Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tanjirou has been to big cities before, but this is the first time he lives in one. It wouldn't be so much of a problem if he knew someone here, but he's completely alone, and to top it off, he hasn't felt like himself since he stepped off the train.

There’s something about this city that makes him restless. He sleeps poorly during the nights, and a feeling akin to anxiety follows him through the day, gripping his throat and heart until it’s difficult to breathe. His new apartment feels too strange and small, and he often finds himself wishing to get out of there.

He misses his small town, the peacefulness and familiarity he had with the residents that formed a supportive community. He misses the greenery, the small wild animals that would wander into their yard, the birds that would sing so freely in the mornings. 

Tanjirou misses his family most of all. 

Here, the cacophony of vehicles in the streets is starting to give him a headache, and there are so many smells it’s nauseating. The subway station was so overcrowded that he was elbowed in the ribs more times in ten minutes than he’s been in his entire life.

He wants to be here, truly! He couldn’t get the idea of getting into the University of Tokyo out of his head since he first considered it, and he’s felt indescribably attracted to this city since - but it’s too much sometimes.

Tanjirou walks briskly through the throng of people strolling through the campus, clutching the straps of his backpack in a white-knuckle grip as he crosses the street and flees into Ueno Park. The station is just a fifteen minute walk from the university, but today he’s feeling so anxious that boarding the subway in his current state sounds like a terrible idea. 

After crossing the Shunobazu Pond, Tanjirou continues ahead on the path lined on both sides with trees, ignoring the turn that would take him to the station. The cherry trees are in full bloom at this time of the year, and so the paved paths are crowded with people who have dropped by to admire their beauty. He sidesteps their groups and continues to wander around aimlessly, taking in the pale pink petals and the stone monuments while trying to find a quiet place to rest.

Tanjirou stops by a large fountain and stares through the gaps between jets of water at the building that lies across the street. Though this is the most he’s explored of Ueno Park since his arrival in Tokyo, Tanjirou knows that there are several museums scattered within and near its perimeter. He’s seen some from a distance, but something in his head urges him to approach this one in particular.

He slowly walks the path leading up to the building, an invisible pull in his chest guiding his feet forward. It consumes his insides the closer he gets and turns into a dull buzz in his ears when he’s standing directly in front of the gates. 

Tokyo National Museum . 

Blood rushes to his head, turning the sounds around him into an indecipherable white noise. Tanjirou stares at the words for minutes on end, transfixed, until someone bumps into him and calls him out for standing in the way. An embarrassed blush spreads on his face as he snaps out of it, then Tanjirou quickly moves past the open gates and into the plaza.

With all the trees here and a fountain right at its entrance, the museum feels like an extension of the park. It is made up of different facilities connected by paved paths that branch out from the plaza, but Tanjirou only has eyes for the one building that faces the gates. He approaches it as though pulled by an unseen force.

With shaking hands, Tanjirou riffles through his backpack for his wallet and walks up to the ticket booth to pay the admission fee. He shouldn’t be spending money on things like this just yet, but being an university student cuts the price in half and he really, really needs to get in. 

He walks into the first section of the permanent exhibition, a dark room with beams of stark white light shining down on sculptures. Tanjirou stands out of the way of other visitors, his back to the wall while he tries to control his breathing that grows more and more erratic. He doesn't know why he feels so light headed or why his heart rate is so accelerated, and he certainly doesn't understand this unexplainable need to be here. It scares him a little, if he’s being honest.

Minutes pass by slowly. He’s no less dizzy when he finally pushes away from the wall, but he can’t stay here forever. His legs wobble as he walks, uncertain steps taking him out of the sculpture exhibit. Tanjirou should be paying attention to all these works of art - he paid to be here - but his senses are too scrambled to focus on anything. 

The next room is brighter. Not by much, but Tanjirou feels the difference keenly. Flinching, he stumbles sideways and slams into someone else, their body solid and warm where they touch. Something falls and splashes on the floor, but he focuses instead on the steady hands that grab him by the arms and the startled gasp that cuts through the buzz. 

The person is speaking, but Tanjirou can’t make sense of the words. He lets himself be taken away when the hands pull at him, clumsily tripping over his feet and struggling to fill his lungs with air. Tanjirou is guided to sit on a padded bench, and a disposable cup of water is pressed into his trembling hands. 

There are less smells here. Two scents stand out, one rich and strong, and the other gentle and graceful. Concern comes from them in waves, and their presence is calm and comforting enough that Tanjirou feels less like he’s about to faint. He drinks the water without opening his eyes and ends up downing it in large gulps, not realizing how thirsty he’d been. 

“Are you okay?” 

A shudder washes over him. Tanjirou bunches up his shoulders, fighting off more shivers. The voice strikes a chord deep in him, but he’s too disoriented to give it much attention. Plastic creaks in his hand, and he stops himself from crushing the cup. 

Slowly, Tanjirou risks opening his eyes a sliver. The light here is dim and gentle, and it doesn’t make him dizzy. Someone is crouched in front of him, dark brown slacks stretched over thick thighs. He looks up the torso clad in a pristine white button up and red tie looped neatly around a strong neck, and comes face to face with warm golden-red eyes. 

Tanjirou stares openly, taking the man in, who stares back without reservation. His facial features are strong, his smile open and inviting, and his long bright hair falls about his face in messy waves. Everything about him screams fire and warmth, and Tanjirou’s chest expands with a deep breath, the tight ball of tension in his body loosening and slowly fading.  

He’s gorgeous. Handsome. Beautiful. Tanjirou feels his cheeks heating up out of embarrassment for all that he’s put this attractive man through in the few moments they’ve interacted, but finds that he can’t avert his eyes and look away. 

Something new blooms in his chest, stealing away the air that he’s just breathed in. It surrounds his heart and sits behind his sternum, a faint presence he can’t ignore. 

“Do you feel better?” Another voice asks, and he drags his gaze away from the man with much effort. A short, slim woman stands just behind him, her large dark red eyes watching him thinly veiled worry. He’d completely forgotten that there was someone else in the room. “We can call your parents if you’d like.” 

Tanjirou closes his fingers around the plastic cup. It crumples under the pressure, much like he will if he ever gives in to the temptation. “I… I just moved to this city. I don’t know anyone.” 

“University student?” She asks, and he nods silently. “I see. It appears you were having an anxiety attack. Does it happen often?” 

“Not really. I think I’m just having a hard time getting used to the change.” He looks down at the cup, at the water dripping from his fingers. “My town was much smaller and quieter.” 

The woman considers him in silence for a moment. "Then, please let us call you a taxi. I won't let you walk home by yourself in this state."

Tanjirou considers trying to decline the offer, but decides against it. She has that same gleam in her eyes that his mom has sometimes, one that tells him she won't take no for an answer no matter how hard he tries. Deep down he appreciates it, though, as he doesn't trust himself to make it back home safely.

“Y-Yes. Thank you for your help." And because he doesn't trust himself to stand, he presses his palms flat to his knees and offers the best bow he can while sitting down.

"There's no need to thank us!" The man exclaims, and Tanjirou flinches slightly at his tone, then grimaces at his own impoliteness. "We're more than happy to help!"

Tanjirou straightens up and offers them a shaky smile. Something is still off with him, but already he feels a little better than before. "Thank you! I… I should get going."

"I'll accompany you outside!" He announces, rising to his feet smoothly. He's taller than Tanjirou anticipated, and broader too. 

The woman casts the man a peculiar gaze and nods. "Very well. Make sure to wait for the taxi with him." She leaves the room, dialing on her phone as she goes. Tanjirou breathes in deep, catching the warm scent that hangs around the two of them like a comforting blanket, and pushes himself up to his feet.

"Are you well enough to walk?" The man asks, hands hovering in the air near Tanjirou's shoulders.

"I think so." They're already being kind enough to call him a taxi, he doesn't need to burden them further by having someone shoulder part of his weight, too.

“Good! Tell me if that changes!” His grin rivals the sun with how bright it is, and he shows the way out of the museum. Tanjirou follows behind without paying much attention to the turns and hallways they take, his gaze focused solely on the man’s wide back.

The air is crisp when they step outside, and Tanjirou fills his lungs with it gladly. It helps clear some of his senses, and for the first time today his head is clear of the fog that’s settled since he arrived in this city. He holds onto the railings on the way down the stairs, his knees still a little weak as they stroll through the plaza towards the street, where a taxi is already waiting by the curb. 

“Here, please text me so I know you arrived safely!” The man passes along a business card, then leans into the window of the passenger seat to speak to the driver after Tanjirou has accepted it. 

The business card is matte black with the museum logo in gold foil at the front. More information is printed in white in the back, Rengoku Kyoujurou - museum curator, followed by his phone number and email.

Tanjirou offers him a shallow bow when he turns away from the driver. “Thank you for the help, Rengoku-san.”

“It’s no problem!” He’s smiling when Tanjirou straightens up. “May I know your name?”

“Y-Yes! It’s Kamado Tanjirou!” He bows again, in apology this time, and grits his teeth when his body teeters to the side. “Thank you!” 

“Have a safe trip, young Kamado!” Though it’s a clear dismissal, Rengoku’s eyes are still very warm. Right. He has work to get back to, and Tanjirou has yet to cook tonight’s dinner. 

He enters the taxi and saves the number in his phone, tucking the business card safely in his wallet once he is done. It takes a little longer to reach his apartment building due to the traffic, but Tanjirou would rather have that than the possibility of fainting on the street. 

Leaving his shoes by the door, he unlocks his phone and types a quick message to Rengoku, then hops in the bathroom for a very much needed shower. It’s only when he’s in the middle of eating dinner that he gets a simple, but enthusiastic reply. Tanjirou sends back a sticker but never gets another text, and so their conversation ends.

Tanjirou wakes up sweating, wrestling with the sheets tangled around his legs and gasping for air as he stares wide eyed at the dark ceiling of his bedroom. 

He never remembers the content of his dreams since he moved to Tokyo. He doesn’t remember it now, and he didn’t remember it the first time it happened a week ago. At first, he thought it was caused by how unwell he’d felt the day he visited the museum, but as it continued to happen even after the worst of the symptoms waned, he scratched that idea.

Slowly, he peels himself away from the bed and shuffles to the bathroom without turning on the lights. There are no visuals that linger in his mind after he wakes up, only ghost sensations that crawl across his limbs. Heat and more heat, like he’s surrounded by it so completely that he starts sweating after a couple of minutes.

Tanjirou splashes some water on his face, then braces his weight against the sink and tries to regulate his breathing. It's going to be another day where he will be tired all throughout his classes, but there isn’t much that can be done unless he manages to fit in a quick nap in the back of the library. 

He goes about his day in the same routine he’s established since his classes began. Check his email in between lectures, look for new job applications online and apply, reassure his parents and siblings that he’s a little tired from the change but doing fine (which is a lie, and the only reason why it lands is because they can’t see his face), work on his assignments diligently in class and ask the teachers for some guidance after.

On the way back to his apartment, Tanjirou ignores the path to the station and continues onwards as it cuts through the park. His feet slow down as he comes close to the museum, and he stands there in the middle of the sidewalk just looking at it. He doesn’t understand why, but he continues to feel that desperate need to go in. 

Since he’s here, he might as well look for the ones who assisted him and properly thank them for their help.

A couple of blocks away, he finds a store that sells some sweets, a little gift so he won’t show up empty handed. Personally, Tanjirou hasn’t tried them, so he takes a gamble and purchases a small box of mochi of assorted flavors, then treks back to the museum. He stops after he crosses the threshold of the front doors, swaying on his feet for a second before he regains his balance. 

The lady at the information desk looks up and gives him her best customer service smile as he approaches. “Excuse me, I’d like to speak to Rengoku-san.” 

She blinks at him, her smile still in place but now a touch confused. “Which one?” 

Tanjirou fumbles quickly for his wallet to look for the business card. He hadn’t considered the possibility that there would be more than one Rengoku working here, unusual as the name is, but he shouldn’t be surprised. It is a big museum, and an even bigger city. “Rengoku Kyoujurou.” 

“Ah, Kyoujurou-san. Do you have an appointment with him?”

Tanjirou fiddles with the box of sweets and shifts his weight uneasily. Rengoku likely doesn’t even remember him, and the thought hurts more than he imagined. “No, I just wanted to thank him for his help last week.” 

The woman watches him in silence, her gaze flicking down to the mochi box and up to his face, and then nods once as she picks the phone up. “Your name, please.”

He tells her and waits while she informs Rengoku of his presence in the museum, then goes over to some benches along the wall to wait after she tells him that he will be up in a minute. Tanjirou tries not to fidget, his heartbeat kicking up for some reason. He watches the people passing by, groups of students and tourists coming and going, unaffected by the strange feeling that has gripped him since he’s gotten here. 

Rengoku appears in the main lobby a few minutes later and Tanjirou stands to greet him. “Kamado boy! It’s so good to see you again!”

His voice booms in the lobby, attracting curious stares from visitors and headshakes from other staff. Tanjirou smiles and offers a bow, strangely relieved that he remembers his name. “It’s good to see you again, Rengoku-san.” Straightening up, he holds out the box. “I brought this as a thank you for your help.” 

“Ah, you didn’t have to!” Rengoku accepts the box anyway. He seems to recognize the name of the store when he reads it printed on the lid, humming in approval. Unsurprising, given that the store is close to his workplace. “Thank you! Tell me, have you been feeling better?”

Tanjirou touches the back of his neck and rubs it idly. He shouldn’t bother Rengoku with his problems, but something just… compels him to say it. Maybe it’s the need to get it out of his chest, like he can’t keep it to himself any longer. "Not really. I haven't been sleeping well."

Checking his watch, Rengoku nods towards the sunlit plaza. "How about we head somewhere else to talk? I have some time before my next appointment."

He shouldn't accept. Rengoku has more important things to do in the meantime, he's sure, and Tanjirou himself needs to go home so he can hopefully get some actual sleep tonight. There's homework to do, dinner to cook, an apartment to tidy up, a family to call.

The offer is very tempting, though. His family is in the dark about his sleeping problems and the seemingly constant anxiety. No matter how many times Nezuko discreetly presses him about it, he refuses to divulge anything. Matters at university are going fine and he's on good terms with most of his peers, and yet despite Tanjirou's ease to make friends, he hasn't been able to truly grow closer to any of them due to how strange and off-kilter he feels.

So he accepts. After a brief debate, they settle for going out to the gardens so Tanjirou can get some fresh air - or as fresh as it can be in the big city. Rengoku points him to a secluded bench and promises to meet him there, returning a couple of minutes later with two styrofoam cups of tea. Tanjirou holds it in both hands and almost cries thinking of his family, of the little bakery he left behind.

"Tell me about yourself, Kamado," he prompts, slightly hunched on the bench as his hand and cup hang between his knees. "Where do you come from?"

"I'm from Asahi, Toyama." And he misses it dearly with every single day that goes by.

"That's very far!" Rengoku says, unaware of the turmoil going on in Tanjirou's head and heart. "Have you found a job yet?"

"No," he murmurs. His hands are shaking and he tries to close them as tightly as he can around the cup without crushing it. "I've been looking, but haven't found anything."

Rengoku hums around a sip of his tea. His knee knocks against Tanjirou's and the brief contact makes him shiver. Tanjirou slowly runs a hand up and down his arm, as though he can smooth down all the bumps that arose under the long sleeves of his shirt.

"You know, the coffee shop here is hiring." He angles his head towards the building in question. "Do you have any prior experience with that kind of thing?"

A sliver of hope cuts through the muddled mess that are Tanjirou's feelings. If he gets this, it will be one less thing to worry about. "My parents own a bakery," he divulges. "I used to help after school."

"Perfect! You should apply!"

"Yes!" He has a copy of his résumé in his bag - several copies, actually - so he can drop one off after they're done here. Tanjirou sips the tea and holds back a grimace at the flavor, too bitter after it was left to steep for too long. How can Rengoku drink this and keep a straight face? "Thank you, Rengoku-san."

Rengoku turns to him curiously. "What for, Kamado boy?"

"For helping me, and for keeping me company." Slowly, Tanjirou turns the cup around on his hands, observing the design of the coffee shop logo, an illustration of a tengu mask. "It's been hard to adjust to the change. I don't want my family to worry, so I haven't been very honest with them."

"It's not good to keep things to yourself!" The wind picks up then, making Rengoku's smell more noticeable, warm and comforting. Tanjirou breathes it in, and it washes away some of the weight on his shoulders. "You can talk to me if you need."

"A-Ah, thank you, Rengoku-san, but I don't want to impose. I'm sure you're a busy man."

"I can always find some time to talk to you!" He sounds and smells so honest, so open, that Tanjirou can't help but believe him. "Please consider it! You won't be bothering me, I assure you!"

Tanjirou nods, a smile slowly unfurling on his face. "Thank you!"

For a long moment, all Rengoku does is stare at him. Tanjirou stares right back, marveling at his eyes and how different and beautiful they are. The spell is broken when Kyoujurou's phone rings and he's forced to tear his eyes away. Tanjirou catches a hint of an embarrassed blush on his face, but doesn't look too closely to not make him uncomfortable. 

"Sorry, Kamado, I have to get going." He stands, and Tanjirou does the same, slowly stretching out his legs. "Don't forget to apply for the position in the coffee shop!"

"I will!" He smiles and waves as Rengoku walks back to the museum, then opens his backpack and looks through his folder for the many copies of his résumé. He walks up to the shop, the knot in his chest unraveling bit by bit.

Tanjirou gets a call days later for an interview, and after a practical test, he gets hired to work at the museum café.

Urokodaki-san is a good boss. A little strict and stern at times, but also incredibly patient with Tanjirou and his new coworkers. There's something about him that makes Tanjirou feel at ease, and as strange as it sounds, it feels like they've known each other for a long time rather than just a few hours at most. 

He gets assigned as the barista as soon as he arrives, replacing Inosuke who has little experience with preparing tea and other drinks. Zenitsu continues to take orders and look after the cash register, and Inosuke now helps with delivering orders and cleaning tables after customers leave. They, too, fit into Tanjirou's life with a natural ease that he accepts and embraces, eager to form lasting bonds in Tokyo. Even the other employees from the other shift that he meets in passing - Kanao, Aoi and Genya - become quick friends of his.

It's good pay and the job isn't too tiring, and most of all it takes some load off his parents' shoulders and eases some of their worries. Working there makes that anxious feeling inside him just a little less noticeable, the familiar scent of coffee and baked goods making him finally feel at home in this foreign city.

Tanjirou starts on the new order, a simple latte that he pours into the styrofoam cup delivered by Zenitsu. His handwriting is reminiscent of a chicken's scratch and Tanjirou spends a little too long trying to make sense of what he just wrote on the side - until someone across the counter clears their throat to catch his attention.

"Rengoku-san!" He exclaims in surprise, his lips quirking up happily. Rengoku smiles wide and beautiful, and Tanjirou feels a little relieved at seeing him again. He still hasn't taken up on his offer to text him to talk if needed, but already Tanjirou feels like there's a sort of kinship between them. "Good afternoon!"

"Good afternoon to you too, Kamado boy! I see you got the position!" Rengoku accepts the cup and sips from it, uncaring for the burning heat of the drink. "Mm! Tasty! The quality has only increased since you joined the staff!"

Tanjirou flushes in pleasure and slight embarrassment. He seeks out Inosuke in the room, hoping he didn't hear it, and thankfully his coworker and tentative friend is nowhere to be seen. "I'm glad you think so!"

Rengoku collects a bag of pastries that Zenitsu sets on the counter, all without looking away from Tanjirou. The blush staining his cheeks deepens and Tanjirou moves his hands behind his back so he can fidget with his fingers while keeping them out of sight. The smile Rengoku gives him next softens his expression and the corners of his eyes, warm with an emotion that Tanjirou recognizes but can't place.

"Seems like we'll be seeing one another a lot more now, my boy!" He takes a step back, but makes no move to leave. Tanjirou, similarly, stays rooted to the spot and doesn't return to the espresso machine, at least not until Inosuke bumps into him when he returns with a tray of dirty dishes.

That snaps both of them back to reality. Rengoku flashes an embarrassed smile and raises his cup in parting, and Tanjirou shyly waves and watches him leave the shop.

"You're ridiculous," Zenitsu remarks dryly and jabs a finger in the direction of the orders waiting to be prepared. Tanjirou wisely chooses to keep quiet and returns to his duties.

Tanjirou dreams of flames and a cracked, dry soil in a dark place. Fire licks at his heels, but all he feels is a stuffy heat rather than agonizing pain. His nostrils burn, soot and smoke filling up his lungs, accompanied by the faint trace of blood that he can't seem to track.

He jolts awake covered in cold sweat and heaving for breath, heart thudding fast in his ribcage and a scream stuck in his throat. The first time it happens, he feels mild relief - at least now he knows the content of his dreams - but as the days pass and the dream keeps on repeating, he can't bring himself to appreciate that anymore.

After washing his face, Tanjirou heads to his tiny kitchen to prepare some tea, then nestles on the couch with his mug and a knit blanket that Nezuko and Hanako made for him. He's too wired to go back to sleep, but it's too late to distract himself by talking to someone. Zenitsu might be awake, but he mentioned he needs to write an essay that he left to do at the last minute. Nezuko wouldn't mind it if he called her in the middle of the night to talk; in fact, she'd even encourage it. He misses all his siblings dearly, but being the two oldest, his bond with Nezuko has always been stronger.

Scrolling down his contact list, Tanjirou stops as he comes across a familiar face. Rengoku's profile picture is pure professionalism, white button down perfectly unwrinkled and red tie neatly pinned in place, smile confident and bright, arms crossed over his chest, both of which are muscular and defined. Tanjirou lets his thumb hover over their last conversation dating from weeks back and presses down in an exhale.

[Tanjirou: I'm sorry to be texting you so late, but I can't sleep]

[Tanjirou: you won't see it until morning, but I just needed to tell someone]

[Tanjirou: sorry]

He sets his phone aside and curls up to drink his tea, staring blankly at the black screen of his TV. It’s two in the morning and he has to be up by six thirty. Staying here doing nothing won’t accomplish anything, so he might as well take a page out of Zenitsu’s book and study as well. 

Or so is the plan until his phone buzzes on the armrest of the couch. Tanjirou turns to it curiously, tapping the screen to check the notification.

[Rengoku: you don't have to apologize! I'm flattered that you thought of texting me!]

Tanjirou snatches the phone back in one quick motion. Typing one-handed, he dimly notices the speech bubble that indicates Rengoku is typing wink in and out of existence.

[Tanjirou: what are you doing awake at this hour?]

[Rengoku: working! There's a new exhibition coming up and I need to get all the details down!]

[Rengoku: now then, tell me what happened? If you want to, of course!]

He sits back with a disbelieving laugh and tries not to entertain the idea that he might have woken up Rengoku at this ungodly hour of the night. Tanjirou also considers saying that he shouldn’t pay attention to him if he’s so busy, but he’s already caught Rengoku’s attention and he kind of wants to talk to someone about it. He wants to talk to Rengoku about it.

[Tanjirou: I had a strange dream]

[Rengoku: I'm sorry to hear it]

[Rengoku: do you want to tell me about it?]

[Tanjirou: there wasn’t much to it to be honest]

[Tanjirou: it was just fire]

[Tanjirou: flames everywhere]

There’s a lengthy pause until Rengoku replies again. Tanjirou doesn’t mind - he knows Rengoku is busy even if it’s the middle of the night - so he finishes his tea and takes the mug to the sink, then returns to his bedroom and slips under the covers. He’s still too woozy to actually study like he’d intended, but he can read one of the fictional books that’s been on his nightstand for weeks now. 

[Rengoku: how unusual!]

[Rengoku: just flames? Nothing else?]

Tanjirou offers a description of his dream, which isn’t much to begin with, and distracts himself with his book while Rengoku tries to make sense of cracked earth and the glow of flames. 

[Rengoku: how intriguing!]

[Rengoku: I suppose I shouldn’t be thinking that since these dreams have been ruining your sleep, though!]

[Tanjirou: it’s fine!]

[Rengoku: I apologize that I can’t help you with that]

[Rengoku: my mother used to say that sometimes dreams carry meanings, though!]

[Rengoku: you can try looking up what these things might mean and see if it leads you somewhere!]

Tanjirou snorts to himself and shakes his head. What could his subconscious be warning him about? The need to bundle up in the coming winter? He considers texting that thought back, but decides against it, thinking that Rengoku might find offense in that. Either way, Tanjirou takes too long to reply, and so Rengoku sends another message.

[Rengoku: already asleep?]

[Tanjirou: not really]

[Tanjirou: I’m trying to distract myself with a book, but it’s not working]

[Rengoku: I can talk to you for longer if you’d like]

He thinks it over while idly playing with his bookmark. He doesn’t want to bother Rengoku more than he already has, but he insists on keeping Tanjirou company until either of them decide to sleep. So he accepts. 

[Tanjirou: tell me about the upcoming exhibit?]

Rengoku spends the next hour telling him about the special exhibition to be held starting next month, featuring decorative arts and implements of daily life that were excavated from the city of Pompeii. Even though they’re conversing through texts, Tanjirou is fully enraptured by Rengoku’s passion as he recounts the history of the city swallowed by ash, the whole process of reaching out to the National Archaeological Museum of Naples and earning their cooperation, and how much fun he’s been having organizing the exposition despite the long hours he’s been pulling. 

Between Rengoku's vast knowledge and Tanjirou's curious questions, they end up talking for much longer than intended. Tanjirou has to say his goodbyes eventually so he can catch a nap before he has to leave for his classes, but even though he's more tired than usual that day, his chest feels lighter.

Chapter Text

Tanjirou hasn’t made it very far through the exhibition when he has to stop because his head is too heavy and the ringing in his ears has returned.

It’s the first day of the exhibition and the galleries reserved for it are packed, but Tanjirou wanted to support Rengoku after so many days of working tirelessly to make it happen, and so he decided to brave the crowd even though he knew this would happen. 

He finds an empty bench to sit and stares at a statue of Venus clad in what the sign describes as a golden bikini, fanning himself with the brochure handed out at the entrance. He takes in the delicate work done in marble and gold while other visitors walk around the gallery and converse in hushed tones, and presses a bottle of cold water to his flushed cheeks in hopes of alleviating the symptoms. His appointment with a doctor is coming up soon, and Tanjirou hopes that they can figure out the cause for his dizziness, whether it be anxiety or an issue like labyrinthitis. 

Tanjirou looks down at the open brochure as he rests the cold bottle against his forehead and breathes in deep through his mouth. He’s only seen the introduction and half of the first chapter of the exhibition. There are three other sections that he has to walk through, but he can barely stand as it is. 

The responsible thing to do is to turn around and walk out of the special galleries to return another day, but the entrance fee for temporary exhibitions is more expensive than the standard fee and he can’t afford to pay for it again just yet. There are books he needs to buy for his classes, and he needs to save money if he wants to make the trip back and visit his family this summer. 

“Oh no,” he bemoans, shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. If he calls the café, Urokodaki-san would be willing to let either Aoi or Genya come find him, but they wouldn’t be able to accompany him through the rest of the exhibition. There’s bound to be a rush of customers once the visitors are done here, and Tanjirou doesn’t want to be the reason why they’ll be short staffed.

Someone clasps a hand on his shoulder, so sudden that Tanjirou nearly jumps out of his skin, covering his mouth with his hand when a wave of vertigo crashes over him. “Woah, easy.” The voice is familiar, low and soothing, and Tanjirou leans desperately in its direction. “Sick again, Kamado?” 

Tanjirou shivers and nods weakly. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this again.” He can’t even imagine what Rengoku must think of him. “I wanted to show my support, but I’m not well enough to walk on my own.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Rengoku’s hand moves down his shoulder to grasp his bicep, and Tanjirou gathers as much strength in his legs as he can to stand. Rengoku steadies him with both hands. “Come on, let’s go somewhere quieter.” 

He keeps his eyes closed as they navigate the museum. Tanjirou can hear faint murmuring as they pass, but he can’t pick up on their words. “How did you find me?”

“Someone saw you were unwell and tried to find help. Luckily, they found me!” He squeezes Tanjirou’s arms and coaxes him to turn around a corner. It’s quieter here, less stuffy too. Soon they’re outside again, and Tanjirou recognizes the scent of the main building when they enter it a while later. A door closes behind them, and then he’s taken to a plush chair and instructed to sit. “Do you want some water?”

“I have some here.” He waves the bottle, still unopened and full. 

“That water seems to have other uses,” Rengoku muses. Tanjirou can hear him pouring water somewhere to his left. “Here,” he presses the glass to his free hand, and his fingers close around it tightly.

Tanjirou takes small sips and tries to regulate his breathing. The smell of coffee is strong here, as well as something he’s learned to identify as Rengoku’s scent. It’s strong and warm and comforting, and wraps around him like a fleece blanket, easing the tension out of his shoulders and the cluster of confusing emotions inside him. 

He opens his eyes some time later, when his stomach has stopped turning and his head no longer spins madly. They’re in a small office, with so many books stacked on nearly every flat surface or lined neatly on a bookshelf. There’s a divan, a tiny table to the side with a pitch of water and a coffee maker, and a framed photograph hung on the wall depicting a family of four. Tanjirou recognizes the woman from the first day, as well as Rengoku and two other men with a striking resemblance to him. His family, most likely.

Tanjirou stares at the table for a long while. If Rengoku has a coffee maker, why does he go to the coffee shop so much?

Rengoku is sitting on the other side of the desk, patiently waiting for Tanjirou to look at him. “Better?”

He turns back to him, coloring a little in embarrassment. “A little. Thank you, Rengoku-san.” He dips his head again, the glass clutched in both hands.

“I think we know one another well enough by now that you can call me by my name,” he points out. His eyes glimmer with humor, but his smile is earnest.

Tanjirou returns it in kind. “Only if you call me Tanjirou, then.” 

Rengoku laughs, surprisingly low and rich. “Of course, my boy!” A shiver skitters down Tanjirou’s spine, and he drinks from the glass again in one large gulp. “We can stay here a while longer. I’ll show you around the exhibition once you’re feeling fine.”

“You don’t have to,” he protests. “It’s the first day of your exhibition. You should be out there.”

“It’s fine! Besides, I’d rather walk with you than have to make small talk with strangers!” Tanjirou is sure that the flush that rises up to his face has nothing to do with the dizziness that's been plaguing him. “So let’s talk for a bit, okay?”

Rengoku tells him about his life. His mother has always been a lover of the arts and used to teach calligraphy before she joined the museum staff, which drove him to pursue a career in art history. Eventually he got himself an internship in this museum, and then got promotions until he earned his spot as curator. His little brother is working towards his literature bachelor and still lives with their parents, while Rengoku- Kyoujurou moved out to his own apartment.

In turn, Tanjirou tells him about his life growing up in Asahi as the eldest son of six children. He tells him about helping at his parents’ bakery after school, and then fully balancing classes and work as his father’s health deteriorated. He had to postpone his entrance exams twice so he could help keep his family afloat while his father went through several procedures, and shares that he’s working to earn a masters in education to better support his family. 

“It’s hard sometimes,” he says quietly, turning the glass around in his hands. “I keep wondering if I’m making the right decision, or if I should just go back so Nezuko can pursue her career in fashion design.”

He looks up at Kyoujurou, who’s been watching him intently all this time. “This is something you want, right? You spoke so fondly of your siblings, I can tell you like the idea of teaching children.”

“I do!” He quickly defends. “But I… I feel guilty for not being there. I’m the eldest son, I should be the one helping my parents.”

“You are helping them, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now.” Kyoujurou flashes him a reassuring smile, and Tanjirou nods, finding solace in his words. “Being accepted into the University of Tokyo without enrolling in a yobikou, though! That’s amazing and you did that all on your own! Why did you pick it?”

“Well, it’s one of the most prestigious universities in the country, so I figured I’d have better chances of it leading me to a well-paying job.” Tanjirou offers him an embarrassed smile and looks off to the side, thumbing the glass distractedly. “And… something called me here.”

There’s a beat of silence. Tanjirou looks back at Kyoujurou and flushes when he sees his raised eyebrows. “Something called you here?”

“Y-Yes! I know it sounds stupid-” Kyoujurou tries to interject, but Tanjirou keeps talking like freight train and doesn’t give him an opening “-but as I got older I just felt this- this pull to leave Asahi. Which is terrible, because I shouldn’t want to leave my family! And I don’t like that I did! But as I looked at university options and considered which to apply for, coming to Tokyo became more and more appealing to me and I don’t know why.” 

He bites his lip, glancing down at his lap as the blush spreads down to his neck. Kyoujurou keeps quiet as he digests the vomit of words that Tanjirou just spewed. Tanjirou refuses to look at him. He knows that doesn’t make sense; Takeo said so when he caught Tanjirou musing aloud about it, while Nezuko and his parents just encouraged him to pursue that if it was what felt right.

It feels right, and at the same time it doesn’t. He doesn’t want to be away from them and while being here is making him physically sick, something tells him to remain right where he is.

Kyoujurou moves in his chair, shifting his weight down lower on the cushioned seat and resting his chin on his hand. He looks very comfortable there, and looking at his sharp features and at him now in his nice suit makes Tanjirou’s heart flutter. Oh. 

“It’s not stupid,” he repeats slowly, as though to drill the words into Tanjirou's head. "Perhaps there is a reason why you should have come here. You'll know when you find it."

Tanjirou nods slowly. He's heard of it, of fate and things that will happen if they’re meant to. He's not really sure if he believes it personally, as all their lives his family had to work hard to get what they needed, but it's a nice concept. To feel that calling deep in your soul and go out in search of it. It sounds magical.

What could fate try to be nudging him towards, though? Is it a job opportunity that will allow him to better support his family? A way to get better treatment for his father so then he won’t have to spend so many days bedridden anymore? Someone with an answer to his problems?

“I hope so,” he says at last and finally puts down the glass on Kyoujurou’s work desk. Kyoujurou takes it as a sign that Tanjirou is feeling well enough to walk and suggests looking around the exhibition. 

Enough time has passed by now that most of the visitors have left and the galleries no longer feel suffocating. Tanjirou barely felt the passage of time, and at the same time he’s glad for it as it gave him the opportunity to get to know Kyoujurou a little better.

They walk around at a leisure pace. Kyoujurou adds further commentary to the information provided by the brochures and the signs next to each artifact on display, walking close enough to him that the warmth of his body reaches Tanjirou through the layers they wear.

He still feels it as he walks home an hour later.

The trees in Ueno Park have long since lost their flowers. Verdant leaves have taken their place and they rustle gently in the breeze as Tanjirou, Inosuke and Zenitsu sit outside after their shift to enjoy a cold brew that Urokodaki-san gifted them before their departure. It’s just as hot in Tokyo as it is in Asahi, and with the temperatures going up as summer approaches, the treat is welcomed; needed, even. 

Inosuke sprawls down on the grass under the shade of a large tree as Zenitsu idly scrolls through his phone. Tanjirou settles for people watching and drinks slowly from his cup as he watches visitors and tourists alike come and go.

“Man, these guys are so cool,” Zenitsu says and reaches over to Tanjirou to show him his Instagram feed. “What if I dyed my hair like them?”

Tanjirou looks at the picture in question, at a man with blonde highlights and another with his hair dyed a dark purple. They don’t seem to be anyone he recognizes, though their clothes hint that they’re possibly part of a band. He blinks at it, then frowns at Zenitsu. “Didn’t you dye your hair blonde once?”

“No? I’d remember if I did.” He raises an eyebrow, looking mildly worried for Tanjirou’s sanity. But… He’s pretty sure he’s seen that before… At some point… Or at least he thinks he did? Zenitsu has always been blonde in his mind when Tanjirou thought of him. 

Zenitsu shrugs it off and goes back to scrolling through his feed. “You think I’d look good, though? I bet the girls would find it pretty hot.” 

Tanjirou turns back to facing the paved paths of the gardens, doing his best to organize his confused thoughts. “I think it’d suit you.”

Humming, Zenitsu sets aside his phone and drinks from the straw. “I’ll look into it, then. Can you help me with it? I doubt the old man will even think that's a good idea.” 

“I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask for help for bleaching your hair, but sure, I can try.” Tanjirou distractedly picks at a few blades of grass. “Nezuko might know something about it.”

“Oh, Nezuko-chan! How is she? Have you spoken to her recently?” 

Tanjirou will never not be amazed at how Zenitsu seems so enamored by someone he’s never met before. He’s never even spoken to her through the phone, since Tanjirou usually calls her at night when he’s at home, but already he seems to have a crush on her the size of the moon, solely based on descriptions and retellings that Tanjirou provided.

He tunes Zenitsu out as he spots a familiar face walking briskly towards the museum. Kyoujurou must be returning from the lecture that he was invited to host at the University of Tokyo, carrying a briefcase in one hand and his suit jacket over his shoulder. Despite the concentrated look he has on his face, he still manages to spot them from the corner of his eyes and turns with a smile, waving awkwardly with the hand holding the jacket as he continues on his way.

Tanjirou waves back, a little more excitedly than is warranted, and watches Kyoujurou until he disappears past the gates of the museum. 

“Dude,” Zenitsu drawls, catching his attention once more. Slightly embarrassed that he ignored his friend, Tanjirou offers him an apologetic smile. “You got it bad.” 

He blinks, the smile slipping off his face. “Got what?” 

“Don’t play dumb.” Zenitsu shoves him lightly on the arm, but Tanjirou continues to stare at him in confusion. “Oh, you’re serious! You really don’t know!” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Tanjirou.” Zenitsu puts his hand on his shoulder and stares him in the eye, reminiscent of a father who is about to tell his son something serious and concerning. “You’re into Rengoku-san. Like, really into him.”

Tanjirou feels his mouth go dry. “What?”

“Your crush is so obvious I’m sure the people across the garden could see it. I’m surprised you didn’t realize, actually! You’re a pretty smart guy.”

“Thanks?” He says it out of habit, still too caught up on the fact that he might have a crush to really process the words.

Zenitsu nods sagely. “You’re welcome. Anyway, yeah buddy, you got a crush on Rengoku-san. A big one.”

“How?” He asks weakly, to which Zenitsu snorts.

“You tell me. He’s not my type, so I can’t answer that for you.” Zenitsu must see something on his face, because he squeezes his shoulder comfortingly and softens his expression. “Hey, it’s fine! There’s no shame in having a crush on an older guy! I mean, he’s pretty friendly and he seems to care for you, so it’s only natural!” 

Tanjirou is still spinning. That familiar sense of vertigo sweeps in and he sways unsteadily until Zenitsu guides him to lie down on the grass. Inosuke is snoring lightly to his left, catching up on some much needed sleep. Tanjirou wants to do the same, and he also wants the grass to swallow him up and pull him underground.

He grasps Zenitsu’s yellow shirt tightly and looks up at him, unable to discern which of the three figures swimming in his sight is the real one. “What do I do?” 

Zenitsu offers him an exasperated smile. “You keep it to yourself, or you tell him.”

Tell him. Tanjirou considers that option, but as his head begins to hurt, he decides to think about it at a later time.

There’s a person amidst the flames. 

A silhouette, really. Their clothes and hair flutter in the wind, but they’re too far away for Tanjirou to see the smallest of details. From this distance, they’re nothing more than a dark, undefined shape.

He can feel his throat vibrating as he calls out for them, but he can’t hear his own voice, nor does he know what he just said. He tries to get his legs to move; it doesn’t work at first, but after a couple of nights that go on like this, Tanjirou finally manages to take the first step.

And yet, no matter how hard he tries to close the distance between them, the figure continues way out of his reach. They don’t respond to his calls, and the growing desperation in him expands until the dream fades and he's forcibly brought back to consciousness.

Tanjirou wakes up crying one night, tears steadily streaming down his face and his throat raw from calling a name he doesn’t remember. He buries his face in his pillow so it can soak up his tears and blindly reaches for his phone on the bedside table, fumbling with it one-handed and pressing it against his ear after hitting the screen repeatedly until the call connects. 

He expects to hear Nezuko’s sleepy voice, but the tone that greets him is nothing like that of his little sister's. In hindsight, he should've known this could happen and he has no one to blame but himself.

“Yes?” Kyoujurou’s voice is rough from sleep and lack of use. Tanjirou sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and desperately tries to hang up as his heart speeds up for a different reason. “Kamado? What’s wrong?” 

He ends up dropping the phone twice, but even that is not enough to get his shaking fingers to touch the right parts of the screen and end the call. A shiver wracks through his body, his ear still tingling from having Kyoujurou's voice so close in such a vulnerable state. He won't be able to forget that now; it's a sound that will follow him to the end of his days.

“Tanjirou?” Kyoujurou sounds urgent now. Tanjirou tries not to think of him in bed, hair unruly and face sleep-soft, and picks the phone up again. 

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing out of his mouth. He feels pathetic in ways he can’t describe. His only saving grace is that summer recess is fast approaching and he’s hopeful that going back to Asahi will give him a respite from all of this.  “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was trying to call my sister.” 

“Please, you don’t have to apologize.” Kyoujurou breathes out in relief. “You don’t sound well. What happened? Do you need anything?” 

Tanjirou turns in bed to lie on his back and drags a hand down his face. He shouldn't keep Kyoujurou awake any longer, but once again Tanjirou just… Can't keep his mouth shut once he’s talking to him. “Just another dream,” he murmurs.

Kyoujurou hums. “Do you get them every night?”

“No, but I get them often enough.” He’s so, so tired. And on top of it all, he’s still feeling lightheaded and sick despite the treatment the doctor prescribed him. “I can’t make sense of them and I have the feeling they won’t stop until I do.”

Fabric rustles quietly in the background as he moves about. Tanjirou idly wonders what he’s doing, what he’s wearing, and flushes. “You mentioned flames before,” he comments, surprising Tanjirou that he even remembers that. “Has anything changed since then?” 

“I see someone now,” he says and Kyoujurou makes a quiet noise of inquiry. “They are too far for me to see better, but there is someone there.” 

“Strange,” Kyoujurou says after a while. “It seems to me that you will uncover the truth piece by piece.”

“Yeah.” His cheeks feel weird where the tears have dried. Tanjirou rubs away the tracks they left on his skin. “I wish it wouldn’t cost me my sleep, though.” 

Kyoujurou huffs a quiet laugh. “So do I.” There’s a beat of silence where Tanjirou focuses on the sound of his breathing and tries to time his own with it. The sound is soothing, but his scent right now would do wonders... “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you for a while longer?” 

Tanjirou swallows and licks his dry lips. He won’t even try to pretend like he doesn’t want that. “If you wouldn’t mind.” 

“I offered, didn’t I?” He says lightly, and Tanjirou can’t help but smile. “How about we make some tea to drink while we talk?” 

“That would be nice,” he says softly and picks himself up from the bed. His heart aches as they talk, but it’s a good ache, different from the kind of constricting pressure that often grips his chest. 

Zenitsu was spot on with his observation, he finds. Tanjirou likes Kyoujurou, and he likes him a lot.

"Damnit!" Inosuke slams his hands on the counter, rattling the cups and plates piled there. Tanjirou winces both in sympathy and at the noise, thankful that the coffee shop is empty and there are no customers to witness the outburst.

The webpage on his phone shows the final scores for this semester's exams. Inosuke didn't do spectacularly in most of his classes, but still managed to pass most of them. The worrying factor is that he failed one of his classes.

"It's okay, Inosuke," he tries to console him with slow hand gestures as though speaking to a wild animal. "I'm sure your professor will give you extra credits if you ask for a chance."

Zenitsu isn't as understanding. "If you studied as often as you pick fights with other people, this wouldn't have happened."

"What did you say?"

Tanjirou sighs to himself as they get in each other's faces. He is well used to their bickering by now, but still he has vague recollections of them arguing over several different matters that don't really make sense, though he can't recall when or if they ever happened. In any case, it gets a bit tiring to deal with it on a daily basis.

"They're a lively bunch," an amused voice comments from beside him. Startling, Tanjirou straightens up and faces Kyoujurou, who at some point entered the café while his friends were hissing at each other. "Good afternoon, Tanjirou!"

"Kyoujurou-san! Good afternoon!" He hurries behind the cash register. "What can I get for you?"

"A mocha today, please!" After handing over the money, Kyoujurou moves further down along the counter to wait for his drink. "What got them so angry like this?"

"Final grades are up," he says while measuring the coffee beans. "Inosuke failed one of his classes and Zenitsu insulted him."

"Ah, I see! A blow to the ego hurts more than a negative score!" He laughs and Tanjirou smiles to himself. That is true for both his friends. "What about your grades, though?"

"I passed all my classes! I tried so hard to get here, I might as well continue to work hard to get good grades!" He pours the drink into a styrofoam cup and seals it with a lid, setting it in front of Kyoujurou on the counter.

"You're doing great!" Smiling, Kyoujurou leans his folded arms on the counter and ignores his order completely. "Summer recess is just next week. Do you have any plans?"

Tanjirou meets his curious eyes and catches a hint of expectation in the air, a very subtle scent underneath the usual smell of coffee that lingers around him. His own heart flutters slightly in response, hopeful as to what it could mean. "I'm going back to my parents for a couple of weeks."

"Mm! I see! I hope you'll enjoy your time there, and hopefully you will feel better when you're back with your family!" His smile softens, loses its sharp brilliant edge and becomes mellow and sweet. Quieter, he says, "I'm going to miss you, Tanjirou. I'll count down the days for your return."

His lips wobble slightly as Tanjirou smiles, that bud of hope in his chest unfurling and blooming into something beautiful. "Thank you, Kyoujurou-san! I- I'm going to miss you, too!"

Kyoujurou doesn't stay for much longer and leaves after a quick parting, returning to the museum in long strides. Now that he's gone, Tanjirou turns to face Inosuke and Zenitsu, both of whom have gone quiet at some point in favor of watching the exchange. Inosuke looks like he just witnessed something particularly annoying, though.

"I think," Zenitsu begins slowly, "that he is very much into you, too."

Tanjirou's stomach flips pleasantly, his heart skipping several beats. A wide smile stretches his lips wide enough that it hurts. "You think so, too?"

"Yeah! You don't look at someone like that and say you're going to miss them if you don’t have feelings for them! He's definitely into you!"

Tanjirou looks down at his hands, unable to contain his happiness. Kyoujurou has never outwardly shown any interest in him that went further than that of being friends before, and though Tanjirou has kept an eye open for all the possible signs of his feelings being reciprocated, this is the one gesture that serves as proof that Kyoujurou likes him too.

"So what're you gonna do?" Inosuke crosses his arms over his chest, huffing. Once again, his uniform shirt is buttoned unevenly. Tanjirou is just glad it's buttoned at all. "It's about time you get your shit together and do something about this!"

"You're one to talk! You and Aoi have been dancing around each other for much longer than Tanjirou and Rengoku-san," Zenitsu points out, and Inosuke predictably bristles. 

"I don't see you being anywhere near as successful with your crushes than us, dumbass!"

"Oh, shut up!"

As they resume their argument, Tanjirou turns around and hides his blushing face in his hands. It's embarrassing that even Inosuke called him out on it, but it can't be helped. It has dragged on for too long.

He ought to do something about this soon, and luckily he knows just the right person to talk to. And then, once he's returned from visiting his family, he can make his move.

It's a little more than three hours by train to reach Asahi from Tokyo. Tanjirou uses the opportunity to try to nap and catch up on some very much needed sleep after another restless night, but isn't very successful.

He settles for watching the scenery and focuses on the fact that he'll soon be with his family rather than on the tiny voice in the back of his mind trying to convince him to stop at the next station and head back. The farther away he gets from Tokyo, the more miserable he feels, which only adds to the growing guilt inside him. Tanjirou turns up the volume of the playlist he's listening to like it can drown out the messy lump of emotions in him.

At the station, Nezuko and Shigeru wait for him near the family's beat up car in the parking lot. Tanjirou isn't ashamed of the way he runs up to them and envelopes them in a tight hug, consoled by the fact that they hold him just as securely. He feels like crying, in relief or in distress he doesn't know, and either way he keeps the tears to himself for now.

The bakery is closed for the day so their family can celebrate his return. His mother hugs him tightly and kisses his cheek, teary eyed and so happy to see him again. His father still looks too gaunt and relies on a wheelchair to move inside their home, but he hasn't let his condition get to him and continues to smile every day. Takeo, Hanako and Rokuta circle him and demand his attention, and Tanjirou can’t hold the tears back anymore.

"Oh Tanjirou." His mother sweeps him up in a hug, and he clings to her like he's a child all over again.

Tanjirou slips right back into his old routine: wake up early, help at the bakery, help his father, take turns with his siblings to cook lunch and dinner, tidy up the bakery, spend the night with his siblings in the living room, rinse and repeat.

Contrary to what he'd hoped, being around his family doesn't make his weird symptoms any better. He scratches out the possibility that it could be some severe case of homesickness and is left to put his hopes on the new medicine his doctor prescribed.

Urokodaki-san calls him a few days in. Actually calls, as he seems to dislike the concept of texting, and asks Tanjirou about his family, which leads them to talk for nearly half an hour before he hangs up to feed his cats. While he still feels bad for taking off from Tokyo for a few weeks, Tanjirou is immensely thankful that his boss was so understanding as to let him stay with his family for that long. Urokodaki-san wouldn't express it so openly, but he showed his concern for Tanjirou's health in small ways.

Inosuke and Zenitsu are still in Tokyo and each has their own plans for summer recess. They talk every day, though Tanjirou is sometimes too busy helping at the bakery to reply right away, and agree to go out for dinner once he’s back in the city.

Kyoujurou texts him as often as his schedule allows. Usually, he’s too occupied to exchange more than a few words throughout the day, but he still finds the time to tell Tanjirou a little bit of his tasks, often at night. He even calls sometimes to check in if he’s been sleeping well, and Tanjirou is always honest despite his own desire to not worry Kyoujurou. He’s incapable of keeping things from him, it seems.

It's only when Kyoujurou's voice is so close to his ear that Tanjirou feels like the ever-present fog in his head lifts a bit too, and it does little to halt his growing feelings for him.

His family takes notice. He's always been a terrible liar and it's impossible to keep the joy out of his face when he checks his phone and sees Kyoujurou reaching out to him. His siblings ask, but are easily deflected or distracted. His parents give him curious looks, but wait for him to tell them on his own. Nezuko's eyes gleam with a knowing light whenever she catches him smiling at his phone, but she doesn't press and he doesn't say anything.

And then he invites her to take a walk with him. The beach is crowded at this time of the year, or as crowded as Asahi can be, which isn’t much compared to how Tokyo can get on a daily basis. They walk along the shoreline with water crashing over their feet, recalling the times when they'd come here when younger and talking about his new life in the big city. 

Kie packed them some sandwiches and snacks for lunch, so Tanjirou spreads a beach towel on a vacant corner and they sit to enjoy their meal. Nezuko smells content, the apple blossom scent of her shampoo masking the undertone of an anticipatory feeling that lingers around her.

He exhales long and slow. It's the perfect time to tell her. It's why he asked her to come here in the first place. "I met someone in Tokyo."

Nezuko makes a noise of surprise, her eyes wide and she quickly chews on the bite of a chicken sandwich before swallowing. "Brother! That's wonderful! Who are they?"

Tanjirou looks down at his lap as a faint blush covers his cheeks. Her excitement means so much to him. "A museum curator. He helped me one day when I wasn't feeling very well."

"You haven't been well in a long while," she notes, and he's not that surprised that she caught on to that. She shrugs slightly and puts down her half eaten food. "Mom and dad noticed too. Is that why you're taking those meds?"

He blinks at her, truly surprised that he was found out. "How'd you know? I thought I was being discreet."

"I wouldn't have known if I hadn't gone into your room last weekend to get the laundry that you forgot to put in the basket." Her disapproving stare has the same weight and effect as their mother's; he feels properly chastised. "What's going on?"

So Tanjirou tells her about the sleepless nights, the lightheadedness and the constant knot of anxiety in his chest. He tells her of how he met Kyoujurou in the museum when he'd felt compelled to go in, how he's helped him again and again when Tanjirou was feeling sick, how he feels better when he's with Kyoujurou or simply talking to him, and how he hadn't even realized he'd fallen for him until Zenitsu pointed it out.

She listens in silence, only occasionally asking questions that will help her understand this curious situation better, and lets him talk until he runs out of words. Tanjirou looks out at the sea and resists the urge to rub a hand over his sternum like the gesture can soothe the throbbing inside his ribcage. 

"He likes you too! I say that's half the problem solved!" Nezuko bumps their shoulders together and he smiles as they watch the waves. "So, how are you going to tell him?"

"I'm not sure." He frowns a little and sighs. "I have no clue how to go about this. Should I get him flowers? Or maybe chocolate? I feel like he'd prefer chocolate. He likes food so much, Nezuko! I think he'd like to come to the bakery someday! Ah, maybe I can take him out somewhere for dinner? But I don't know any affordable places that are good for first dates…"

Nezuko laughs, the sound of it dancing around them in the quietness of the beach. His cheeks flood with heat, embarrassed at his own rambling.

"You can just be yourself," she says. "What you've done so far has worked, so you can't go wrong now if you keep it up."

"I didn't really do anything, except for almost fainting on him twice," he mumbles and she shakes her head.

"You say that as if you didn't go to the exhibitions on the first day just to support him." Nezuko rolls her eyes and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. He gives her a faux offended look, to which she sticks her tongue out. "I mean it, you're overthinking! Just clear your head and tell him about it as soon as you see him so you don't chicken out! You know, like you do when you headbutt someone. You do it first and think about it later!"

"That's not a good example!" He laughs, feeling lighter when she joins him. "But I guess it could work!"

"Of course it will! When am I ever wrong?" He can think of a few instances, but she has just as much dirt on him to strike back. 

They sit in silence for a while. The waves crash gently at the shore, lapping up at the sand just a few feet away from their towel. Tanjirou really missed the peaceful quiet of his hometown, but something continues to pull him in the direction of Tokyo.

"I want to go back," he blurts out, but Nezuko doesn't seem surprised by the admission. She must have known he felt that all along, before he'd even realized. "I don't know why, but it hurts and when he's around I feel better! I like him so much, Nezuko. He means so much to me. He's so caring and funny and I just love being around him! I really wish he was here right now!"

Nezuko puts a hand over his, his fingers fisted around the beach towel in a white knuckled grip. His eyes burn with unshed tears and an ache radiates in his chest, pulsing in time with his own heartbeat.

"Then go," she says, squeezing his hand. "If you feel like you need to go back, then do it. Listen to what your heart is saying, do what you want. Be selfish for once, brother. You've earned the right." 

Tanjirou blinks once and the tears spill down his face, offering him a little bit of relief from the building pressure. A part of him rebels against the idea - it's his family and he’s wanted to see them for so long! They're so important to him and it's not right to leave now that he's here - but a bigger, louder part urges him to comply. It begs him to go back to Tokyo and find Kyoujurou, and it's scary how much he wants to do what it says.

"Don't worry about us," Nezuko says, smiling softly. "Mom and dad will understand. At the end of the day, they just want us to be happy."

Kyoujurou said there could be a reason for Tanjirou's need to go to Tokyo, something that he should find. Tanjirou thinks he might have found it.

Chapter Text

Tanjirou waits a few more days before he packs up to head back earlier than intended, and it feels like he's about to vibrate out of his skin all the while.

His siblings are understandably upset, which doesn't help the remorse once again eating at him, but his mom shushes them and declares she's going to drive him to the station, and so they load his father's wheelchair into the trunk of the car and head off.

With fifteen minutes until his train departs, Tanjirou hugs his mother and apologizes once more for his sudden change of schedule. "You already help us so much, Tanjirou." She pets the back of his head gently, her arm wrapped around his shoulders. "All we want is for you to be happy."

"Do what you need to do," his father says, and Tanjirou stoops down to hug him as well once Kie releases him. "Follow your heart, Tanjirou. It won't lead you astray."

Nezuko gives him a slight I-told-you-so look and hugs him tight. "Good luck," she whispers just for him to hear. "I’m sure it’s all going to work out!"

He laughs on the verge of crying and accepts one more round of hugs from his siblings before embarking the train. The trip back to Tokyo seems to take forever, but at least something in him settles now that he's headed southeast again. 

The skies are dark with gray clouds when he arrives. Tanjirou makes a quick trip to his apartment to leave his suitcase at the entrance before bolting out the door. Thunder rumbles as he runs through the streets, feet pounding on asphalt and chest heaving for air as he sidesteps the few pedestrians on his way. 

He cuts the time from the museum to his home in half, and reaches the gates just as the first raindrops begin to fall. Tanjirou slips through the open gap of the gates and ignores the shouting guard asking if he's feeling well. In his eagerness to get here, he forgot to account for the possibility that Kyoujurou might have already gone home. Though the inside of the museum is dark, Tanjirou is familiar with the security team well enough by now to ask them if they know of Kyoujurou's whereabouts.

Tanjirou crosses the plaza quickly, rain falling in earnest now. He will be soaked through in minutes if he doesn't hurry and find shelter, so he picks up the pace just as the pressure in his head builds up and sets off the ringing in his ears.

A figure appears at the top of the stairs. The lights of the lamp posts are just bright enough that he can see who they are even from a distance. At this point, though, Tanjirou has already memorized his exact scent so that he could easily recognize him anywhere. "Kyoujurou-san!"

Fate, he thinks. Things that will happen if they're meant to. He believes it now.

Kyoujurou looks up, startled. "Tanjirou?" He climbs down the stairs quickly, his smile disbelieving as he reaches out to catch Tanjirou in his arms when his balance wavers. He fumbles with the umbrella one handed, angling it to protect both of them from the rain. "Why are you here? I thought you wouldn't return for another week!"

"I really need to talk to you!" He says over the sound of the rain pounding on the umbrella. Drops ricochet and drench the hems of his pants, but that’s of no concern.

"Me? It must be important if you came so abruptly!" Kyoujurou looks to the side, but much like the museum, the coffee shop is also closed. "Let's go somewhere dry to talk."

Somewhere dry, as it turns out, is his car. Tanjirou follows him to the staff parking lot and excuses himself as he gets onto the leather seat. Kyoujurou struggles briefly with closing his umbrella before getting inside as well, and sets it down on the floor of the backseat before turning on the car and the heat. Tanjirou shivers, his skin cold due to the rain, and puts his hands to the vents to warm up his fingers.

Kyoujurou pats some water out of his hair and clothes, and Tanjirou watches him, transfixed. "I haven't eaten anything yet. Would you like to join me?"

"Wait!" Tanjirou grabs his wrist as he reaches for the gear stick, and Kyoujurou halts completely. "Sorry! Please, I just- I need to tell you something."

Kyoujurou reclines against his seat, but keeps his hand where it is. Closed in a small space like this, surrounded by his scent and illuminated only by the lights of the dashboard, Tanjirou finds this incredibly intimate. Softly, Kyoujurou asks, "what is it?"

"I…" Tanjirou breathes in deep, looking for the last minute confirmation he needs. It's there in the background, just a hint of a scent that he can't forget, this time laced with a desire so strong it could mirror his own. He leans over the console as though seeking it. "I like you, Kyoujurou-san!"

Kyoujurou's eyes widen more, if possible, his mouth falling slack. "Tanjirou?"

"You've always been so kind to me and so caring! And I just- I feel good when I'm with you! I feel safe and protected, and being around you makes me feel better! I want to be with you!" Tanjirou, with brows furrowed in determination and cheeks flooded with heat, squeezes his wrist and waits for a response of any kind, his heart beating so fast it thuds against his ribs almost painfully.

"Tanjirou," Kyoujurou breathes out and leans over the console as well. Their noses brush together, and Kyoujurou skims the tip of his nose along the thin skin under Tanjirou's eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I just said I want you." He sounds choked from the close proximity, but he pushes forward anyway, brushing his lips on the corner of Kyoujurou's mouth. His breathing stutters and his other hand comes up to cup Tanjirou's warm face. "Why wouldn't I be sure?"

"I'm older than you," Kyoujurou says, placing a kiss firmly on his mouth despite the warnings he’s bringing up, like he wants this so much he can't stop himself. "I'm a history nut and sometimes I don't have time for myself because of my job. I don't know how to cook. I'm loud and I've been told my fashion sense is appalling. Are you sure? You need to tell me you're sure, Tanjirou."

"I am." Tanjirou sighs as Kyoujurou kisses him again. "I am sure, I want you, Kyoujurou-san."

Kyoujurou draws him in, his fingers warm on the nape of Tanjirou's neck and his lips twice as hot. "Tanjirou," he whispers against his mouth, and that's the last thing he says for some time.

Every other time Tanjirou has kissed someone pales in comparison to this. Kyoujurou is demanding but gentle as his lips move against his own, coaxing little noises from Tanjirou with every nip of his teeth and swipe of his tongue. Tanjirou lets go of his wrist in favor of clutching Kyoujurou's dress shirt, pulling him closer as Kyoujurou leans further over the console and into his space, seeking to take everything that Tanjirou is willing to give, and he's willing to give him his all. It's an awkward position for them, but Tanjirou very much likes where he is. Kyoujurou kisses him with a fervor that is to be expected from someone like him, someone so passionate in everything he does.

His mouth trails to Tanjirou's cheek and jaw, wet from the kiss and leaving a blazing path in its wake. "I've wanted to do this for a while."

"Yeah?" Tanjirou gasps as Kyoujurou's teeth find his neck, squirming on the passenger seat as the heat behind his navel begins to build up.

"Yeah," Kyoujurou echoes, panting breaths fanning Tanjirou's ear. "You're hard to not like, Tanjirou."

Blood rushes to his face. Tanjirou ducks his head to hide it, but Kyoujurou doesn't pull back. His lips keep placing gentle kisses on his heated skin. "You like me?"

"Of course I do." Kyoujurou chuckles richly, the sound traveling down to Tanjirou's toes. "I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't."

As though to reinforce his point, he kisses Tanjirou slow and deep, his fingers holding Tanjirou's chin in place as he leads. They part with a wet noise and Kyoujurou leans back slightly to look him in the eyes, his own half-lidded and warm like honey. 

"It's late. I should drive you home," he muses quietly, thumb stroking back and forth on Tanjirou's cheek. "But I want to keep you right here with me."

Heart fluttering, Tanjirou feels like this is the first time in so long that he can breathe properly despite how out of breath he is after that earth-shattering kiss. "Then do it," he finds himself saying, faltering for a moment before finding his courage again. "Let's stay right here."

Kyoujurou laughs again, amused and fond, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "I'd love to, but cars aren't all that comfortable and I am honestly tired from the day I had." Embarrassed, Tanjirou lowers his head again, but Kyoujurou lifts it back up with a finger under his chin. "And so are you, I believe. Did you really board a train days earlier just to confess to me?"

"I did." There's no point in trying to cover up the truth, not that Tanjirou would be successful. "I just- I felt like I had to do it."

He decides against telling him about how he suspects Kyoujurou must be the one Tanjirou was looking for, the one person who drew him here to this city. It sounds like a reveal too big to break minutes after their first kiss.

"I'm glad you did." Kyoujurou places one last kiss on his mouth and pulls away completely. "Let's go get something to eat, like a date! And then I'll drop you off."

A date. Yes, he would like it very much. "Okay!"

"What are you doing here?"

"What happened to you?" Tanjirou shoots back and Zenitsu clicks his tongue, running his fingers through his freshly dyed blonde hair. "That looks good! Who helped you? Was it Kuwajima-san?"

"Thanks, but now I look twice as sunburned!" Yeah, he really does. The red on his face is much more noticeable like this. "And yeah, it was! Can you believe that? I thought the old man would give me a hard time, but he actually knows someone who- wait a minute! What are you doing here?" He asks again, digging a finger in Tanjirou's shoulder. "I thought you were in Asahi!"

"Change of plans?" Tanjirou says tentatively, pulse kicking up a notch as he remembers last evening.

Zenitsu squints at his face, but thankfully whatever he is about to say is cut off by Inosuke's timely arrival. "Monjirou! You're ba- AHAHA!"

"Not a word about this!" But Zenitsu's angry flush only makes the red shade of his skin worse, and so Inosuke cackles louder.

Urokodaki-san peeks his head out of the kitchen and, seeing Tanjirou there, offers a slight nod before returning inside. Tanjirou grins at his back and finishes tying off his apron with shaking hands. He's just too excited, his heart so light and full that the usual pressure in his head is nothing more than a dull ache. And then the door opens to reveal Kyoujurou's smiling face, and Tanjirou thinks he could float away just from looking at him.

"Good morning, Tanjirou!" He crosses the distance between them in quick, large strides and leans in too close before pulling back with a slight flush to his cheeks. "Good to see you again!"

Tanjirou needs a few seconds to speak, because he's sure his heart is lodged in his throat. "Good morning, Kyoujurou-san! What can I get for you?"

While Kyoujurou peruses the menu, Tanjirou can feel twin stares burning the side of his head and vehemently ignores them. "An iced coffee!" His eyes glitter fondly as he looks at him. "What do you say we go out for lunch today? My treat, of course!"

"I'd love to, Kyoujurou-san!" Tanjirou is certain his smile is dazed and fully enamored, but he doesn’t care that people see it. He would jump over the counter and kiss him right now if he was sure Kyoujurou wouldn’t mind it, but as it is, Tanjirou stays put. And besides, this is his workplace.

Someone clears their throat behind him. Zenitsu quirks an unimpressed eyebrow at him and sets the cup of iced coffee down on the counter in front of Kyoujurou, annoyed that they were caught up staring at one another again. "Your order, sir."

"Ah, thank you, yellow boy!" Zenitsu sputters, but Kyoujurou pays him no mind and picks his order up, stepping backwards to the door. "See you later, Tanjirou!"

Tanjirou waves and watches him go, smiling in delight when Kyoujurou watches him through the windows until he leaves the vicinity of the café completely. Time can't possibly pass by fast enough. 

"So that's why you're back earlier!" Inosuke exclaims. Tanjirou offers him a weak smile, certain his face is scarlet now.

"You're ridiculous," Zenitsu says with a shake of his head, but smiles and claps him on the shoulder in congratulations.

Tanjirou starts spending a lot more time with Kyoujurou. Sometimes they go out together for a walk or to have a meal during their breaks, but most of the time together is spent in his office in a companionable quiet where Tanjirou will do his assignments while Kyoujurou works diligently on the upcoming exhibitions.

He might be jumping the gun, but he sees that space as theirs. It's there where Kyoujurou will open a thermos of hot chocolate and a container of cookies his brother prepared for them to share, where they will cuddle on the too small divan to each do their own readings, where Kyoujurou will drag Tanjirou onto his lap and kiss him with a passion that makes all thoughts scatter.

It's fervent and bright, and Tanjirou always thrills a little bit when he sees that Kyoujurou is just as ruined by the kisses as he is, but while they touch each other and Tanjirou lets Kyoujurou grip his ass as he palms his chest in return, they don't go further than that. Kyoujurou always stops him, and though he swears he wants Tanjirou just as much, he insists it's not the right time yet.

Tanjirou doesn't push, even when it's hard to keep still with a noticeable bulge pressed flush to his backside. He leans his head on Kyoujurou's shoulder instead and they hug until both of them calm down enough to walk out of the office.

He rouses with a kiss to his forehead and tries to stretch, only to remember there's not enough space on the divan for that. Kyoujurou's arm keeps him from falling off entirely, but the momentary scare of it is enough to scrunch his nose up in annoyance. Tanjirou turns his face to hide it in Kyoujurou's chest, and that ugly feeling lessens when it rumbles with a laugh.

"Sorry for waking you," he murmurs, running his thumb under Tanjirou's eye when he pulls back to look at Kyoujurou. "You haven't been sleeping much, have you?"

While the woozy symptoms may have lessened now that another treatment was prescribed by his doctor, Tanjirou continues to have those dreams on most nights. There haven't been any changes to it since the last time, when he'd called Kyoujurou on the verge of tears months ago, and Tanjirou has to wonder how long it will be until this is over.

"No," he says quietly, knowing well that Kyoujurou will disapprove of the answer. He insists that Tanjirou can and should call him when they happen, but he doesn't want to bother Kyoujurou with it, especially when he's been so busy finalizing next month's exhibition. "Last night was worse than usual."

Kyoujurou frowns, and it's such a rare look on him that Tanjirou feels guilty for being the one to put that expression on his face. "I have an idea," he says, and quickly adds, "you can decline if it makes you uncomfortable!"

"Okay," Tanjirou says, bemused. "Let's hear it."

Kyoujurou presses his lips together, a slight pinch forming between his brows. Tanjirou reaches up to smooth it out with a finger, and Kyoujurou melts slightly, leaning into the touch with a soft sigh. "Would you like to come over?"

Tanjirou slowly trails his fingertip down the bridge of Kyoujurou’s nose. “To your apartment?”

“Yes! I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but maybe you’ll sleep better if I’m with you! Or so I think!” He clears his throat as a flush rises to his cheeks, but doesn’t look away even as the pink darkens to a red. "What do you say?"

Seeing how adorable he looks when he’s embarrassed, Tanjirou lets out a quiet laugh and dips his head to hide his face in Kyoujurou’s chest once more. The idea is very tempting if he’s being honest. Kyoujurou runs warm, and with the temperature dropping the further autumn progresses, Tanjirou wouldn’t be opposed to sharing a bed with him, in the most literal and innocent sense of the word. 

“I’d love to!” He lifts his head again and smiles softly at Kyoujurou. "Thank you, Kyoujurou-san!"

"Good. Yeah, good! Great! I need to clean up my apartment first, but we can go as soon as you'd like!" Kyoujurou's expression softens into something tender and affectionate as he pulls Tanjirou closer to kiss him. "And it's no problem! This is the least I can do for you!"

They settle for Saturday, so that way they can align their two days off and spend them together. That gives Kyoujurou plenty of time to clean his home and run some errands, and meanwhile Tanjirou is counting down the minutes until the day arrives.

He shows up to work with an overnight bag that he packed and made as discreet as possible, but somehow Zenitsu can still understand what it is for. Tanjirou spends most of the day ignoring his stares, suggestive and questioning alike, and hurries off to the museum once their shift that evening is done so he can evade a round of interrogation.

Tanjirou is well acquainted with most of the staff by now, both from working nearby and the time he's spent inside the museum since he and Kyoujurou started dating, so he waits at the entrance lobby, making small talk with the cleaning staff sweeping the floors in that area. Kyoujurou is running late, and though Tanjirou is a little too overly excited about spending the night in his home, he doesn't mind the prolonged time of waiting. It gives him a chance to calm his nerves and to remind himself that Kyoujurou doesn't have ulterior motives, as much as he'd like him to have.

Minutes later, Kyoujurou shows up from the depths of the museum carrying his usual briefcase, a remorseful frown on his face as he approaches quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late! I tried to finish these so I’d be able to give you my undivided attention this weekend, but I didn’t manage to!” 

Tanjirou shakes his head slightly, smiling as Kyoujurou offers his hand. “Did you get distracted reading about kimonos again?” 

“I did! You know me too well!” Kyoujurou lifts their joined hands to brush his lips on Tanjirou’s knuckles. “Yeah, it’s ‘just’ a piece of clothing, but it has such a vast history and it’s one of Japan’s most iconic symbols! Did you know the kimono originated as an undergarment called kosode during the Muromachi period?” 

“I didn’t know that!” He laughs, squeezing their hands together. They walk through the paved paths of the plaza towards the parking lot to Kyoujurou’s awaiting car. “It’s fine if you have to work, though! You can finish that while I do some reading of my own.” That sounds very domestic, and Tanjirou rather likes the idea of it. 

Kyoujurou lives in a two-bedroom apartment a twenty-minute drive away from the museum. It looks very lived in and cozy despite the amount of time he spends out. The shelves in his living room have family pictures on display and twice as many books, and the pillows and throw blanket on his couch don’t match at all. The color of the comforter in his bedroom is a little faded, and the other bedroom-turned-office is full of replicas of his favorite historical buildings and weapons. 

He takes Tanjirou to the kitchen, where his mostly empty cabinets house a couple of pots and pans that gleam as though brand new. “I’m not much of a cook, as you know, but I asked Senjurou for an easy recipe for me to follow along! I even got these!”

Ah, so they are brand new. “I can cook. Or we can do it together!” He quickly adds when Kyoujurou opens his mouth to protest. “I can teach you, and then we can eat something we made together.”

“Mm! I like that!” He hands over the pan and directs Tanjirou to the barren fridge where he finds only the ingredients needed for the meal and a couple of leftovers that were likely sent by Senjurou. 

Kyoujurou is a good assistant in the kitchen. He cuts the fish and vegetables with precision, and keeps a watchful eye on everything Tanjirou does while cooking, nodding to himself as though taking mental notes. It is an easy recipe and he does mostly well. With time and practice, he won’t overcook the vegetables until they’re soggy. 

They eat and clean up the kitchen, and then huddle together under the throw blanket in the living room to watch random travel vlogs that Tanjirou casts from his phone to the TV. That is until he lures Kyoujurou into a makeout session and spends the next ten minutes trapped between his body and the couch, his hands wandering under his shirt and mapping up his warm skin. 

His palms drift from his back to his front, and Kyoujurou pulls back when Tanjirou’s fingers graze his nipples. “Sneaky,” he husks, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Tanjirou blinks owlishly at him, out of breath and aroused. If he lifts his hips up, he might get Kyoujurou to cave in, but he doesn’t want to push too far and risk upsetting him. “I want you,” he resorts to saying, and the words affect Kyoujurou so badly that he needs to take a minute to recompose himself, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath in.

“And I want you,” he promises. Of that, Tanjirou has no doubt. He can smell Kyoujurou’s honesty, his desire, his love. “But not yet.” 

Tanjirou moves his hands down to his waist, but the ardent passion is gone for now and their kisses become slow and languid. It isn’t long until Kyoujurou suggests they head to bed, and Tanjirou dresses in his own pajamas in the privacy of the adjacent bathroom before joining him under the covers. 

Kyoujurou pulls him close and Tanjirou presses his nose to the column of his neck, inhaling his warm scent until he falls asleep.

Tanjirou runs through the fire. It burns his feet and it hurts, his lungs full of smoke and soot, burning from the exertion to keep moving. He’s in pain, every limb aches like he’s been through the wringer, but his stomach especially hurts more than anything. His hands are bloodied, nails stained red, and the smell of copper is strong in his nostrils despite all the ash in the air. 

The person is still amidst the flames. 

He calls out, again and again. His throat hurts like it’s raw from all the screams. He tastes blood and feels it drip from his lips. He trips and runs and cries, but the person continues to stand there, oblivious to his despair and anguish.

A haori is draped over their shoulders, white fading to yellow with a red ridges along the fuki reminiscent of the flames that surround them. It drifts in the wind and calls for him, beckons him closer. Tanjirou reaches for it, his sight blurring from all the tears gathered in his eyes.

“Tanjirou!” 

His eyes snap open, a shout dying in his throat. Kyoujurou’s face swims into focus, the concerned frown he wears bathed in the dim light of the bedside lamp. Relief floods his body, crashes over him like a tidal wave, and Tanjirou scrunches up his face as fresh tears spill from the corners of his eyes when Kyoujurou pulls him into the safety of his arms.

“It’s okay,” he shushes, holding him so close that Tanjirou could forget where one ends and the other begins. “It’s okay, you’re safe now, Tanjirou.” 

He clings to Kyoujurou’s shirt and buries his face in his shoulder, letting the soft cotton soak up the worst of his tears. Kyoujurou rubs his back soothingly until he calms down, his other hand cradling the back of Tanjirou’s head so delicately that it actually makes him want to cry more.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps and pulls back, no longer trembling. Kyoujurou shakes his head, but he looks so remorseful and Tanjirou doesn’t understand. It isn’t his fault. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Kyoujurou murmurs. He runs his thumbs under Tanjirou’s eyes, wipes away the water clinging to his lashes. “You don’t have to apologize.” 

He nods, even though he doesn’t quite believe it. “It was the same dream,” Tanjirou says, knotting his fingers around the bedsheets. His throat hurts like he’s been screaming for hours. Maybe he was, he doesn’t know. “I was calling them, but they didn't hear me.” He looks at Kyoujurou desperately. “Did I say it out loud? Did you recognize the name?”

Kyoujurou parts his lips to reply, and Tanjirou catches it then, the waver in his scent before he says, “no, I didn’t.”

It’s a lie. It strikes him hard and sharp like a slap to the face, and forces the air out of his lungs. Tanjirou nods slowly and looks down at his lap, shutting his eyes tight and squeezing out the last of the tears. 

“I’m sorry,” Kyoujurou says, but Tanjirou doesn’t know if he's apologizing for lying or for something else.

It's his break and Tanjirou sits on a bench out of the way to people-watch. He hides his nose in his scarf that no longer smells like home and for once focuses on the dull ache in his head.

Another sleepless night. Tanjirou already had two cups of coffee, but all that accomplished was to make him jittery. He continues to be exhausted, and now his hands won't stop shaking on top of that.

He's slept other times with Kyoujurou since the first night spent in his apartment, but contrary to his theory, his presence doesn't erase Tanjirou's nightmares completely. It's still nice to have him there, though, to be held when he wakes up shaking and crying for reasons he can't comprehend.

He doesn't ask about the name anymore and Kyoujurou doesn't offer an answer. Tanjirou thinks he has his reasons for keeping it to himself, but it hurts all the same that he's withholding that knowledge, especially when he knows how badly these dreams affect him.

"Kamado-kun?" He blinks and slowly lifts his head up. It's Kyoujurou's mother, Ruka, and he slowly straightens up, intending to give her a good impression, but his shoulders remain sloped despite his efforts.

"Rengoku-san, good afternoon." He smiles and hopes it doesn't look like a grimace. "I never properly thanked you for your help that day. I'm really sorry."

"You making my son as happy as he's been these past weeks is all the thanks I will ever need," she says and he blushes slightly, fighting the urge to duck his head. Ah, right. He was never really properly introduced to her, let alone introduced as Kyoujurou's boyfriend. "Do you mind if I sit with you for a while?"

"No, of course not. Please." Tanjirou scoots sideways to make more space on the bench and perches himself nearly on the edge. She sits down primly, close enough to him that they can talk in hushed tones.

Ruka has an air of elegance around her that inspires intimidation, and it certainly doesn't help that she often appears so serious and aloof. If it weren't for all that Kyoujurou has shared about his family, Tanjirou certainly would fear her more. Her scent is very kind, though.

"Tell me, is your head feeling better?"

Tanjirou presses his lips together in a wry smile. "I'm afraid not. I'm sorry you have to see me like this, Rengoku-san. I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"So I've heard," she muses quietly. "Kyoujurou tells me a lot about you. He says you're studying to be a teacher?"

"Yeah. I come from a big family, so I find it easy to work with children. I like them a lot, especially when they are preschool age."

Ruka smiles slightly, just a gentle upward curve of her lips, and Tanjirou understands then why Kyoujurou speaks so highly of her rare smiles. "I used to teach calligraphy when I was younger. I can recommend you to some schools in the area when the time comes for you to gain practical experience."

That is one of the kindest offers Tanjirou has ever been offered since arriving in this city. He dips his head quickly in gratitude and sways as the vertigo hits, letting out a pained noise when everything spins as though his brain was roughly jostled around his skull. Ruka reaches out with a delicate hand to steady him and waits until he rightens himself up.

"Thank you so much, Rengoku-san," he manages to say. "That would be really helpful. I appreciate it."

"You may call me Ruka," she says and rests both hands on her lap as they watch the people in the plaza.

He breathes in through his mouth and waits until his senses realign, watching the fluttering leaves as they slowly lose their color. The chill in the air helps him sober up a little.

"Ruka-san," he calls after a beat of silence, watching her profile. "Can I ask you something?"

She inclines her head in his direction, her long silky hair sipping off one shoulder. "What is it?"

"Kyoujurou-san mentioned you used to say dreams can carry special meanings." He turns to face her fully, brows furrowed in determination. His pulse kicks up a notch and the pressure in his head increases for a moment. "I was wondering if you can give me your opinion on a dream?"

With her assent, Tanjirou tells her about the progression of his dreams, how it went from pitch black darkness with faint sensations, to him, wounded and bleeding, chasing a silhouette in the fire.

The minutes to the end of his break tick down slowly while he waits. Urokodaki-san might forgive him for being late just this once. This is important and Tanjirou is always on time, anyway.

A pensive frown forms on her delicate features. Deep in thought, Ruka touches her fingers to her chin and contemplates the descriptions he gave her in silence. "You need to consider it as a whole instead of picking apart what each of the elements could mean." She turns her head to face him fully, her red eyes boring into his own. "I don't think there's a hidden meaning to your dream, though. In fact, I think your subconscious is being pretty direct about it."

"What do you mean?" What could it be, if not a metaphor for something that might happen in his life?

"You mentioned a flame colored haori. To me, it's not just a random element that your head made up, but rather something you have already seen before. It’s too specific to be a product of your imagination." Ruka arches her eyebrows slightly. "It sounds like your subconscious is trying to remember something. Or rather, someone."

Tanjirou frowns. He would know if he saw that somewhere. Like she said, it is something too specific for him to imagine for fun. "But where would I have seen that?"

"Kamado-kun," she begins slowly, "do you believe in past lives?"

He can only stare at her, caught off guard by her question. The concept is widespread and well known all around the world. Entire religions are based on the concept of reincarnation, the endless cycle of death and rebirth, the afterlife. Personally, Tanjirou can't say he's ever taken this into consideration before, but facing Ruka in this museum plaza, he thinks it's totally plausible.

"You were born with that mark on your forehead, correct?" She asks, referring to the uneven shape near his hairline, and he nods dumbly in response. "Have you ever considered that it can be something you had in your past life?"

No, never. His father has always had one to match, and though they didn't get to meet his side of the family, he'd mentioned that some of his ancestors also bore the same mark. Tanjirou assumed it to be some gene he inherited from his father, though he's never made sense as to why he's the only child out of six that did.

He doesn't really know what to think, but his curiosity spikes and he can't not consider it a possibility.

"There are some studies on the matter," she continues, oblivious to the storm inside his head. "I had the chance to meet the author once, a long time ago. I can appoint you to her works if you'd like to do some reading of your own."

"Please," he wheezes out, and she grabs a paper and pen from her purse to quickly write down the name of the author, as well as article names to keep an eye out for.

"I am available if you'd like to discuss it more," she offers as she stands. Ruka hands him the paper and waves slightly before taking her leave.

Dr. Tamayo, the paper reads, in an elegant script fit of a former calligraphy teacher. Tanjirou stares at it as his sight swims out of focus and unseeingly tucks it away into his pocket for safekeeping. Inosuke eventually comes to retrieve him when he fails to return half an hour after his break is over and half carries him back to the café where he's delegated to cashier duty for the rest of the day.

"Tanjirou," Kyoujurou calls quietly from beside him. He tears his gaze away from his phone to look at him, at his tousled golden hair and face soft with sleep. "You need to rest."

He does and he knows that. Tanjirou continues to sleep very poorly, and since Ruka recommended him the papers on reincarnation, he's been sleeping even less, going to bed at odd hours to read as much as he can.

What he's gathered is that these recollections of past lives largely remain a mystery. Very few people seem to recall, and those who do are mostly common people who weren't directly involved in history-altering events, so it becomes difficult to fact-check their memories with history records. And yet Dr. Tamayo seeks out these people and somehow finds them, and interviews them for her papers.

There are many factors that can lead up to unlocking these memories, she says, most of which are physical and unpleasant, like splitting migraines, phantom pains from grave injuries that led to the loss of a limb or even death, and literal flashes of past lives. Dreams, déjà vu - coupled with the weird dizziness he's been having, which comes close enough to a headache sometimes, Tanjirou thinks he can safely say this is what he's dealing with.

He looks at the clock and notes he's read for longer than intended. Tanjirou sets his phone aside and burrows under the covers with Kyoujurou, who sighs deeply as he pulls him closer, already teetering on the edge of sleep again.

"Sorry," he offers, "got distracted with an article."

"'S no problem," Kyoujurou slurs, burying his nose in Tanjirou's hair. "I do the same thing."

Tanjirou smiles despite himself and turns his nose to his neck to breathe him in. Kyoujurou makes a little noise of contentment in the back of his throat. His breathing is deep and slow, and he's silent for a long moment in which Tanjirou thinks he's already drifted back to sleep.

He's almost asleep himself when Kyoujurou speaks up again. "You're going with your friends to the exhibition tomorrow, right?"

"Yes," he murmurs back. He slings an arm around Kyoujurou's waist, fingers tracing the warm skin under his shirt. "Why?"

"Meet me for dinner after?" He asks, the lilt of his voice almost teasing, and Tanjirou huffs out a sleepy laugh.

"Of course," he says and finally falls asleep.

The exhibition is held in the special galleries of the museum. It's a private collection owned by Ubuyashiki Kagaya, who occasionally partners with museums around the country to display his findings and share them with the world.

Kyoujurou is responsible for overseeing it, and yet he doesn’t share too many details with Tanjirou, which is just odd, all things considered. But even if he didn't have his excellent sense of smell, Tanjirou would be able to tell that Kyoujurou is forcefully restraining himself from talking too much about it, and that is what plants the seed of suspicion in his head.

"Demon slayers!" Inosuke bellows one day, weeks before the exhibition is set to begin, and slaps a pamphlet on the counter of the café. "We have to go!"

Even though he’s been working in the museum coffee shop for months now, this is the first time he ever expressed desire to see an exhibition, so Tanjirou can't possibly deny him that, especially when he takes into account what Kyoujurou could possibly be hiding.

From the start, it is all very clear that these demon slayers are the source of his unrest. The few things that Kyoujurou shares, as well as the presence of the pamphlet in Tanjirou's backpack, poke at parts of his brain like sharp needles. Sometimes he will stare at the illustration of a demon and a katana-wielding slayer until his eyes hurt as he tries to will his memories to return, but all that leads to is another bout of sickness.

It's no different when he steps into the galleries with Inosuke and Zenitsu after their shift that Wednesday. There's a mannequin at the entrance posed as though mid-fight, wearing the uniform of the organization with the Kanji for "destroy" stitched neatly in the back. Inosuke makes a noise of wonder at it, and in contrast, Zenitsu scoffs.

"Demons didn't actually exist," he says, ignoring the stories told by family elders that insist they did, in fact, exist. "That's just a folktale!"

Inosuke makes to retort loudly and Tanjirou stops him before he can yell anything. His hands are already shaking, a light sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. Zenitsu gives him a concerned glance, but Tanjirou brushes him off and urges them to continue.

Ubuyashiki's collection includes a wide array of documents and faded letters, nearly a hundred inked illustrations of past leaders of the corps, and weapons. Most are the standard katana, though there are some notable exceptions, according to the pamphlet. 

Inosuke leads the way around the exhibition. He doesn't follow the correct order of progression and leaves Zenitsu and Tanjirou to follow at a much slower pace due to Tanjirou's vertigo, which also makes it hard to read all the informational signs. Zenitsu says time and again that they should sit or leave to get some fresh air, but Tanjirou is on the brink of a revelation and is determined to see this through. 

"Check this out!" Inosuke points at a framed picture behind a thick sheet of glass. It's yellowed and faded, and most of the features of the people it depicts have been erased by time.

"Hey, calm down!" Zenitsu holds him up when Tanjirou takes an uneven step forward and nearly loses his footing. "Are you sure you don't want to sit? We can find a bench or something."

Tanjirou squints at the photograph and tries to focus. It's hard to recognize their faces like this, but there are two with a striking resemblance to Nezuko and Zenitsu, and another one bears a dark shape on the forehead that makes him think of his own birthmark. Ruka's words come back to him, and he sways dangerously to one side as he considers them, making both Inosuke and Zenitsu reach out to keep him upright while he is distracted.

Inosuke huffs. His frown suggests he’s irritated, but his scent is concerned. "Let's see the swords and then we can go!"

Ubuyashiki owns enough weapons to fill one of the rooms of the special galleries. More than the number of swords he possesses is the amount of tsubas of different shapes and sizes on display in glass cases. 

There's a section of katanas that were wielded by the slayers who were key pieces in the defeat of the Demon King. Each of them have different colors - light pink, silver with a lightning streak along the blade, indigo-gray and severely chipped, and even an unlikely pair of a dull gray wakizashi and an old-fashioned, double-barreled shotgun - but Tanjirou stares at one that is pure black and thinks, as a shudder rocks his body, that he's grateful the sword isn't too damaged.

The final part of the exhibition holds the weapons that belonged to the last Hashiras, the most elite and powerful members of the corps who worked closely with the leaders. Here, among the eight weapons, is where the most unique designs lie, such as a whip-like sword, a battle axe and a spiked flail, and a thin katana with a needle-like tip. Tanjirou feels like throwing up as he looks at them, his mouth filling with saliva, but nothing compares to the nausea he feels when they reach the end of the row of weapons. 

"Tanjirou?" Zenitsu asks when he stumbles forward, loudly catching his hands on the protective glass when his balance wavers. 

The last item is a flame shaped tsuba in a black velvet case, gleaming as though recently polished. The roaring in his ears grows to a deafening pitch, the pinpricks of needles intensifying until they become unbearable and his head pulses like it's about to split in two. Tanjirou struggles to fill his lungs with air, gasping and heaving as bile rises up his throat and he chokes on it.

"H-Hey," Zenitsu calls again, but Tanjirou barely registers the call through the white noise in his head.

His knees buckle and he crumples to the floor. As his sight goes dark, Tanjirou finds himself surrounded by flames.

Chapter Text

Kyoujurou is born with a starburst mark on his chest. His parents find it curious when he is a baby, and as he grows older, the mark expands until it is the size of a fist right below his heart. 

He thinks nothing of it for two thirds of his life. It doesn't hurt to the touch, and earlier observations by dermatologists as it continues to grow show that it isn't harmful. He thinks it does look kind of cool, and his friends from high school find it kind of badass, and so Kyoujurou lives with a strange birthmark that some would joke was the reason why he died in his past life.

And it is fine, until it isn't. 

Come his nineteenth birthday, pain starts radiating from that spot. It begins randomly with seemingly no trigger. Kyoujurou is rushed to the hospital innumerous times, unable to breathe or to move when he feels like someone is rummaging through his insides viciously. 

Exams are done, from x-rays to MRIs to ECGs and everything else under the sun. He is healthy, the doctors say, his heart is strong, his stomach is in check, there is nothing amiss with him physically. His parents eventually take him to private clinics when the pain doesn't fade with time, but the doctors continue to affirm that he is in good physical condition. 

Sometimes he goes days without eating because he can't stomach anything. Other times he lives normally until it happens again. Kyoujurou doesn't let that get to him, or at least he doesn't show as much, if only to spare his younger brother and father, both who grow increasingly concerned at his peculiar condition.

A year later, he accompanies his mother to the museum's year end party for the first time as an intern. It's no different from the ones from years past when he attended in his father's stead, and yet there's something about it that feels out of place. Something that lingers in the back of his mind and calls for his attention, even though he doesn't know what it is.

"Kyoujurou." His mother waves him over and he dutifully returns to her side with a plate full of hors d'oeuvres in his hand. "I'd like you to meet someone."

Ubuyashiki Amane is the principal of a prestigious private school his mother used to teach at years ago. Kyoujurou would list more of her qualities if he'd paid attention to any, but what truly catches his eyes is her husband, who she pushes around the room in a wheelchair as they go around in circles to converse.

"This is my husband, Ubuyashiki Kagaya," she introduces. Kyoujurou stares at him, at the discolored birthmark that takes up most of his face, the calm smile on his lips, and the fond, familiar way in which he gazes at Kyoujurou.

The familiar pain punches through his chest again. Kyoujurou drops the plate as he lifts a hand to cover his mouth and runs to the restroom, where he throws himself on his knees before a toilet and empties the contents of his stomach. He stays in there for minutes after he's rinsed his mouth, staring unseeingly at his reflection in the mirror above the sink as images flash through his mind.

Kagaya is waiting outside the restroom when he leaves. "Kyoujurou," he greets simply, still smiling.

Kyoujurou takes a breath through his mouth, his knee buckling uncertainly with the sudden need to kneel and show reverence. "Oyakata-sama."

"Please, I haven't been that in a very long time." He smiles indulgently. "It's good to see you again, Kyoujurou."

His mother and Amane find them then, and Kyoujurou stands there in stunned silence as Kagaya explains to Ruka what happened like it's the most normal, natural thing in the world. More surprisingly, his mother accepts the explanation without batting an eyelash, which gets Kyoujurou wondering. 

Kagaya appoints them to a doctor he trusts who's been studying the phenomenon, and after a few meetings, Kyoujurou comes to aid Dr. Tamayo in her research by sharing his own experiences.

Kyoujurou doesn't tell his father and brother. They show no signs of reawakening their memories, nor signs of already having them, and he thinks it's best this way. He doesn't want them to remember how life used to be then, how their family was shaken to the core with the passing of his mother, so he keeps quiet.

He remembers moments with his family clearly. Other people don't come back to him as easily, nor do their names, though he later starts recalling them when he sees the same faces in this lifetime. Kanroji is an art student from Osaka who visits the museum years later on a class trip, and Tengen himself visits new exhibitions with Hinatsuru regularly, leaving Kyoujurou to wonder where his other two wives are. He sees Tomioka in passing one day when he's hurrying through the streets and then never again.

It comes to a head in April, a month before he turns thirty, when he's returning to his office in the museum and someone bumps into him. He catches a glimpse of red hair and hanafuda earrings, and it all comes crashing back to him.

He thinks of a bruised and bloodied face pressed to round garden stones, and then a boy who fell asleep on his shoulder, and bentos they shared on a train. A boy who called a demon a coward for running away, a boy who cried for him and stayed with him in his last moments as the sun rose. A boy who he grew so close to so quickly that Kyoujurou will never fail to be surprised.

He looks at Tanjirou in this lifetime and thinks this time it will be different.

Tanjirou suffers from strange bouts of dizziness that leave Kyoujurou a little suspicious of their true nature. Still, he doesn't say anything; they don't know each other - or rather, Tanjirou doesn't know him - and he's not about to bring up their past lives and risk losing him so soon after reuniting.

He sees him to a taxi and tries to be as cool and normal as possible when replying to the text Tanjirou sent him. And then Kyoujurou will spend the following days staring at his phone and willing it to light up with Tanjirou's name, but it remains painfully dark and silent, and he convinces himself it will be too weird if he reaches out first, so he doesn't.

Tanjirou comes back on his own with a box of mochi and a heartfelt thanks on his lips, and Kyoujurou clings to the chance of spending more time with him by dragging him out to the gardens for tea and a bit of small talk. He fishes around for details of his life and casually drops the new position that opened in the café. A plan forms in his head and he calls Urokodaki-san that same day to put in a good word for Tanjirou so he can be hired and, "coincidentally", be somewhat close to Kyoujurou on a daily basis.

It progresses slowly. Tanjirou is the same polite boy that he was before and he doesn't really accept any of Kyoujurou's offers to reach out to him if he's in need, which leads him to believe it's a soft rejection to any advances he's making to get closer, until Tanjirou messages him late one night and mentions dreams and flames and Kyoujurou knows. 

It's a game of waiting for Tanjirou's subconscious to unearth the memories it's buried so deep. All Kyoujurou can do is drop hints and hope they are enough to jog his memory, but he fails time and again.

His mother finds him in his office after the Pompeii exhibition, after he walked its length with Tanjirou's arm looped with his (to help with his balance, he told himself then). "You've grown close to that boy."

"I know him," he says in lieu of replying to her statement. "From before."

Ruka nods once, still standing behind the guest chairs by his desk. Her eyes gleam with pride and affection. "You like him."

Kyoujurou nods slowly. "I do." 

It just happened. Maybe it was an influence from his past life, maybe it was due to Kyoujurou trying so hard to get close, maybe it was just meant to. He likes Tanjirou and he wants him, but he doesn't want to force his affections on someone so young and risk having them returned out of some sense of duty.

But, well, Tanjirou confesses anyway, and Kyoujurou feels stupid for thinking of fate and soulmates and star-crossed lovers as he kisses Tanjirou in his car. But it's fitting, and a piece of him settles as he kisses Tanjirou at his doorstep that same night, and he's the happiest he's ever been.

Kyoujurou dreams of water at his feet that mirrors the blue skies and fluffy white clouds above, creating an endless landscape. Tanjirou dreams of him. He has his suspicions confirmed when they sleep together for the first time and he awakens in the middle of the night to Tanjirou sobbing out his name, so heartbroken and anguished that it tears at his insides. It doesn't compare to how he feels when he delivers a lie just moments later, or the way Tanjirou is so obviously stricken at hearing it. 

But Tanjirou has to remember on his own; it's something Kyoujurou can't force nor can he influence. And so he waits.

Not talking Tanjirou's ears off about the Demon Slayer exhibition is one of the hardest things he's done in both his lives. It has the desired effect though, and raises enough suspicion in Tanjirou that he doesn't think twice when the boar boy - who's not a boar anymore, is he? - says he wants to go. 

He has his mother to thank, too. If she hadn't found Tanjirou that day and steered the conversation in that direction, all of this would take a lot longer most likely.

Kyoujurou tries to go about his day as normally as he can, even though he startles more people than usual due to his own nerves. He tries to not think too much of what he'll say to Tanjirou tonight if he fails to unlock the memories after looking through Kagaya's private collection. A memorial, as he calls it. If that doesn't work, then he'll have to come clean about everything and hope for the best. He's taken too long already.

Paperwork is his distraction, and after a while he manages to submerge himself enough in it that he forgets all about the exhibition. Kyoujurou goes through documents and records with a single-minded focus until it gets broken by the buzz of his phone on the corner of the table as the screen lights up with Tanjirou’s name. He stares at it, pen caught in a tight grip as he considers the many possibilities of what comes next. What is he to say when he picks up the phone? Should he be upbeat? Serious? Cautious? What will Tanjirou even say once the call is answered?

The phone stops buzzing and starts anew. Kyoujurou stops stalling and reaches for it urgently, sliding his thumb across the screen and pressing the phone to his ear. “Tanjirou?”

“Rengoku-san!” It’s not Tanjirou. “We need help! Tanjirou, he’s-”

Kyoujurou is halfway out the door before he even realizes. Dread coils up in his stomach, cold and heavy as he walks down the hallway briskly. “Where are you?”

“The special galleries!” The yellow boy - Zenitsu, his mind distantly provides - exclaims. He sounds near hysterical and not too far off from how Kyoujurou himself feels. “He wasn’t feeling well and he fainted suddenly!”

“I’m on my way.” He sprints the rest of the way to the exhibition, uncaring for the odd looks he’s given. He's well used to them by now, anyway.

The sight that greets him when he gets to the special galleries is Inosuke trying to keep people from crowding around Tanjirou, who’s been laid down properly on the ground with a jacket haphazardly folded under his head as a makeshift pillow. Zenitsu is fanning his face with a promotional pamphlet, and his panicked eyes light up considerably when he catches Kyoujurou pushing through the throng of people.  

"Tanjirou!" Kyoujurou kneels beside him and cradles his face carefully, watching his eyes dart around behind his closed eyelids. "Can you hear me?"

His pulse is elevated, and his breathing is quick and shallow. Coupled with the way his fingers and limbs twitch, Kyoujurou is led to believe he's having a really intense dream. He presses his palm to Tanjirou's head, already clammy with cold sweat, and sighs in relief when he doesn't seem to have a fever.

"It's his weird dizziness again!" Inosuke approaches them as Kyoujurou pulls Tanjirou into his arms, tucking his head under his chin and burying his nose in his hair. "I thought his meds were working!"

"They were!" Zenitsu shrieks. His hair is disheveled from pulling at it. "At least they were supposed to!"

Kyoujurou squeezes Tanjirou to his chest and presses a kiss to the top of his head before picking him up off the floor. They've already made too much of a scene, and he doesn't want to leave Tanjirou exposed to these prying eyes any longer. Zenitsu and Inosuke follow him to the car and put Tanjirou's belongings in the trunk while Kyoujurou lays him down on the backseat and covers him with his suit jacket.

"I'm taking him home," he says, if only to try to calm the other two. "I'll have him contact you when he wakes up."

"But-" Zenitsu starts to retort, but Kyoujurou doesn't give him the chance to finish. He fixes them with a rare stern gaze until Zenitsu’s mouth clicks shut, and walks around the car to the driver's seat, pulling off without another word to them.

He’s surely broken a couple of traffic rules by the time he gets to his apartment building, and honestly, he doesn’t really care. Kyoujurou struggles a little to navigate the building with Tanjirou in his arms; he’s as small as he used to be back then, and likely lighter than a fully trained demon slayer, but he’s still a grown adult. He succeeds anyway and sweeps through his apartment quickly to put Tanjirou down on his bed. 

Kyoujurou unlaces his shoes and sets them aside, and works to get Tanjirou undressed, swapping his jeans and sweater for the sweatpants and T-shirt that Tanjirou has taken to wearing here. He takes in his legs and arms, unmarred and free of old battle scars, and finds relief in that. 

All the jostling and moving did little to bring Tanjirou back to consciousness. Kyoujurou sits on the edge of the mattress and runs a damp towel on his face to wipe the cold sweat beading on his forehead. His chest clenches, his heart squeezing. It hurts to see him like this. It hurts more to know that Kyoujurou was responsible for it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, caressing the towel over Tanjirou’s dry, chapped lips. “I’m so sorry for all of this.”

He didn't expect Tanjirou to have such a strong reaction to the awakening of his memories. Kyoujurou himself got away with only some vomiting the first time and then it was over. Maybe because Tanjirou lived longer…?

He touches the back of Tanjirou’s hand to his forehead and exhales. Kyoujurou hates being unable to help one of the most important people in his life, but he’s at a loss. Should he call Ubuyashiki and ask for his advice? Perhaps his mother still has Dr. Tamayo’s phone number; she must know what to do in times like this.

Time passes slowly as the sun dips down towards the line of the horizon and the sky darkens. Kyoujurou flicks on the lamp on the bedside table instead of the overhead lights and dutifully sits by his bedside, Tanjirou’s hand caught between his. Both of them tremble; Kyoujurou doesn't know if it's him or Tanjirou, though he suspects it's both.

 Kyoujurou himself has no appetite for the first time in forever, nor does he think he could stomach anything were he to force himself to eat, but still he orders food, just in case Tanjirou wakes up and feels hungry. He finally decides to text his mother too, and she offers to reach out to Dr. Tamayo in his stead, promising to call as soon as she gets any leads. He’s too tired and worried to even think; this surely feels like a downgrade from his demon slaying days, when he could create battle tactics on the go.

He nods off a few times and wakes up with a jolt. Tanjirou continues to sleep, and Kyoujurou entertains the idea that his dreams might become peaceful this time if he lies down beside him. 

That’s not going to work. They tried it before, and mostly this is just his own weariness talking. 

It’s hours later when Kyoujurou is roused from sleep by Tanjirou himself, wheezing for breath as his frantic gaze sweeps over the room. When it finally settles on him in the dim light of the bedroom, Tanjirou freezes as his eyes well up, tears rolling down his face unbidden.

“Kyoujurou,” he chokes and raises his arms to be held. Kyoujurou quickly acquiesces and loops his arms around him, pressing his palms to Tanjirou’s back to lift him from his prone position on the bed. Tanjirou clings to his dress shirt, face buried in the crook of his neck. “Kyoujurou!” 

“I’m here.” He tightens his hold on him and rocks him slowly as Tanjirou continues to weep loudly. “I’m here, Tanjirou, it’s okay.” 

Tanjirou makes a noise as though to disagree, but it gets swallowed up by a fresh round of tears. Kyoujurou holds him through it, kissing his forehead and running his fingers through his soft hair to try to console him, but Tanjirou’s crying shows no signs of stopping. Little tremors shake his body, which feels much smaller and fragile now in Kyoujurou’s arms than it ever did before.

“Does anything hurt?” He asks, unsure of how to tackle this. Zenitsu didn’t mention anything about Tanjirou hitting his head when he fainted, but… “Do you want to go to the hospital?”

“No,” Tanjirou says in a small voice as holds on to him tighter, like the thought of leaving the bed pains him.

Well, in that they can agree; Kyoujurou doesn’t want to go anywhere either. But it’s been minutes and Tanjirou is still distressed. If taking him to the hospital will help, at least until his mother can call him back and tell him her findings, then he will do it. 

“What are you feeling?” He tries instead, gently cradling the back of Tanjirou’s head. “Please, tell me, Tanjirou. You’re scaring me and I hate to see you like this.” 

Tanjirou sucks in a breath through his teeth and holds himself so still that Kyoujurou’s heart plummets. Pulling back from Kyoujurou’s embrace, he attempts to muffle the sobs that threaten to escape, but isn’t very successful.

“Hey, hey.” Kyoujurou soothes, reaching out to wipe the tears clinging to his lashes. “You can let it out, Tanjirou, I’m not mad. I swear. Just… Please, talk to me. I don’t know what to do.” 

Biting his lip, Tanjirou closes his eyes and dips his chin down. Kyoujurou gives him time to collect his thoughts as he sniffles, stray tears continuing their descent on his cheeks. The areas around his nose and eyes are red from crying, the latter puffy and shimmering in the light of the bedside lamp. He shouldn’t think so, but Kyoujurou finds him beautiful even like this.

Swallowing, Tanjirou nods to himself and whispers, “it was you.” He blinks slowly and drags his gaze up to Kyoujurou, peering at him through his wet lashes. “You were the one in my dreams.”

Kyoujurou’s hands, which had previously been cupping Tanjirou’s jawline, move down his neck and over the slope of his shoulders to hold them loosely. “Yes,” he says quietly, seeing no use in keeping the truth to himself anymore. 

Tanjirou exhales slowly. He’s so tired and Kyoujurou can tell that all he really wants to do is lie down and sleep - properly sleep, with no dreams tailing him every night. He licks his lips, parting them to speak, but nothing comes out. Kyoujurou reaches for the bottle of water he left on the nightstand and offers it to him, waiting as Tanjirou takes small sips from it before putting it away again.

When he’s done, Tanjirou clasps his hands together and closes his eyes with a small huff. “The ringing in my ears is gone.” Kyoujurou makes a quiet noise of inquiry, and Tanjirou elaborates. “My head feels better. I think… I was trying to remember all along.” 

“It is possible,” Kyoujurou agrees and lets Tanjirou talk himself through it. 

“The thing that brought me here, the pull that attracted me to Tokyo, to the museum… It was you, Kyoujurou. It was you all along.” Tanjirou straightens up, the furrow of his brows hurt and confused. “I was calling for you in my sleep.”

“You were,” Kyoujurou confirms.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tanjirou whispers, his nose scrunching up at the threat of more tears. He sounds so hurt, so betrayed, and it cuts Kyoujurou so deeply. “You knew and you didn’t say anything!”

“I couldn’t, Tanjirou.” He squeezes his shoulders and leans in to touch their foreheads together. “Were you even going to believe me that I remember you from our past life if you hadn’t experienced it yourself? I had to let you remember it at your own pace. Please, forgive me! If there were an easier, faster way to do it, I would have!” 

Tanjirou runs the back of his hand under his nose, frustrated at his own tears. “How long have you known?”

“I regained the memories of my family and myself when I was nineteen,” Kyoujurou says. “But I only regained my memories of you in our first meeting.” 

He’s quiet for a long moment. To Kyoujurou's horror, his tears are nowhere near done and Tanjirou buries his face in his palms as he starts crying anew. “After all the time I- I never stopped thinking about you and I never forgot! You never left my mind! I’m sorry I took so long to remember you! I’m so sorry, Kyoujurou!” 

"Tanjirou, no," Kyoujurou says in an exhale and draws him in again, tucking his head under his chin. "I told you I had to let you do it at your own pace. I'd have waited years, my whole life if that's what it took."

Tanjirou lets himself be held, his sniffles diminishing as the minutes pass. Eventually he asks, in a quiet, tremulous voice, "Is that why you refused to have sex with me?"

The absurdity of the timing makes Kyoujurou snort, and it's sheer willpower that keeps him from laughing outright. "Yes, that's why. I didn't- well, I might as well show you now."

He pulls back and works on unbuttoning his shirt, feeling Tanjirou's curious gaze on him all the while. Kyoujurou lets it hang open instead of shrugging it off, but moves it aside slightly to reveal more of the scar on his chest. He doesn't need to elaborate; Tanjirou understands what it is and reaches out with shaky fingers to trace the smooth skin.

"Would I have remembered sooner if you'd shown me this?" He asks, his voice distant as he touches the perimeter of the scar.

"Couldn't have you crying in my bed for the wrong reasons," he attempts at a joke and smiles in relief when Tanjirou's lips twitch. 

“You remember I cried in here before, right?” Tanjirou recalls, gesturing to the bedroom as a whole.

“I do, but it’s different now, don’t you think?” Kyoujurou smiles and brushes his thumb under Tanjirou’s eyes one last time to wipe his tears away. "I remember my death, but I don't remember the demon responsible for it."

"I do," Tanjirou says, hard and angry, his jaw tensed. The shift in his expression is so sudden that it throws him off a little. "I never forgave him for it. I never will."

Kyoujurou cups the side of his face, helplessly in love with him. "I love you," he says aloud for good measure and watches as Tanjirou's eyes widen and his jaw falls slack.

Tanjirou's cheeks pinken, his gaze dropping down demurely, and gods, he's so gorgeous. "I love you too, Kyoujurou."

His smile widens. "You haven't used the honorific since you woke up," he notes lightly and Tanjirou blinks at him.

"I haven't," he muses, peeking up at him shyly. "Is that okay?"

"It's perfect," Kyoujurou says and leans in to kiss him again, unable to resist it anymore.

Tanjirou raises his arms and loops them around his neck to pull him down to the mattress. Kyoujurou follows obligingly, his weight propped on his elbows as he continues to explore Tanjirou’s mouth with his tongue, his hips accommodated between parted thighs. 

The passion has been here all along, but now their touches have an edge of desperation to them that makes him breathless and hungry for more. Tanjirou feels it too and arches into every touch with whimpers and moans, and Kyoujurou eagerly drinks them up, gasping against his mouth when Tanjirou angles his hips upwards.

“Please,” he almost sobs, hands under Kyoujurou’s dress shirt and pushing it down his shoulders. “Please, please.”

Kyoujurou couldn’t deny him anything even if he tried. It’s a clumsy affair; Kyoujurou sits back to open his trousers and free himself from its confines while Tanjirou pushes the sweatpants and underwear down just enough to expose himself, and then Kyoujurou is upon him again, grinding down while kissing every patch of skin that he can find, whispering praises and soft sounds of pleasure that mingle with Tanjirou’s.

It’s a bit dry, if he’s being honest, but the friction is gratifying and all he really cares about is making Tanjirou feel good. And Kyoujurou is succeeding, catching his hazy gaze with his, and capturing his slick, bitten-red lips in a kiss when Tanjirou’s breathing begins to hitch. 

Tanjirou comes with Kyoujurou’s name on his tongue and his thighs squeezing his sides. His hot breath fans the side of his face as Kyoujurou chases his own release, his moan long and low when he attains it, his fingers leaving imprints on Tanjirou’s side. 

They lie together in bed, pressing lazy kisses to each other’s faces and wrapped around one another. “I ordered food,” Kyoujurou says, still out of breath and reluctant to move, but Tanjirou’s well being and comfort are his priority. “From your favorite restaurant. There’s takoyaki, tonkatsu, curry rice-”

“How much did you order?” Tanjirou asks, laughing, his eyes impossibly soft and warm as he looks at him. Kyoujurou smiles in return and brushes their noses together. “Thank you for thinking of me. Can we stay here a little longer, though?”

“Yes.” Kyoujurou lowers his head to tuck it in the crook of his neck. “However long you want.”

epilogue

Kyoujurou is crossing the front doors of the museum when he sees him.

He’s different, of course, as this time he’s fully human. Gone are the pink hair and the strange marks on his skin, which has gained a healthy, rosy color instead of the deathly pallor it had previously. But despite all of that, he still has the same features and walks out of broad daylight into the museum hand-in-hand with a girl. 

Akaza, Kyoujurou thinks, leaning against the nearest wall as long lost memories resurface from the depths of his mind. 

Hate and resentment war inside him, but he tries to reason with himself that there’s no point in despising him in this lifetime. He hasn’t done anything now, and he can’t pay for what he did nearly a hundred years ago.

He mostly succeeds in that task by the time his favorite sound reaches him, his name on Tanjirou’s lips, successfully distracting him from his turbulent thoughts. “Kyoujurou?” 

Pushing away from the wall, Kyoujurou straightens up and smooths a hand over his red tie as he crosses the distance between him and Tanjirou, accompanied by his class of preschoolers that circle around him and his teaching assistant, Sumi. He grins at the kids, most of whom wave back and greet him enthusiastically while a few timid ones still hide away; they’re all well acquainted with him by now, but some require a longer time warming up.

“Good morning, kids! And Sumi-chan! It’s good to see you again.” She inclines her head in greeting, a sweet smile on her lips. “And Tanjirou, of course! I haven’t seen you in forever!” 

Tanjirou laughs quietly, bringing a hand to his mouth as his cheeks dust with red. Kyoujurou takes in the glint of the ring on his finger under bright sunlight and his chest swells. “You drove me to work a couple of hours ago.”

“Sensei is shy!” One of the girls whispers loudly to the boy beside her, and this time Kyoujurou chuckles.

“Kids,” Tanjirou begins and the murmuring quiets down. “Kamado-san kindly offered to show us the new exhibition he prepared. He’s a very busy man so we have to behave, okay? Are you excited to see some planets and stars?” 

The kids nod eagerly and fumble to line up under Tanjirou and Sumi’s instructions, wiggling with excitement as they prepare to cross the plaza towards the special galleries. Sumi leads the way, holding the hands of the two kids at the front of the lines and keeping them distracted with a tune that they sing along to. 

It’s been a couple of years now that Kyoujurou has been planning some child-friendly exhibitions so Tanjirou can bring his students here, all supported by Ubuyashiki and his wife. And, of course, he takes some time to walk them around the exhibition himself rather than appoint some of the guides they have at hand.

Tanjirou and Kyoujurou bring up the rear and he uses that opportunity to lace their fingers together. “Kamado-san, huh? I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it!” 

Tanjirou rolls his eyes fondly and shakes his head. For all the acts he puts up, he smiles just as wide when he says it out loud too, and he never tires of hearing Kyoujurou repeat the same thing whenever Tanjirou refers to him that way. “I’d hope so, since you’ll be stuck with it forever!”

“And I’m happy because of it!” Kyoujurou grins and dips his head down to kiss his cheek quickly before the kids can notice. “You are a wonderful teacher,” he says, quieter, running his thumb along the side of his hand. “I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.” 

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you and your mother,” Tanjirou says, his smile soft and affectionate. “I still can’t quite believe Ubuyashiki-san owns a school, but it’s fitting somehow.”

“It was all you, my boy. You worked so hard to get here.” Kyoujurou thrills when Tanjirou gets shy at the praise. “But it is a little surprising, isn’t it?” Kagaya has always been so caring and calm, the perfect traits for a teacher and a parent. Same as Tanjirou, then and now. Kyoujurou is so excited for the next step of their lives together that he can barely contain himself.

They stop as Sumi slows down and asks the kids to say the names of the things she’s pointing at in English to evaluate how much they’ve learned. Kyoujurou smiles fondly at the sight; they’ve already gotten started on the papers, and then…

“You looked like you saw a ghost,” Tanjirou says quietly, turning to him with a concerned frown. 

Kyoujurou blinks out of his trance, the memory of the recently decorated second bedroom in their new apartment fading away, and presses his lips together in a firm line. It had already slipped from his mind, to be honest - seeing Tanjirou always makes all thoughts scatter so Kyoujurou can focus solely on him - but he thinks back on minutes ago and whispers, “I saw him. Akaza.”

Tanjirou inhales sharply and whips his head around to look the way they came, but Akaza has long since vanished from their sight. “Did anything happen?”

“He didn’t see me,” Kyoujurou says, and some of the tension in Tanjirou’s body dissipates. “He appeared as young as he did then. A high school student, perhaps.” 

Grunting, Tanjirou faces forward as they resume walking again. “How are you feeling?”

“Strange,” he replies immediately. “Angry, I suppose, but I know there is no point in hating him now.”

“I guess not,” Tanjirou grumbles and Kyoujurou can’t help but smile at how adorable he is. He halts to a sudden stop, the distance between them and the kids increasing. “How about I cook dinner tonight?”

Kyoujurou blinks at him. “But it’s my turn.” It took him too long to learn, but he did it. Again, Tanjirou is a wonderful teacher and Kyoujurou marvels at his luck every day.

“I know, but I think you deserve it.” His smile is radiant, his eyes so adoring that a part of Kyoujurou melts into a puddle at their feet. “I can go to the store after I’m done at work and get the ingredients for your favorite dish!”

He perks up at the mention of Tanjirou’s own recipe of sweet potato curry, one that was inspired by the recipe from their favorite restaurant. “Mm! I’d love that!”

“And then,” he says in a low tone, stepping closer so only Kyoujurou can hear the words, “I’ll take good care of you after.”  

Kyoujurou chokes slightly on his own breath, his face flooding with heat, and steadily meets Tanjirou’s intent stare full of promises. Ah, Tanjirou never ceases to amaze him!

Tanjirou squeezes his hand and drops it as the kids stop before the doors to the special galleries. They move to the front, and Sumi seems oblivious enough to the reason why Kyoujurou is so red in the face that she only advises him to drink more water during the summer. 

Kyoujurou thanks her for the advice and shares a glance with Tanjirou over her head as she guides the children inside. Tanjirou quirks an eyebrow, his smile teasing and his eyes glittering with mirth. Kyoujurou wants to kiss him so badly and it’s such a shame that he can’t right now - but it’s fine. They have the rest of their lives to do what they want. There’s no need to rush.