7. a patchwork of life put together by death.

There's something Kanata can't deny when he sees the Kochou sisters.

It's bittersweet. Emphasis on the bitter for Kanata's part. He can't justify this emotion— so he swallows it back down, and sips on his tea. Like he does every other interaction in the world. It's not a rational emotion, so he does not entertain it.

None of them are related by blood. All of them have different last names except the two oldest. And they love each other unconditionally, no matter the paths they've chosen in their life. The butterfly pin ties them together as a family, and they would do anything for each other.

They would mourn, if one of them died.

(That's nice. That's so nice.)

"I don't like the Butterfly Mansion," Rui declares, after visiting once. They left in the night, so Kanata could make it to his next destination by sunrise.

Kanata hums. Rui's allowed to dislike whatever he dislikes— he doesn't need a justification.

But Rui gives one anyway. "Kanata hates it there, right? You hate that place, you don't like that family, and everything there makes you sad. I would kill them all for that, but you wouldn't like that either."

Kanata is very grateful for Rui's self control, but now he's concerned for a different reason.

"I don't hate it there."

"You're lying to me."

Kanata doesn't know what to do about this. He likes them all, individually, that's not a lie. It's not a problem he has with the mansion, or the sisters, or even them being a family.

He doesn't have the words to justify it.

"I love what they have," it comes out, like a voice he doesn't own.

He doesn't acknowledge the person that speaks these words. But it's his voice, from his throat, feelings churning up from his gut, and his brain refuses to deny it.

"I love what they have, because it's so unfair that I wasn't allowed to have it."

No. no, no. Kanata needs to shut up.

"You're nice, Rui. And I'll make sure your life is great. But when I look at them... I just can't take it. Why were they allowed to be happy but I had to—"

He can't control his breath and something in his chest is making his eyes prickle with the desire to scream and cry and that's wrong.

This is stupid. Why is he feeling like this? Kanata doesn't scream and cry and whine about the cruelty of life. This isn't Kanata.

Kanata doesn't— ah. Right. He can just—

—"Shamal."

-

He still remembers Rui's startled expression.

Of course Rui's startled. Rui's always confused when Kanata kills himself— mainly because he always has strings around to stop ambushes, and Kanata managed to surpass the speed of all those supplementary efforts to kill himself anyways.

But Kanata sips on the warm hot cocoa and thinks of nothing and— and that's right. He closes his eyes, and thinks of nothing, feels nothing, does nothing. Says nothing.

Nothing.

Because Death is the mercy of nothingness, and Kanata craves it like a drug.

And Death watches over him from a distance. He says nothing, too, but he scoffs in disapproval.

Kanata doesn't care. Kanata can't care, because the second he remembers how to, he'll stop being alright with everything about the life he now leads.

Life is irrational. He'd always known that. Kanata can't allow himself to react to every single bit of it.

A distraction. Anything will do.

"Huh. You were doing pretty well. What brings?"

The little ents serve him that nostalgically warm hot cocoa, crawling onto his face for cheek hugs. One of them is curled into his hair, getting tangled in.

Kanata allows himself silence.

The manga sprawled around him doesn't have the answer he seeks.

"I forgot that Upper Moon Two also uses a fan."

Death is baffled. "You are not fighting the psychopathic murder cult leader, kid."

Kanata scowls at him. Does he look like the guy that wants trouble?

"Yes. I can't believe you just asked me that. Yes, you absolutely do. You have a track record, the answer is yes."

Now Kanata's just plain offended.

"And no," Death adds, taking the manga away from him, ignoring the grabby hands Kanata makes and holding the book high up above his head because he's a beanpole and he's an asshole and he's Death he can do whatever he wants, "I'm not letting you add 'join a cult' into your crazy bucket list. I let you do that with Rui and now I realize you're severely lacking a voice of reason."

-

"Welcome, Tecchikawahara-sa... uhm. You forgot your mask."

Shinobu aborts her sentence to stare. She's failing terribly at not gawking. She requires a system reboot, because she can't quite register this right now. She's actually trying to get comfortable, resting her chin in her hands as she drinks in this sight she probably won't have a chance to witness again. Her eyes haven't blinked once.

"Shinobu-san..."

"...yes?"

"Come with me to kill a demon before it kills your sister."

Shinobu stares back at him in baffled silence.

She reaches her sword at her bedside, "uhm, yeah, sure, just let me put my hair up before we go."

-

"So, why didn't you bring your little demon with you?"

On the way, Shinobu brings up a different conversation each loop. Kanata wonders if she's hiding some weird Death-defying powers, or if she just didn't care for all the questions at all, so it didn't matter which question she gave.

Kanata's answer to this one, "because Rui will die."

Shinobu's offended. Or maybe she's just annoyed. "And my life is worth less than the demon's, to you?"

Kanata hums.

She sees it as an affirmative and attacks him.

Kanata dodges, of course. Her small talk is different every loop, but the way she immediately goes for the carotid artery never changes.

Rui will die when he is beheaded. Shinobu will die when she is consumed. But Rui's time to die is overdue, while Shinobu's time is not yet here. So, obviously, the best choice to bring in a fight against Douma is the girl that's destined to win in this encounter.

(Good thing Kaigaku was at the Butterfly Mansion today. Rui would've been more insistent on coming along if he didn't have a distraction.)

"I will ask Grandpa to make you a special sword," he bargains. Shinobu of this time has not mastered her Breathing Style just yet, so it's hard to know if she'll be as useful as her future self.

But if there's something she is— it's uncaring.

She won't ask questions.

"I need your knowledge of poisons," he says. "All of them. That's how we'll win."

"You want me to concoct a poison capable of defeating an Upper Moon from now? I didn't even bring my kit with me because you dragged me out of bed—"

"Yes. Take your time."

"You're unbelievable!"

Douma is fated to die from poison. That's the only way they'll be able to defeat him.

-

Kanata interrupts the battle with a shred of sand against ice, a burst of shattered pewter rending through the ice, interrupting it just before it could gouge into Kanae's side.

Kanae retreats, briefly, but doesn't let herself be too delighted.

"You're not the backup I've requested," she observes, eyes never leaving the enemy.

"Oh?" Douma stands before them, calm and unfazed, and his smile only grows wider as he sees Kanata. He raises his own golden-plated fans to his face, hiding his lower face as would a courtesan. His eyes were filled with mischief.

Kanata mirrors the pose with his own fan, and with the lack of a mask on his face, his eyes narrowed upon his enemy's with proper hold, for perhaps the first time.

"How curious," Douma sounds endeared, "it'll be like I'm fighting a mini-me~ Isn't that just so adorable? You look delicious, what a treat I'm getting tonight!"

Demon slayers don't really have the opportunity to work together often. Usually when they're in a situation like that, one of them will die at the end of it. So, Kanata can't say he knows how to fight alongside a Flower Breath user.

But conceptually, they both understand their styles well.

Flower and Sand have little in common, but they both flutter in the wind. While Kanae has never had dance trained into her, she had the elegance and poise that Kanata lacked in physique.

That's why, instinctively— they knew that in some form, the both of them could mesh as a team.

The problem was...

"Kanata-kun, haven't you heard of ladies first?"

"Huh—" Kanata's befuddled, "in a waltz, the man leads."

"I'm stronger than you."

He's flabbergasted. If he uses his future knowledge, they'll get through this easily! "I'm leading!" he doesn't have time for this nonsense—

"You've got to be insane if you think I'm going to let you jump into your death before me."

Kanata had prepared to deal with Shinobu— stubborn, strong-willed, and determined Shinobu, who is cruel and meticulous. He had prepared to use her, just as much as she would use him.

But Kanae is different. Kanae is kind, strong, and full of so much incomprehensible compassion— and someone he knows nothing about.

Kanata knows nothing about Kanae, because this version of her does not exist in the books he's read over and over again. He does not know how to handle her.

"You're Sanemi's precious friend," Kanae says. "Don't you remember how devastated he was when Masachika happened? Don't let this be a repeat of that— if not for yourself, then at least, do it for him."

Kanata can't let himself listen to her.

She lives for people.

Kanata's lived too long dying for people.

He can't listen to her. Tecchikawahara Kanata is a carefully constructed sandcastle in this world, and he's willing to rebuild it as many times as it takes, as long as the flag doesn't fall from its peak. That's all that matters.

Kanata will live like he should.

He won't listen to her.

-

Douma's fans conjure icicles, shattering into fractals upon contact. Kanata takes a single breath and Kanae yells out a warning.

"Control it! Follow his fans and avoid them— you should be able to do this better than anyone else!"

She's right.

It's so cold, his lungs wheeze with only a graze, and they burn, as if frostbite were seizing them cell by cell and spreading and there was nothing he could do. It was cold, so cold, if he takes a Total Concentration Breath right now he'd die—

—even if he doesn't it'll spread through his lungs and once it's all the way through, he's done. Once his lungs give in, that's it. All he can do now is wait—

(—ah, it's so cold. So cold, Let me out. Let me out please— I'm alive, I'm alive—)

"Shamal!"

-

He needs to get a grip on himself.

"It's a bad matchup," Death relents. "I know you're not a quitter, kid. But we're going to be here a long time, and you're unravelling on the first one."

Kanata sips on the hot chocolate, smiling at the little ents congregating for his attention. He ignores the words behind him.

He's calm here.

He's calm here, and he wishes he could be calm forever.

It's been so long since it all happened. He wishes he could just forget about that very first death. He thought he forgot all about it— but everything right now seems to remind him of what happened. And it's frustrating.

It's so frustrating that after finding himself a life, a reason, a will in this new world— he's still plagued by the lifetime he thought he could throw away forever.

Death's hand lays on his head, gentle, but neither warm nor cold.

"Remember," Death tells him. "Even if your Shamal bypasses the rules, it's just a horrid coping mechanism. It's not going to change the fact that you're always fated to die the same way—"

Kanata leaves. He doesn't want to hear it.

-

Kanata is the best choice for this fight.

As a fellow Tessenjutsu practitioner, he would know better than anyone else on the field, the path of Douma's attacks, and how to avoid them. He knows the path of the fan's swings, how the slight twist of a wrist could shatter a tree in the other path, how footwork is vital to maneuver between your own wind, so you never go against your own momentum.

"Oh dear, how nostalgic," Douma sings, endeared. "I used to watch dances just like yours. They were always so graceful and synchronized. And so, so boring."

-

Douma is raised high up. Which means that no matter how crude and bizarre he is, he has table manners. He always finishes his meal after playing with it.

"If you're not careful, you really will die," Death warns him. "The closer a situation is to your first death, the greater the chances. You can't run away forever."

Kanata could have laughed. After so long, the prospect of his own death sounds ridiculous.Sure, he's always known that his time, though late, will come eventually— but it doesn't feel real. Why would anything, when nothing ever was?

But he doesn't laugh. All noise dies in his throat. He feels betrayed.

That's the first time Death has called what he's doing running away.

-

He's not as strong as he pretends to be, and he knows that. He hates that. He's definitely pathetic for that.

Each and every time, Douma notices Shinobu hiding in the shadows. The loop is finished when she dies, because there's no meaning to a timeline without her in it.

Kanata wants to admit he's tired.

But that would be a lie. He's never not tired, so this battle with Douma didn't change anything. He is, however, unravelling at the seams, and that's ridiculous. He didn't even know he had any.

But then again, maybe he just never noticed.

He was brought into this world in pieces, dismembered and never complete again. Without a vessel his soul would never be able to rest— that's why, Death took all those shattered parts and sewed them together into some semblance of humanity, so he could continue pretending to be human. He was never whole. His instability was always meant to happen, he just never noticed he was so broken to begin with.

That doesn't matter right now.

All Kanata has to do is run against that wall, over and over again, until it breaks. Death will always put him back together anyways, so what is there to fear?

-

"Kanata-kun, can you think of Rui-kun for a moment?"

He pauses.

And glances at Kanae, confused.

Why is she suddenly mentioning her, when she hasn't in the past loops? Perhaps all the Kochou sisters have this odd thing about them— their conversations change, not because they don't care for the topic or they're indifferent to chatter— but because they're observant, more so than others.

And because they see deeper than anyone else, they change their heart, just a little, for even the smallest situation.

Kanata's apprehensive now.

What exactly is she seeing in his eyes, that brings that heartbroken gaze onto hers?

"Think of him, and... just think of why you bring him along," Kanae doesn't have a lot of time in Douma's curiosity to speak like this, but she's sacrificing it anyways. "And think of why you didn't, this time."

Because...

Because Rui will die. He doesn't want Rui to die.

Because Rui is adorable, and Kanata cares for him.

"Once you've learned to love one, you should remember to love them all, just a little," Kanae says. "You don't have to love them. But at least consider it, and that will make your sword so much stronger."

Love? Douma?

Ah, that's right. Even until the bitter end, Kanae felt sorry for Douma. Because he never understood how to have compassion for others. He would one day die, unloved and unloving— that's the fate of many demons. And Kanae felt sorry for them.

If Kanata continued down this path, would he end up like that, too?

"If you lose yourself, you'll be no different from him."

-

So, Kanata thinks of Rui as he fights in his next loop.

He thinks of the threads that come from all directions, thought about all the maneuvers he attempted, the many loops spent failing— he thought of it.

And he decided that Douma's attacks were much slower, much less intuitive, and much less enchanting. They danced, in tandem, but Douma's steps were wide, strutting, and confident— while Kanata allows himself to be guided onto his next step with every death, making his way through it all gradually.

But with Douma—

—ah.

He's powerful, but that's all.

-

"What are you doing, Tecchikawahara-san?" Shinobu asks.

"Your sword doesn't suit you, so I'm fixing it."

Shinobu seems culturally offended when Kanata takes a chunk out of her sword in the fire, splicing the blade into smaller sections.

"Are you sure?" Shinobu questions, evocatively, "the next time you enter Swordsmith Village, you may be stoned to death."

"It's nothing of concern, I can't be killed unless I'm beheaded and cooked into the village stew of the month. Stoning is nothing," Kanata enlightens, "You carry your poisons around in vials of the same size, yes?"

"...yes."

"They're smaller than the hilt of your sword?"

"...yes," she checks, holding her sword handle warily now. Kanata's already destroying the blade, what's he going to do with the handle, too?

Kanata takes out the magma-hot blade from the Butterfly Mansion's spare smithy, and gouges a seam through the center to the tip of the blade.

He takes the handle from Shinobu, and gores a hole straight through the center with an ice pick that was in his bag.

Shinobu wonders if Kanata will be disowned after this. That sword was made by Kanamori-san, and he really hated it when his swords were defiled disrespectfully. Breaking was one thing— he was remarkably patient and understanding about swords being broken. But Kanata's defiling it to the wonders of mother nature right now.

Shinobu's still reeling from being woken at the dead of the night by their weirdo swordsmith via the window, so she doesn't know how to react.

"I'll explain on the way," Kanata says, putting the sword pieces together and knotting up the tsuka-ito as he moves, shrugging his bag on.

"Wha— what?" Shinobu gives chase, because what else is she supposed to do, "where are we going?"

Kanata seems to remember something belatedly.

Then he says, almost blithely, "to save your sister, or she's going to die."

Shinobu would like to hit him, but instead she just screams, "and you didn't think to tell me that FIRST?!"

-

Shinobu is faster than Douma. Accompanied by Kanata, who can read Douma's attacks, and Kanae, who can counter them— they have a winning chance.

She hisses, when her back hits her sister and Kanata's side, raising the much sleeker blade before her. She tilts it downwards. A vial of poison was stuck to the hilt's end, so the contents followed the center of the wood toward the blade, and slid through the inseam of the katana all the wall to the tip.

It's a frantic addition to her arsenal, but words can't describe how good these alterations are. She's always laced her weapon with poison by pouring them on her blade as the battle went on. So this was much more efficient, and none is lost to the ground.

And by reducing the sword's width, the blade's much more fragile— but it didn't matter. Shinobu couldn't behead a demon anyways, so the new structure helped her focus on the flexibility of her wrist, the accuracy of her thrusts— and it was still impeccably sharp.

How did Kanata know to make these changes? And how is her body adapting to these changes so easily?

It's as if she was always meant to fight this way.

(And it's a testament to how good a swordsmith Kanata is, that he makes swords for the user, and swords that are so perfect for the user, even the user isn't aware how.)

(And he did it with moments to spare before coming here?)

-

They don't win. They can't.

But Kanata tries, he really does.

-

"Well, that's curious. My Blood Demon Art is in your veins, but you've stopped it from coagulating, you've stopped the ice from forming," Douma observes with amusement, when the ice around his feet refuses to become more than shattered crystals.

In a battle of sand and ice, it's hard to tell who will win.

It's an allergic reaction at this point. The second any ice bleeds into Kanata's veins, his sand ejects it. Sand disrupts the freezing process, everyone knows that. Right?

The second Kanata's blood feels water, the sand ejects it with a ripple of a new cut through his skin, bleeding out the poison before it can permeate.

"That's so interesting!" Douma chuckles, but his lips downturn into his mockery of concern as his voice lowers sweetly, "but you can't regenerate, you know. Are you sure you should be losing so much blood?"

Kanata clasps both fans— and slams them shut.

He's invigorated by the sight of Douma's body bursting into a spiral of blood, sandy geysers rupturing his skin and tearing open his seams as if he were a doll.

Douma, in pieces, laughs.

Not dead, of course.

"Oh, you're really just like me!" he's endeared. "That's so cute!"

Kanata can't even feel insulted anymore. They really were similar, infuriatingly so. If even a particle of sand gets into a Demon's bloodstream, Kanata can destroy them from the inside with Shamal. Douma can do the same with his ice particles.

They're so similar, it's sickening.

But this similarity might be the only thing between Kanata and instant death. He wouldn't react as quickly, or be as thorough with this purging of the ice, if he wasn't already familiar with the technique.

But water particles are much smaller than sand particles, aren't they?

-

"You've been here a while, Kanata," Death reminds him. "Are you out of ideas?"

Kanata frowns over his manga, trying not to seem too irritated.

By fate, Kanae isn't eaten by Douma. She dies from her wounds when the sun rises, because it's far too late to be healed. The issue is, their medical technology right now isn't good enough to heal all this— once the frost takes their lungs, they're dead eventually.

It'll be a while before Shinobu concocts a cure, but nothing would be able to save Kanae. She lasts remarkably long— testament to her status as a Hashira— and she's the reason there weren't more victims. She even got to be buried whole. That's a luxury for demon slayers.

Point is, Douma doesn't kill her directly, Douma doesn't eat her. She survives. She survives until the sun rises, and dies from her wounds in Shinobu's arms.

Demon Slayers of this era have never fought an Upper Moon. There's no way they can defeat one now.

"Kanata, you were never meant to freeze to death," Death tells him. "You were alive when you were dismembered. So just last that long, and it'll be fine."

He was never meant to freeze to death. He was meant to be chopped to pieces and devoured— exactly what Douma was doing and in the same order.

So, facing up against Douma pretty much guaranteed his own death.

Unlike with Rui, determination and emotions won't get him through this one.

-

"Shinobu-san, would you hate me if—"

"Tecchikawahara-san," sweet as sugar, "you broke my window, dragged me out of bed to watch you defile my katana for thirty minutes and then had me change to go fight a demon, and then I had to find out my sister was in danger as I arrived. I already hate you with all of my heart."

"...yeah, that's fair."

-

In the loops, Kanata grows fond of the way Kanae's steps stood in line with his own. How she led their duet with a booming stage presence that Kanata couldn't ever dream of surpassing. But it's fulfilling, in a way that Kanata finds excelling at something fun.

If they were two performers on a stage, Kanata felt like a dancer whose spotlight was taken, not for any fault of Kanae's, but simply because she was much too beautiful.

She's a flower. Strong, gentle, and unrelentingly, against all odds, she blooms bright.

She'a delicate, in a way that fans can never achieve. Someone in the Swordsmith once told him that fans imitated the blooming of a flower with the way it fluttered— sometimes, they said it was more like the flap of a bird or butterfly's wings.

Whatever it was, Kanata knew that he would never achieve that delicate, fleeting perfection that Kochou Kanae embodied as Flower Hashira.

But that's fine.

-

The timeline he chose to keep would be an odd one, but he couldn't bear to give it up.

Somewhere between his steps, he parries Douma's fan, his own fan gently lifting the demon's wrist to swerve just slightly off target, so Shinobu could slide in with her piercing blitz of rapier thrusts.

Douma flinches, head swinging aside to dodge the blade— and his hand follows his movements, an unintentional swing to the right heading right for—

—ah, no.

Kanae's frozen there, between cradling her injury, the edging throes of her frozen lungs, and stumbling past her shattered foot— she rises, but not far enough.

(Maybe he should give up on this loop, too,)

But Kanae turns to him and her voice is loud, "BEHIND YOU, KANATA!"

Kanata realizes, an embarrassingly long moment into his confusion, that he had moved, too. He hadn't thought it through, but he had turned his attention from Douma, to reach toward Shinobu.

His instincts screamed, save Kanae, so viscerally, he somehow forgot himself and reached out toward her, as if he could reach her from this distance. He couldn't.

And he also forgot that Douma had two fans.

And he was right in the trajectory of the other.

"You idiot!"

Shinobu had always been rude, but even Kanata had to be taken aback when he's called an idiot to his face. Especially in this situation.

She shoves him, clinging straight into the crook of his neck as her blade shatters in a single strike and her left side is consumed by the ice down to her wrist— the ice carves through her back, shredding through her hair, and rippling bright red icicles blooming upon her back in the shape of a lotus.

Ah, that's it, Kanata thought. That's where this loop ends. That ice will gore through her neck, into her spine, through her lungs, and—

—oh.

Douma's face right now. He's beaming brightly. He didn't expect to hit Shinobu, but he's delighted that he did. She was so fast, after all, and Kanae and Kanata have been taking hits for her so far, not even letting him touch her.

This is the perfect opportunity to hit him. Now.

But—

—if he strikes Douma, then it'll be too late for Shinobu. There's only one way to save Shinobu and land that crucial strike on Douma all at once.

"Hurry up," Shinobu hisses, arms cradling Kanata's side. She's holding on, because she knows— she won't be awake much longer.

Will she survive? Kanata has to make sure of that.

"I'm sorry," his hands wrap around her figure, and hold her firmly.

Shinobu's laughter rumbles in his chest. "You better be."

Sand Breathing, Fifth Form: Shamal

砂の呼吸・伍ノ型　シャマル

Kanae's "NO!!" is drowned out by Shinobu's screams.

-

Kanata chooses this outcome. Not because he was satisfied, but because dragging this battle out to sunrise and forcing Douma to leave a limb behind was far more than he'd achieved before.

Also, everyone was alive, even if the Kakushi didn't think so.

"Tecchikawahara-san, are you—"

"Get the limb! Don't let the sunlight touch it," he orders quickly. He's made this mistake once already. "Gather some of the demon's blood for research."

"Y-Yes, sir!"

"Sir, please—"

He dismisses her words with a sharp, "take her."

"R-Right!"

The crows were reporting to every demon slayer around, at this point, and Kakushi were scrambling out of the shadows for damage control. Kanata ignores the ache in his abdomen and looks for Kanae again.

She's looking toward them— at Shinobu, who's unconscious, with more of her blood outside her body than in. Her hair was now cropped hastily short, and would likely be cleaned up shorter once she was able to wake up again.

"I got all the Demon Blood Art out of her," Kanata assures. "She'll survive. With scars, but she should recover fully."

Kanae looks between conflicted and vengeful, but she sighs deeply with a mournful wheeze in her breath, and she allows the Kakushi to take care of her. The ice had entered her lungs, and though it only advanced briefly before being repelled by her Breath, the damage was too deep for Kanata to remove.

Not that she would willingly subject herself to Shamal from the inside out. She looked queasy just witnessing Shinobu endure it. She didn't think she'd survive it with her body already at its last ropes.

She wanted to hate Kanata for it but— but Shinobu chose to do that. She resigned herself to that choice. All for an opportunity, and Kanata simply respected it.

Kanata was the wrong person to direct that anger. She knew that.

So she settled with a harsh breath, a weak cry, and a painful smile. "I'm just glad we're alive, Kanata-kun. Thank you. I wish I could have protected you two better."

Thank you. We all survived, and maybe that's the best outcome we could hope for.

She had no idea.

-

"Welcome home," Rui greets.

Casually, sitting in the corner of the room they were given to recuperate in the Butterfly Mansion. As if Kanata isn't covered in blood, as if he hadn't snuck in through the window as the mansion searched for him. As if he wasn't staggering each step, yet to receive any treatment for his wounds because he wanted them to focus on Shinobu's and Kanae's condition instead.

Kanata drops his bag heavily on the ground and stumbled, collapsing on top of Rui and hugging him tightly.

Rui blinks, but curiously allows it. His hands rest on Kanata's shoulders, perusing the ragged haori. Rui would have to mend it later while he was asleep. There's blood too, and Rui licks it tentatively and his suspicions are confirmed.

"I smell an Upper Moon. And ice," Rui sniffs, his distaste for the colder temperatures scrunching his face up in a scowl. "I don't like that smell."

Kanata hums. "I don't either. Get rid of it for me?"

Rui wonders how he would do that.

"You've shredded them all through with your sand. There's nothing to get rid of except the millions of holes you've left in your own body."

"Okay. Fix me then."

Rui considers that. He can do that.

Rui can fix wounds down to the atom if he focuses hard enough, but he doesn't quite grasp the fragility of a human being. Even with Kaigaku, he only carefully mended surface wounds, and Kaigaku was complaining the whole time. He can't imagine how torturous it would be to fix all those internal injuries.

"But it will hurt."

Kanata hums. "It's fine. I won't die if you promise not to eat me."

Rui's offended. "I would not—" he falls short.

Kanata's asleep, breathing already evening out into the subdued version of Total Concentration that happens while he's asleep. He's sleeping rather deeply, which is a terrible oversight for a Demon Slayer. Right on top of a demon, no less.

But somehow, there's something warm and comforting about this.

Maybe it's the job of a younger brother to comfort an older brother exhausted and emancipated after a long day of work.

"Welcome home," he says again, just to bask in it.