The demon's body lay still. Their final note had faded, their melody forever lost to the night.

But the silence that followed was deafening.

You couldn't move.

Your breathing hitched as you stared at the lifeless form in your arms. The warmth was already fading from their skin, their hands—once so skilled, once so alive—were now limp, motionless.

Your fingers clenched around the fabric of their ruined kimono. The forest around you blurred, the faces of your friends distant, their voices muffled.

Because this moment—this feeling—

It was too familiar.

—

"Y/N, run!"

A sharp, discordant melody tore through the air. The sound itself was a weapon, slicing through flesh like a blade.

You had been so small.

Too young. Too helpless

Your father's body had hit the ground first. His sword, once shining, lay shattered beside him. Your mother's hands, the same ones that used to hold yours so gently, reached for you one last time before the melody consumed her.

And the music—

It didn't stop.

It never stopped.

Even as you ran. Even as you screamed.

The song of their deaths played in your mind on an endless loop, a cruel melody you could never escape.

—

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as reality crashed back.

Your hands were shaking violently.

Your sword clattered to the ground.

The grief, the fear, the helplessness—you had buried it for so long, forced yourself to keep moving, keep fighting.

But now—

Now it was crashing over you all at once.

Tears blurred your vision as you tried to breathe, tried to stop hearing it, but the song of that night was deafening, clawing at your mind, refusing to fade.

"Y/N?!"

Tanjiro's voice. Gentle, concerned. But too far away.

Zenitsu took a hesitant step toward you. "H-hey, you're kinda... freaking out—"

You flinched as a hand touched your shoulder.

Your body reacted.

Before you could stop yourself, you jerked away, a choked sob escaping your lips. "Don't touch me!"

Zenitsu stumbled back, eyes wide. "I—I wasn't—"

You staggered, your legs threatening to give out.

The forest felt too big, the air too thick, the sound of your own heartbeat too loud, too fast, too much.

"Shut up," you whispered.

The song in your mind kept playing.

"Shut up."

It only grew louder.

"Shut UP!"

Your hands shot to your ears, pressing down hard, as if you could physically block out the sound. But it was inside you, buried deep, woven into your very soul.

A strong, steady hand caught your wrist.

Tanjiro.

His presence was grounding—solid, unwavering. His forehead was furrowed in concern, but his eyes were kind.

"Y/N," he said softly. No judgment. No force. Just your name, spoken like an anchor in the storm.

You were shaking so badly you could barely stand. "I—I can still hear it," you choked out. "I can't make it stop."

Tanjiro didn't let go.

Instead, he placed a hand over yours, pressing it against his chest.

"Then listen to this instead," he murmured.

You blinked.

Your breath hitched.

Beneath your fingertips, you felt it.

A slow, steady rhythm.

His heartbeat.

Strong. Real. Alive.

A sound not of sorrow, not of pain—

But of here and now.

Zenitsu's voice was uncharacteristically soft. "You're not alone, Y/N."

Inosuke, though visibly uncomfortable, crossed his arms with a huff. "Yeah. And if any more music demons show up, we'll just gut 'em all so they shut up!"

It was ridiculous.

And yet—

You let out a watery laugh, your chest aching. "That's... the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

But your breathing was slowing.

The music in your head was still there, still lingering in the echoes of the past—

But it wasn't drowning you anymore.

Tanjiro gave you a small smile. "You don't have to fight your memories alone."

You exhaled shakily, wiping at your eyes.

No, you didn't.

The past would always be a part of you.

But here—now—you weren't that helpless child anymore.

And you would never face the music alone again.