word to Kagaya, she would protect those two children as best she could... and perhaps she'd get lucky and Muzan himself would come to kill them.

Then, perhaps, it could be as it always should've been.

Her, between a monster and two children. Her back to the children. Her teeth bared to the monster. Maybe then she'd die doing what she should've done all those years ago...

But then again. Maybe it would be Muzan in her arms, begging as she ripped his hideous throat out, with her teeth curled into a smile. Oh yes... what a wonderful sight that would be...

(WOOOO Sorry this took a hot second I rewrote it too many times. Send help.

Sanemi does not stain Ubuyashiki's stones with his marechi blood. Challenge level: Extreme.

Genya has a good day. Challenge level: Impossible.

Death has lingering effects and will not be ignored or forgotten, more at eight. Remember folks! It's not trauma, it's character development :D. Anyway onto the weather, high chance of rain -

More breaking news! Traumatized 1000 year old Demonic Mother finds herself acquiring two new orphans - and feels bad for wanting to take care of them because she's a lil fucked up.)