Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello! This is Ryn, the author, speaking. I've been meaning to write my own version of the roleswap AU where Nezuko and Tanjirou have their fates swapped. I've been drawing edits of screencaps and manga panels since 2019 for this AU and I feel compelled to write my own versions of the story that kept me sane during the 2020 quarantine.

A few notes before we begin, some are just further details on the work's tags lol

• Nezuko and Tanjiro are twins in this AU. They were born on December 28th, and they celebrate their birthday with their family on New Year’s… Hence why they were trying so hard to sell enough charcoal for the feast that year.
• Nezuko’s able to see and feel emotions. She more-so can see the color aura of emotions from people and demon’s souls. So for example, when Tanjirou (in canon) smells Shinobu’s anger, Nezuko sees it as a color around Shinobu’s soul. The soul shudders and makes a finishing thread that vibrates through the air for Nezuko to connect her killing blow to demon’s necks. It’s also through the emotions and colors that Nezuko can witness the life flashing in front of a demon’s eyes, and allows her (and the audience lmao) to see the demon’s last regrets.
• Tanjirou and Nezuko share the Hanafuda earrings. Nezuko took both into town with her when selling the charcoal from Tanjirou’s insistence. If Muzan had seen them on the boy that night, he would have been killed rather than turned into a demon. After that night, they share them to protect them both.
• Nezuko was taught some of the Hinokami Kagura, just like Tanjirou. However, her body is much more acclimated to it, and she’s able to use it more easily than her brother does in canon. Because of this, I believe she would have been able to kill Muzan in the finale, but still loses mobility in her arm and eye because of the strain the style takes on her body, plus the whole eldritch demon constantly attacking you.
• Much like in canon, Nezuko has kindness and thinks of humans as family to protect (not literally though lol)
• However, Nezuko’s temper is much more intense than Tanjirou’s. She’s quick to bark back at those who do her or her friends wrong. She’s meaner to the demons she faces. The only reason she doesn’t hate them outright is pity.
• She obtains a scar during Final Selection similar to the one Tanjirou gets in canon. It gives her a lot of insecurity since it looks “ugly.”
• Her legs are still insanely powerful, and she’ll incorporate them into her battles.

• Tanjirou’s Blood Demon Art is a lot like Nezuko’s, however it’s red and orange instead of pink.
• His hard head remains, and he’ll often use it in battle. When Nezuko falls asleep on the train and he can’t wake her up, he accidentally splits her forehead open with his hard head… Which causes him to cry and ignite the blood with his Demon Blood Art.
• His hair is still long and kept in a ponytail. When he goes berserk in the Red Light District art, his hair comes undone.
• The bamboo muzzle was a gift for their mother that Nezuko had picked up in town. Since it was on her person when Giyuu found them, the hashira improvised, turning the hair ornament into a muzzle.
• Instead of vines, Tanjirou’s demon markings are red flames. After he goes berserk, the pink scar on his head seems more flame-like.

• Tsuyuri Kanao is the first to join up with Nezuko and Tanjirou. Her backstory remains the same. 
• Kanzaki Aoi doesn't join the battle until the Entertainment District Arc, when Uzui tries to kidnap her and the other girls as demon bait. Nezuko and Kanao insist on going, and because of that, Aoi ends up volunteering to go with the girls anyways.
• Aoi uses Water Breath, which we know from the Taishou Rumors she uses. 

Certain scenes in canon probably won't happen, or won't happen the way you expect them to. The basic lesson and theme of the story remains. At some point, I may find a way to incorporate Zenitsu and Inosuke back into the story, perhaps as Nezuko's first partners before the Entertainment District Arc. Since Inosuke and Zenitsu don't appear in the Swordsmith Village Arc, it might be possible to divide the squads into two halves for each big story piece.

Any ideas or suggestions are welcome.

Thank you so much! I'll have the first chapter up soon. If you'd like to see the edits I have done so far for the AU, please see my tumblr (artsbyryn). 

Chapter Text

From the Edge – Chapter 1

             The snow was thick, a blanket covering the ground and the world around the Kamado residence. A few days before, it had been light enough to travel on without boots, but with a journey down the mountain necessary, the children had to wear their woven snow boots to keep their sandals from getting wet.

             Nezuko didn’t mind the snow. In fact, she was fond of it. Many of her fondest memories were of her siblings playing in the powder, her twin brother included. Sure, it was fun for play, but the snow became dangerous when it came down to the work of their charcoal selling. To make matters worse, their cart was still broken, and it couldn’t make it down the slopes.

             With a grunt, Nezuko hauled the charcoal basket off the ground and onto her shoulders. The weight really wasn’t all that bad, having long gotten used to the strength needed to carry her siblings throughout the years. Charcoal was easier to carry… It didn’t fuss, didn’t wriggle around, or slide down her back.

             “I’m headed out!” The girl called into the wintery air, knowing she wouldn’t be able to make a quick break from her residence anyways. Not when she had five siblings nearby with ears like hounds.

             “Onee-chan, you’re really going out on your own?” Came a boy’s voice. From around the back of the house, Nezuko’s younger brother, Shigeru, emerged. His little face contorted into disbelief and disappointment.

             Alongside him was their younger sister, Hanako. Childish and needy as ever, the girl pouted up at her older sister with tiny fists clenched at her sides of her pink checkered haori.

             “Not fair! I wanna go with! We never get to go into town anymore!”

             Nezuko chuckled, “Hanako, Shigeru, I’m sorry, but I can’t carry you if you get tired. Tanjirou would be able to, but since his leg’s injured, he can’t carry the charcoal or you down the mountain.”

             Nezuko’s siblings groaned in their disappointment. From the doorway of the house came their mother, Kie Kamado, who was drying her hands on the front of her white apron.

             “Children, please don’t complain to your big sister. She’s right.” Her lilac eyes drifted from the younger children to her eldest daughter, before softening in fondness and slight exasperation over the appearance of the girl. Nezuko’s face was covered in soot from dealing with the charcoal. Kie raised her pale hand and beckoned.

             Nezuko chuckled again, but bashfully. She made her way to her mother, who knelt to rub her apron to Nezuko’s fair cheeks to get the charcoal dust off.

             “Young women shouldn’t walk around with soot on their cheeks, Nezuko. Besides… The snow is really heavy today. You don’t have to go. It could be dangerous.” Kie’s eyes were shimmering with worry, but with the patience of someone who wouldn’t worry if the charcoal was sold at all that day.

             “Don’t worry, Okaa-san.” Nezuko responded brightly, as she always did. “Onii-chan and I want to make sure everybody gets their fill on New Year’s, so we have to sell this charcoal, even if I only end up selling a few pieces. I really don’t mind going.”

             “It’s still dangerous.” Piped a voice. Nezuko peered behind her little siblings, watching as a slightly older boy with a hatchet and checkered scarf meandered up. That was Takeo, the third eldest child and second oldest son, who fancied himself a man of the house as much as Tanjirou was.

             Nezuko hummed, lightly shrugging. “Yes, but I’ve done it before. I know you’re hurt you can’t come with, but how about this?” Kneeling down before her little brothers and sister, she reached out her hands to pet their heads.

             “I’ll bring you all back a treat. But you have to do something really important for me while I’m gone, okay?” As she spoke, each child leaned forward in anticipation. Nezuko knew she had them where she wanted them.

             “Watch our Onii-chan. Make sure he doesn’t overwork himself with his chores. You know how stubborn he is, yeah?” Smiling, each sibling giggled. Tanjirou really was stubborn, but so was Nezuko, and they all knew it.

             “Can you all do that for me?” Nezuko finally finished. Takeo, Shigeru and Hanako all nodded with a synced “okay!!” The eldest Kamado daughter nodded in appreciation and satisfaction, turning to look at their mother, who was chuckling behind her hand secretly. Nezuko knew her way around her siblings so well.

             With that, she stood, giving each of her siblings a pat on the head, before declaring she was off for town once more. Her family stood at the entrance to the Kamado household, waving and crying out for Nezuko to stay safe, and to sell lots of charcoal before dark. Nezuko beamed, raising her hand, before turning to focus completely on the pathway down the mountain.

             Though, she didn’t get far before a familiar shock of red hair caught her attention. Rose eyes glimmering with amusement, Nezuko turned and walked right up to her twin brother, who was supposed to be laying down in his futon at home right now.

             “Onii-chan, you’re supposed to be resting your leg,” Nezuko began, before she spotted another pair of crimson eyes looking at her from below. It was Rokuta… The family’s youngest child. The toddler was clinging to Tanjirou’s kimono, giggling as he quickly hid behind his brother’s leg. Nezuko smiled warmly.

             “Sorry, Nezuko. Rokuta and I were just enjoying the snow for a little while before he goes down for his nap.” Tanjirou smiled with all that warmth and sunshine that Nezuko had grown up seeing. It was almost impossible to stay mad at her twin, especially when he smiled that way without any hidden motives or malice. No, her brother was as bright and warm as the sun. He could never hurt anyone.

             Then that smile turned to one of sorrow, Sheepish, mostly. Tanjirou rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, jostling the Hanafuda earrings that hung from his ears. “I’m sorry you have to do my work for me. If it wasn’t for my twisted ankle, I would have gone and you could have stayed in the warm house…”

             “Stop apologizing, Onii-chan.” Nezuko responded firmly, dark eyebrows furrowed. Her brother did that… Always apologizing. They had to make their own way in life despite their hardships, it didn’t matter that they couldn’t live in a fancy house or with constant food and warmth. They were happy now, even with so little. They had each other, and that was what made it all worth it.

             Tanjirou chuckled, understanding this too, deep down. Instead, he paused, before lifting his hands up to remove his earrings from his ears. Nezuko’s eyes widened, wondering what had gotten into her twin.

             “Here. I know it was my turn to wear them since our birthday is soon, but you should wear them. Otou-san said they were a protective charm… So, they’ll guard you from danger down in the mountains.” Tanjirou held out the Hanafuda earrings, the delicate material twisting as if propelled by an invisible wind. Nezuko hesitated, before taking the earrings and pushing them into her own piercing holes. They shared their father’s heirloom as twins, even if Tanjirou was the eldest twin by a few minutes.

             “There. See? They look great on you, Nezuko.” Tanjirou beamed, and Rokuta nodded from behind his brother’s leg. Nezuko smiled, reaching out to pet Rokuta’s head before feeling something warm around her neck. When she straightened, she saw Tanjirou was without his light blue scarf… He had wrapped it around her neck before she could protest.

             “Stay safe, Nezuko.” Tanjirou murmured. Nezuko smiled brightly.

             “Keep off that leg and I will!” She grinned, and Tanjirou laughed, before nodding and taking Rokuta’s little hand to guide him back towards the house, limping on his wrapped leg. Nezuko watched his checkered haori disappear into the snowy forest, before she too, set out into the snowy depths, towards town.

             Life was quiet for them. Even though they had all grieved when their father had died, they still had one another. They were coming to the New Year, and with it, they would all be one year older and starting anew. Yes, everything would be as fresh as fallen snow…

             But the snow was stained scarlet red when Nezuko returned from her charcoal selling, basket full of gifts for her siblings and her mother. Happiness always ended that way… Doused in scarlet blood.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

             Tanjirou had always had an impressive sense of smell. He could use it to help people in town, identifying broken pots as being knocked over by a cat rather than a customer in the shop. He could track the scents of animals when they needed to find sources of food, identify what plants were safe to eat.

             Nezuko never had a sense of smell that strong. Her power was in sight, able to tell the emotions of her loved ones and act upon it. She always wanted to have a sense of smell as strong as her brother’s, because after all, twins were supposed to share. They were two halves of the same coin. Everything would be okay as long as they were together.

             The snow crunched underfoot. It acted as the only sound Nezuko could hear coming home from old man Saburo’s house in the village. He had insisted she stay the night, to be protected from demons who roamed the night. Hopefully her family wouldn’t be too worried that she hadn’t come home for dinner…

             There was no other sound beyond her footsteps and her own breath, mist forming bursts of steam from her parted lips. Something was wrong. Normally the birds would be singing at this time of day. Nezuko felt a pit form in her stomach, sitting heavy and cold there. She assured herself everything would be fine, she was just anxious over being gone from home for so long. Her gifts and earnings from the day’s sales would surely make up for her absence, and the coming New Year’s would be perfect.

             Coming up to the edge of their property Nezuko took a deep breath, ready to shout that she was home. She could imagine the eager cries of her siblings, their little running footsteps towards her. She could picture Tanjirou’s warm smile, and their mother’s relieved face. Tanjirou’s leg would be healed by now, surely, and they could prepare for the coming holiday tradition together…

             Her boots came to a sudden halt on the snow. Her nose was overwhelmed by the stench of copper, of decay. Nezuko’s breath quickened, eyes widening. In front of her house, sprawled out in a heap on the snowy ground… Was Tanjirou and Rokuta.

             That pit in her stomach exploded into frost and bile, her heart nearly stopping. Her feet moved on their own, breaking into a run to close the distance between herself and her brothers.

             “ONII-CHAN! ROKUTA!” Voice shrill, Nezuko fell to her knees, charcoal basket discarded with origami paper and a bamboo hair piece among the small gifts going flying as well. The girl didn’t care. She was completely focused on her twin brother’s mangled body. Her hands probed, trying to find any semblance of a pulse or breath.

             “What happened? Tanjirou, what—” Nezuko froze. Her peripheral was dark red. Slowly, her head turned, and her entire face went pale. Their home was in ruins, walls and shelves broken in a major struggle. Blood was splashed against nearly every surface. Her brothers and sister, her mother… All of them laid in varying degrees of broken jumbles, slumped against the bedroom wall or on the floor. Shigeru and Takeo’s eyes, lifeless and dull, stared back at her.

             The girl took a shaky step back. Then another. Before collapsing and emptying her stomach of all its contents of the dinner she had had with Saburo the night before. The dinner she got to have in safety, while her family was brutally massacred in the night.

             Nezuko’s head lifted, eyes streaming with tears and her mouth stained by drool. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t see the life in her family at all. Every one of them, even little baby Rokuta, barely 3 years old, were dead.

             Except…

             Scrabbling through the snow and upturned dirt, Nezuko rushed to her twin brother’s body again. She touched his shoulder, his chest. His blood-soaked night clothes. Finally, she felt his skin… And it was warm. Nezuko gave a strangled gasp, like a laugh and a sob all at once. Tanjirou was still alive. If she could get him down the mountain to a doctor, she could save him. Then they could find help, see who or what had killed their family. Before leaving, she took the axe from her brother’s limp hand, attaching it to her obi.

             The mountain was eerily quiet even as she carried her twin brother on her back. Her boots crunched even louder now, steps uneven and clumsy. Tanjirou was dead limp, heavy, far heavier than the charcoal. But Nezuko had to try. Even if her body strained, even if it hurt to breathe in the frigid air. The snowstorm wasn’t heavy, but the cold air was making it harder to summon any strength at all. It was hard to see where she was going, eyes blurred by tears she couldn’t swipe away with her arms straining to hold Tanjirou’s body up.

             “Please don’t die, Tanjirou. Please. You can’t.” The whole time she struggled down the slope, Nezuko prayed. She begged, pleaded with every god she could think of. (Please don’t let my brother die. He’s the only thing I have left.)

             What had happened? Had it been a bear? Tanjirou had told her about the bear their father had beheaded not long before he succumbed to his illness. He had gone into the forest with their dad, had witnessed the sick, old man kill a giant bear who had been too hungry to hibernate. Maybe a bear had come and killed them… Or was Saburo right? Did a demon come?

             Lost in her desperate thoughts, Nezuko didn’t notice the shift in weight until it was too late. Tanjirou’s hand twitched, his twisted leg kicked. Then his hands dug into his twin’s shoulders, head tilted back, eyes rolled back to show the whites. And he screamed. The most terrible, haunting sound that Nezuko had ever heard.

             “Onii-chan!! Calm down! We’re almost to the doctor, please, I’ll slip--!” Her begging was useless. The movement of her thrashing brother sent them both teetering over the edge of the slope, down into the forest below.

The snow was soft, and Nezuko felt a breath come rushing from her chest she didn’t know she had been holding. For just a moment, the shock rendered her brain into blank emptiness. But she remembered… Tanjirou had moved. He had screamed. He was awake and alive.

             Quick as she could, the girl got to her feet, head whipping around. Her carefully done bun had come mostly undone, strands of dark raven hair falling along her back and down her chest, in her eyes. But she didn’t care. She could see Tanjirou standing there, his head hanging and hair seeming… Much redder than it had when she last saw him. He was breathing heavily but didn’t seem aware. Like a sleepwalking zombie.

             “Onii-chan!” Nezuko cried, getting closer. Her eyebrows creased together, breathing still uneven and panicked. “C’mon, you shouldn’t be standing up. I’ll carry you to the doctor.”

             Tanjirou didn’t answer. Nezuko shivered. Something was wrong. Her brother felt cold… Like he wasn’t even properly alive. “Tanjirou…?”

             Suddenly, his head lifted, quick and violent. His eyes were the color of rubies, but his pupils were black as night, slitted like a cat’s. His head protruded with flushed veins; eyebrows furrowed together in violent rage. His teeth were long and white… Sharp. Like a demon.

             Tanjirou lunged forward with a loud roar, fangs bared and mouth open wide as he bit at the empty air, just barely missing Nezuko’s throat. Her scarf kept her protected, but what had truly saved her was the primal instinct to leap away, her eyes wide and hands out defensively.

             “ONII-CHAN! IT’S ME, YOUR SISTER!!” Nezuko shrieked. Tanjirou wasn’t stopping. Her twin brother was dead set on biting into her skin. Somehow, she managed to grab the hatchet from her belt, holding it up by the handle with two hands so Tanjirou’s teeth snapped around the wood rather than her flesh. In a tumble, they wound up on the snowy forest floor, in a struggle between humanity and demonhood.

             (Is this really my big brother?) Nezuko thought to herself, panic and adrenaline fueling her muscles to strain at absolute capacity, pushing back against her brother as he tried to push the hatchet down, to get close enough to bite the human beneath him. His mind was completely dead set on filling his hunger, at any cost. Snarling in such terrible volume, eyes wide with enraged pain and hunger.

             Whatever had happened at home… It had changed her brother into a demon. Just like the ones Saburo had warned her about. Nezuko felt fresh tears come to her eyes, both from exertion and grief. Tanjirou’s body was getting heavier, larger, muscles straining until he seemed bigger than his clothes. Nezuko let out a sob.

(I can’t hold him for much longer!)

             “Onii-chan, I’m sorry!!” Nezuko sobbed, staring up at her brother’s snarling face, trying to see that warm smile or glimmer in his eyes. Any sign that he was still in there.

             “It hurt, didn’t it? I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. You were hurt badly because of me! I’m sorry!” Begging, pleading, voice so warbled and raspy from her screaming. “But you have to fight it! Don’t become a demon, Tanjirou!! Fight! Come back to me, Onii-chan!!” She screwed her eyes tightly shut. Her arms were going to give out—

Something wet hit her face. Nezuko gasped, rose eyes snapping open.

             Tanjirou was crying. He had stopped pushing, his sharp fangs still chomped firmly around the axe handle. But his expression was that of absolute devastation and grief, ruby eyes streaming with tears as he sobbed brokenly. That color of sunshine red… Slowly began to burn within his aura again. He had recognized her, his twin sister, and he was crying in shock over nearly hurting his only remaining family.

             “Onii-chan…” Nezuko whispered, fresh tears coming at full force from her burning eyes. But they couldn’t just sit and grieve. No, something was coming. She could see Tanjirou sensing it, his eyes shooting to the side, anger returning to his face.

             The girl’s hand shot out, grabbing her brother by his throat. He stared at her in shock, but not for long, because Nezuko used her entire body strength reserves to roll them both over, shielding her brother’s body with her own. A katana had come slicing through the air, cleaving the messy remains of her bun off her head.

             “Get away from that thing.” A cool, cold voice spoke. Nezuko lifted her head, her released hair falling into her eyes. Tanjirou thrashed in her grasp, roaring in anger and defensiveness over being attacked. But attacked by who?

             The man before them had very messy dark hair, tied back into a low ponytail. But the most stunning thing about him was his half-and-half haori. One side crimson-wine-red, the other adorned with “turtle” pattern in varying colors. The haori sat upon a black military uniform… Something Nezuko had never seen before. But she knew what a katana was… And this blue sword had nearly decapitated her big brother.

             “Who are you?” The girl shouted, feeling rage begin to bubble up alongside her fright. How dare this man try to kill her brother?!

             “A member of the demon slayer corps.” The man responded calmly, almost emotionlessly. “That thing in your hands is a demon, it will eat you or another human if you don’t step away right now and let me kill it.”

             “Tanjirou’s my twin brother! He’d never hurt anyone! Never!” Nezuko fired back, feeling even more panicked when the man took a step forward. She tried desperately to roll around again, to protect her demon brother with her body. Instead, she found she had grasped empty air. The girl’s head whipped back up, hair flying.

             Her twin brother lashed out and raged, voice like a wounded beast’s as he tried to get out of the grasp of the demon slayer. Nezuko sat up, about to run towards her poor brother—

             “Don’t you dare move!” The man shouted, and Nezuko froze, shuddering with wide, teary eyes. “It doesn’t matter if he was your brother, he’s a demon now. He was just trying to eat you!” The slayer’s sword pointed at Tanjirou’s chest, hovering just above where his heart should be.

             The situation was getting dire. Nezuko didn’t know what to do.

             “Please, he knew who I was! He recognized me and didn’t hurt me! He was the only one still alive, another demon must have killed our family… But his hands and mouth were clean! Please!” Bowing her head down to the snowy ground, Nezuko kowtowed, even if it pained her to do so. She’d do anything if it meant saving her only family.

             “Please, I beg of you. Don’t kill Tanjirou. He’s the only family I have left. Please, I’ll do anything, so please have mercy…”

             “DON’T YOU DARE GROVEL!” Came the shout of the demon slayer. Nezuko’s head lifted in a snap, staring in fright at how the once low-voiced man had raised his voice in what sounded like rage. “IF GROVELING WORKED IT WOULD HAVE SAVED YOUR FAMILY! ONLY THE STRONG HAVE RIGHTS IN THIS WORLD, THE WEAK CAN DO NOTHING BUT DIE! YOU COULDN’T DREAM OF SAVING YOUR BROTHER THIS WAY! IF YOU WANT SOMETHING, FIGHT FOR IT!”

             Nezuko whimpered, before that rage returned, violent and burning within her. Takeo had always told her she needed to stop, to think about herself rather than others. Otherwise, she could lose herself or something precious in her anger…

             Before she could even speak, the slayer’s sword plunged into Tanjirou’s chest. Her twin screamed in pain, blood flowing from the wound and staining his white sleeping shirt further red. Nezuko shrieked with him, feeling the pain in her heart double thanks to their bond.

             That rage ignited. Leaping to her feet, she grabbed a rock from the ground beside her, hurling it at the slayer’s head. Easily, the man dodged it, staring apathetically at the younger human’s efforts. But Nezuko didn’t stop. She kept throwing her rocks, running and weaving between the trees. Only when she came straight for the man did it seem like she was going to swing the axe at him…

             “Don’t just run at me emotionally! You leave yourself wide open and you die!” The man reprimanded, and all Nezuko could see was white as the blunt of his sword handle hit the back of her head, knocking her out instantly.

             Tanjirou stared down at his sister’s body, his struggling completely ceased. Memories flashed across his eyes, remembering… Feeling the pain and anguish, the desperation his twin had felt in trying to protect him. Normally, he had protected her. But now she had tried to risk her life for him…

             Those thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an axe blade digging into the trunk of the tree behind them, nearly hitting the slayer corpsman who held the demon captive. Nezuko had played a trick… Even if it would have been at the cost of her own life. The axe had been meant to decapitate the slayer after she was hurt, then Tanjirou would be free…

             The new demon gritted his teeth. Nezuko was alive, but she could have lost it all just for him. She was still in danger… The swordsman had hurt her. Unacceptable.

             Before the slayer could get any second thoughts, Tanjirou slammed his foot into the elder male’s stomach, kicking him away. As fast as he could, Tanjirou ran towards the body of his poor little sister… Shielding it with his arms spread out wide, teeth bared and red eyes flashing in warning. Don’t you dare hurt her.

             The swordsman smelled shocked. As if he hadn’t expected Tanjirou to protect his twin sister. Why would that man think he would ever hurt her? Nobody was going to hurt Nezuko as long as he was alive…

             Rushing towards the swordsman, Tanjirou roared with rage, fighting almost like a toddler would… With inexperienced scratches and kicks, trying to throw punches. The swordsman evaded him every time, staring at him as if some sort of confusing epiphany had hit him. The last remaining Kamado son reached out, ready to maim—

             But then he too was knocked out with a well placed chop to his neck, collapsing to the snowy earth beside his unconscious sister.

             The world was completely dark. Just barely, she could sense the warmth of her siblings around her. Their little hands resting on her body, a much larger, gentler one landing upon her head. Her mother’s.

             Then, a voice, familiar and gentle. Sad. “I’m sorry we had to leave you, Nezuko. Please… Protect your brother.”

             Nezuko reached out, desperate to grasp her mother, to hold her and sob in grief over losing her. But instead, her hand clasped a handful of familiar checkered fabric…

             Right in front of her eyes as Tanjirou’s body. He was unconscious, with the bamboo hairpiece she had bought for their mother fastened to his lips. It was a muzzle… The perfect size to protect any blood from accidentally entering his mouth.

             “You’re awake.” That deep, cool voice again. Nezuko shot up, ignoring the soreness of her body to grab Tanjirou and hold him close to her chest. The swordsman just stared from afar, not moving an inch.

             “Head to Sagiri Mountain. There, seek out the old man Urokodaki Sakonji. Tell him Tomioka Giyuu sent you.” Nezuko blinked. That was the swordsman’s name… Tomioka Giyuu.

             “Don’t let your brother into direct sunlight. You should be fine in today’s storm, but I would take that warning seriously.” Giyuu turned, and within a blink, he was gone. Nezuko exhaled slowly, staring down at her brother as he began to stir awake.

             (This feels like a bad dream.)

             Outside of the Kamado household, Nezuko knelt before the lined-up graves of her family. Tanjirou stood beside her, motionless. His eyes were hazy, like mulled wine. As if he wasn’t even fully awake or aware of anything at all.

             Nezuko opened her eyes, parting her hands that had been clasped together in mourning prayer. She looked up at her twin brother, whose eyes still were brimmed with tears despite the hazy emptiness of their pupils. She could feel his grief, swimming amongst a color she couldn’t quite recognize. Perhaps… Perhaps that was the color of the demon curse, keeping him from truly being self-aware.

             Regardless, they had to move. They would have to find Sagiri Mountain and Urokodaki… Learn from him how to cure a demon. She would save her brother, no matter the cost, no matter how difficult and long the road would be.

             Coming to a stand, Nezuko smiled gently at her brother. He stared at her back, silent. But when she took his clawed, rough hand in her own… He very slowly clasped it back. That was enough for her.

             Together, they ran off into the forest, towards the next chapter of their new lives. They couldn’t look back. Not now, not ever again.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: The Stranger

             “Excuse meeeeee!” Hands cupped to her mouth, Nezuko shouted into the rice fields. Ahead of her, she could see the farmer and his wife tending to the crops, their clothes dirty and faded. It was easy to believe that the Kamado’s had been poor, Nezuko realized, but there were plenty of others in the country who had it off far worse than she ever did, even after her father had died.

             “Yes, young lady?” The farmer shouted back, voice old and warbly. Nezuko’s heart pinched a bit more. Someone working so hard and yet they had only a broken, discarded bamboo basket nearby…

             “Can I take that spare bamboo shaving pile? And the basket?” The girl called, and the farmer tilted his head in confusion.

             “Sure, but it’s broken. It’s useless. We were going to burn it.” At that response, Nezuko shook her head, uneven hair flying this way and that. She yearned for a hairbrush, but in her haste in leaving her home, she hadn’t taken any household products beyond absolute essentials.

             “I can fix it, thank you!” Finally, the young girl crossed the space between herself and the farmers, rummaging in her haori sleeve for a handful of coins- a bit of allowance from when she had sold the charcoal in town the day before. “Please, let me pay you for it.”

             The farmer’s wrinkled brow furrowed. “You kidding me, girl? It’s broken. I can’t accept your money.” At this, Nezuko frowned, her own eyebrows knitting together as she straightened up.

             “Please! I insist!” After all, the couple was in such shoddy clothing, they deserved at least a little something. They could buy better clothes, or at least some fabric to mend the holes. If she had more time, she could even recommend a seller to them who lived in town… Though, wasn’t her hometown several miles back by now?

             “No! I’m not—” The farmer began, before Nezuko lashed out, irritatingly, grabbing the man’s bony wrist and forcing his hand with his palm out. She slapped the coins down into his palm.

             “It’s only a few coins so just take it! Thank you very much, oji-san!!” With that, she stormed off as fast as she could, grabbing the broken basket and pieces of bamboo that were nearby. Both farmers stared in shock as the strange girl stalked off into the woods.

             Setting her acquired purchase down on the ground before the mouth of a cave, Nezuko peered inside. Her rose eyes squinted, trying to ascertain her twin brother’s location… Hadn’t she just placed him here when the sun started coming out?

             “Onii-chan? Oniii-chaaaannnn—” Calling into the cave, Nezuko’s voice bounced around, only furthering her anxiety. Had Tanjirou run away? No, that couldn’t be right. The swordsman, Tomioka-san, had said that demons couldn’t withstand sunlight.

             Just as her mind had begun making worse case scenarios… A familiar shock of crimson hair popped up from the ground. Tanjirou was hiding in a hole… A hole he must have dug with his claws.

             (My twin brother has turned into a mole…) Nezuko mused quietly to herself. She could see her brother’s expression from here, ruby eyes full of concern and maybe even fear. His face was scrunched up, like a child trying to avoid their least favorite vegetable. Was he cringing away from the light?

             “Stay put, Tanjirou.” Nezuko sighed, turning around. Despite the concern anyone would have about turning their vulnerable backs to a demon, she knew Tanjirou wouldn’t hurt her. She could sense him staring at her back, watching her as she began to mend the basket’s holes, but she couldn’t see the color of anger or hunger around him at all.

             After a couple of minutes, Nezuko had finished mending the basket. She had grown to be a very capable seamstress over the years from mending her and her family’s clothes. The asohana pattern on her kimono had been her favorite, and it had taken a long time to learn the delicate needlework to keep the geometric patterns even. Those skills had made for quick and accurate work with the basket.

             Holding it, she came deeper into the cave’s shade, placing the basket down so the rim-mouth was pointed towards Tanjirou. “Can you fit inside this basket, Onii-chan? We need to keep moving during the day.”

             Tanjirou stared blankly. Nezuko swallowed, before pointing into the basket again. “Basket. Tanjirou. Get in. The basket. Crawl into the basket.”

             Her demon brother stared, before his hazy eyes seemed to flicker a bit in understanding. Carefully, he put his hands on either side of the basket, before shoving himself inside… But not fitting. His entire body was still sticking out, arms and legs splayed out behind him as if he were a dog that had simply given up.

             Nezuko blinked. Hm. Well, maybe… Hadn’t Tanjirou transformed into a large adult size when he was on top of her earlier? Could he do the opposite?

             Patting the demon’s checkered backside, Nezuko put on her best cheerful voice, just like what she would have used with their younger siblings. “C’mon, Onii-chan. Grow smaller! You can do it; I believe in you!”

             Tanjirou grunted behind his bamboo muzzle in acknowledgement. Holding either side of the basket rim, he suddenly jumped, causing Nezuko to squeak in surprise. His body rapidly shrunk, scuttling around inside the basket until he was right-side-up, sitting up and surrounded by billows of his own clothing fabric. The muzzle remained in place, but he was so much smaller now that it seemed too big for him. He was childlike in appearance, looking reminiscent of how Nezuko remembered him looking when they were maybe 5; except his hair was much longer.

             “Wow!” Nezuko gasped, eyes all aglow with wonder. “Look at you! You did it, Onii-chan! Good job!” Her hand reached out, patting Tanjirou’s head and smoothing back his unruly mane. The demon’s eyes closed in contentment.

             With this new form available to them, they could keep up the pace and travel to Sagiri Mountain. Nezuko made sure to use the cloth she had carried with them to cover up the basket, tying the loose ends underneath. With her twin brother secure, she set off into the countryside once more.

             “Yes, Sagiri Mountain is just due North of here. But are you sure you can make it there, little girl? People get lost there easily.” The mother holding her son’s hand looked concerned, and Nezuko could only smile brightly. She made sure to gesture a bit with her hip, her brother’s hatchet still hanging from her obi belt. She could manage.

             “I’ll be fine. Thank you, ma’am!” With a grateful bow, Nezuko set off into the mountains, jogging at a decent pace as to not lose time or energy. Tanjirou made no sounds of discontentment over the speed or jostling around, so she made no effort to walk calmly.

             Nightfall came quickly. Winter was still here, and even though the night was cold, Nezuko had her brother’s blue scarf wrapped around her neck. Quietly, she wondered…

             (Do demons get cold? Should I give him his scarf back? He doesn’t seem to be shivering and he hasn’t asked for it…)

             Tanjirou was out and about now, still holding his twin sister’s hand. He refused to let go, which Nezuko was glad for, but she was also a little concerned. Repeatedly, she tried to sense his emotions, to ascertain whether he was in pain or needed to slow down due to tiredness. Strangely, there seemed to be nothing. No color at all, just that strange red mist Nezuko had theorized was his demon curse. His face was blank, but whenever they met eyes, his ruby eyes would gleam in recognition. It was something, at least.

             Just before the foot of the mountain was a traveler’s shrine. You could pray to gods to protect your journey into the wilderness, or thank them for allowing you to escape unharmed from the forces of nature. Ultimately, it was a sign of refuge. And Nezuko was getting tired.

             “C’mon, Onii-chan. We can rest here for a little while. Are you tired?” She turned to look at her brother, who just stared blankly back. “I’ll take that as a no. But I’m tired, so let’s stop for a minute.”

             The sudden scent of copper filled her nose again. Immediately, Nezuko froze, her skin turning pale. Tanjirou’s hand clenched tighter around her own, and when she looked at him, she could see his nose twitching rapidly. He could smell it too, perhaps even more than she could.

             “Blood… There must be an injured traveler inside the shrine!” Despite her anxiety over encountering blood again, Nezuko was empathetic and selfless first before any self-protecting tendencies. She was quick to run to the temple door, sliding it open with a resounding CLACK of the shoji door hitting the end of its track too quickly.

             “Hello in there! Are you hurt—”

             Three lifeless bodies stared back at her. Another pair of eyes met her own, sickly yellow and slitted. A man-eating demon was crouched before the bodies, his bare arms and legs splattered with the blood of the corpses. His mouth was just as red, sharp teeth glistening as he snarled at the intruders.

             “Oi, whattya doin’, punks? This is MY turf. Get out!”

             Beside Nezuko, Tanjirou began to shake. His eyes were even more distant, expression horrified… Yet drool was pouring in waterfalls from his jaws, slipping past the bamboo muzzle and down his chin to drip to the dirt floor.

             Nezuko was frozen with fear. She couldn’t move. The demon was staring her down, and all she could do was stare back. (Stupid. Stupid! Move! Move, Nezuko or, he’ll--!)

             She was being tackled to the ground outside before she could even blink. That adrenaline, that need to survive in the face of a predator, returned to the girl just as fast. Her heart was screaming at her to move.

             In a blink, she could see red blood creating a wave in the air. But it wasn’t her own. It was the demon’s… She had managed to just barely lift the hatchet again like she had with Tanjirou the morning before. The blade had made contact with the temple demon’s neck, slicing his jugular wide open.

             Nezuko stared in shock. Had she killed him?

             Nope. The demon’s head snapped forward, one hand lashing out to grasp the girl around her pale throat. She gasped in pain, struggling, but it did no good. The demon’s grip was tight, absolute.

             “You damn bitch, that hurt!” The demon hissed. “Not bad. But too bad. See, the wound’s healin’ up fine.” Nezuko watched in shock and dismay as the sliced skin melded back together, and the blood all but disappeared.

             “I’ll just break yer neck so ya can’t try that trick again, ya little—”

             The demon didn’t get to finish. His head went flying as a fist blew into it… The fist of Tanjirou, whose face was full of fright and concern for his twin sister.

Nezuko looked from demon to demon, back and forth, before scrambling to her feet with a scream. (No way! Onii-chan killed that guy! I-I mean, he was a demon, so it’s okay, but--)

The headless body lunged at Tanjirou, who just barely evaded the slashing of claws. Nezuko’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, head whipping behind her as the demon’s decapitated head began to shrilly scream.

“I knew it! I knew somethin’ wasn’t right! What’s a demon doin’ traveling with a human?! You’re gonna pay for this, ya bastards!” The headless body was kicking poor Tanjirou, who had stumbled and fallen on his butt. Nezuko felt that familiar burn of rage ignite within her gut, joining the chill of fear and adrenaline.

Grabbing the hatchet again, she ran towards the body, trying to help her brother get away from his assailant. She didn’t get very far, because the temple demon’s head had grown arms and lunged, biting the head of the axe. Nezuko screamed in equal parts disgust and fear. Her instinct was to get rid of the damn thing altogether, and so, she threw the hatchet at a tree far away…

Which led to the demon head to be pinned to the tree. He began cursing and scrabbling at the handle, but with his long hair tangled around it, he couldn’t pull the axe off the tree either.

“ONII-CHAN!” Nezuko cried in alarm once she didn’t have to worry about the demon’s head. Her next immediate concern was the headless body attacking her twin brother. Instincts and adrenaline once again flooded her brain, and she ran at the demon’s body, tackling it…

Into empty air. They had been standing on the edge of cliff and hadn’t even realized it. Nezuko screamed, ready to feel the pain of the ground hitting her body and ending it all too early…

But her brother was quicker. Tanjirou’s clawed hand grasped tightly around Nezuko’s wrist, holding her in mid-air. He didn’t seem to strain at all despite holding a limp body against gravity’s pull from so high up, but neither Kamado was even thinking about that. No, they were too busy climbing back up the side of the cliff and onto solid land as the sound of the temple demon’s body crunching on the bottom of the forest floor surrounded them.

“Are you okay, Tanjirou?” Nezuko asked shakily. Her brother nodded, just barely. His pupils had been slitted, but before her own eyes, she watched as a haze returned to them and his expression became more and more blank. Like he was becoming catatonic from the physical exertion he had endured.

Now, what could they do about the demon head? Nezuko shakily drew the knife she had taken from home, holding it in her pale hand. (I have to kill him. If I don’t, he’ll eat more people. So… C’mon. Just do it. Stab him, Nezuko!)

But before she could even wind back her hand, another touched her shoulder. She froze.

Behind her was an old man wearing a worn wooden red Tengu mask. She couldn’t sense much of his emotions at all. He stared at her, before a gruff and weathered voice came from behind the mask.

“You cannot kill it with that.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Return by Dawn

“Dear Urokodaki-sensei. I have sent a girl your way who wishes to become a demon slayer. She had the courage to fight me unarmed. Her entire family was massacred by demons… But her twin brother was turned into one himself. He chooses not to eat humans. I sense something is different about these two. Nezuko does not have the same sense of smell as you do, but I hope you can guide her in the right direction. I know this is a selfish request… Forgive me.

May this letter find you in good health and in good spirits,

             Tomioka Giyuu.”

Nezuko stared in shock at the man with the Tengu mask. Somehow, this man had moved without a single sound, without any emotion or color for the girl to reach out and grasp in her moment of vulnerability. Very easily, a demon could have snuck up on her and killed her thanks to her defenselessness. That thought made her stomach turn.

“You cannot kill a demon with that.” The masked man repeated when Nezuko didn’t reply.

“So, what do I kill it with?” The girl fired back, eyes flashing with frustration. Somehow, the man didn’t react badly to her snapping at all. He just stared her down with his voice coming out in that gruff tone.

“Don’t trust what others say. Can’t you figure it out yourself?”

That was true. Nezuko swallowed, looking down at her knife. She could feel Tanjirou watching her, but nothing came from his lips to try and solve the problem. Not that he could really help anyways…

(If a knife won’t work… Then maybe a rock? Just smash the demon’s head in? That would be painful, but…) The girl quietly picked up a heavy rock nearby, grunting from the weight of it, especially when having to hold it up near her chest. Slowly, she walked up to the tree where the temple demon’s head was pinned against the trunk.

 Struggling to get the rock over her head, Nezuko stumbled, painting. Her arms were sore from carrying Tanjirou and fighting the demon with all her might. She was too embarrassed to stop, drop the rock and find a smaller, lighter one. So, she endured, feeling the eyes of the two men behind her…

Sunlight streamed through the brush. Nezuko gasped. She heard Tanjirou make a bolt for the temple, diving into the basket she had discarded there. But her eyes were entirely focused on the temple demon… Who was screaming in fear and pain as his body burned away within minutes of exposure to the sun.

“You hesitated for too long.” The Tengu masked man gruffly grunted. Nezuko was still reeling over the sight of the burn on the tree where the demon had been.

(No wonder Onii-chan is so afraid of the sun… Just a little bit of sunlight was enough to destroy that demon!)

When she finally pried her eyes away, she saw that the man was knelt before the ground. During her time trying to get the damn rock off the ground and into the air above her head, the Tengu masked stranger had buried the victims of the demon. Carefully, she let go of the rock, and walked over to the kneeling man.

             “Who are you?” Nezuko asked, voice scratchy from the screaming she had done not so long ago when fighting for her and her twin’s life. The man turned and looked at her, dusting his dark pants off.

             “I am Sakonji Urokodaki. You must be the girl Giyuu told me about.”

             Nezuko nodded, bowing a bit in more formal greeting. “I’m Kamado Nezuko. That’s my twin brother, Tanjirou.” She pointed to the temple doorway, where Tanjirou was peeking his big ruby eyes out from under the blanket.

             Urokodaki nodded, then came closer. Nezuko impulsively took a step back, but their distance was soon the same. The teacher was regarding her quietly, with a color of determination that seemed to mimic the shade of water. A similar color to Tomioka-san’s aura.

             “Nezuko, what will you do when your brother eats a human?”

             Nezuko balked, face going pale. “What? He would never—”

             SMACK!

             Her hand flew up to her cheek, the flesh quickly swelling pink from the contact. Urokodaki had slapped her. Even with the desperation to not embarrass herself, the stress of the day was starting to get to her… And her rose eyes burned with tears she fought to control.

             “You think too slowly!” The man announced, his color now like a roaring ocean. “Why couldn’t you answer that quickly? The answer is simple, but you were too soft to even attempt killing that demon.” Nezuko couldn’t speak. She just held her cheek with lips quivering.

             “If your brother eats a demon, you kill him. To repent you must slit open your own stomach and die! THAT is what it means to travel with your brother as a demon! It is your SACRED duty to never allow this to come to pass! Do you understand?!”

             Nezuko let go of her cheek, hand dropping to her side. That rage from before had returned, but it was quick to change its hue. No, she couldn’t ever let it happen. She had to protect Tanjirou like he had always protected her. She had to ensure he stayed pure… So he could become a human being again.

             “I UNDERSTAND!” The girl shouted, staring determinedly at Urokodaki. The man didn’t seem affected, but maybe he was satisfied with that answer.

             “Good. Now to see if you have what it takes to become a demon slayer. Carry your brother and follow me.”

             Daylight had completely come to the mountains. Despite the chill of winter remaining in the air, Nezuko didn’t feel it. Nope, she was currently burning up, eyes wide and frantic, mouth wide open to let gasping, gulping breaths in. Her footsteps were pounding against the dirt road, body jostling the basket on her back.

             (How the hell is this old man so fast?! He runs without a single sound! It’s incredible… And so stupid!)

             Gritting her teeth, she did her best to keep her breathing going, sweat pouring down her fair skin. Her hair was sticking to her forehead, wild and loose. She yearned for her ribbons, for the tight comfort of her buns tied. But nope. Tomioka-san’s sword just had to slice all that hair off, and so unevenly--!

             (No.) Shaking her head to herself. (I can’t complain. I can’t moan about my hair. I’ve never worried about my old kimono or my appearance. We were happy with what we had… But Onii-chan, you were always so worried about us, weren’t you? You always worried I wasn’t happy with my old clothes. You wanted everyone else to eat, but to be happy too.)

             Nezuko growled, eyes burning bright as the forest finally swallowed all of them. (I swear, Tanjirou, I’ll bring you back to humanity. And then we can be happy again. Everything we couldn’t give to our siblings… I’ll make sure we can share forever.)

             Soon enough, a little hut in the mountain woods appeared. It was here that Urokodaki stopped, opening the old wooden door without much of a word to the young girl.

             Nezuko wheezed, falling to her knees. She didn’t care that her kimono would get dirty like this. It was already pretty roughed up from the trek. She couldn’t tell if Tanjirou was awake, but she slowly slipped the basket off her back, making sure to be gentle.

             “Did… Did I pass?” The girl panted, looking up at Urokodaki as he began gathering firewood outside of his hut. The man regarded her only with a glance, before speaking once more in that gruff tone.

             “The test begins now. Climb the mountain.”

             Nezuko fell flat on her back with a groan of dismay. (ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!)

             The forest mountain of Sagiri was covered in a fine mist. The air was chilly, thin. It was hard to breathe even just walking, and Nezuko was used to thin air from their mountain at home. Each step felt like sludging through mud.

             Before her eyes, Urokodaki disappeared into the mists. He gave her only a glance over his shoulder, beckoning her to go up the trail too. But he was too fast for her to keep up.

             What awaited the remaining Kamado daughter wasn’t an easy trek up the mountain. No. The teacher had set traps all along the mountainside, and it was almost impossible to keep track of where one was, even when she managed to get her breathing in order. She couldn’t go back down the mountain slowly. She couldn’t give up. There was an ultimatum- pass the test by returning to the house by daybreak.

             Just like always, Nezuko endured.  Even when rocks pelted her body, or swinging logs knocked the wind from her lungs, or she fell into pits without a warning… She kept going. She ran, crawled, trudged through the Sagiri forest…

             Inside of his hut, Urokodaki had a fire going, as well as rice in a pot for breakfast. The rest of the food was cooked, and his only concern now was waiting for Nezuko to return. Carefully, he put a blanket over Tanjirou, who had crawled out of the basket and fallen asleep on the nearest futon.

             The sun was rising. She should have been back by now.

             Just when he was about to begin writing a letter to Giyuu about Nezuko’s failure to pass the test, the wooden door slammed open.

             Nezuko was on her knees in the doorway, hair wild and covered in twigs and leaves. Her face was coated in dirt and scratches, bruises yet to form. But the way the sunlight hit her raven hair made it seem as if she had come from the morning sky herself…

             “I MADE IT!” She croaked, staring up defiantly at the teacher. After taking many deep breaths, she slouched against the doorframe. “Did… Did I pass…?”

             Urokodaki was silent for what felt like years. But he nodded at last and turned to start getting a plate together for the girl.

             “I accept you as my student, Kamado Nezuko.”

             Nezuko gave a sob, and collapsed onto the floor, drifting into a deep sleep.

             Tanjirou, I am writing you this journal to give you an accurate story as to what I’m getting up to in the mountains with Urokodaki-sensei. You fell asleep when we first arrived here… and that was almost a month ago now.

             I’m really worried about you. You never slept like I did, even when we were little. Humans don’t sleep for months like this. Urokodaki-sensei has told me that demons don’t need sleep, and that it’s likely you are sleeping to replace eating humans. I’m glad you found another method but… I miss you.

             But enough of that!! I need to be positive.

             Urokodaki-sensei has required me to go up and down the mountain for weeks now. He seems to sense that I’m struggling or when I lie about how easy it is. But the truth is that I can’t smell things the way he or you can, Onii-chan. I see things in color flame, and he doesn’t get it. It’s so frustrating.

             Regardless, he pushes on teaching me physical things. How to dodge. How to swing my sword. How to get back up immediately when I fall. But I really struggle with breathing the way he wants me to. He’ll punch my core to get it to tense up.

             Most importantly he has taught me to never, ever let my sword break. Katanas can have powerful strikes, but if they are hit at the right angle, they break like glass. Urokodaki-sensei has threatened to break my legs if I break my sword… So, I don’t. He’s not bluffing. His threats are as cold as the mountain.

             I’m trying my best, Onii-chan. But it feels like I’m not getting it.

             Tanjirou,

             Today marks a full year since I started training with Urokodaki-sensei. I’m stronger. Faster. My legs have developed muscles and I’m losing my belly fat. My hands look like yours now! They’re all beat up. I think you’d laugh that we can disguise each other as one another now and play tricks… But I don’t think it’s funny. But I’ll endure it for you.

             You’re still asleep. You haven’t even stirred or moved. I’m afraid that I’ll wake up one morning or come back down the mountain to find out you’re dead. The doctor Urokodaki-sensei brought in couldn’t find anything wrong with you.

             Even if you do wake up… Would you still remember me? Would you know it’s me? I’ve changed so much. My hair is getting longer again but it just gets in the way. I know you won’t agree, but I’m going to cut it short once I pass Final Selection.

             Please wake up soon.

             Onii-chan,

             I don’t know what to do. Urokodaki-sensei told me he can’t teach me anymore. He doesn’t think he’s the best fit for me, and it hurts. I thought I was doing well. I thought maybe I would be cleared for Selection soon.

             Water Breathing is supposed to be the easiest way to learn swordsmanship. But with my skills and body, Urokodaki-sensei thinks I’d be a better fit for Flame Breathing.

             He’s told me he wrote to the Flame Hashira, Rengoku Shinjuro. He has trained many pupils who became Hashira as well. If he accepts, he’ll come to Sagiri and take both of us to his estate to work on my Breathing training since my physical training is complete.

I’m worried that nobody will take us because of your condition. I guess I just have to pray to Hinokami-sama this year that he will guide us to the right path.

I hope your dreams are at least sweet, Onii-chan.

Your twin sister,

Nezuko.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Flame Hashira Rengoku Kyojuro

It was daytime when the visitor came to the little hut in the woods. Demon slayers were often busy during the evenings and night, hunting when demons were at their highest activity. Day was a time to travel to the next mission, or to train or rest up in the appropriate spots to do so.

As such, that meant that if anyone was to visit Nezuko and Urokodaki, it would be in the morning.

No crow arrived to deliver a letter back to Urokodaki from the Flame Hashira, Rengoku Shinjuro. The old Water Hashira had been sure that he would have to find some way to grin and bear it, to teach the student who couldn’t quite grasp Breathing the same way that his prior students did, even without his sense of smell.

But then there was a knock at the door. Urokodaki opened the door, Tengu mask canting upwards to gaze at the blonde man who was taller than him. At first, it seemed like Shinjuro had arrived, just without any sort of warning. But then the old man managed to catch a whiff of the man’s scent… It wasn’t at all like Shinjuro’s.

“Urokodaki Sakonji!” The Rengoku boy announced the name with such volume it made the walls shake the slightest bit. Urokodaki remembered then that Shinjuro had two sons… It had been long enough since they last worked together as Hashira that the eldest son would be a young adult by now… 19 years old.

“Rengoku-san.” Urokodaki responded, head tilted just a touch in his confusion. Some things had been cleared up, but not everything. “I sent a letter to your father, the Flame Hashira—”

“Yes! We got your letter!” The boy nodded, interrupting the elder. “My father did not respond! You see, I am the Flame Hashira now in his stead. He has retired from his duties!” Oh. Well that certainly made more sense. But…

Urokodaki paused. Shinjuro was younger than him by maybe a decade or maybe more. He didn’t retire when his children were born, so what made him retire now? It seemed so sudden. Wouldn’t the crows have sent a message about the retirement of the Flame Hashira? Perhaps this was a brand-new development, and communication was still slow.

“Come in, Rengoku—” The Tengu masked man began, before the young man beamed.

“Kyojuro! My given name is Kyojuro. But Rengoku-san is just fine!”

“Rengoku-san. Please come in. I’ll put the tea on.”

Knelt before the furnace, Kyojuro’s arms were crossed over his chest. His great billowing haori of flame colored fabric was splayed out behind him, more like a grand cape than any haori Urokodaki would have worn. If he remembered correctly, it was the heirloom of the Rengoku clan… Every Flame Hashira wore it and passed it on to their sons when they became Hashira too.

Handing the young Hashira his cup, Urokodaki sat down. He could smell Nezuko coming towards the hut from her raining for the morning, smelling of pine. She must have done another round of climbing and descending through the traps.

“So, you have a possible student for my father to take on?” Rengoku asked after sipping his tea. That smile remained on his face, bright and brilliant. Yet Urokodaki could smell his caution and doubts over the story told in the letter to his father.

“Yes. Her name is Kamado Nezuko. She is having trouble adjusting to the Breath of Water style… I believe Flame is a better fit for her. Her physical training is practically complete… It is just the Breathing that is troubling her so much.” The tutor explained, hands resting in fists at his lap. The mask worked well to conceal his worry to Rengoku, posture still and cool.

“But you must understand that she’s not without her... Challenges.”

“What do you mean, Urokodaki-san?” Rengoku began, before the door suddenly slammed open.

Before them, Nezuko breathed a bit heavily, her cheeks flushed pink. Her hair was a mess, strands poking out this way and that, ribbons just barely hanging on to keep the dark wavy tresses from falling into her eyes. She gave Urokodaki a smile, before spotting Rengoku and freezing stock still.

“Nezuko, this is Rengoku Kyojuro. He’s come to fetch you for his father.” Urokodaki explained gruffly. Nezuko’s eyes widened, before she quickly bowed, hair flopping down and off her back. She was all dirty in her tattered dark brown haori and poorly folded pink kimono, probably looking like a wild child from the mountains rather than a dedicated swordsman student.

“Pleased to meet you, Rengoku-san!!” The girl exclaimed, and Rengoku just gave a hum of acknowledgement. When Nezuko’s head lifted, her rose eyes met the hawk-like eyes of the Hashira, bright and calculating. Immediately, she knew what he was doing. He was searching her soul, seeing the colors of the flame aura like she could.

In turn, she stared back, all while slowly kicking off her zori sandals so she could kneel by the fireplace beside Urokodaki, like a poor child clinging to their family when meeting a stranger.

Within her vision, she was overwhelmed by the beauty of the flame centered in Rengoku’s heart. It was the exact color of his eyes… Gold and crimson, burning with such strength it was like gazing into the pits of Hell. Within him, she could sense his justice, his need for honor and to aid those who were weaker than him. Right away, she felt like they would get along… Even if she could feel his hatred towards demons too.

“Young Kamado!” Snapped from her thoughts by the booming voice of the flame, Nezuko’s body shuddered into stock straight posture.

“Y-yes!”

“I understand you are traveling with a demon!”

Nezuko swallowed. “I am. He’s my twin brother.”

“I see! Do you understand that this is strictly against the Demon Slayer Corps rules? The punishment for such a crime is not a small one!” Rengoku’s eyes burned, staring with such intensity that Nezuko knew what he was referring to. If she was charged with such conspiracy, she could be executed. But that would never happen. No, she intended to never, ever let that happen. Tanjirou needed her.

“I don’t care!” Nezuko shouted, eyebrows furrowing and eyes burning brighter than twin stars. She could feel Urokodaki stiffen beside her, clearly concerned that she was going to get herself in big trouble with the highest-ranking slayer in the room.

“Onii-chan has never, ever eaten a human being! He protected me! He protected our little brother when he was attacked by a demon that night he was turned! His will is stronger than any other demon’s.” Like a lawyer making a passionate case to the courtroom jury, Nezuko balled her fists at her sides, staring with wolf-like intensity into the hawk-eyes of the Flame Hashira. Fear and rage burned in equal measure within her stomach, and she felt like throwing up from how fast her heart was beating.

Rengoku was quiet. The flame of the furnace made for the only sound in the hut, crackling merrily despite the deep foreboding Nezuko felt. Again, she could sense those skilled eyes peering into her heart.

Then, Rengoku smiled again. His eyes slid shut, and he leaned back a moment. He seemed to be thinking. Then, he stood, looking down at the shivering girl and her tutor.

“May I see him? Your brother.”

Nezuko was about to object, but then she felt that heart’s flame again, one of sincerity. Rengoku had questions he could only answer by seeing the strange demon child with his own eyes.

“Okay. But don’t hurt him!”

Rengoku nodded, then quietly padded across the wooden floor towards the back bedroom. Within the darkness, he stopped, staring at the demon child under the futon covers.

Tanjirou was still asleep. It was a year, and he had not awoken. Yet his face was peaceful, and when Nezuko rose to look into the room where he laid with the Hashira hovering over him, she thought that her twin almost looked… Happy. Like he was dreaming of something sweet.

Rengoku seemed puzzled. Nezuko remembered then that Urokodaki had told her that demons didn’t need to sleep. It was almost unheard of, seeing a demon sleep. Their immortal lives had no need for rest. But Tanjirou had chosen sleep instead of human flesh.

After what felt like hours, but really was only minutes, Nezuko came to the realization that Rengoku was peering into Tanjirou’s soul the same way he had done with her. He was quiet, smile fading from his face. Again, raw fear filled Nezuko’s stomach, turning into a block of ice that sat there and burned.

“I have a brother back home.” The Hashira suddenly said, voice still quite loud, but not as booming as before. The flame within his heart shivered, and Nezuko felt that fear slowly begin to melt from her own chest.

“He’s your age, young Kamado. I wonder if I would have your conviction if he became a demon someday too.”

Nezuko gasped softly, at once knowing that everything would be okay. Rengoku was like her. He was passionate. His heart burned with conviction and justice; with emotions he didn’t always share. But the ones he did burned brighter than any pyre. He lived life boldly and with his head high.

Rengoku padded out of the bedroom. Nezuko followed him quietly, before sitting down again beside Urokodaki, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor at all. For a long time, they were all quiet, staring into the flame of the furnace. But Nezuko’s eyes remained on Rengoku’s face, eyebrows screwed together, and a scowl placed upon her fair features. As if she were threatening the elder into saying anything bad about her brother.

Finally, Rengoku’s smiled returned, almost peaceful. He stared right at Nezuko, eyes glittering with determination and what seemed like excitement.

“Alright, it’s decided. I’ll take you as my student!”

The girl from the mountains gaped, eyebrows raised and eyes wide with shock and a bit of confusion. “Y-You will? Really? Even with Tanjirou…?”

Rengoku rose a finger. “I do not immediately trust your twin brother. Once he awakens, he will need to prove himself to me a demon slayer the same way you will. Only then will I accept you and Tanjirou as members of the corps!”

Nezuko’s brows furrowed, eyes once again gleaming with all the fire of sunlight igniting dried grasses amid droughts. A flaming pyre that was completely different from the cool water her teacher had encompassed.  

“We will make sure that comes to pass! I promise!”

Rengoku grinned. “I like your fire, young Kamado! We will see!” He laughed, an almost booming cackle that made Nezuko’s head light from the volume of it. “We shall see!”

Dear Tanjirou,

Rengoku-san’s son, Kyojuro, is the Hashira! This whole time we thought his father was still the title holder. It turns out, Rengoku-san became Hashira a couple months ago when his father retired. He explained that Hashira become Hashira once they reach the 9^th highest rank in the Corps, and then either defeats 50 demons or a member of the Demon Moons…

Urokodaki-sensei and Rengoku-san believe the demon who attacked our family was none other than the lord of demons and their creator… Kibutsuji Muzan. No demon slayer has ever seen him. If he was who turned you into a demon and killed our family… Well, Onii-chan, then we must defeat him. Someone like Muzan shouldn’t exist.

Anyways, Onii-chan, Rengoku-san has agreed to take me as his student. I hugged Urokodaki-sensei goodbye and thanked him for everything. Before I left, he gave me two presents… A box for you made from lacquered wood that is said to never break, and a warding mask he carved for me to protect me. It’s a kitsune mask! It even has my ribbon painted on it. It’s so cute, I think you’d really like it if you saw it.

We’re headed to the Rengoku estate today. It’s a far walk, but I’m able to travel much farther without getting tired now. Somehow you must have smelled we were moving, because you grew smaller and fit in the box when I asked you to, all without waking up.

Can you hear me all the time? Do you smell me? Or did your dreams make you feel like a kid again?

I’ll write to you again once we’ve settled in. Sweet dreams, Onii-chan.

Your sister, Nezuko.

Onii-chan,

Today was so weird but… Exciting, too. Rengoku-san and I managed to make it to his family estate before nightfall. It turns out he was on the other side of the mountain from Urokodaki-sensei! A lot of the high-ranking Corps members seem to operate in similar areas. Japan is big, yet there’s a Hashira in nearly every corner of where demons dwell.

When we made it to the Estate, a young boy our age greeted us. He looks just like Rengoku-san, but not. His face is softer. His aura is so scared… Like something always frightens him. But he seemed to become so much brighter and more vibrant when Rengoku-san greeted him. The boy’s name is Senjuro. I think you would like him. He reminds me of Rokuta…

Anyways! Training begins tomorrow. I have yet to meet Rengoku-san’s father. But I’m not sure I even want to. His energy is… So dark. Like he’s completely given up on life and is just waiting for death to take him. Rengoku-san and Senjuro get so sad when they talk about him, only Rengoku-san seems positive about his father in any sense.

Thankfully our bedroom is closer to Rengoku-san’s. I can breathe better here. I’ve begun fashioning my old kimono into a gi like what Urokodaki-sensei wore. It’s kinda sad I can’t wear it like I used to, but if I’m going to really become a demon slayer, I have to let go of the past and girlish things.

You’re still asleep. I’ll keep writing to you as I train with Rengoku-san. His lessons are going to be even more different than Urokodaki-sensei’s. I suppose I should start calling him “Rengoku-sensei,” right? Ha-ha.

Your twin sister will do her best. Don’t worry about me, Onii-chan.

Love, Nezuko.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Rengoku Kyojuro’s Final Test

Her progress had not been amazing. Even with the advantages of already understanding a First Breath, Kyojuro had a difficult time of attempting to teach Nezuko the follow through. She had internalized the specifics of Water Breathing even if it was not suited to her body and skill. But he was patient.

It had taken about half a year of training from the ground up, nonstop focus from his student, and a determination Kyojuro personally hadn't seen in a student in a long while. Not since Mitsuri-chan had been his student. But Nezuko was very different from Mitsuri. Her spirit held a dangerous fire within that threatened to consume her the more frustrated she became. She would forget her disciplines and try to run headlong into the next lesson without fully comprehending the first.

The challenges Kyojuro faced as her teacher was attempting to teach Nezuko that she could not allow herself to be consumed by the fire in her soul, but instead to use the fury to slice through a foe. Use the hatred he saw in her heart for good, not out of rage.

"Kamado-shoujo." Kyojuro sat before the girl with his demon slayer attire on, trained eyes watching her every movement until he met her rose pink orbs for confirmation. "I have one final lesson for you. It will be your most difficult one yet." Kyojuro's eyes burned with a righteous fury of a teacher excited to see his student's progress. Nezuko was always training... it was time to see if it was worth it.

When her teacher approached, Nezuko swallowed, eyes flickering between doubt and surprise that a "final" test would be offered. Eagerness to prove herself and to excel came burning with her solid will, and she stared back at Kyojuro with that passion reflected in eyes of rose bloom.

"I'm ready, Rengoku-sensei!!"

Urokodaki-sensei always berated her over remembering the Water Breath, but not ingraining it to her body. She could begin to recall it, begin to perform it, but the teacher had known she hadn't truly "got it." Moving so your body and sword mimics water, specifically the flow, flexibility and adaptability of the liquid and replicates it with the user's movements, techniques, and abilities. Most, if not all, known techniques involved bending their body, arm, and weapon in a fluid motion to match the movements of rushing or flowing water. Nezuko didn't have the patience or the spirit for it.

The strikes of Flame Breathing required strength and precision. High stances and flexibility were valued, like bringing forth some sort of blaze from thin air.

The last Kamado daughter was frustrated. Unbelievably so. No matter what she did, no matter how confident she felt in the swordsmanship she showed her teacher, just like Urokodaki-sensei, somehow for Rengoku-sensei it was never enough.

She didn't feel like enough. Like all of it was useless, and there was something she just couldn't grasp.

Rengoku could see her resolve. And it would be put to the test... Unlike anyone before her. Through learning her techniques, her passion had become misplaced. And Kyojuro wanted to remind her just what she was training for.

He crossed his arms over his broad chest and examined her one more time...

"You are not." He told her simply. "You strike with a dull blade. You breathe a water's vapor. You are much less a Flame than you were a Wave." Kyojuro's words sounded harsh, and for good reason. He remembered the words his father taught to him before... everything fell apart. The elder Rengoku stood tall before his student and clenched his jaw a moment.

"Why do you wish to become a slayer? Where does your sword strike, Kamado-chan?"

At that harsh blunt statement, Nezuko gritted her teeth, fists forming at her sides and under the sleeves of her gi. Understandably, she was upset. It had almost been a year of training under Rengoku, and while she did love his personality and his willingness to see her succeed, there was just this raw fury that burned within her when she was told no repeatedly.

Nezuko stared up at her teacher a long moment, wracking her brain. Distantly, she could sense her twin brother. Tanjirou was still asleep, even after all this time. Senjuro kept an eye on him for her. It was sweet... Having a real friend after so long. Senjuro had been reading to Tanjirou stories of family and siblings of the past from the slayer books Shinjuro had kept from his father before him. Senjuro had gotten the idea that just maybe, filling the demon's head with happiness would turn the demon's heart to good. To love.

Senjuro couldn't fight with a blade. His nichirin never turned color. He was helpless, unable to defend himself against demons. Just like so many normal humans out there...

Her expression of anger slowly changed into one of determination instead, eyes softening just a bit.

"I want to protect my brother, just like how he protected me."

"And how will you protect your brother?" Rengoku's eyes were hard, and for once he was not smiling. He was looking at the girl with such a stern gaze that it was almost akin to his father's. Nezuko had met the man... and she did not like him one bit.

"What will you do to ensure he does not eat a human? That he remains by your side? That he does not turn against those that he once loved as all demons eventually do?" Kyojuro then tilted his head. "If the time comes, will you perform your duty as a slayer and protect everyone from him if need be?"

He wanted to hear her answer and see it in her heart. Nothing reprocessed from what she's heard him say, nothing twisted and pulled from Urokodaki's mouth... he wanted to hear Nezuko... And not the words her brother might have used in the reverse.

"Are you prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice, Kamado Nezuko?"

Nezuko's jaw set itself firmly. She remembered that day almost 2 years ago, when Urokodaki had found her and Tanjirou. He had slapped her, told her with such conviction and fierceness in his voice that no matter what, she had a sacred duty to keep humans safe beyond even her brother. If he killed someone, he would die. She would die.

"I swore an oath almost two years ago." The girl began, voice firm even though the building, rising emotion nearly made it start to waver and warble. "That if Tanjirou ate a human being... I would kill him. Then ask for retribution by slicing my own stomach open."

The idea sickened her, but it had to be done. The sin of consuming human beings must never come to pass for her poor twin brother.

"A Kamado always keeps their promises." Nezuko growled.

Rengoku's eyes seemed to twitch a moment, slight crinkles at the corners almost showing his signature smile. Then he lightly strode forward and looked down at Nezuko with a soft breath outward. He met her eyes and finally seemed to decide.

"I have a gift for you, Kamado-shoujo." He told her. "But first you must do something for me." Kyojuro set his hand on Nezuko's shoulder.

"There is a tree within the forest that has grown for centuries. It is large. Too thick for a katana to cut through it... I believe you can do this so long as you remember what you've told me. Your final lesson is to learn just what it means to use this blade. What it can do in the right hands and the wrong ones... That tree is where the portraits of my ancestors once hung to honor them until we had our estate built for us decades ago."

The test he proposed was meant to demonstrate to Nezuko the importance of how she used her blade. For justice. For peace. To never hesitate. Even in the face of history. In the face of family. She must never hesitate.

Nezuko found herself remembering when Urokodaki had told her the same... Never hesitate. To hesitate would mean death. As a swordsman, you had to strike decisively. To hold back could mean breaking your sword or anything worse... Death, injury. To herself or victims. Demons wouldn't hesitate, they wouldn't hold back. They were ruthless, cruel things.

Nezuko looked up at her teacher, scanning his face for any sign of a joke. Or a clue as to how she could cut down a tree with her blade if it supposedly couldn't be fallen by their swords.

"Rengoku-sensei, I..." Voice drifting, stopping. Her pride fought against the desire to ask for help, to get clarification for what exactly her teacher expected her to do.

Her pride and determination used to never let her speak her true thoughts, laying beneath layers and layers of fire and charcoal dust she had pounded into a fine blade. But Rengoku was someone she looked up to, someone she saw like a brother.

"What if I fail?"

Kyojuro's brows rose a moment. Nezuko had never uttered the word 'fail' in this context before. He saw a flicker in her light... and then he smiled at her.

"You will not fail." He told her. "But if you come out from the forest and I haven't heard the mighty tree fall... you will hand me your blade. And your brother will be dealt with."

The girl’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. If her training couldn't be verified, couldn't be used as it had been engrained into her very soul... Then it would be all for nothing. Tanjirou would die, defenseless. Then she too would be resigned to such a fate. An honor-less, cruel death, all because she couldn't rise to the challenge fate had given them.

It was a harsh reality. A reality the Kamado girl never thought possible. All she had ever wanted was to protect her brother and keep him safe... She did not know she violated demon slaying law and that if caught she would be dead on sight. But it was the reality she currently lived in. Until she could prove herself and her brother's innocence.

"Now go... I will wait for you here."

("That's the gift of the Kamado's, isn't it? That no matter what, we never give up. We endure.")

Nezuko’s mother's voice echoed in her brain upon hearing the finality of her teacher’s voice. The vision of her father's face, covered in a shroud, as the doctor began the preparations for his body to be cremated, all because his illness was a danger to them all if it could be spread from his body. Her twin brother sniffling beside her, the Hanafuda earrings dangling from his freshly pierced lobes.

Despite the pain, Nezuko did her best to smile. To hold her siblings tight, to tell them that once they were done crying, their dad would have wanted them to endure, to smile and live life for him.

Nezuko's eyes burned with flames of the solar flare of her soul. Without another word, she sheathed her sword and took off into the forest.

Senjuro approached behind her, standing beside his brother. "Aniue, can she... Can she do it?"

Rengoku Kyojuro watched the Kamado stride toward the forest without a single doubt in her mind. Well... there were several doubts, but he just smiled as Senjuro came to his side and looked down at his younger brother with that signature grin he had.

"What do you think, Senjuro?"

The forest was dense in this part of the country. Each tree seemed to try and fight its way to the top, and those that failed remained shrouded by the shadows of their betters. Much like those of the corps, there were those that were stronger and those that were weaker... but they remained together. Grew together still. Nothing stopping them.

Staring out into the wilderness, Nezuko felt as if, for a moment, she was back in the forest of her youth. The lit lanterns recalled the circle of sconces put up every New Year’s... Every time her father performed the Hinokami Kagura, he would dance within that circle, a perfect sun. Praying to the fire god that they would be blessed with protection and good fortune in the next year.

This line was perfectly set. It didn't form a circle like her home. Like a fire, struck across a match, rather than in the perfect circle of the sun.

There was one tree in the middle of a meticulously cropped area. Lanterns lit the path to the tree, along with prayer papers strewn about all dating years and years ago. Ancestor's guidance and protection. Questions of the future. Wonders of the past... Like an open dialogue between the living and the dead.

It was a place of celebration despite the years it had been untouched. Yet it remained as if it had been visited just a night ago... perhaps it had.

Nezuko approached the great tree, delicately taking hold of the ceremonial paper ties on the ancient rope. The old wishes and messages were barely visible, but she spotted one that was the freshest of all, despite being a decade or more old...

"Please heal my mother. Protect my family as you always have."

The girl's throat clenched. Was it even worth it? Could she cut this mighty tree down, if it had stood as protection for some poor child of the flame years ago?

A gentle, warm breeze flowed through the area as if there was nothing but the giant tree of the forest and the Kamado girl coming to chop it down... Could Nezuko do it? All by herself?

For a moment, it was as if the girl had a hundred eyes on her. All different colors, most the similar red and gold she was used to seeing daily. Of all heights, all ages...

A hand lightly rested on the girl's shoulder.

"So, you're here to cut it down, then?" Came a gentle voice. Not a booming one. Male, but soft. "It's been quite a long time since this tree was buried here... I and my wife weren't sure it would ever grow in such a vast forest but... I'm glad that our family took care of it for as long as they did."

The image was of a man. A young man. Rather skinny, face slightly sunken in, as if the sickness that had taken him slowly drained him of his raw power and talent until he withered away. His hair, though quite blonde and shining, though the very tips of his hair were black. Not red. He almost resembled the youngest Rengoku with his stature.

As a child, Nezuko had witnessed the spirit of her grandmother leaving her body. That had been a year before her father had died, and she swore never to tell anyone what she saw. After all, it was already weird enough she could see the flaming auras of people.

But because of this experience, she knew instantly that the boy staring at her couldn't be real. He couldn't be alive... Even if the flame within him was brilliant, as bright, and overwhelming as Rengoku-sensei's was.

"I wish I didn't have to." Nezuko responded softly, voice gentle and sweet. Even for all her flame and anger, her kindness remained as a shaking flower amongst the ashes.

"But I have to show my teacher that I can do this. That I'm ready. That I'm willing to cut down whatever's in my way to save my brother."

The man looked down at her for a moment and then gave a gentle chuckle. Everything about him was just that. Gentle. As if he hadn't produced a line of purely passionate offspring down the line.

"What are you so prepared for that you would be willing to end a lineage?" He asked her. The spirit wasn't wearing any particularly grand regalia, in fact his sleeves were frayed at the ends and his waraji nearly tattered from the years of walking and fighting on.

"Answer me that, and you will hear your answer." The spirit smiled down at the girl before he began tending to the ropes and prayers of the tree. As if he had been doing that since the very first prayer had been written and hung.

Nezuko felt conflicted. What would she do if it meant saving her brother? Even cutting down a tree with thousands of letters and prayers pinned to its sacred oak bark. Was she killing an old god, or just infuriating one?

"My brother was turned into a demon. He's... The only family I have left." Nezuko murmured, her hand still resting on the hilt of her katana. The wind tussled her unruly black hair, casting the scent of charcoal through the air. Even after almost 2 years, her home clung to her skin. A reminder that she wasn't ready to let go.

"I have to become a demon slaying swordsman, so I can protect him. So, I can find demons and ask them how to return a demon to humanity. But most importantly beyond that..." Once more, rage exploded behind her eyes, and she growled.

"The demon lord, Muzan Kibutsuji... Must be killed."

The man gave great pause for a moment upon hearing that name. An understanding. As he looked upon the girl, he watched her uneven hair get tousled in the wind...

In a moment, he was behind her, very gently taking the ribbons of her hair and beginning to pin the strands to allow her hair to flow without restriction, but with care. That she was more than just a swordsman. A young woman with an entire future ahead of her should she reach her goal. With his fingers he combed her hair to the side and back, and with great care he had it so Nezuko Kamado would look upon the tree without any doubt in her mind.

Nezuko jolted when the spirit moved, half expecting to be attacked or to begin sparring. Her teacher had surprised her like that many times, but somehow, she had gotten better at feeling him approach. His attention to teaching about the viewing of soul flames had allowed her that growth in skill.

With that skill, she could visualize the Opening Thread... The opening line from sword to the neck of her demon prey. A shiver of the soul's flame led to this image.

But the spirit wasn't attacking. He was tying her hair back, away from her forehead and ears. The Hanafuda earrings were much more visible now, tussled by the breeze of the forest. For just a moment, she could feel her family there. Her mother's careful hands teaching her how to tie her long raven hair into a bun... All those years ago.

"I understand." The man finally said. "Then you know what you must do... Don't let me stop you. But would you do me the honor of telling you a story?"

Nezuko smiled gently. Wiping her eye with the blunt of her palm, she nodded. "Tell me your story."

"There was a time... when no one believed in me, I had to find my own strength." The spirit sighed as his hands rested on Nezuko's shoulders.

"I was weak. Frail. I could not hold a blade let alone my breath. If not for my father's patience... and my mother's spirit, I wouldn't have become a swordsman like how you wish to become." When he walked in front of Nezuko once again, his skin was pale even compared to her, but there was a strange mark across his cheek that came up from his neck. It spread under his chin like a small, crackling flame attempting to find energy within a brush pile.

"I was tasked with the greatest challenge of all. To be the one to kill Muzan. To be the one to end all of this... And I failed. I wasn't even a challenge to him. I was cast aside, limbs broken, ribs crushed... I should have died. But there was one breath that even Muzan couldn't conceive. The Recovery Breath... Not only did it allow me to get up and stand my ground for my allies to rush me to safety, it allowed me my life." The spirit then smiled at Nezuko, much like a certain Rengoku she knew would.

"My father hadn't completed the ritual to allow me to learn the proper breaths to Flame Breathing, it is why I do not look like those you see in our estate now. Even the little boy, Senjuro, holds more flame than I ever did. But I saw my goal. I saw what I needed to do... I created a clan. Because I knew one day it would bear the one to finally end Muzan's reign over this world. And Nezuko-chan." The spirit grinned, strange marking almost moving as he leaned against the tree with his arms crossed.

Nezuko listened, her eyes focused on the tree. She could make out every individual leaf, every branch and flicker of life-flame that had once danced around its branches. She knew this poor soul was a Rengoku, but not the same as the one she knew now. Her only hope was that maybe, someday... someday this boy could move on properly.

To have the support of such a wonderful family, full of good, full of flame and light... She was truly blessed. Maybe she could do it. Maybe she could cut the tree down.

"I believe you're the one to do it. I can see your heart. I can see your strength. Never doubt yourself or the swing of your sword. Take your stance." The spirit ordered suddenly, walking behind her and gently grasping her wrists for her to grab her weapon.

"I will guide you."

Almost instinctively, her body moved into position. She drew her blade, the silvery nichirin seeming to flicker deep crimson red for a moment.

Nezuko's rose eyes narrowed. Taking a deep, calming breath, it extended out, flames fanning out from her lips.

"Flame Breathing, First Form... Shiranui."

The spirit felt the girl light up and watched as the nichirin of her katana glowed a fiery red. He closed his eyes and smiled, because for a moment it was as if he were alive once more. That he could witness such an event and feel the way the very wind ignited from the girl's breath.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed a scorch mark upon the bark, and at first his face fell. Oh... was it possible... he had been wrong? He clenched his jaw and set a hand on the girl's shoulder...

And then he watched the rope of the tree fall with a slice... and then he heard a great groan from the tree above. The spirit gasped when the tree slowly slid to one side and achingly whined before falling so hard the entire forest floor shook under its magnificent weight. Not one splinter to be had. A perfectly clean cut...

Exhaling, the girl stared in shock. Her eyes were wide, almost impossibly so. She had half expected the tree not to fall, that she would have to try again and again until it did. Her blade hadn’t broken. So, she succeeded…

“I…. I did it.” Nezuko breathed, almost as if she didn’t believe it. Then she smiled. That smile became a wide grin, and she threw her arms in the air, whooping out loud in her joy.

Jumping around, she laughed, turning to look at the spirit.

“We did it, Rengoku-san, we—!!” But when her eyes opened…

The forest was clear. Only the lit lanterns and whisper of the wind remained, as well as the scent of smoke.

In fact, what the girl witnessed was the spirit's flame finally coming to rest. A spirit that had been holding on to find the perfect one to undertake a massive burden... It would be the one named Kamado Nezuko.

The massive tree would slowly begin to burn, yet not one leaf of the trees that surrounded it caught fire, nor the grass, the dried twigs or brush underneath. Nothing. The flame would be warm, not scorching. For a flame must be tended to be kept control of.

With the smoke rising through the forest, Kyojuro looked up from his spot on the back porch of the estate to gaze upon what had happened. And a sigh of relief sounded from his lips. He then smiled...

"She did it."

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Final Selection 1

             “Kamado-shoujo, demons cannot be killed by normal means. Their sole weak spot is their necks… And even then, they cannot be killed by a normal blade. A demon slayer’s sword is made from a special material… Nichirin.” Rengoku’s voice was the sole sound in the room, minus the clipping of scissors. Nezuko carefully measured each length of her own raven hair, making sure the ends were evenly trimmed. While it wasn’t the best, she needed it out of the way in battle.

             Quietly, she remembered her mother’s fingers working through her long hair. The sensation was ghost-like, so familiar but so far. Only one of those pink ribbons remained now.

             Said ribbon was brought up once the scissors were placed down, sectioning her bangs so they could be properly parted. The one side was tied back with the pink ribbon… And at last, Nezuko’s appearance had been changed significantly.

             Rengoku Kyojuro gazed at his student, his usual bright smile softening a bit. He had congratulated Nezuko grandly when she returned from his final exam, but the teaching didn’t end here. No, any good swordsman would continue to learn and grow even after they had left their sensei.

             “Are you listening, Kamado-shoujo?” The man questioned.

             “Yes sir!” Nezuko piped, hands quickly flying to rest politely on her lap. Her face screwed up in fiery determination, rapt with attention. Rengoku chuckled.

             “Your hair is fine, Nezuko. I doubt it will get in the way now.”

             Yes, but it had been years since her hair was this long. Probably not since she was very small. It was traditional and fashionable for women to grow their hair out long, to keep good care of it so it seemed to be made of the finest ebony, even if she was a poor charcoal seller’s daughter. She could just imagine the look on Tanjirou’s face once he saw what had been done to her poor hair.

             “It’s just another sacrifice for my Onii-chan. I don’t mind.” Nezuko smiled. “I’m a demon slayer now, it’s safer if demons can’t grab my hair.”

             “Not a demon slayer yet, Kamado-shoujo!” Rengoku corrected, arms crossed over his chest per usual. He stared down at the young girl, their fiery temperaments easily knocking and melding with one another. Though, Nezuko didn’t argue. She held her tongue and just laughed.

             “I know. Thank you for taking such good care of me and my brother, Rengoku-sensei.”

             Rengoku’s expression grew fond, soft. His energy burned with a slight tinge of pink. Softness that bloomed despite the warnings he had made against the Kamado siblings. Yes, even for his values and duty to the Corps, Rengoku was fond of his tsuguko. One day, the Flame Hashira title could be passed on to her.

             Gathering the last of her things, Nezuko fixed the fox mask to her head. Urokodaki-sensei had given it to her almost a year ago now, carved to protect her from demons and bad luck. Even if she wasn’t under the tutelage of the retired Water Hashira anymore, Urokodaki’s morals and physical training had left a long standing impact on the girl.

             “Alright. I’m ready.” Placing her satchel over her body, Nezuko turned over her shoulder to smile at Kyojuro. “I’ll be back, Rengoku-sensei!”

             Rengoku smiled quietly. “I know you will, Kamado Nezuko.”

             By the time Nezuko had reached Mount Fujikasane, it was already nightfall. To her surprise and delight, as well as confusion, the base of the mountain was surrounded by thick trees of blooming wisteria.

             Delicately, her hand lifted, cupping the blossoms that hung from the trees like descending spiders. The scent was a delicate perfume, and she could only imagine how overpowering it would smell to her sensitive twin.

             (When you become a human again, Onii-chan, maybe I’ll take you here to see the wisteria blossoms.)

             At the very top of the mountain cliff was a clearing. Nezuko’s rose eyes widened in shock at the sight of what seemed like thirty or more kids her age. All of them had their own nichirin swords, some still dirty and bruised from their training. She could spy a boy with an ugly scar on his face, along with a strange blonde boy who had the aura of a shaking dog. Nearby, a strange girl in pink stood, playing with a butterfly. Strangely, her aura was completely still.

             Though, Nezuko didn’t have any time to think about the strange children around her. Her attention was immediately drawn to the twin girls standing at the entrance to the mountain forest. One was white haired, the other with black. Their eyes were the same almost dull dark color, their kimonos were patterned with wisteria and purple swirls. Carrying lanterns, it was easy for everyone to feel captivated by their presence… and willing to hear their instructions.

             “Welcome to the Final Selection.” Strangely, the twins spoke in unison, voices so similar it was like they spoke with one voice, just layered in volumes.

             “Mount Fujisakane holds demons that the Demon Slayer Corps have captured and taken alive. The wisteria acts as a natural deterrent… However, they are only blooming on the outside of the mountain. Past this tori gate, you will have nothing to protect you.”

             The swordsmen-children quietly whispered to one another. Nezuko swallowed a lump in her throat.

             “To pass Final Selection, you must survive in these woods for seven days. Now go.” The twins gestured with their lanterns and stepped away from the tori gate entrance.

             Nezuko took a deep, calming breath. Eyebrows furrowed, she nodded, then lunged into the forest with the rest of her test takers.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: A Mountain of Hands

             “Oi, oi! See that girlie over there? She’s mine!”

             Nezuko swallowed, coming to a harsh halt, dirt kicked up by her sandals. Right before her, coming fast, were two shoddily dressed demons. One had a sickle growing out of its arm, the other covered in terrible boils and bulging veins.

             (Already… Two demons. Out of nowhere, too. Can I defeat them?) Her thoughts were spiraling, but just like her teacher had taught her, Nezuko took a deep breath, orange flames fanning out from her lips as her sword was readied.

             (The Closing Thread… If I watch the demon’s spirit flame, I can see it shiver when my opening is clear. I just need to follow it with my sword.)

             “Here we come, little girl!” The demons cackled, hands outstretched, claws shining in the moonlight. Nezuko felt the world begin to drag on slowly, her eyes focused on that glow of wine-red crimson all demons had… Corrupting their souls.

             The souls shivered. Nezuko’s eyes flashed. (I see it!)

             Flame Breathing, Fourth Form: Blooming Flame Undulation!

             The sword connected. Nezuko watched as flames spun in a blooming curve, right through the necks of the demons she had sped past with her powerful legs in motion with her blade’s slash. Near immediately, the demon’s bodies crumbled, burning away into ash.

             Nezuko smiled bright, her breathing a little uneven, a laugh riding upon the pant of one breath within her warm chest. “I did it… I really did it! The training helped… It worked. I’m stronger now.” Wiping a tear from her cheek, she set off deeper into the woods, not daring to stop for one moment.

             An immediate sense of foreboding filled the air. Nezuko stopped, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck begin to stand on end. Whatever kind of demon was here… It was the most dangerous one out of them all. It would be best to try and avoid it, if she could help it…

             A scream tore through the air. Nezuko’s head whipped around, watching as a young boy came running towards her, his eyes so wild with panic it seemed almost primal. He couldn’t even get out what was chasing him, just the words “demon” and “hands.”

             It didn’t take long for the girl to see what the boy had meant, because thundering right behind him was a mountain of disfigured arms and hands… All attached to the same mound of putrid green flesh. Two off-yellow eyes flashed at them, and a hand came rushing out to snatch the boy by his leg.

             “NOOOOO! HELP MEEEEE!” The boy’s screams were almost like those of a baby, high pitched. Nezuko’s mind was assaulted with the images of her brothers… They must have screamed just as loud when Muzan attacked them. It was all too easy to envision Shigeru’s little body dangling in the air by his leg.

             Flame Breathing, Second Form: Rising Scorching Sun!

             Just like many times before, Nezuko operated on pure adrenaline and rage. Her sword slashed, flames forming a straight up curve. The Hand Demon’s arm was sliced clean off, releasing the poor boy that had very nearly become his dinner.

             Nezuko looked over at the boy briefly, giving him a small smile. Then, it turned stony, glaring right up at the Hand Demon.

             The demon’s yellow eyes rolled around furiously, before suddenly stopping, staring right at Nezuko’s head. More specifically, the warding mask Urokodaki had given her.

             “Ahhh… Another one of my little foxes has come to me at last~” The demon’s hands closest to his mouth rose up closer, as if he were covering his mouth to hide a giggle. But Nezuko heard it all too well, her blood running cold.

             “What the hell are you talking about?” Nezuko demanded, all at once remembering that Urokodaki-sensei had convinced her to take the mask because he had given one to each of his students before. She counted as one of his own, even if she did not finish her training under him.

             “Answer me this first, Fox Girl.” The Hand Demon shivered. “What emperor sits upon the throne? Another Meiji?” Nezuko stared up at him with disgust and confusion in equal measure.

             “The imperial family’s name is Taishou. Why does it matter?”

             The Hand Demon gave a great shiver, like a mountain about to go through an earthquake. A shriek of rage flew from the demon in such volume that Nezuko nearly had to cover her ears out of instinct to protect them.

             “I HAVE BEEN HERE LONG ENOUGH FOR DYNASTIES TO RISE AND FALL! ALL BECAUSE OF HIM! DAMN UROKODAKI!! CURSE HIM! CURSE HIM!!”

             Nezuko’s throat clenched. “How do you know Uro- “

             “UROKODAKI SOKONJI IS THE MAN WHO CAPTURED ME 57 YEARS AGO!” The demon roared, eyes rolling around with disdain. “Back when he was still a demon slayer… In the Keio era!!”

             “You’re lying!” Nezuko suddenly remembered the poor boy behind her, who had screamed then that he couldn’t believe it. After all, demons brought here were weak and fresh, often only being taken a year or two before. They ate one another if they weren’t killed by the Demon Slayers who came to test the Selection.

             “Yet here I am.” The Hand Demon smiled, though neither human could see his many sharp teeth, protected by his hands and arms wrapped protectively around his neck. “I have eaten 50 of you brats by now!”

             (“Remember, Kamado-shoujo. You can tell how many humans a demon has eaten by how strong it is. The size of their flame grows with them. They gain strange abilities or even change in appearance! You must learn how to perceive their power, or you will never have the upper hand!”)

Nezuko remembered her teacher’s advice, and she swallowed back the urge to fly at the demon in her rage over how many innocent lives had been lost.

“Hmmm….” The Hand Demon looked down at the girl quizzically, before his fingers began to fold in, as if he were counting in his head. “Ah, yes. You are number 14, little fox girl.”

“14…?” The Kamado daughter responded, knowing almost instantly that there was no good reason to celebrate being a number counted by a demon at all.

“I have killed 13 of Urokodaki’s students. I have decided as revenge for him imprisoning me here, I would kill each and every one of his little fox students. Though, you remind me of the 2 I will never forget… A boy with peach hair and a scar by his mouth… A little girl with a flower kimono who was so fast but not strong at all…”

Nezuko had never met these students of Urokodaki. The teacher had never even mentioned them. Yet she felt rage at the base of her soul, burning hotter and higher with every second the damn demon flapped his gums. Her hands shook holding the handle of her nichirin blade, sweat pouring down her face from the surge of Flame that bloomed within her.

“I can always tell who was taught by Urokodaki because of the masks he carves… The same way he carved that Tengu mask, he carved his little ‘warding masks’ to protect his students. As if he marked them for the slaughter! Hee hee!” The Hand Demon giggled. “When I told the flower girl that, oh, she was enraged, she cried so bitterly. But that was her undoing. I ripped off her arms and legs as she cried and then ate her up too~”

“Enough.” Nezuko’s voice boomed. The light had left her eyes completely. Only rage lived there now, burning so terribly that her breathing became uneven thanks to her emotional explosion.

Her sword moved without much flame at all, merely fueled by her anger, by her grief and pain over such injustice being done to helpless children. Hands and limbs of the demon were sliced away, but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid the sudden column of appendages that came zooming at her.

”Fast, but not fast enough, Fox girl, even with your strange Breathing Style!” The Hand Demon cackled. He had never seen one of Urokodaki’s students use Flame, but his hatred and hunger made it more important at the moment to attack Nezuko.

As her head and body smacked against a tree, her vision exploded into stars. She could smell blood. The mask had broken into numerous pieces of splintered white wood, laying in a pile around her bleeding head.

(“WAKE UP, ONEE-CHAN!!”) A voice that wasn’t her own, youthful and shrill, ringing in her dazed brain. Crimson eyes stared pleadingly, full of tears, before the darkness took them away.

(Shigeru?)

Nezuko’s eyes snapped open. Just in time, she rolled away from a large malformed demon hand coming for her body. The mask shards were further smashed into smithereens… A foretelling of the strength that could have smashed her body into a pulp if she hadn’t moved.

No matter how many hands she sliced away, the demon just kept growing more. The crimson spirit she sensed wasn’t shivering at all. But because she was looking, she watched as it formed suddenly underground…

Nezuko’s powerful legs came in handy, catapulting herself into the air and narrowly avoiding the hands that exploded from the ground. The second one of them came for her from another angle… Her leg lashed out, kicking it with such force it stiffened and slammed to the ground.

No more hands were coming. Nezuko was high enough now she could reach the Hand Demon’s neck… Harder and more protected than any demon’s neck she had cut yet.

But Nezuko had felled the great tree belonging to the Rengoku clan… The hardest tree any of the Rengoku students had ever sliced before!

Flame Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire!

The blade was engulfed in roaring flames, the sconces of her family altar flaming within her mind. Swift and powerful, nichirin met demon flesh, and it was over. The Hand Demon’s head fell to the forest floor, Nezuko landing beside it as his body burned away into ash.

             Despite the anger she had felt over the demon, Nezuko couldn’t help feeling… Just a twinge of pity. Her powers were always strange, being able to glimpse the dead and the color of peoples’ souls.

             Even now, she could visualize the fleeting images of the demon’s past life as a human, dancing over its soul as the corruption burned at itself like the sun eating the night sky. The Hand Demon had been a little brother, once, and had killed his own brother…

             Staring at the demon’s outstretched hand, Nezuko gently took it. While she couldn’t outright forgive him… She could at least keep him company as his brother’s spirit took him down to Hell.

             The demon faded, leaving only the briefest color of humanity and sadness. Nezuko looked up at the moon, taking a deep, calming breath. Centering herself.

             (Those children Urokodaki-sensei so lovingly taught… They can go home now. They can return to Sagiri Mountain, to the old man who thought of them as his children. Someday, if they’re reborn… I hope it’s in a world without demons.)

             If she had died… Her spirit probably would have returned to Rengoku-sensei and her twin brother. But that didn’t matter now. She still had several nights left to survive, to kill demons and try to protect any other humans she came across.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Final Selection Summit

             Seven days had passed. Somehow, Nezuko had found the courage and willpower to survive.

             In the early morning light, she came back to that clearing at the mountain top. The scent of wisteria greeted her, as well as the sight of the strange purple clad twins with lanterns before the red tori gates.

             (Wait. No way.) Nezuko’s jaw dropped, head whipping this way and that as she took count of the bodies standing around.

             (It’s just me… And three others. That’s it. Only four out of almost thirty swordsmen survived the mountain… And I don’t see that boy I rescued the first night. So, he must have… Oh gods.)

             “Welcome back. We’re glad you returned safely.” The twins bowed, smiling with their painted lips.

             “Doesn’t matter. Even though I survived, I’m gonna die.” The strange blonde kid was mumbling to himself, his aura tinged white with pure fear. Beside him, the strange pink garbed girl just stared at the flowers, pale hand reaching to allow a butterfly to perch there. Her smile was eerily calm and blank, and she barely had any scratches on her. Her clothes weren’t even that dirty.

             (My gods.) Nezuko had to admit that was kind of impressive.

             The scar face boy scowled. “Okay, so what now? Where’s my katana?”

             “First, we will give you your Corps uniforms. We’ll take your measurements and engrave your rank. Those clothes will be delivered to you once they are finished.” The white-haired twin began.

             “There are ten ranks in total. Mizunoto, Mizunoe, Kanoto, Kanoe, Tsuchinoto, Tsuchinoe, Hinoto, Hinoe, Kinoto, and Kinoe. Right now, you are all the bottom rank of Mizunoto.” The raven-haired twin finished. Nezuko remembered this from Rengoku’s training, explaining the ranks and the formation of the Corps long ago.

             “Where’s my katana?” The scar-faced boy asked again, impatiently.

             “Today you will choose the ore for your sword. It will take up to two weeks for the swords to be finished. Then, we will assign you a Kasugai crow.” The white-haired girl clapped her hands.

             Nezuko gasped as four birds alighted as if from nowhere. Three crows, one a small woodland sparrow. The crows went to every child present… The sparrow went to the blonde boy, who looked confused and distraught.

             “The crows are responsible for communication between the slayers and headquarters. They are responsible for giving you your demon slaying missions.”

             Nezuko smiled, reaching up a finger to scratch her crow’s feathery neck. But she didn’t get a chance to, because one of the crows gave a shriek of pain and surprise. Her head whipped around (perhaps a bit too quick for her head injury) to see the scar-face boy had smacked his crow off his shoulder in rage.

             Reaching out, the boy snatched ahold of the white-haired twin’s hair, shouting in her face.

             “I don’t care about damn Kasugai crows! Where’s my katana?! My color changing nichirin katana?! Give it to me now!” The boy was about to continue shouting, but Nezuko had grabbed ahold of the arm attached to the hand holding the wisteria girl’s hair.

             “Let go of her.” Nezuko growled. “If you don’t, I’ll break your arm.”

             “Who the hell are you?” The boy snarled. “Just try it!”

             Nezuko applied pressure and pulled. The arm of the attacker snapped audibly, causing the owner of said appendage to hiss out a curse in his pain. He stared at Nezuko in dismay and anger, but she just glared at him back, flames burning in rose eyes that very clearly showed she was ready to brawl here if necessary.

             “Have you finished talking?” The black-haired child asked. Nezuko and everyone present looked over. “Come over here and choose the nichirin ore you desire for your sword. The sword that will slay demons and protect you.”

             The Kamado girl nodded, looking over the ore. She couldn’t tell what was different in each of them, and wondered if Tanjirou had been here, if he would have been able to tell which was better. Ultimately, she just went with her gut and picked up the piece before her.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: Welcome Home.

             The walk back to the Rengoku Estate took long into the day. It easily could have been shorter, if not for the weariness and soreness of her body. Nezuko had to use an old branch to keep herself upright. The bandages around her head felt sticky, uncomfortable. Pieces of her hair stuck to her face. Her clothes were dirty.

             Yet she kept going, knowing that if she stopped, she wouldn’t be able to move again for several days.

             Finally, as the sun set, the warmly lit gates of the Rengoku Estate welcomed her. Nezuko gave a gasp of relief.

“RENGOKU-SENSEIIII!” She called out. Trying the door, she saw it was open, which never happened. Did Rengoku know she was coming home today? Pushing open the heavy door, she hobbled her way inside the estate and towards the main house. Where was everyone?

“I’M BACK!” Nezuko tried again, voice cracking as she shouted.

The doors to the main building slammed open, the door falling to the engawa porch with a loud THUD. Nezuko gaped in shock, watching as a familiar red head appeared in the yard.

It was Tanjirou. He was awake, walking along the stones of the front garden, hands waving by his sides as if he were merely going for an evening stroll. His hair was still disheveled, but someone had tied it back into a ponytail.

“ONII-CHAN?!” The Kamado girl shrieked. Tanjirou turned to look at her, his ruby eyes widening and seeming to glow in the fading light of the night.

“YOU’RE AWAKE?! WHAT THE HELL, TANJIROU-!!” Nezuko began to run, desperate to reach her twin. But instead of making it, her usually strong legs, worn from travel and battle, gave out on her in the middle of her run. She collapsed to her knees, hissing in pain.

“ONII-CHAN!” Lifting her head, she was about to move… Only for Tanjirou to come at her full speed, his arms spread open wide. She couldn’t even blink before his warmth surrounded her, embracing her so tightly that her head was smushed to his shoulder. He kept adjusting his grip, as if he was afraid she would disappear if he didn’t hold on.

Nezuko sobbed brokenly. All the fear, all the anguish and the pain of the past week finally broke through the thin walls she had set up. Tears streamed down her dirtied and bloodied cheeks, dropping into that familiar checkered haori, and staining it dark. But she didn’t care. She cried as if her heart would break, clinging to her twin brother like a lifeline.

“I WAS SO SCARED, ONII-CHAN! YOU DIDN’T WAKE UP FOR SO LONG!” Burying her face into his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent of charcoal and sunlight filled summer grass. Tanjirou didn’t let go.

Even when both of their bodies were scooped up by a pair of incredibly strong arms. Laughter filled the air, loud and cackling. Nezuko lifted her head enough to see that it was Kyojuro who had picked them up, swinging both of them side to side as if they weighed nothing.

“MY BELOVED TSUGUKO! YOU HAVE RETURNED TO US ALIVE!! JUST LIKE I KNEW YOU WOULD! WAHAHAHA!!”

“Aniue!!” Senjuro’s voice piped in, the littlest Rengoku hurrying over and fussing over how his big brother was holding their friends. “Y-You should put them down! I-It’s late and they’re probably tired—Nezuko must be, I—"

Nezuko smiled through her tears, giggling. Then that giggling became louder, laughing harder than she had in days. She tilted her head back, arms wrapping around her brother and Rengoku.

For the first time in years, hope burned in her heart. She wasn’t alone and she was stronger than she ever had been before.

Chapter Text

Taisho Secret! Did you know? Even though Rengoku-san, the Flame Hashira, can see the flame of everyone's souls, he cannot see ghosts like Nezuko can! Maybe it's because he focuses on the big picture rather than small details...?

Now, for a bonus secret- Tanjirou woke up!

It was night time when the demon boy woke up. Despite having slept for two years, he still felt sleepy, as if he hadn't finished what he was doing in the first place. Like his body was still trying to get ready for some big event, and had only got maybe the first portion finished in that time.

Tanjirou slowly opened his ruby eyes, rough clawed hands lifting to rub at his eyes to get any sleep crust away. He yawned, mouth wide and nearly overtaking his bamboo muzzle, before closing back over the smooth material.

He didn't recognize this place. The smell was... Slightly familiar. Like maybe he had almost awakened earlier and took a deep breath through his nose.

Though, what he could smell was that his twin sister, Nezuko, was gone. Her scent was stale, but maybe only several hours old. She had left the estate. But to where?

Sitting bolt upright, he looked around, nose audibly sniffing around as he followed the path his sister had made before leaving for Selection.

Slayers were no strangers to being up in the odd hours of the night, and even though he hadn't become a slayer due to his... lack of breath, Senjuro was sometimes awake with his older brother to keep him company. He'd also gotten back into this habit because Tanjiro, Nezuko's demon brother, was asleep in his room. Honestly, he was a bit frightened at the idea of... waking up to a snarling demon above him, wanting a meal after so long of sleep that he'd started to read stories to Tanjirou.

To aid his mind and hopefully keep him calm upon waking up. Senjuro, in fact, was picking out a story when he heard rustling in his futon. When he padded to his room, he saw Tanjirou was awake... and he took a moment to pause...

Rose eyes. That... glowed...

Senjuro blinked and steeled himself with a hand at his bedroom door.

Tanjirou could smell something. Oh. His eyes lit up in recognition. That smell… like the wood and hairs of an animal made into a broom, like cooking and cleaning materials, all tinged with ash. Also… the scent of fear.

The demon boy blinked. He hummed in thought. How could he make the boy feel safer? After all, this was the boy that had sat with him so many times before. That was where he knew the scent from.

Tanjirou thought long and hard. Then he remembered his siblings, how cute they had been as younger children. Maybe if he shrunk down to that size, he wouldn’t seem so frightening?

And so, screwing up his eyebrows in concentration, Tanjirou began to shrink until his clothes hung off his body, appearing maybe 5 years old now.

He lightly scratched at Senjuro’s door before slightly peeking through the gap. He hummed quietly, questioningly.

Senjuro's wild brows shot up and his eyes went wide before...

"Ooooh... Tanjirou...kun." Senjuro spoke as he watched Tanjirou shrink down to the size of a tiny child and crouched down to meet his little eyes. Well... his big... little eyes.

"You want out? I-- Well... I don't think it could hurt... Chichioya-san won't bother you. He's asleep. Come on!" Senjuro was actually kind of excited now that Tanjirou was awake. He'd told Kyojuro that he was going to try and make sure the demon boy would never feel the want to harm another human, but instead to love humans as if they were all his family... He really hoped it worked since all the stories he'd read as a child were so nice and filled his chest with so much warmth... that it distracted him from the pain of not hearing his mama's voice telling them to him after a while.

"Aniue!!" Senjuro shouted almost at max volume much like his brother did when he was excited about something. The Rengoku passions ran deep, even in the timidest of them. "Tanjirou-kun's awake!!"

Tanjirou didn’t necessarily want to leave yet, so to speak! He was on the hunt for his twin sister. He could smell her scent lingering in the air, and the longer he waited, the less of it would be fresh to him.

Though… as a demon, would it be easier to hang onto old scents?

The little demon looked up at Senjuro, tilting his head. His long crimson hair fell along his shoulders and down his chest, making him look like a little lion in too big clothes. He raised a hand to try and brush it out of his eyes.

He didn’t have a lot of time to think about it, because suddenly Senjuro was yelling, asking for his big brother. Oh? Would Tanjirou get to meet the big brother? He could vaguely remember the stories including him in Senjuro’s readings.

Kyojuro had been sitting on the edge of the porch as he sometimes did when he wished to reflect on his thoughts of the day. He heard Senjuro's voice, and it snapped him out of his thoughts... Only for him to realize what it meant. Tanjirou was... awake?

Immediately Kyojuro made his way down the halls and saw that his brother was correct... But Tanjirou was much smaller than Kyojuro remembered him being. What?

"He shrunk down because he knew I was... a-a little scared--" Senjuro gulped a bit but then turned to lightly set his hand on Tanjirou's shoulder. "B-But! He's awake now. I think he's looking for Kamado-chan."

Kyojuro knelt down in front of the young demon and met his eyes. Despite it all... there was that tinge of red within Tanjirou's soul around the very edges of a bright, flickering aura. This made him smile. So when he was awake that flame was much brighter, hm? That made him happy.

"Are you, Kamado-shonen? Are you looking for your sister?"

The little demon peered up at Kyojuro, before looking at Senjuro. Then back to Kyojuro. Wow. And he thought he looked like the carbon image of his father? The Rengoku brothers were practically identical.

Tanjirou hummed, reaching up to gently take Senjuro's hand. He placed it on his head with a "humph," moving it back and forth to try and show that he wanted to be pet, please.

Though, at the mention of his sister, he perked, nodding affirmatively to Rengoku-san. Yes, he needed to know where Nezuko was! It was his responsibility to care for her, to protect her!

Senjuro felt his hand get grabbed and watched Tanjirou go through the motions of petting. Ah. Like a sweet dog.

Kyojuro just chuckled when Tanjirou perked up with Senjuro gently petting his head.

"She is not here, but do not worry. She will return to you in three days’ time." Kyojuro had been counting the days and had faith Nezuko would return to him and her brother. And Senjuro.

"Aniue-- What if father wakes up?" Senjuro suddenly asked, very fearful at the idea of his father's instincts taking over...

"He is in a constant state of being drunk. He will not harm Tanjirou. We will hide him as we always have in your room."

The only reason Shinjuro had never found Tanjirou was that the demon boy's spirit was so soft it was almost nonexistent when he slept.

Tanjirou pouted when told his sister would be away for even longer. Three whole days? Where was she? It wasn't safe for her to be out there alone. She couldn't use any weapons! All she had was the knife they took from their house... And somehow, he knew deep down that a little knife wouldn't kill a demon.

Regardless, he stayed put, sitting there with his eyes covered by a wine-red haze. He didn't seem all there, even if he was moving and interacting a bit.

The demon child was reserving his energy. Already, he was starting to feel sleepy again. Nodding his head, eyelids drooping.

"Senjuro," Kyojuro quietly called to his brother who was still petting the demon boy. "Take him back to your room. The sun will rise soon." Kyojuro then crossed his arms and smiled. "That means it will only be two days before your sister returns."

Senjuro smiled a bit and then lightly took Tanjirou by his small shoulders to help him back to the futon in the middle of the room.

"Ne-- I can read you another story to help you sleep, if you'd like, Tanjirou-kun." Senjuro smiled.

Tanjirou just yawned, nodding quietly. As much as he wanted to stay awake to try and see his sister come home, he had a feeling it might take some time. After all, he could trust these flame scented boys…

Deep down, he could sense a great flame of justice burning in the elder one’s very core. Rengoku Kyojuro seemed like a man that Tanjirou would want to get to know one day. The man had taken care of Nezuko, after all…

Senjuro smiled warmly, only to blink rapidly as Tanjirou’s clawed hand took hold of his hand. The demon child remained small, waddling in his trailing now much-too-big clothes, before almost flopping onto the futon and crawling back under the covers. Once his red head popped back up, he was back to his normal size, eyes half lidded and sleepy.

The youngest Rengoku son couldn’t help but sigh, feeling as if he was dealing with someone younger than him, even though according to his big brother, Tanjirou was his age. Almost 15.

As Tanjirou began to drift between wakefulness and sleep, he didn’t let go of Senjuro’s hand. He held on, and Senjuro found that his hand was one of the warmest he had ever felt. Like Kyojuro’s… But different. Like he was basking in sunlight rather than the warm embers of a furnace.

“I will be out in the courtyard. Do not hesitate to shout if you need me, Senjuro.” Kyojuro spoke from the doorway, and Senjuro turned over his shoulder, looking much calmer than his elder brother could remember seeing him look in quite some time.

“I’ll be fine, Aniue. Tanjirou-kun’s already asleep. Maybe I’ll take a nap too.” Giggling quietly, he returned to the spread-out children’s books they had brought in from the city.

Kyojuro chuckled to himself. As he began his quiet walk down the hall and back to the courtyard, he couldn’t help feeling that it wasn’t just Nezuko that had made a positive impact on the brothers… But even for his brief inclusion to the Corps, Tanjirou had accomplished something incredibly rare and special…

He had made Senjuro smile.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: Nichirin

Nezuko sighed, sitting up slowly. Beside her, she could feel Tanjirou adjust, rustling under the futon cover as if he were a nesting rabbit. The girl smiled gently, reaching down to run her fingers through the demon’s crimson hair.

It was then that her brother made a strange sound, one she had never, ever heard before from any human… Though, she had to remind herself that her twin wasn’t a human anymore. Weird occurrences were bound to happen.

But Tanjirou… Was purring. Like a cat. It was cute, but the sudden sound had startled the girl so badly that her hand retreated quickly, strands of hair coming out and sticking up in the air wildly from their disturbance. Her demon brother grumbled in annoyance and disappointment, before emerging from the blankets just enough that his ruby eyes were visible. His eyebrows furrowed in dismay.

“Sorry, Onii-chan.” Nezuko whispered, righting her wrong by returning to petting her twin’s head. Almost immediately, his expression melted to one of comfort, eyes sliding shut as that strange sound left his chest once more.

The sound unearthed a memory that the girl had long thought forgotten. The time she and Tanjirou had found a starving kitten out in town, back when their father was alive and well enough to bring the charcoal down with the wooden cart. She could recall the feeling of the kitten’s soft fur, the sensation of a tiny body vibrating. Her father had smiled and explained the sound meant the kitty was happy… It was thanking them for feeding it and showing it love. One day, that good deed would be paid forward.

(“Who knows,” Otou-san had shrugged, “The little guy could have been a kami in disguise.”)

The world of gods and yokai demons had felt like fantasy then, but plausible. After all, they prayed to Hinokami-sama every year for good fortune.

As Nezuko soothed her twin, she wondered if the gods really were watching over them. Did Hinokami-sama protect them? Was that why they had lived when their entire family had not…?

Thankfully, before her mind could spiral into darkness, the bedroom door slid open. Tanjirou skittered deeper under the covers to avoid any daylight, creating a visible lump in the futon.

“Oh… Sorry, Tanjirou-kun, Nezuko-san.” Senjuro murmured, his hands laid politely on the wooden floor, little body knelt in the doorway.

“It’s okay, Senjuro-kun.” Nezuko waved it off, turning her body more properly. Her head ached a little, but the bandages covering up her new scar had lessened in amount and thickness. Soon enough, it would be completely healed. “What’s the matter?”

“There’s a visitor here to see you.” Senjuro responded. Nezuko blinked, confused. Who would want to see her?

As they walked towards the front of the estate, Nezuko reached out with her still sleepy senses to try and ascertain who was at the front door. The aura was completely unfamiliar, but it didn’t feel malicious.

Senjuro opened the heavy doors to the estate, gesturing with his arm for the visitor to come in.

It was a man in a very wide brimmed woven hat. Dangling from the rim of the hat were individual wind-chimes, prayers of protection written on the end of each chime’s ringer. But what was most strange about the man was the mask completely obscuring his face… It was a Noh theater mask!

Nezuko did her best not to gawk. The masks she had seen during festivals in the mountain village of her youth looked like repurposed Noh masks, expressive and carved with comical expressions. This one resembled a man blowing out the side of his mouth like a tea kettle.

The man was carrying a very long wooden box, mumbling about nichirin and the process that went into forging the sun-kissed material into blades. But the young swordswoman wasn’t paying one bit of attention. No, she was still so incredibly baffled by the appearance of the visitor…

Senjuro seemed to sense this, and leaning in, he whispered into his friend’s ear. “He’s a swordsmith. He’s brought you the blade made from the ore you picked at Final Selection.”

Nezuko’s rose eyes widened. “Oh!”

“Is Rengoku-sama in?” The masked man asked, tilting his head slightly, chimes jingling merrily.

“Yes, I’ll go fetch him.” Senjuro nodded, smiling briefly at Nezuko before trotting off on impossibly light feet into the estate halls.

Not long after, Rengoku-sensei had arrived. He greeted the swordsmith warmly, patted him on the back, complimented his interesting hat. “You know, my mother kept wind chimes all over the engawa when we were small…!”

Nezuko came to learn that the swordsmith’s name was Haganezuka Hotaru, and he was assigned as her sword maker for the rest of her time as a demon slayer. Every slayer had their own sword maker, which meant that each individual slayer had their own unique blade with which to hunt demons.

As they sat in the warm seating room of the estate, Senjuro served tea, though, it seemed like Haganezuka wasn’t interested in pleasantries. No, he was incredibly excited to see Nezuko open the package containing her blade.

“I hope to see a brilliant red blade,” The swordsmith chirped. “I have not seen a child of Brightness in a very long time…”

“A child of what?” Nezuko cocked her head, brows furrowed and thrown upwards. “I’m a child of Kamado… Kamado Tanjurou and Kie.”

“Your eyes.” Haganezuka explained, “And your earrings. Your bloodline has worked with charcoal and fire for many centuries, yes? Then you are blessed with incredibly good fortune. Your blade may change to crimson!”

“Oh.” Nezuko’s hand subconsciously lifted, remembering that she still had the Hanafuda earrings. Both. She had gotten so used to wearing them for 2 years, the thought of their existence had slipped her mind. Before setting out, it would be wise to give them back to Tanjirou.

“I, for one, am very excited to see your sword change color, young Kamado!” Rengoku suddenly piped, beaming. His hawk-eyes shined with a spark that Nezuko hadn’t seen since the last time they trained together.

“Well, guess I better open it.” Nezuko mused aloud, opening the box containing her sword. The katana was silver, just like the one Kyojuro had given her to use in Final Selection. The difference was that the hand guard was a carved out wheel of black… Like an artistically carved piece of charcoal. The girl smiled slightly, chest warming at the sight.

Carefully, she lifted the blade, holding it up in the air. Everyone present leaned in, waiting…

A gasp left the swordswoman as the blade rapidly began changing color, from tip to base. But it turned black  as night… Rather than red or even crimson like they all were expecting.

“Black…” Rengoku muttered. Senjuro looked away, his aura visibly disappointed and even a little like the deep blue of grief. But why?

“I-Is that bad?!” Nezuko yelped, rapidly looking from adult to adult, worry blooming within her stomach as fast as dry grass and tinder.

“Not necessarily!!” Rengoku bellowed. “Not many swordsmen with black katana make it far in demon slaying! It is quite rare!”

“You’ll be fine, Nezuko-san…” Senjuro turned around, ready to comfort his friend, who was still a bit confused and overwhelmed.

But then the swordsmith Haganezuka shrieked like a demon. His body contorted, and like a toddler having a tantrum, began to slam his fists and feet into the floor. He carried on and on about wanting to see a crimson blade just once, and this felt like such a cruel prank—

“STOP ALL THAT DAMN CARRYING ON!!” A shout exploded through the house. Haganezuka stopped. Kyojuro stiffened. Senjuro seemed to shrink into himself, having flinched terribly. Nezuko felt her throat go sour.

Silence. Everyone waited with bated breath for the stomping of drunken enraged footsteps, or some sort of sign that they were in trouble. Instead, something glass shattered far away. The man cursed again, but that was all.

Nezuko watched as each Rengoku son let go of a held breath. There was something terribly wrong about seeing such brave, kind people so afraid. Even if Kyojuro’s aura as more sad than afraid, it tore the Kamado daughter to pieces. It wasn’t right.

In the awkward silence, the Rengoku brothers managed to urge Haganezuka back to his home, watching him leave with his tea cup still clutched in his well weathered hand. Senjuro made no motion to get it back.

Once back inside the estate, Nezuko looked up at Kyojuro, then to Senjuro. Having the siblings be so quiet… It was almost as if the world was ending. All because their drunken wreck of a father had a rage that tore them apart.

“He shouldn’t do that.” Nezuko finally said, tone low and dangerous. Senjuro opened his mouth to speak, but instead, Kyojuro’s large hand settled on Nezuko’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“I know. But he’s hurting. We just must wait for him to get better. Right now, all that matters is this occasion.” Rengoku-san beamed. “It is a momentous occasion, that a slayer gets their first nichirin katana! Let’s celebrate, so we can forget our sadness for a while!”

Unfortunately, they wouldn’t get the chance to. A caw rang through the air, and right from the sky came Nezuko’s crow. He landed easily on the girl’s shoulder, opposite of the one that Rengoku had held.

“CAW CAW!! DEMON SPOTTED! DEMON STEALING GIRLS FROM THEIR BEDS!!” That voice really was shrill— “YOU MUST HEAD TO THE NORTH! THIS IS YOUR FIRST MISSION! GO, AND BE CAREFUL, KAMADO NEZUKO!!”

Rengoku grinned. “Your first mission! I know you will do well, Kamado-shoujo!”

Senjuro smiled. “Do your best, Nezuko-san.”

Nezuko swallowed. Her uniform had come in not too long ago, but it was the first day she had truly put it on. There were nights she had held it up to her body, asking her twin what he thought. Tanjirou had only hummed in approval, aura flaring with pride, despite his sister’s concerns about her appearance.

Now, as she stood before her teacher, she could sense that same swell of pride in Kyojuro as he adjusted her collar buttons, straightening any wrinkles. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Tanjirou shrink at Senjuro’s beckoning, crawling into the wooden box. The little Rengoku closed the door and carried the backpack easily to Nezuko.

“You look great, Nezuko-san.” Senjuro complimented, eyes twinkling with mixed emotions. As if he were longing for that uniform too, or perhaps he was wishing she didn’t have to go.

“I’ll write lots of letters to you, Senjuro-kun. I promise!” Nezuko smiled wide, before flinging her arms around the boy. She felt him stiffen in shock. Behind her, Kyojuro chuckled to himself. Senjuro finally wrapped his arms around her right back, smiling fondly.

“I packed you onigiri. It’s in your pocket.”

Nezuko giggled. “What would I do without you, huh?” Ruffling the boy’s hair, she finally shouldered Tanjirou’s box, feeling the comforting weight of her brother against her back. He gently scratched the door, signaling he was ready to go too.

“Well, I’m off!”

Just like she had done before, the swordsman headed out into the evening, sword at her side, off into the dangerous world of demon slaying… All while being watched by a proud, flaming heart.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: Kidnapper’s Bog

             As she walked through the town, Nezuko noticed just how similar the layout was to the mountain village back home. Of course, there were several differences, and the people were all different. She had to wonder if the smell was different too. Would her twin be able to tell the difference by scent alone in his little box?

             Just as she was thinking, her shoulder was bumped into by another person’s. The girl grunted, staggering a bit, eyebrows furrowed.

             “Excuse me—”

             The boy who had bumped into her just kept walking. His entire face was pale, marred with bruises and scrapes. Nearby, Nezuko could make out the soft gossip of the older women in the shop.

             “Poor Kazumi-kun… He was with poor Satoko-chan when she disappeared. He must be a wreck with sadness. And to think more young girls will disappear tonight… And the next night too… It’s so awful!”

             Nezuko turned, watching the boy, Kazumi, walk away. She could see the color of his grief, of the shock that still clung to his frame like a chill that could never truly leave. Someone related to Satoko must have attacked him. And Satoko… Must have been someone very special to Kazumi.

             “Excuse me, Kazumi-kun!” Nezuko shouted then. The boy stopped dead in his tracks, surprised to see such a young girl running after him with that loud a voice.

             “Please, I’d like to talk to you.”

             “This is where Satoko disappeared.” Kazumi spoke softly, eyes downcast. “Nobody believes me, but it’s the truth… She didn’t run away. She was my fiancé…”

             “I believe you!” Nezuko exclaimed, rose eyes flashing. “Please don’t worry. We’ll find your fiancé, I promise.” Now, to track the demon that was stealing women…

             Lowering herself down, her eyes seemed to shimmer even brighter. Her forehead tensed, veins protruding with her concentration. Just barely, she could make out that deep crimson trail that came from a demon’s aura… The demon had been here. But the tracks were faint.

             Vaguely, the girl could feel Kazumi staring at her. He was most likely confused, and honestly, she couldn’t blame him.

             The crimson color suddenly became incredibly bright. Nezuko gasped, straightening up. In an instant, her powerful legs took off, running as fast as she could manage in long, even strides. Kazumi gasped, stumbling after her.

             “What happened?!”

             “The demon’s aura got stronger! It’s coming!!” The swordswoman shouted back, before leaping onto the tiled roof of the building beside them. Her speedy pace continued, as if she hadn’t just leapt several feet up onto a building.

             For a moment, she could sense Kazumi’s shock. She couldn’t help feeling a little smug that someone was impressed and surprised at her skills… That had never happened before in her life.

             The only remaining issue at hand, though… Was where was the demon? The aura was so close, they had to be right on top of it…

             (That’s it! The demon’s underground!!)

             Sword glinting in the moonlight, Nezuko pointed the blade downwards, before shoving it into the dirt road. Silence followed, but only for a second.

Because then the ground started to ooze black tar-like water, and out emerged the body of an unconscious human woman with long black hair. Nezuko was quick to gather the poor girl in her arms, leaping away just as a demon’s gray claws snatched at the woman’s olive kimono.

             The demon emerged, bright red eyes staring with pure fury at the demon slayer. His own hair was just as black as the ooze around him, and Nezuko felt like this was the most demonic looking demon she had ever seen. There was almost nothing human about it.

             “Alright, you bastard!” Nezuko shouted, feeling Kazumi freeze behind her. “Where are all the girls you kidnapped?! Tell me now, or else I’ll—”

             An awful, horrible grinding sound filled the night air. Both humans stared in disgusted dismay as the demon began to grind his fangs together at high speed, generating that awful sound that drowned out any words they might want to say.

             Then, just like that, the demon sunk back into the filthy swamp it had created. Nezuko took that time to turn around, shoving the victim in her arms into Kazumi’s stunned hands.

             “Kazumi-kun! Take care of her! As long as you stay close by, I can protect you. Just stay close… But not too close. Okay?!”

             The poor boy nodded, but Nezuko had a feeling it was mostly adrenaline in that poor boy’s brain now. Hopefully he would listen.

             Now… The demon’s aura. Nezuko breathed deeply, gazing out into the pathway. The demon’s aura remained in the air, concentrated mostly underground. Which meant it was coming back…

             Nezuko took the opportunity to leap straight upwards, that sixth sense of danger having saved her yet again. The demon had come back… Emerging from the swamp to try and grab her. But the most shocking thing wasn’t the one demon… There were three of them.

             (You can do this, Nezuko! Think! Quickly!)

             Flame Breathing, Third Form: Blazing Universe!

             Flames spewed from her mouth, cresting around her nichirin blade as it sliced downwards, using the momentum of her fall back down to the earth to slice the demon’s hands away from her body.

             (Shit. I was too shallow. I panicked and didn’t get any of the vitals.)

             Nezuko stood in front of Kazumi and the unconscious woman, her sword held up defensively should those demons come back. As she stared at the aura left behind by the demon, she came to a sudden realization.

             (Demons never work together, that’s what Rengoku-sensei taught me. So, this must be one demon split into three bodies… This is going to be hard. But I must find a way to ask them about Kibutsuji Muzan and how to turn Onii-chan back into a human!)

             A shout echoed behind her. Nezuko gasped, whirling around to slash at the demon that had tried to steal Kazumi from behind. Again, her slice was too shallow, merely digging into the demon’s clavicle instead of properly beheading it.

             To make matters worse, the demon returned to the muck, slithering away like some awful black snake. Nezuko’s nose wrinkled.

             “STOP INTERFEREING YOU BITCH!” The shriek of one of the swamp demon’s bodies suddenly came from ahead. Nezuko and Kazumi stared, listening to the demon as it roared.

             “THE LONGER THAT GIRL ISN’T EATEN, THE LESS FRESH SHE IS! SHE’S ALREADY SIXTEEN, HER FRESHNESS WON’T LAST!!”

             “You’re disgusting.” Nezuko hissed, forehead starting to bulge with veins of her anger. The demon just growled back.

             “Would you rather I just eat you up, little girl? Once your stupid legs are torn off, it’ll be easy to drag you down into the swamp with me!” Another of the bodies grinned, licking his lips. Nezuko just glowered, glaring at the demon as if he were the most repulsive thing she had ever seen in her short life.

             “You monster! Let Satoko go!” Kazumi shakily cried. “You took her two days ago, give her back!”

             One of the demons just grinned. “Who’s Satoko?” From his vest, he pulled the fabric aside, revealing an entire arm’s length of hair pins pushed into the fabric. A museum of trinkets.

             “If her hair pin is here, then I’ve eaten her already~”

             Kazumi sobbed, staring at a red hair ribbon tied to the vest.

             Nezuko stared, horror and rage beginning to seep into her fair skin. Within her mind, she remembered her family… Her mother’s beautiful hair tied back with a purple ribbon. Her little sister, Hanako, begging for Nezuko to braid her hair like the fashion magazine in town had shown it. Satoko and those other 16 year old girls were like the Kamado’s… Taken away by cruelty.

             In her rage, Nezuko leapt, aiming to decapitate the demon with the hair pin collection. She missed, watching the demon retaliate with a well-placed karate chop. If she hadn’t dodged… It easily would have shattered her abdomen. Instead, the wall it had hit crumbled upon impact.

             Flame Breathing—

             A demon from behind! Nezuko froze, unable to move in the middle of her concentrated breath…

             THWOK!!

             The demon’s head spun like a pinwheel in a hurricane. Nezuko gasped, feeling the box become heavier, crackling slightly under the weight of her twin brother’s growing body. Tanjirou snarled from behind his bamboo muzzle, his leg still held in mid-air from when he had kicked the swamp demon in the head.

             “What?!” One of the swamp demon’s bodies shrieked. “What’s a demon doing… Traveling with a demon slayer?!”

             Tanjirou stepped out of the box, gazing at Kazumi and the unconscious woman. Carefully, he walked over, despite the fearful look the human gave him. No, kind, wonderful Tanjirou just smiled, his hands lifting to pet the two on their heads.

             “Onii-chan…” Nezuko whispered. Her brother had such an aura of fondness and gentleness then. Even after becoming a demon, he was still so kind to people. That hadn’t changed at all. He wasn’t so different.

             Tanjirou turned back towards the bog demon. Nezuko only caught a glimpse of it, but her brother’s face was contorted into one of sheer rage. His head bulged with veins, his old forehead scar even seeming slightly different… Almost a darker color. But that was all Nezuko could see before her brother lashed out at the demon, only to miss… Several times.

             (The swamp demon sinks into the bog too fast. Neither of us can attack it fast enough.)

             “Onii-chan!!” Nezuko shouted. “Don’t chase after it! Come back!”

             Tanjirou’s head whipped around, his ponytail of deep red hair bouncing a bit. He nodded, that enraged expression melting into a pleasant sort of smile, as if he were telling Nezuko not to be worried. Nevertheless, he trotted over to her…

             Just as one of the swamp demons rushed upwards to try and lash at him. Nezuko let out a cry, hand outstretched as if she could grab Tanjirou in time to save him.

             But no, Tanjirou just leapt over the demon, even doing a cool flip mid-air. Just like that, he landed neatly on his feet, finally joining his twin sister at her side.

             (“Kamado-shoujo, I know you are concerned about your twin brother. But he is a demon now! He is strong, incredibly durable too! Do not worry so much about him. Let him fight!”) The girl remembered Rengoku’s words then, his comforting smile when she had worried about going into battle with her twin. He hadn’t trained, he had slept for 2 years. Could he really fight?

             “Onii-chan… Can you protect Kazumi and the girl while I focus on attacking?” Nezuko asked her brother, whose eyes glimmered beyond their normal wine-red haze. He nodded, with a very audible “mhm!” to confirm. She smiled then, ready to attack the swamp demon…

Just as the bog opened, five times larger than before. Nezuko began to sink, but instead of panicking, she shouted to her brother. Tanjirou whined aloud in his panic.

             “Protect them, Tanjirou!! Stay safe, I promise I’ll be back!”

             The darkness swallowed her up.

             There was scarcely any air down here. Nezuko held what she had gulped before sinking, even if she wanted to scream it all out in her anger over seeing the countless kimono suspended in the black water. The swamp demon had eaten what seemed like countless girls.

             All around her, the demons were swimming rapidly, taunting her. They wanted to eat her up, make sure she drowned down here.

             (You forget, demon. Our breathing skill is what keeps us up to your level so you can be slain!)

             There was still the issue of her Flame Breathing not doing well in an underwater environment. But it didn’t matter. She had to push, had to put every bit of her strength on the single breath of outside air contained in her lungs. She had one shot.

             Flame Breathing, 7th Form: Flaming Vortex!

             The flames lit up the dim swamp, and Nezuko twisted, feeling the burn in her muscles, the searing heat of her own breath, swirling through the bog as it finally made contact with the swamp demons. The two bodies fell apart, seared by the flame, before that light was extinguished by the water’s lack of oxygen.

             Speaking of which… She had to get out of here. Now.

             Kicking her powerful legs, Nezuko swam up and out of the bog, crawling out just as the water began to sink into the dirt, as if it had never existed to begin with. She had only a moment to breathe, to catch her breath and assess the situation. There was one swamp demon body left…

             And it was attacking her twin brother. Tanjirou was doing remarkably well, dodging those strikes of folded karate-chop shaped hands. But he was fighting too simply. Every attack could easily be choreographed by the more experienced swamp demon.

             What was a shaky punch was punished immediately by the slash of gray claws. Nezuko saw red… Metaphorically and literally. Tanjirou’s forehead had been swiped by those claws, blood spraying from the wound and dripping down his tan face.

             Flames surrounded his vision. Tanjirou flopped against the wall of the village fence-line just as Nezuko had lunged, slicing the swamp demon’s arms off.

             “Get your filthy hands off my brother!!” The eldest Kamado daughter hissed, before ramming her foot into the attacker’s stomach. He fell, landing on the ground and staring up at the nichirin blade pointed at his neck.

             “Alright, you filthy demon. You have one chance to answer my questions.” Nezuko glared down at the swamp demon like he was trash. And he was… He had eaten so many human girls. She could tell just from the oily consistency of his aura, from the deep, awful blood color of it. It turned her stomach just to even glance at the color.

             “Tell me about Kibutsuji Muzan.” Nezuko hissed. The swamp demon’s disgusting face went pale. Sweat began to pour down his body, and he almost looked close to tears.

             “I can’t.” The demon’s eyes finally did leak tears, staring up at Nezuko like she was a monster, not him.

             “I can’t! I CAN’T! I CAN’T I CAN’T I CAN’T--!”

             With one easy slash, Nezuko decapitated the demon. She watched, pained, as the body began to burn away into nothingness, before silence fell over the village path.

             (Again, I failed. The Final Selection demons wouldn’t talk to me. And now this one refused to tell me anything about Muzan.)

             Turning her head, her rose eyes widened as she caught sight of her poor twin brother slumped against the wall. “ONII-CHAN!”

             Her hands rapidly moved, checking every inch of her brother. Tilting his head back, looking for something bad. But when she paused… She could hear Tanjirou’s slow, even breaths. He was asleep. The wound on his head had closed, leaving only dried blood stained to his skin. Carefully and gingerly, Nezuko gathered the edge of her haori onto her finger tips, using the corner of pink fabric to wipe the blood from Tanjirou’s forehead.

             “I’m sorry, Onii-chan… I was too weak to protect you. Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to make you human again soon.” She whispered.

             Nearby, Kazumi sobbed. He had fallen to his knees, eyes devoid of any light at all. Nezuko made her way over, kneeling before the elder human with her hands gently resting on her raised knee.

             “Are you alright, Kazumi-kun?”

             “I lost my betrothed, how do you think I am?!” The boy bit back, though his voice lacked any real malice. It was just warbled and sad, like a child having a post-tantrum conversation with their mother.

             “You may lose again and again… But you have to keep on living.” Nezuko spoke quietly, gently. Kazumi’s hand lashed out, wrenching into the girl’s uniform collar. Yet the girl didn’t flinch, didn’t even glare. She just stared at the boy.

             “What the hell do you know?! YOU’RE JUST A KID!!” Kazumi shouted. Nezuko blinked, then gently laid her hand on Kazumi’s. She tilted her head down at the boy and smiled sadly. In shock, Kazumi let go.

             “I have to go now.” Nezuko whispered, coming to a stand. From her haori, she produced a scrap of cloth… The piece of the demon’s vest that contained the countless hair ornaments kept as hunting trophies. “I hope you can find something that belongs to Satoko, to remember her by…”

             Bowing deeply, she gathered Tanjirou into his box, then set out down the path as the sun began to rise.

             Behind her, Kazumi suddenly shouted. “I’M SORRY FOR SAYING SUCH A MEAN THING! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!”

             Nezuko chuckled to herself, waving, before setting off into the wilderness, just as she had before.

             Kazumi shivered. “Such rough, battle-hardened hands… Those weren’t the hands of a young girl at all. What happened to you…?”

             (It wasn’t just me.) Nezuko felt tears come to her eyes, but she sniffled them back. She didn’t dare let them fall, even if they were of anger. Even if nobody would see, miles away from that village.

             (How many people has Muzan made suffer? How many people has he killed? That man… Shouldn’t be allowed to exist.)

             Rage was her fire, her flame burning in her stomach and chest. Urging her forward, towards Asakusa, towards the next mission.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13: Muzan Kibutsuji

             Asakusa was bright. Almost too bright. Somehow, it seemed like daytime, even if the dark sky above suggested otherwise. Nezuko could feel her already stressed internal clock trying desperately to accommodate for the strange atmosphere of the crowded city.

             Strangely, she didn’t feel that panicked. No, the city was beautiful, even for all the colors and lights that made her head throb just a bit. If she stayed here for several hours, she’d probably get a headache, but so far, she could only stand at the entrance of the city district with wide eyes, just people watching and observing the way light filled darkness.

             Tanjirou, however, wasn’t having a good time. Her twin brother was holding on tightly to her hand, shivering like a leaf. When she looked over, she could see that his face was green, almost as if he would throw up at any second. Poor guy.

             “C’mon, Onii-chan, let’s go over here.” Tugging his hand, she was quick to weave through the crowds, finding a side street that led towards a more quiet part of the neighborhood. Her poor brother groaned out pathetically, sweat dotting his scarred brow.

             (His senses are so much keener than mine. He’s probably overwhelmed by the smells of all these humans too.)

             Removing her brother’s scarf from her neck, she wrapped it back around its original owner’s throat, before adjusting it so it was more like a blue fabric hood over the demon’s scarlet hair.  Tanjirou seemed to improve quickly, sighing out through his nose in relief.

             “You look strange with your muzzle too. Hopefully the scarf will hide it.” Nezuko mused aloud, gently ushering her twin to a nearby bench. All too gratefully, he slumped onto the wooden bench, head hanging as he seemed ready to doze off again into slumber.

             “Hey, young lady.” Nezuko blinked, head whipping around. An old man stood in front of an udon cart, looking impatient but trying to cover it up with a customer service façade.

             “You look like you could use something to eat. You and your brother.”

             Nezuko gave pause, before sighing. “Yes please. Can you put grated yam on mine? Thank you.” Retrieving her wallet, she placed some coins on the counter of the cart, watching as the old man bent down to retrieve the proper ingredients and tools to make the fresh soup dish.

             Before she could properly ask Tanjirou if he wanted any (despite doubting he could even stomach human food anymore), Nezuko felt a chill run up and down her spine. Practically half a millisecond later, her brother’s eyes sharpened into slits, and veins began to bulge from his forehead. His nostrils worked at breakneck speed, large and flared.

             “What’s wrong, Tanjirou?” Nezuko asked quietly, concerned. The air was heavy with dark, damp dread. No amount of electric light could change it. Tanjirou shot to his feet, growling with such ferocity that his sister could feel it vibrating within her chest too.

             “Onii-chan?! What is it?!” Tanjirou was suddenly running, going as fast as he could back into the crowded main street of Asakusa. Nezuko could only scramble after him, calling his name, growing worried.

             (Is it a demon? Did he find the demon my crow mentioned? His nose can probably tell despite all these people… But he wouldn’t have run without getting me to come with…)

             It was then that Nezuko felt that dark, foreboding chill again, multiplied by 100 percent. Her stomach dropped to her feet, and she watched as her brother grabbed ahold of a Western attired man’s shoulder, tight enough for his black suit to wrinkle.

             The lights and crowds melted away. All Nezuko could see was that awful, nauseating crimson color. The taste of iron in her throat, of tears she had spilled and screamed on that snowy day, two years ago. That spiritual imprint of a demon… The demon who had murdered their entire family and turned Tanjirou into a demon too.

             Tanjirou seemed frozen by that same shock too, his hand slipping but remaining on the man’s jacket as he turned, crimson slitted eyes glaring down at the twins with confused disgust. A flicker of recognition danced over those eyes as they landed on Tanjirou’s face, then again at Nezuko’s earring, much more visible than her hooded brother’s was.

             (Kibutsuji Muzan! It’s him! Oh gods. Oh fuck—) Nezuko was reeling, unable to speak. Her brother’s body impulsively moved, standing in front of her to protect her.  In turn, her hand reached for her nichirin blade, despite how every joint shook in primal fear.

             (I have to make sure he doesn’t get away. He killed everyone… I can’t let him hurt Tanjirou again--!!)

             “Papa, who’s that?” A little voice asked. As Muzan’s body turned to properly face the twins, Nezuko felt her stomach flop and turn into a block of ice. In that horrible man’s arms was a little girl with the sweetest face. She had braided pigtails and wore Western styled clothing, her tiny hands clenched in the demon’s lapels.

             “I don’t know, sweetheart. I’ve never seen them in my life.” Muzan spoke, and Nezuko felt Tanjirou grasp at her hand, as if he was trying to reassure her that what she was seeing was reality. Muzan, a demon, had somehow tricked a human family into taking him in.

             “Do they need help, darling? They’re so young… Do you think they came from the orphanage?” A woman spoke, coming closer. By color alone, Nezuko could tell she was the little girl’s true mother.

             (He tricked this poor woman. They don’t know he’s a man-eating demon. Do I tell them? Would they be in danger if I did?)

             “I don’t know them at all. Perhaps they’ve mistaken me for someone else…” Muzan’s eyes were dark. Foreboding. As if he would slaughter everyone present if Nezuko disobeyed the warning and spoke up.

Tanjirou suddenly whined, shock filling his wine-red eyes, free hand beginning to point beside them. Nezuko had a moment of fear, wondering if her twin was trying to warn the human woman and girl. But no, he was warning his sister.

             Muzan had lashed out with blue claws, cutting a passerby’s nape. The wound was shallow, but it began to pulsate as the man staggered into his wife’s concerned bosom.

             “Darling? What’s the matter?” She began to ask.

             But her husband was gone. Nezuko knew instantly what had happened, and she bolted towards the couple as the man-turned-demon roared, attacking his poor wife by sinking his newly formed fangs into her shoulder.

             The crowd was abuzz, women shrieking in shock and confusion, children crying as they were hurriedly ushered away. Nezuko watched as her brother lunged, tackling the demon into the dirt road, stuffing the scarf into his gnashing fangs so he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

             The swordswoman was impressed by her brother’s quick thinking, but she couldn’t react. The police were coming, alerted by the screaming and commotion. Lifting her head, she watched as Muzan began to leave with his false family. Her entire body began to burn, rage filling every bone in her body, igniting every nerve as she watched helplessly as her family’s murderer got away.

             “MUZAN KIBUTSUJI! WHEREVER YOU GO, YOU WON’T ESCAPE ME!!” Nezuko shrieked, using what strength she had to aid her brother by letting him handle the demon, while she put pressure on the demon’s poor wife’s wound.

             “I’LL FOLLOW YOU ALL THE WAY TO HELL! I PROMISE!! YOUR NECK WILL FEEL MY SWORD! I WILL NEVER, EVER FUCKING FORGIVE YOU AS LONG AS I LIVE!!”

             A shiver of fear went through Muzan’s aura. Nezuko could see his pupils dilate, before he quickly left the scene of the crime with his fake family in tow. The police were quick to rush at her poor brother, who was trying to subdue the attacking demon.

             “No, please!” Now it was time to panic. What if they hurt Tanjirou?

             “Leave him alone! He’s just trying to help that person! PLEASE!!”

             It was all too much…

             Suddenly, the world was consumed by color. The scent of flowers filled the air, and just like some calm angel, a woman with her dark hair pulled back emerged. A Blood Demon Art had been cast from this woman, whose aura was both demonic and peaceful all at once.

             The swordswoman blinked. Somehow, this Art kept the police from getting closer, obscured by walls of color and light.

             “You… Still use the term ‘person’ to describe a demon. What kind of person are you?” The lovely woman asked, her claws drifting away from her bloodied forearm. Nezuko could see that the magic of the Art had come from this wound, and for a moment, she was mesmerized by the beauty of the ability.

             “You want to help them… So, I will help you both.” The woman had such lovely lilac eyes. For just a moment, all Nezuko could see was her mother staring back at her… Before the demonic aura destroyed the illusion entirely.

             “You’re a demon…” Nezuko breathed. “Yet you want to help people?”

             “Yes. I am a doctor who treats humans… And I want to see Kibutsuji destroyed.”

             It was agreed that once the commotion had died down, the demon doctor’s partner would come to fetch them to head to a more secure location. Nezuko guided her brother back to the udon cart.

             “There you are! Where the hell did you go?! Don’t you know it’s rude to let someone’s hard work go cold?!” The old man shouted, pointing at the udon bowls. Despite only asking for one (from what she could recall), Nezuko saw that the old owner had made a bowl for her and Tanjirou.

             Tanjirou just stared blankly at the udon, as if he didn’t know what it was. His nose wrinkled. This clearly irritated the shop owner, so without thinking it through, Nezuko lashed out to grab the bowls of noodles, slurping them down with such ferocity and speed it rivaled a bear horking down a salmon. Wiping her moth, Nezuko clapped her hands together.

             “THANKS FOR THE FOOD, SIR! IT WAS DELICIOUS!” Smacking down her chopsticks and empty bowls on the cart, she grabbed Tanjirou’s hand and began to walk away. The poor old man just quietly and shakily told them to come again soon, and Nezuko waved goodbye without looking over her shoulder.

             “Are you finished making another scene?” A voice asked. Tanjirou’s eyes narrowed, and Nezuko very gently patted his shoulder to assure him that all was well.

             “You…” Nezuko began. “You’re the doctor’s companion, right? I could have followed your spirit tracks…”

             “No, you couldn’t.” The boy hissed. “We’re covered by a complex cloaking spell. Your eyes wouldn’t be able to see it. Besides…”

             Pointing at Tanjirou, his lip curled, nose wrinkling. “Isn’t that a demon? What a pathetic looking creature.”

             Nezuko stared in confusion, eyebrows furrowed together. (Pathetic-looking creature? Who does he mean? He can’t mean…)

             Rose eyes widen in shock, jaw going slack as her head whipped to stare at her poor twin brother, who was just standing there confused and maybe a little hurt. (… TANJIROU?!)

             “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!!” Nezuko roared, getting right in the other demon boy’s face, jabbing her finger in his personal space. “MY ONII-CHAN IS THE STRONGEST! HOW CAN YOU CALL HIM PATHETIC?!”

             With a flourish, she gestured wildly at her brother, still carrying on and absolutely berating and yelling at the one who dared call her beloved twin ‘pathetic.’

             “HE WAS THE MOST RELIABLE BOY IN OUR HOMETOWN! OUR TANJIROU!!”

             The other didn’t seem to be listening. He just marched towards a nearby perimeter wall, all while Nezuko dragged her twin along while explaining how reliable and strong and brave Tanjirou was.

             “Maybe it’s the muzzle? Watch, I’ll take it off, then you’ll see how strong and rugged he is—” The illusion had melted away, the trio having walked into the magic barrier without the Kamado’s even realizing it. Before them was a beautiful house surrounded by cherry blossoms, illuminated by stars and the full moon.

             (Oh my gods.)

“I’m back.” The boy announced as they headed inside. “Lady Tamayo, I brought the two siblings as requested.”

“Welcome back, Yushiro.” The demon lady from before, Tamayo, smiled. She was sitting beside a cot that contained the human woman from before, who seemed to be sleeping with a very distressed expression.

“Is she alright? I’m sorry we left you to handle them.” Nezuko frowned. Tamayo lightly shook her head, painted smile still pleasantly polite.

“It’s quite alright. Yes, this woman will be alright, thanks to you. However, I cannot say the same for her husband. He’s confined to the basement for the time being.”

Nezuko sighed. She was grateful the human woman was alright, but she had failed to save an innocent man from being attacked by Muzan. He hadn’t consumed human flesh, but he was clearly unable to return to himself the same way Tanjirou had.

“Um…” A question appeared within the swordswoman’s mind. “Isn’t it hard for you to treat injuries?”

The question wouldn’t be answered immediately, because suddenly Nezuko was bent over, her soft stomach having been elbowed quite hard by Yushiro.

“Are you suggesting we cannot control ourselves just being around the scent of human flesh?” The demon boy hissed. Tamayo came to a sudden stand, fists at her sides.

“Yushiro, stop it. Why are you being so violent?” Yushiro seemed to deflate. Nezuko wheezed as she recovered her breath, and felt as Tanjirou tensed and snarled at the other demon’s transgressions.

“Please try to get along with him. Yushiro’s just a boy.” Tamayo sighed. “Forgive me, I didn’t introduce myself. I am Tamayo, and as you may have guessed, this boy is Yushiro.”

“I’m Kamado Nezuko,” The rose eyed human smiled, doing her best to be polite despite wanting to knee the demon boy with blue hair where the sun doesn’t shine. “This is my twin brother, Kamado Tanjirou.”

“To answer your question, Nezuko…” Tamayo began, placing a soft hand to her chest. “I have altered myself to where I do not need to consume human flesh. I have removed Kibutsuji’s curse as well. Yushiro and I are able to sustain ourselves on a little human blood.”

They wandered into a sitting room lined with tatami and several shelves. Nezuko knelt down once Tamayo and Yushiro had, setting her box down. Tanjirou didn’t kneel down on the floor politely. Instead, he flopped down, rolling around on the tatami mats with a glimmer of happiness in his eyes.

“Onii-chan, hey, don’t do that—” Nezuko whined.

“It’s quite alright. Please do make yourselves at home.” Tamayo smiled, patience exuding from every delicate pore. The swordsman was stunned by how patient this woman was… Before realizing that Tanjirou probably hadn’t had time to relax and stretch out for many days now.

(I’m sorry, Onii-chan… I’ll give you more breaks from now on.)

“You may think our need for human blood is cruel and unusual, but we only require little from blood transfusion donations. Yushiro needs even less than I. I made him into a demon.” Looking up as Tamayo spoke, Nezuko’s eyes went wide.

“HUH?! I thought only Muzan could make demons?!”

“That is true. In only 200 years… Yushiro is the only human I have ever turned into a demon.” Tamayo explained, hands resting on her lap. Again, Nezuko was shocked, bolting upright with a shout.

“200 YEARS?! HOW OLD ARE YOU-?!” Before she could continue, again, Yushiro attacked the young girl, this time punching her in the throat.

“NEVER ASK A WOMAN HER AGE! YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT!!” Yushiro snarled. Tamayo, again, scolded him,

“If you get violent again, I won’t forgive you!”

“Alright!” Yushiro sat back down, back perfectly straight and formal, as if he hadn’t nearly caused Nezuko to choke. The swordsman shot the demon a dirty look, feeling her brother glare at Yushiro as well. To comfort him, she lowered her hand, and Tanjirou took it, pressing her palm to his cheek, nuzzling her.

“Please understand, I wish only to help the sick and injured. I don’t want to increase the number of demons in this world.” Tamayo seemed to be pleading, even if her voice was calm. Through her ability, Nezuko could tell the other woman’s soul was full of sincerity. This comforted the swordswoman, who smiled.

“I understand, Tamayo.” Nezuko became serious then. (I finally have a way to ask a demon if there’s a way to return them to humanity…)

“Miss Tamayo… Is there a way to return demons to humans?”

“There is.” Tamayo nodded. Her lilac eyes glimmered with a sort of newfound sparkle, as if the idea had been secretly brewing in her mind for years without anyone to tell. Immediately, elation and excitement filled the young Kamado, who bolted upright and scrambled a foot or so close to Tamayo.

“PLEASE TELL ME!" Once more, Yushiro threw an attack. But rather than hitting the human girl, he just shoved her to the ground. Tanjirou, having had enough, got up on his knees and grasped Yushiro by his shoulders.

“Unhand me!” The elder demon began. But he didn’t have a chance to complain further. Tanjirou wound his head back, and with great force, headbutted Yushiro’s forehead. The other demon almost immediately collapsed on his back, a large welt forming where Tanjirou had made contact.

“Onii-chan!!” Nezuko gasped. Tanjirou just stared back at her with a proud look on his face.

“I’m so sorry, Tamayo, Yushiro—” Nezuko began, even if she was secretly glad that the damn brat of a demon had been punished at last beyond small bouts of scolding. Tamayo just shook her head with a slight wave.

“It’s alright. I warned him.”  Once more, she looked to Nezuko with a gentle sort of seriousness, like a doctor discussing a diagnosis. In a sense, she was.

“Any illness or injury has a treatment. As it stands, there is no treatment for becoming a demon. Nevertheless, we want to create a cure.” As she spoke, Yushiro slowly came around, the welt on his head slowly shrinking until only a slight bruise was left. He shot a glare at Tanjirou, who was busy playing with one of the ribbons keeping his leg wraps secure.

“To do this, we must study different types of demon blood. High ranking, powerful demon blood. And only Kibutsuji’s highest ranking Demon Moons contain this blood.” Holding up her finger, Tamayo continued. “Besides this, with your permission, Nezuko, I’d like to study your twin brother’s blood.”

Nezuko looked down at Tanjirou, who had laid down on his back and was staring up at the ladies having the conversation above him. His eyelids drooped, clearly starting to get sleepy again.

“I understand Tanjirou is a special case. He slept for two years, and somehow removed Kibutsuji’s curse all on his own. He hasn’t consumed any human flesh or blood. Somehow, he regains his strength through sleeping. Normally, a demon would go violently insane with hunger if they went for that long without blood. Yet Tanjirou isn’t exhibiting these changes at all.”

Nezuko returned to petting her brother’s hair, smoothing the wild crimson strands from his tough forehead. “I guess his body changed while he was asleep. Sometimes I can’t tell if he really knows who he is, or if he knows what happened to us. But he recognizes me. I’m sure of it.” Furrowing her brows, she nodded. “I’m certain.”

Tamayo smiled gently. “Your brother is very special. I’m sure we’ll learn in time what his blood is capable of. And with your hard work, we’ll have medicine to help him.”

“Will this medicine help others too?” Nezuko asked quietly. The demon woman looked a little startled to hear such a concern, but very quickly, her expression warmed.

“Of course.”

At the same time, Tanjirou and Yushiro bolted up. Nezuko’s head whipped around, dark hair flying about her head as it was knocked back by her twin’s tough forehead accidentally bumping into her chin.

“OW! Onii-chan, what..?!”

Yushiro hissed. “GET DOWN, YOU IDIOTS!”

It turned out the demon boys had sensed an attack just before it happened. Nezuko could only cover her head and cower as the building was swarmed by several large cannonball-like objects, bouncing at high speeds.

Within seconds, the entire house was a ruin. Nezuko shivered and coughed the dust from her lungs, looking up at Tanjirou, who had shielded her body with his. Nearby, a sheet of paper calligraphed with blood fluttered to the ground.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14: Arrow Demon and Temari Demon

(A/N: Due to time constraints, I will be summarizing the events of this chapter up to a certain point. Please understand that this is only to move the story along and get to parts that have changed in the AU. This won’t happen a whole lot, but it helps me get through any slump with writing energy. Maybe one day I will come back to rewrite it, but for now, please enjoy. I will mark off the point where the summary ends and the story resumes through Nezuko’s POV.)

After using their powers to follow his trail, the Arrow Demon and the Temari Demon have located Nezuko’s location, tasked by their master to kill her. Using her temaris, Susumaru pummels the house, destroying the cloaking spell hiding it. Nezuko and Yushiro are shocked by the appearance of their new foes, more powerful than she's faced before.

The Temari Demon calls on her partner, Yahaba, to state what he senses; he deduces the hidden house is due to the work of a Blood Demon Art wielder adept at hiding objects. He also senses the presence of a demon accompanying their target, confusing him. As she becomes excited at the prospect of killing them, Yahaba chides his partner, Susamaru, for her immaturity and complains of dust on his kimono from the initial attack. She ribs him to stop whining, as they have found their targets anyway. Nezuko sees it was her who has caused all the damage just through her temari. Yushiro sees her and wonders if she is a servant of Muzan.

Susamaru continues her assault and pummels the house with lightning speed, forcing everyone inside to duck for cover. One temari almost hits Yushiro, who stands in its way to protect Tamayo; the temari then swerves unnaturally and smashes into his head, beheading him. Horrified seeing his decapitated body, Nezuko tasks Tanjirou with protecting the injured woman from before and take her outside; Tamayo states the basement is safer instead. As he leaves to do so, Nezuko stands up and observes Susamaru. She notes that the demon possesses a completely different aura to past demons; one that is darker and far stronger.

Susamaru sees Nezuko and declares she is the one Muzan wants dead. Nezuko requests Tamayo leave as she is the one targeted, but Tamayo instead asks that she fights without them in her concern, as they don't need protection as demons. Susamaru hurls a temari at her with incredible speed; Nezuko watches and quickly determines a form to defeat it.

The fastest form at her disposal, she uses Flame Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire, adjusting it so her blade pierces the temari. Somewhat surprised, Susamaru nonetheless summons the ball back to her and the temari slides of Nezuko’s blade on its own. The swordsman notes that the temaris move unnaturally without spinning, such as when it struck Yushiro.

Tamayo watches as Yushiro heals his mouth and jaws to speak, complaining that he was right to not let themselves get involved with Nezuko, since his blindfold technique isn't fully working still; he can only masks object and isn't able to completely hide their existence. Nezuko realizes it was Yushiro's Blood Demon Art that inadvertently hid their attackers until they destroyed the house. Yushiro declares he despises anyone who ruins the time with him and Tamayo and calls their act unforgivable. Susamaru hears his message and laughs at his babbling.

Susamaru discards her kimono to fight more freely and reveals they must be honored to be killed by her, a member of the Twelve Kizuki. When Nezuko hears this, Tamayo explains they are demons that serve directly under Muzan. Susamaru grows two new pairs of arms and forms four new temaris to fight with, now enjoying the battle. She launches all six at the house, forcing Nezuko to evade them all as one ends up cutting Yushiro's face.

Tamayo tries to think if she can cast her spell now but sees Nezuko would be affected too, while Yushiro needs more time to heal to attack again. Nezuko gets overwhelmed by the greater number of temaris, which injures Tamayo and Yushiro upon striking them. As she wonders how she can defeat them to save the demons, she notices there are two demon spirits present.

Yushiro tells him to follow the arrows to determine and dodge their path. When Nezuko states she can't see them properly, Yushiro irritably gives her a paper talisman imbued with his sight. Upon receiving it, Nezuko sees that arrows appear to direct the path and trajectory of Susamaru's temaris. She thanks Yushiro for this new insight and sees that Tanjirou has returned, asking he join her outside to battle their opponents. She tells him to deal with Yahaba while she fights Susamaru and he immediately complies.

Susamaru declares she will bring Nezuko’s head to Muzan and launches all of her temaris. Nezuko evades them and runs away as the temaris pursue her, waiting for Tanjirou’s mark. Tanjirou finds Yahaba in the trees and attacks him repeatedly. The distraction causes the arrows to fade, stopping the temaris' movement. With her chance in sight, Nezuko uses Flame Breathing, Fourth Form: Blooming Flame Undulation; she cuts all the temaris in one fluid motion and quickly slices off Susamaru's arms right afterwards. Nezuko asks Tamayo if these demons are closely related to Muzan, which she surmises must be true; she then declares that she will extract their blood for sure.

Susamaru laughs at Nezuko’s intentions and implores her to try and extract their blood. Yushiro warns her that if they truly are Twelve Kizuki demons, they will be more formidable that she's faced thus far. While Nezuko steels herself for the upcoming confrontation, Yushiro implores to Tamayo that they should decoy Tanjirou and Nezuko and flee. She is horrified at his idea, causing Yushiro to quickly claim he was joking.

As Tanjirou clashes with Yahaba, he becomes irritated by the dust being kicked up and uses his arrows to launch him away. The Temari Demon heals her lost arms instantly as Nezuko notes that she possesses faster regeneration than any demon from Final Selection. Launched away by Yahaba, Tanjirou collides with Nezuko while the Arrow Demon himself lands to the ground to join Susamaru.

She hurls a temari and nearly hits the two, who barely dodge in time. Yushiro informs Nezuko she needs to deal with Yahaba first, while he, Tamayo and Tanjirou will battle Susamaru. Tanjirou suddenly sees her mother and brother Rokuta's images in Tamayo and Yushiro, invigorating him to fight. Saying she is counting on him, the siblings split up to confront their targets.

Nezuko charges at Yahaba with the intent of extracting her blood to produce the treatment. She senses the Opening Thread but the demon uses his arrows to disrupt her footwork, causing her to miss. Using his arrows, he flings Nezuko throughout the surrounded area, causing her to slam into the trees and into the ground hard. Yahaba launches her high into the air and disables his arrow to drop the Demon Slayer to her death; in the nick of time, Nezuko uses Second Form: Rising Scorching Sun to stop her momentum and save herself.

Susamaru launches her temaris at Tanjirou, who evades them all successfully. She turns around to see Yushiro but he suddenly vanishes from view. While invisible, he strikes the Temari Demon with multiple punches and chops, bringing her to her knees. He reveals himself and curses her for hurting Tamayo, deeming her unforgivable. Yahaba overhears his threats and realizes that Tamayo is a fugitive from Muzan. Susamaru gets up and concurs his idea of taking her as well, before launching another temari at Tanjirou.

He attempts to kick up but Tamayo and Yushiro warn him not too; they are too late and the temari breaks off Tanjirou’s right foot. With her opponent downed, Susamaru kicks him hard and sends the young demon hurtling into the house. She excitedly asks her partner if four heads would be great to take to Muzan; Yahaba disagrees and sees value in only Nezuko and Tamayo. Inside, Tamayo sees the bleeding of Tanjirou’s lost foot isn't slowing and gives his a serum to accelerate her healing; while doing so, Tanjirou again sees his mother's image in the demon.

Nezuko continues to face the Arrow Demon but notices that even sensing the Opening Thread is pointless unless she can strike with pinpoint accuracy. Yahaba sends multiple arrows at him, forcing the Demon Slayer to evade them all. She tries to cut the arrows with her blade but making contact only take her to the arrow's path, slamming her into a wall. In pain, she drops her sword and sees an arrow wrapped around her arm to twist it off. Thinking quickly, she runs up a tree to be mid-air when the arrow spins her arm, saving herself. After recovering her sword, she hears Yahaba commending her for evading his attack, while realizing she needs to change the arrows path without touching them.

Now enraged, Yahaba prepares his final assault, launching numerous arrows to kill Nezuko. She quickly thinks of an idea: use the First Form to trap the arrows and the footwork of the Fourth Form to close in on the Arrow Demon. As they converge on her, Nezuko twists herself into a combined attack, Unknowing Fire-Blooming Flame Undulation. With his arrows being spun around, Yahaba loses focus. Nezuko, despite the heavy weight of the combined attack on her sword, gets close to him and uses Third Form: Blazing Universe to decapitate the Arrow Demon.

After forcing his arrows to bend to her own path and closing the distance, Nezuko successfully decapitates the Arrow Demon Yahaba. She comments that while the Blooming Flame loses force when altered, the arrows gave it extra power. Yahaba curses Nezuko for defeating him as all he wanted to do was bring his head to Muzan and gain his approval. He becomes enraged at his head touching the dirt and declares he will kill Nezuko as he dies.

Using multiple arrows, he grabs Nezuko’s body and throws her towards a wall at high speed. Nezuko realizes the arrows are stronger than before and uses Flame Breathing, Second Form: Rising Striking Sun to stop the attack from splattering her against the wall. As she lands, she is pulled by another arrow high into the air, quickly using Third Form: Blazing Universe to stop the momentum. She is grabbed by another and pulled towards the house, utilizing a mix of the past few forms to stop her descent.

Yahaba relentlessly continues his last stand, forcing the Demon Slayer to then use Flame Breathing continuously to save herself. Using so many forms consecutively saps Nezuko’s energy but the Arrow Demon continues his assault while he fades into ash. Nezuko continues to use various Flame Breathing forms to save herself from the arrows until Yahaba finally disintegrates for good. Upon his death, the arrows disappear, causing Nezuko to plummet to the ground. Exhausted and injured, she is too weak to even grip her sword, but Nezuko is determined to reach her allies and defeat the Temari Demon, biting her sword and crawling to them.

As Susamaru continues the fight, she uses her temaris to kick up a dust cloud to hide herself. Yushiro tries to hide himself in the cloud, but Susamaru sees where the dust is being moved as he runs through. She quickly hurls a temari at the demon; Yushiro is nearly hit but is saved by Tanjirou deflecting it with his healed foot. He admonishes Tanjirou for rashly attacking but he sees her brother Rokuta's image in him, patting Yushiro's head to his chagrin. Susamaru hurls another temari, but Tanjirou kicks it to stop its momentum. Yushiro watches Tanjirou's sudden power and asks Tamayo on what she did.

Annoyed at thinking he can use her own attacks against her, Susamaru kicks a temari at the young demon, who returns it with considerable force. The two trade kicks and launch the temari back and forth at each other, kicking harder and harder as the temari gains considerable force each time. Tamayo explains that she only used a healing serum on Tanjirou, which doesn't increase power. Instead, they are witnessing Tanjirou's own strength increasing without even consuming blood. Eventually, Tanjirou kicks the temari hard and fast enough to force even Susamaru to dodge its path to safety. Despite this, Tamayo knows that should Susamaru utilize her true potential, Tanjirou would be defeated too; she looks at her arm and thinks of a plan.

Somewhat impressed, Susamaru calls Tanjirou an "amusing little boy" and prepares to go all out. Before she can, Tamayo stands in front of Tanjirou and talks to him. Susamaru dismisses her as the fugitive, but Tamayo asks if she knows about Muzan's true identity, shocking the demon. Tamayo explains that Muzan is nothing but a coward in constant fear, angering the Temari Demon. She continues by saying the reason demons don't form groups is to prevent them from banding together to attack him, and Muzan himself manipulates demons into acting like this, like her. Susamaru curses Tamayo for insulting Muzan; and as he watches the confrontation, Yushiro sees Tamayo's arm bleeding.

Susamaru raves about Muzan's incredible power and declares he isn't petty enough to do such a thing, but while doing so, she says Muzan's last name. Upon realizing, she grows horrified at what she has done; Tamayo raises her arm to reveal her Blood Demon Art and tells her what she's done, trigger the curse. Yushiro sees she has used Magical Aroma of Daylight, a potent spell that weakens a target's brain function. rendering them unable to lie or keep secrets. Seeing the distressed demon, Tamayo says she pities Susamaru but nonetheless farewells her…

(A/N: end summary.)

Tanjirou nodded, eyelids drooping. The Blood Demon Art was making him sleepy, and even if another demon was being attacked in front of him, he couldn’t muster enough energy to watch. Barely.

“NO, NO, PLEASE!!” The shrieking begging of the temari demon echoed in the courtyard, her many hands outstretched in the night air, pleading for her creator to spare her. But it was too late, as Tamayo had said. The curse had activated, Susamaru’s body doubling over.

Nezuko held the cloth to her nose, just barely able to keep it up to avoid the effects of Tamayo’s poison. But she could see all too clearly what became of Susamaru… Her mouth opened impossibly wide as several bulging arms shot from within her body, destroying her with a clench of a malformed, twisted fist. Just like that, the formidable demon was but a mess of gore and blood on the grass, her kimono spread out in billowing orange.

Nezuko stared, swallowing as hard as she could to keep back the bile. She saw her brother’s eyes go wide, clearly wide awake now after witnessing such a massacre.

Tamayo carefully picked her way over the rubble and grass, crouching to stare at Susamaru’s eye. It had rolled from the body, hazy and disjointed.

“Is she dead?” Nezuko asked, unable to even lift herself from the ground. Everything hurt, even if the adrenaline was keeping most of the pain at bay at the moment. She felt Tanjirou come closer, his warm hand settling on her head.

“Not yet. But soon. Kibutsuji’s cells destroyed her body. That is the finality of the curse. Fighting between demons is pointless, only sunlight or nichirin can destroy a demon. But Kibutsuji’s cells can kill one of his own.” Tamayo explained, before frowning. “And unfortunately… This demon was not a Lower or Upper Moon. Their eyeballs are carved by an insignia for their rank. She and that Arrow Demon were too weak.”

Nezuko sighed. Again, she had failed in finding any sort of clue to cure her twin brother. Even though those demons were so powerful, it just made her realize that the true Kizuki demons would be far worse.

“I’m sorry, I have to take Tanjirou inside.” Tamayo had lifted from the demon’s corpse, having taken blood from the gory mess. “I let him inhale some of my Demon Art. I want to make sure he’s alright.”

Tanjirou nodded with a hum, patting his twin one last time before trotting down into the basement with Tamayo and Yushiro. Nezuko smiled gently, before a soft voice broke her thoughts.

“Mari… Ma…ri…”

Nezuko crawled over, watching as the soul of the temari demon flickered and changed between deep crimson and light orange, fading slowly. The swordsman frowned. Carefully, she nudged the temari ball back to the demon, watching as the ball tapped the demon’s destroyed hand. The hand twitched.

“Let’s… Play.” The voice chirped weakly. Already, the sun was rising, causing the remains to peel and smolder away, ashes floating up into the breeze.

(A child. Muzan transformed a little girl into a monster. She admired Muzan so much, and he lied to her, and let her get killed.) Nezuko sat up slowly, her gaze hardening. She made her way downstairs into the basement, fists tight and crackling against her sides.

(More and more, I’m convinced this man… Isn’t a man at all. He’s a true demon. And I’m going to kill him.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 15: Together Forever

“Lady Tamayo?” Nezuko called into the stairwell. Her footsteps stilled, but only for a moment. She could faintly make out the crimson spirit trails of the demons, still fresh. They had come down this way.

“We’re downstairs.” Tamayo’s voice called. Nodding to herself, the swordswoman headed downstairs, being careful. Her entire body still ached, something intensely throbbing in her chest. It was possible that when that arrow demon had tossed her around, she had broken a rib.

Coming down into the basement, Nezuko could see the demon man from before who had attacked his own wife. He was gnawing on the walls of what seemed like a makeshift wooden cage, trying to reach his sleeping wife nearby.

(His wife stayed by his side even though he hurt her. Not everyone would do that.) The girl mused quietly to herself.

Any continued thoughts quickly were washed away by the sound of her brother’s footsteps hurriedly trotting towards her.  Nezuko beamed, arms opening immediately to welcome Tanjirou in a warm squeeze.

“Thank the gods you’re okay, Onii-chan!” She sighed out. Tanjirou ran a hand along her hair, petting her as if comforting her for being gone for as long as he had.

But then he stopped, and he peeled himself away from his twin sister. Tanjirou just trotted right over to Tamayo and wrapped his arms around her. Yushiro visibly tensed, sharp teeth grinding together. His expression of disgusted irritation didn’t change, even when Tanjirou gave him a pat on the head.

“Tanjirou, please—” Nezuko began.

“Is your brother always like this? Ever since we went downstairs, he has been awfully cuddly.” Tamayo didn’t push Tanjirou away. Her hand rested on the boy’s back, but didn’t move.

Nezuko just watched for a moment, confused with her sibling’s antics. But suddenly, as she looked from demon to demon, she came to a realization of what the explanation could be.

“I think Onii-chan sees you as his family. You look a lot like our mother… So maybe he thinks you’re like her too.” The resemblance had hit Nezuko when Tamayo had first appeared, earlier than night. How her mother’s gentle face, beautiful dark hair, and lilac eyes seemed to be staring back at her for just a moment in time. But Kie had never painted her lips. She never had such a beautiful kimono like Tamayo’s.

“But…” Tamayo began softly, “We’re demons.”

“I think he sees you as human nevertheless.” Nezuko tilted her head and gave a slight shrug. Tanjirou just squeezed Tamayo tighter in his embrace, nuzzling against her cheek with a soft hum, that weird purring sound returning.

To the shock of everyone present, Tamayo’s lovely eyes suddenly filled with tears. Yushiro let out a little gasp, fingers twitching as if he wanted to wrench Tanjirou away from his lady, but was unsure how to.

The swordswoman was shocked. As she struggled to find the words or some sort of way to get her twin to stop hugging the elder demon, she watched as Tamayo just… Buried her face in Tanjirou’s shoulder. Her soul was shivering, aching with such a sad color that Nezuko felt tears threaten to burn in her own throat at just the sight.

“Thank you, Tanjirou.” Tamayo whispered.

Just like that, Tanjirou moved away, his wine-red eyes shining almost more like rubies. He was clearly pleased with himself, and moved back to stand next to Nezuko, his head tilted back almost proudly.

“So, what will you do now?” Nezuko asked.

“We must move out of Asakusa. With those demons having found our hiding spot, surely, Muzan will be hot on our trail.” Tamayo frowned. “What’s more, I don’t believe we can work with humans anymore. It’s too risky. Children and the elderly are more keen at sensing our demonic differences than normal adults, but this was too close for comfort.”

Nezuko nodded. “I understand.” It would be unfortunate to not have Tamayo around anymore, but it would be safer if the demon doctor could do her research as far away from Kibutsuji’s eye as possible.

“There’s one more thing, Nezuko.” Tamayo began. Bowing her head, she continued.

“Would you prefer it if Tanjirou were under our care?”

Yushiro visibly stiffened again, pale face somehow going even paler. Yet he kept his mouth shut. Nezuko worked her jaw, not saying a word yet.

“It wouldn’t be perfectly safe. But if he were with us, he wouldn’t be in as much danger as he would be fighting demons with you.”

The swordsman was quiet. It would be safer if her twin was hiding away from Muzan, far away from the life of demon slaying that she had dragged them both into. But at the same time… Could she survive even a day without her brother? A week? After he had fallen asleep for two years, she doubted she could endure such anxiety over missing her brother’s sunny face again.

It was while in the midst of her befuddling thoughts that Tanjirou moved, his warm, calloused hand taking Nezuko’s. He squeezed it firmly, and as Nezuko whipped her head around with wide eyes, he simply stared at her back with determined ruby hues.

Immediately, the girl understood. She smiled and squeezed Tanjirou’s hand back.

“Thank you, Tamayo, but we’re never going to go our separate ways. Onii-chan are going to fight together.”

(I’ll never let him bleed and suffer alone again.)

Tamayo’s gentle, beautiful face simply softened. “Of course. Then I’ll wish you luck on your journey.”

Before setting off, Tamayo was sure to give Nezuko a proper clinical check-up. As she had suspected, Nezuko had broken a rib and was very bruised from being tossed around by the arrow demon’s Blood Demon Art. Unfortunately, because they had to keep moving, all Tamayo could do was wrap Nezuko’s chest so the rib fracture would stay in place. At the same time, Tamayo and Yushiro took blood from Tanjirou to study, and the demon boy didn’t seem bothered at all.

A plan was laid out. Should Nezuko defeat a powerful Lower or Upper Moon demon, she could toss one of Tamayo’s special syringe pens into the demon’s corpse to collect the blood. Chachamaru, the doctor’s cat, would fetch the blood and bring it back to his owner. Letters would also be transported in this way, from cat to swordsman and back.

Finally, with box and brother in tow, Nezuko set back out into the streets. Morning had come, and many of the electrical lights were not on yet. Humans scurried to and fro, beginning their mornings and opening their businesses for the day. None of them paid any attention to the scarred girl in a military uniform.

Cityscape gave away to farmland, the dirt path familiar and not at all. Nezuko looked to her crow, who had appeared from a nearby forest with news of her next hunt.

“CAW! SOUTH BY SOUTHWEST! HEAD SOUTH BY SOUTHWEST! A DEMON FILLED HOUSE IS—“

“Can you keep it down?!” Nezuko hissed, lifting her arm. Her crow landed there, opening his big fat beak to screech the orders again while flapping his wings irritably.

“A DEMON FILLED MANSION, SOUTH BY SOUTHWEST! HEAD THERE AT—”

“NOOOOOOOO!!” A scream louder than anything Nezuko had ever heard came rushing towards them, her crow dislodged from her arm just from the sheer volume scaring him out of his feathers.

“PLEASE MARRY MEEEEE! I’M GONNA DIE SOON!!!” The swordsman jogged ahead. Right before her eyes, a very strange boy with the blondest hair she had ever seen was accosting a poor girl with braids.

“CUT IT OUT!!” The Kamado girl shouted, dislodging the boy with a kick to his side. The stranger girl gasped sharply.

The blonde boy just burst into hysterics, tears spilling down his face.  Nezuko could only stare in aggravated confusion, wondering,

(What the hell did I just get myself into?!)

Chapter Text

Chapter 16: Agatsuma Zenitsu

             "PLEASE MARRY MEEEEEE!!!" Came a shout that could only properly be accompanied by the absolute saddest sob from the young, blonde boy that was just wanting to live to see the next sunrise tomorrow. All he wanted was to live a long, happy life-- And then he had to go and get adopted into this demon slaying business!! WHY HIM!?!?

GAUHK--

His whole body went limp, he felt like ribs were broken-- probably were --, and good gOD-- GOOD GOD-- COULD HE NOT CATCH A BREAAAAAK!?!?!?

"Thank you so much-- This poor guy just goes on and on--" The girl lightly dusted off her kimono and huffed. "He really needs to get a grip, huh?"

"HEY--" The guy that 'really needs to get a grip' sat up quick with a hand at his side and a wheeze. "Why'd you have to go and do that, huh?? I was about to get married and NOT HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT DYING ANY TIME SOON-- YOU RUINED IT, KID!!!"

Zenitsu. The boy's name was Zenitsu. A scaredy cat, no good, terrible demon slayer. He didn't even know one demon slaying form. And yet here he was... Somehow among the troops, holding a banner while his knees trembled, and his eyes threatened to roll back into his head.

Zenitsu... Poor Zenitsu.

Nezuko felt her eyebrow twitch. Before she could even do anything, she watched as a little sparrow flew into her field of vision, carrying on with panicked chirps. The poor thing's aura was concerned, wanting to do something about the boy who was carrying on so pathetically in the middle of the road.

Resolving to help not only the poor braided girl, but also the sparrow, Nezuko made her way to the blonde-haired boy with her hands on her hips, glaring down at him sharply.

"QUIT BOTHERING GIRLS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD!" Came the annoyed, rightfully frustrated shout of the swordswoman. "AND STOP UPSETTING YOUR SPARROW!"

Zenitsu sniffled but he stayed on the ground, finally taking in the uniform the girl in front of him was wearing. He didn't even notice the lightness to the girl's voice that would indicate who or what she was. To him, he was looking at a young boy with a pink bow (his heart was still beating a mile a minute from his adrenaline) and finally pointed.

"That uniform!! You were at the Final Selection-- I REMEMBER YOU!!" Zenitsu shrieked.

Nezuko blanched at that. "I DON'T KNOW ANYONE LIKE YOU!" Came her almost offended response, hands still resting upon her hips. Even if they were both at Final Selection, the girl would have remembered meeting a blonde boy with the most pitiful aura she had ever seen.

"Ugh." Shivering a bit, she finally turned on her heel to the braided stranger, giving a short bow.

"Sorry. Everything's alright now. You should go home." And hopefully, this weirdo wouldn't follow the poor girl out to her home.

Maybe Nezuko had to stay put, make sure the kid wasn't going to cause trouble.

The girl just rose a hand to her mouth to try and cover a small laugh despite her embarrassment over the situation... she literally only said hi to the poor guy and then he started to beg her for her hand in marriage... It was so uncomfortable.

"YES-YOU-DO!!! I REMEMBER YOU!" Zenitsu insisted. "I saw you at the Selection-- It's your memory problem and not mINE-- HEY WAIT THAT GIRL WAS GONNA MARRY ME--" Zenitsu began scrambling off the gravel and rose a hand up to try and grab the girl's sleeve again. "SHE LIKES ME!!"

And then the girl that had been accosted, nearly drug to the ground, and had her kimono sleeve nearly come apart from tears, fingers, and pleading... gave Zenitsu the most hateful glare...

Before proceeding to wail on him with an open hand.

Nezuko sharply gasped as the other girl started wailing on Zenitsu, causing even more awful cries to come from the boy. Dear gods. This was... This was just too much.

The swordswoman marched right over, grabbing the girl by the back of her kimono, pulling her away from the crouched and trembling form of the blonde swordsman.

"Alright, enough! Calm down!!" Placing herself between the boy and the girl, the Kamado girl narrowed her eyes. Distantly, she could sense Tanjirou waking up in his box. Not like he could do anything about it with the sun out.

"Just go home, ma'am. I'll handle it." Nezuko tried, speaking as gently and calmly as she could.

Zenitsu wailed and pleaded for the girl to stop-- He'd do anything-- HE'D MARRY ANOTHER GIRL--

And then he was safe. And bruised... maybe bleeding.

"YOU JACKASS I WAS ONLY TRYING TO HELP YOU!!" The girl shouted, even as she was dragged away.

"Wha-?!" Zenitsu looked up with his eyes, once again, welling up with tears. "S-So you didn't stop because you liked me??"

"NO!! You were crouched on the side of the road-- I THOUGHT YOU WERE SICK!!!" The girl huffed and growled before straightening her kimono. "I'm already engaged, so just leave me alone, you creep!" She shouted as she walked away.

Zenitsu let out a soft cry when the girl stomped off... and then he looked over at the one that had ruined it all.

"Y-You-- Why did you do that?" Zenitsu's voice was just pathetic as he hiccupped. "Why did you interfere?"

After watching all of this unfold, the anger that Nezuko had been feeling had cooled into just... Disgust. She hadn't ever seen anybody as desperate and pathetic as this kid. Somehow he was part of the same corps as her, yet he was shivering like a leaf.

Instead of even responding, Nezuko found she couldn't. No, she just grimaced down at the boy, clear distaste written all over her pale face. What's more she inhaled through her teeth, making a sort of "tch" sound of displeasure.

"WHYAREYOULOOKINGATMELIKETHAT?!??!" Zenitsu cried-- literally --before he pointed at the girl. "WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE SOME POOR-- DISGUSTING LITTLE CREATURE, HUH!?!"

The pathetic boy huffed and rose off his knees with a grunt and a sob.

"I hold you responsible for this!! You just kept me from getting married-- I won't forgive you for this-- EVEN IF YOU ARE PRETTY FOR A BOY!!" Zenitsu shrieked, clearly still not aware of... a few things going on.

"Your cute hair-- Your cute face-- WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU, ANYWAYS?! DID YOU GET STRUCK BY CUTE LIGHTNING ON THE WAY HERE OR SOMETHING!?!?"

Nezuko was shocked out of her self-contained vow of silence once Zenitsu called her a boy. Huh?

"You think I'm a boy?" The girl asked, pointing to herself with her eyebrows thinned together. So far, there were plenty of demons and strangers who knew she was a girl on first viewing. Did this guy have bad eyes? Or was he just stupid?

Maybe it was because girls weren't supposed to kick boys in the guts... That could definitely be it. What a first introduction.

"I'm Kamado Nezuko, who the hell are you?" The swordswoman finally asked with a huff.

Zenitsu huffed and crossed his arms as he starred this Kamado Nezuko up and down like she was some girl-stealing, smooth-talking, cool-- c-cool guy!!

"My name is Agatsuma Zenitsu-- AND I'M GONNA DIE ON MY NEXT MISSION!!" He said it with such finality that anyone that heard him might just be inclined to believe it. He sniffled again and then clenched his jaw.

"I WANNA GET MARRIED BEFORE THAT HAPPENS-- THAT'LL SAVE ME! THEN I WON'T DIE AND BE A CORPSE B-BEFORE I Can even-- b-before--" Zenitsu grabbed at his too-blonde strands of hair and shouted.

"KAMADO NEZUKOOOOO--" Zenitsu was on his knees again, grappling at Nezuko's haori and crying into the sleeve. "PROTECT MEEE-- YOU HAVE TO PLEEEAAASE!!!!"

Once more, disgust filled the features of the girl. "Are you kidding me, Zenitsu?" No honorific, no, she was far too frustrated and confused over the strange boy to be polite anymore, or ever attempt to be.

"You're a swordsman, right? What's with this 'help me' stuff?! Why are you behaving like such a weakling?"  Grabbing Zenitsu by the shoulder, she pushed him off her haori sleeve. She didn't have time to clean it, but well...

Oh. Yep. Her nose wrinkled as she stole a glance at the sleeve. There were visible tear and snot stains on the pink asohana fabric. Great.

"Gods damn it."

As Zenitsu was pushed away, he began to lean back and practically yowled his woes to the whole world... but mainly Nezuko who was standing right in front of him.

"A WOMAN TRICKED ME AND PUT ME INTO MOUNTAINS OF DEBT-- AND MY TRAINER TOOK ON THAT DEBT--" Zenitsu sniffled. "Now look at me!!"

It seemed that whatever shrill, cries of the damned Zenitsu spewed from his mouth, it would never end. His woes... His debts. All of his training was a roadblock for his life. And he believed he would truly die.

"All because of my trainer-- I've made it this far AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOOOOW!!!" Zenitsu was bent over backwards-- literally --with his hands on the ground and his face becoming redder by the second before he kicked his feet and flipped up to stand.

"I'M GONNA DIIIIIE-- He shrieked, more tears falling from his face.

Okay. The screaming was too much. Nezuko sighed, and walked around so she was properly facing Zenitsu. She crouched down, and very carefully, placed her hand over his mouth, silencing him or at least muffling the screaming.

"Hey! Hey." Getting his attention first, she then made her voice gentler, like she was talking to her siblings to soothe them after they had a blowout fight. It didn't always happen, but Hanako and Shigeru used to quarrel a bit after their father died...

"Calm down. Zenitsu-san, I can't promise to protect you. But let's keep walking. Clear our heads. You're upsetting your poor sparrow!!" Gesturing to the bird that had landed beside them. "I know you're upset, but we need to take a breath."

Zenitsu seemed to quiet down the moment he heard Nezuko's voice and felt her hand on his mouth. His nose picked up on a gentle smell and his ears, his very sensitive ears, were finally not pounding from the blood going to his brain to be able to listen... And he looked up at Nezuko with soft eyes, giving a gentle sniffle before nodding.

He could clearly hear that despite how quick Nezuko was to anger... she was quite nice and kind...

She--

Zenitsu sprang up to his feet and gave the girl a deep bow, a string of snot nearly touching the ground before he sneezed from his sudden movement to clear his nose--

"G-GOMEN--" He shouted and then remembered what Nezuko said before he sniffed again and bowed his head as he stood up straight. His hands messed with themselves and suddenly it was as if Zenitsu couldn't meet Nezuko's eyes.

"I'm sorry I... called you a boy, Nezuko-chan." Zenitsu whimpered a little. Oh, he was hungry... he just... wanted to sit down somewhere and go take a nap-- Eat some onigiri and not have to worry about anything.

Nezuko sighed, expression softening despite herself. She wanted to be irritated, to be upset with the boy who had caused her so much frustration and pain already. But hearing him apologize, she could tell from his trembling aura that he was being sincere. He probably was a good guy… Just kind of messed up somewhere.

“It’s fine.” Reaching into her haori, she produced the wrapped up onigiri she had managed to buy before leaving Asakusa. The rice still smelled fresh, and without even really thinking it through, she offered Zenitsu one of the rice balls.

“Here. You’ll need your strength after crying yourself into such a wreck.”

Zenitsu took the rice ball quietly, sniffling. Secretly, he was very grateful, just incredibly surprised that a girl would gift him such a thing without any ulterior motive. It was… Nice.

As they walked along the road, Nezuko was quiet. She didn’t say a word, just watching as her crow flew ahead, guiding them to their next mission. Flying below the crow was that little sparrow from before.

“I know you’re scared.” Nezuko finally broke the silence, even if she sensed she might regret it. “But if you cry so much, you’ll just upset your friend even more.”

“Friend?” Zenitsu asked, voice warbly still from how he had nearly screamed his vocal cords to pieces minutes earlier. “What friend?”

“Your sparrow.” The girl responded easily, looking over at the blonde. “He was really worried about you, you know. You have to consider other persons’ feelings before you call yourself worthless or try to upset others.”

Zenitsu gawked. His eyes went so wide it was almost comical, and he barely managed to swallow his last bite of rice before screeching.

“HOW WOULD YOU KNOW WHAT THE SPARROW SAID?! BIRDS CAN’T TALK!”

Nezuko growled. (Yep. Should have kept my mouth shut.)

The sparrow seemed to be listening to their conversation, and flew down, landing on Nezuko’s hand. She carefully lifted it up, then pointed to the avian with her opposing hand.

“The bird’s emotions are strong enough for me to see. You just need to look.”

“QUICKLY, QUICKLY! CAWWW!” The crow had come back down to the humans’ level too, voice so loud it rivaled Zenitsu’s. “RUN, NEZUKO! ZENITSU!”

The blonde boy looked faint, flopping over with such a sharp cry, it probably could be heard for miles around. Thank goodness the streets were empty.

Countryside disappeared into numerous trees, brush obscuring their vision as they ran. Nezuko was surprised how agile the boy was, even if he whined for her to slow down so he could keep up. “Don’t leave me behind!” and “Waiiiiiit!” Blasted the Kamado daughter’s ears for miles.

It was still light out when they came upon the crow’s final destination- a very large, antiquated house, hidden in these woods. The birds and insects in the area seemed to whisper, speaking with one another of how terrible the contents of this mansion were.

Nezuko’s brows furrowed. All she could sense was pure red, a total symphony of demons. Was it another demon with multiple bodies? Or was it a troop of them, sharing the space? It was odd for demons to work together.

“Ne… Don’t you hear that? Huh? Nezuko-chan?” Zenitsu’s whimpering voice shook Nezuko from her thoughts. Whatever semblance of a battle plan she had was gone in an instant, leaving only dread and instinctive fear over facing a demon.

“Hear what?” The girl questioned softly, unsure why she was being quiet.

Nearby, the brush rustled. A little sob came from the bushes. Within seconds, Nezuko saw the source of the sound- a little boy and girl. Their eyes were wide and distant, staring right at the two slayers with such fear it was heartbreaking for the sisterly slayer.

“What are you two doing here?” Nezuko asked. The children shivered. No reply. The swordswoman sighed gently, walking as quietly as she could to the two kids, doing her best to not seem dangerous.

Kneeling down before the two kids, Nezuko smiled. “Hey. Look.” Gesturing a bit, she produced a couple of red thread loops from her pocket. She kept these on hand to keep her hands occupied while waiting, whether that waiting was for a mission or to get tired enough to sleep.

With the threads, she began to make shapes and little puzzles, winding the crimson threads along her skilled, slim fingers. Slowly but surely, the little boy and girl relaxed, before smiling just a little. Nezuko grinned.

“See? Isn’t that cool? My little brothers and sister used to love figuring out what we could do with these threads.”

Zenitsu stared at the scene before him, hand still raised to his ear to gather that strange rhythmic sound coming from within the mansion. Despite his fear, he felt warmth threatening to settle on his chest. A sound of gentleness came from his traveling companion… As well as a soft sound mixed with the shivering tone of demons.

Was… Was Nezuko carrying a demon?

“Now, can you tell me what happened?” Nezuko put the thread loops back in her pocket, still knelt on the forest floor. She did her best to speak softly, to keep her patience in check. The poor kids were terrified still, even if they were no longer frozen in their fear.

“That house… A demon came from that house!” The little boy sobbed. “We were walking with our big brother last night… And a big monster grabbed our brother! He got dragged all the way here!”

“Wow…” Nezuko began softly. “You followed that demon all the way here? I’m impressed. You’re two very brave kids.”

The boy sniffled. “Our brother… He’s hurt. We followed his blood.”

The elder girl stiffened a bit. “Wounded… Well.” Straightening up, she put on a determined smile. “My friend and I here will beat the bad guy and save your big brother. Promise.”

“Really?” The little girl whispered.

“Yes, really.” Nezuko beamed.

“Are you sure you don’t hear that, guys?” Zenitsu whined. “It’s really starting to bug me now… It sounds like a drum… Beating over and over…”

“A drum?” Nezuko turned away from the children, eyebrows shoved together so tightly her pale, scarred forehead wrinkled. “Zenitsu, what are you—”

DUN. DUN. DUN. DUNDUNDUNDUNDUN—

With a final DUN, the upper overhang porch of the mansion shuddered, the shoji doors snapping open. Flying from the building’s insides, like a projectile, was a man covered in blood. The man’s body slammed with a hearty SMACK against the ground, blood spraying even more from his already broken form.

The children screamed. Nezuko was quick to gather them both up, urging them to look away and face the forest instead.

With that taken care of, she ran as fast as she could to the man’s body, rose eyes panicked as they searched for any way to help the still breathing soul.

“Hey, just—Just hang on, sir, please--!” She begged, desperate to not witness someone else die. But the man just rattled as he breathed, eyes wide and unseeing.

“Sunlight… I…. I got out… Thank God… But… I-I’m dying, aren’t I? I’m dying—”

Eyes burning with tears she wouldn’t dare let go, Nezuko shuddered, wrapping her arms around the man’s torso in a tight embrace. At least he could die with some semblance of comfort, that someone saw what he had accomplished at the very end…

Zenitsu was frozen in fear. His body could only shake like a leaf, staring at the grisly scene. He, as well as Nezuko and the children, all flinched as a terrible roar of fury came rocketing from the mansion.

“That’s not our big brother,” The little boy suddenly piped up, “Our brother was wearing an orange kimono.”

Nezuko looked down at the dead body, then back at the children.

(I see. Multiple people were captured, then. I will try my best to save them. And when I get back, I’ll give this man a proper burial.)

Sitting up as fast as a bullet, Nezuko got to her feet. “Zenitsu, let’s go!”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! NO WAY!” Zenitsu roared, though not out of anger. Nope, it was just his usual pitiful wail in a higher volume.

The swordswoman decided then it would just be better if she went on ahead without the cowardly corps member.

“I see. Well, bye, Zenitsu-san.” Nezuko turned on a dime, headed towards the entrance of the mansion. And boy, did Zenitsu not like that reaction one bit.

“WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME WITH SUCH DISDAIN AND PITY?! FINE, I’LL GO, I’LL GO! DON’T LEAVE ME HERE, NEZUKO-CHAN!!” He clung to Nezuko’s box, and vaguely, she sensed her brother’s temper start to flare within it.

“I’m not forcing you to go, Zenitsu-san.” Before Zenitsu could protest, she had taken off the box, laying it carefully before the frightened children at the outskirts of the property. Her eyes were serious, yet full of gentle kindness that she still had for all children.

“I’m leaving this here with you. Protect it while I’m gone.” She sighed quietly. “That box’s contents… Mean more to me than life itself.”

Tanjirou’s aura grew upset. Grumpy, even. But he couldn’t leave the box while the sun was out. He couldn’t follow his twin sister into the mansion even if he tried. It killed him, not being able to protect his beloved sibling.

Nezuko just hoped her brother could smell her apologies.

Zenitsu frowned, tears still staining his sticky, snotty face. He looked from child to swordswoman and back, before coming to stand almost protectively by the box and the children.

“I-I’ll stay too and protect the k-kids. You can depend on me, okay, Nezuko-chan?” Smiling pathetically at the girl, Zenitsu seemed to be trying to get on the elder girl’s good side by protecting what mattered the most to her. Nezuko grimaced.

“Fine. But don’t cry for me if you get scared. You have to stand up for these kids, if not for yourself, Zenitsu-san.” Uttered like scolding from a parent, those rose eyes seemed full of the flare of sunlight itself. Zenitsu knew Nezuko wasn’t an ordinary girl, really, he did, but that look just helped seal that notion up permanently.

“Y-yes ma’am.” The blonde boy squeaked.

Satisfied, Nezuko smiled. “Good. Well. I’m off.”

With an almost dramatic turn, haori fluttering along her body, the swordswoman headed towards the drum filled mansion.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17: Tsuzumi Mansion

The interior of the mansion was entirely dark. Electric lights still hung from the ceilings, indicating that it hadn’t been built all that long ago. Or perhaps it got refurbished with the lights. 

The sight of these fixtures reminded Nezuko of the village down the mountain from where she grew up. When she was little, they were very dependent on the charcoal that her father sold. But as she grew up, wires filled the town, and electric power became more and more common. Tanjirou would come back with more than half of his basket still full. Even if he didn’t show it beyond his usual smile, Nezuko could always tell her twin brother was worried and upset that their livelihood was changing… And could go away at any moment.

The swordswoman sighed. She looked all around the hallways, keeping her senses on high alert. Without the sniveling Zenitsu tagging along, her mind could actually focus on the task at hand for the first time in what felt like hours. 

( Alright… The drumming sound Zenitsu mentioned could be the demon’s thing… What was it called again…? Blood Demon Art…? )

Rose hues flicked from side to side, before her footsteps came to a halt. She carefully slid open a shoji door, her dominant hand resting on her sword’s hilt, in case the demon suddenly appeared and lunged for her.

Nothing. Just several bookcases and crates, the smell of old books and dust filling the room. Nezuko padded into the room, noticing another door at the end of it. Once she had slid the door open, she was met with another hallway. Hm.

( I’ll be lost for hours in here if I keep on like this. Think, Nezuko! Relax and try to sense the trails of the demon .)

Inhaling slowly, then exhaling, she focused, eyes twitching and straining. Slowly but surely, she was able to focus on the lingering emotional trails of the demon’s soul…

Only to realize there was more than one. There were three, and they had very recently congregated nearby. If she followed the trail there, maybe she could find the strongest path and work towards the demon. 

( And if I’m lucky, I’ll find those kids’ elder brother .)

Thump. Thump. 

The hallway was filled with an oppressive color, heavy and red. Nezuko froze in place, quieting her breath. Rengoku-san had taught her that sometimes the best course of action in battle was stealth. You had to treat the demons like prey, and yourself as a tiger ready to pounce.

The thumping got repeatedly louder and louder. Coming closer, until at last, Nezuko caught sight of the demon- one that towered over her young height easily, his body covered in muscle and sinew. 

But the most noticeable thing about him was the numerous drums that protruded from his body, with veins and skin disgustingly stretched along the sides, as if the drums had burst from his body… Or had been impaled into him. 

The girl swallowed thickly. She wanted so desperately to lunge, to take care of the demon with a strong, concise strike. She could feel the fire burning in her gut, urging her forward. But she had to be patient. What if the demon had a human nearby, and the resulting struggle wounded or killed an innocent?

The energy that hung off the demon’s soul was the strongest that the Kamado daughter had witnessed yet (barring Muzan). Whoever this demon was, he was most likely the owner of the house, and its territorial lord.

“Why…?” A growling, deep, and awful voice emerged from the demon’s maw of impossibly large fangs. “Why does everybody keep sneaking through my house? Those brutes scared off my prey… In my territory!”

Nezuko bit her tongue. It would be stupid to reveal herself now. Especially since another oppressive force was coming closer. And fast.

“COMING THROUGH!!” The shoji door smashed to pieces, wood splinters flying everywhere. A few clicked harmlessly as they bounced off the demon’s muscles, falling down to the tatami matted floor.

( What the fuck– )

The raven haired girl just barely rolled out of the way of the stranger, before slamming into a stack of crates. Her cover was blown, all thanks to-

“WHY DO YOU HAVE A BOAR HIDE ON YOUR HEAD?!” The shock and adrenaline rush of the situation ripped the thought out of Nezuko’s mind, out into the open air, as she stared in shocked dismay at the boy before her.

Even weirder, the boy was carrying two nichirin swords, their blades whipped and beaten into sawtooth formation. Was this guy with the Demon Slayer Corps? If so, where was his uniform?

“ALRIGHT!! COME ON, DEMON! DIE QUICKLY SO I CAN CATAPULT OFF YOUR SORRY CORPSE INTO EVEN GREATER HEIGHTS! I’LL BECOME STRONGER THANKS TO YOUR DEATH!!” To boot, the guy also had a grating, deep voice that seemed more likely to come out of an adult’s mouth. Yet Nezuko could sense he was young- the same age as her.

“Aggravating…” The drum demon muttered, not even acknowledging either slayer in the room. He just raised a veiny hand and clapped it against a drum on his body. The room began to spin, and Nezuko gasped in pain as her still healing, battered body smacked against the wall.

To make matters worse, the weird boar head fool launched himself off Nezuko’s back, slashing wildly at the demon. Which of course, just made him use the drum art again, tilting them all around the room.

“HAHAHA!!” The boar cackled, landing on his feet easily. “The room spun around!! This is fun!” 

Nezuko felt that familiar prickle of rage bloom in her chest, hot and overwhelming. Despite her soreness, she grabbed hold of the boy by his pants, before hurling him into the wall.

“DON’T STEP ON OTHER PEOPLE, ASSHOLE!”

The boy tumbled, but recovered quickly, irritation and confusion coming off his soul in waves. Nezuko coughed, steadying herself and keeping her sword aloft. Very easily, the demon could attack them while they were arguing.

“Who are you?” The boar grunted. “Nobody’s ever thrown me before. ESPECIALLY not a girl!” Brandishing his sawtooth swords, he suddenly lunged at Nezuko, who had to roll again to get away.

“WE’RE ON THE SAME TEAM!!” She shrieked.

“Insects!!” The drum demon growled. Again, the drum beat, and invisible claws tore the room apart. Nezuko thanked every lucky star she had managed to dodge it, but the crate nearby wasn’t as lucky- exploding into even more shards of wood and paper mess.

Just as she turned to say something to warn the boar headed boy of the demon’s blood art… 

The room changed. Then again. Nezuko shivered, realizing she was alone.

( But the demon didn’t hit the drum that time… Does another demon have one? )

To make matters worse, she got transported to a room with not only a human’s destroyed body, but a demon as well. It didn’t have a drum.

Nope, it was just crouched over the body, impossibly long tongue licking the blood from the corpse. It didn’t seem too preoccupied, because once Nezuko took a step, its head whipped upwards, frog-like eyes wetly blinking one at a time.

“Hehehe…. A girl! A little girl, at that! I bet you taste better than this old fart.” The frog demon crawled forward, giggling the whole time. In the blink of an eye, its tongue lashed out like a whip, intent on grabbing Nezuko by her still mending broken leg.

“NO!” Nezuko shrieked as the tongue latched onto her leg, undoing the ribbons of the warmer fabric that had been so carefully tied to her shin. The force of the tongue latching on felt like a blow, powerful enough to shatter stone. If her legs weren’t so well trained, they probably would have crumpled from impact alone.

“Scream even more, little girl~” The frog demon purred, beginning to draw its long tongue back. Nezuko stumbled, but just barely managed to not fall flat on her ass.

“I’ll slurp your brains out through your ear~” A deranged coo, as the demon tilted its head playfully at the swordswoman. She gave a great shiver, before taking a very deep breath.

( Cut the tongue, Nezuko! Get free! Then attack! )

Flame Breathing, Third Form: Blazing Universe!

Her nichirin blade sailed downwards in a quick, sharp motion, flames spiraling with beautiful red and orange hue, making contact with the demon’s tongue and slicing it away from her leg. The demon shrieked, burnt off tongue quickly zapping back into its mouth to regenerate.

( Now! While it’s in pain! ) The cherry pink eyes of the normally cheerful girl had hardened, blazing as intensely as the breath she spewed from her heart. 

Falling into position, Nezuko braced her sore, shivering legs. Her blade shimmered, the dark nichirin very briefly glinting red.

Flame Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire!

Despite the pain, she lunged forward, the flame horizontally zooming along with her blade, until it made contact at long last with the frog demon’s neck. A wet PLAP and THUD of the head hitting the floor was all the confirmation she needed that her move had connected.

Nezuko crumpled to her knees and gasped for breath, sweat trickling down her scarred forehead. The demon had perished, but the force it had taken to move her sore and bruised body had nearly exhausted all of her energy.

( I’m still not strong enough .) She thought in dismay, coughing. ( Onii-chan… I bet you would have been able to kill all the demons in this house without breaking a sweat. Hell, you probably would have not gotten injured in the last mission .)

That was why she was struggling. Her ribs were still broken, and her leg was mending. If she kept getting beaten against the walls and floor of the tumbling mansion, she would likely open all her wounds and gain new ones. 

Not only that, but the Flame Breathing style exerted body energy in the form of heat, skyrocketing internal temperatures in order for the organ systems to keep up. Just like Water Breathing, it wasn’t quite a perfect fit for Kamado Nezuko.

( But I have to keep going. I have to save that little boy .) Slowly and shakily, Nezuko came to a stand, panting haggardly as sweat dribbled down her neck. 

( C’mon, Nezuko. Fight. Fight! Destroy the demons, so this family doesn’t lose everything like yours did! )

Chapter Text

Chapter 18: Tsuzumi Mansion 2

Wandering through the mansion became more painful by the minute. No matter how many doors she opened, it felt like Nezuko couldn’t find a proper way to where the powerful lord of the house was. 

At one point, she sensed the remains of a demon’s signature, as well as that strange boar boy’s. He had destroyed a demon all on his own, revealing his strength without Nezuko even seeing it. 

That meant there was only one demon left. But still no sign of the little boy the two siblings outside had tasked her with finding.

The sound of sobbing suddenly caught her attention. Eyes widening, she quickly ran towards the sound, flinging open the shoji door with a shout.

“WAIT A MINUTE!” 

The boy sitting in the room froze. His face was wet with tears, eyes so wide and pitiful that it was like staring at an orphaned babe. Nezuko felt her heart clench, immediately envisioning her poor little brother in the place of this one- little Rokuta’s red eyes wetly staring back rather than the honey browns of this boy’s.

“W-who are you?” The boy asked, and Nezuko snapped out of her haze. 

“I’m Kamado Nezuko, a member of the Demon Slayer Corps. Rank Mizunoto.” Nodding a little, she didn’t move yet. Just slowly sliding her nichirin blade back into its scabbard, wanting to seem as harmless as possible to the likely shocked child. Just as slowly, she came to a crouch, reaching his height.

“I came to rescue you and slay the demons of this house. I’ve already killed one of them.” 

The little boy gave a sigh, shoulders sagging as tears began to fall anew. Nezuko smiled gently, before crawling forward, being mindful of her very sore, pulsing leg.

“You’re bleeding. Let me see.” Sniffling, the boy lifted his arm, revealing a nasty scratch from claws that had held him tight, but dragged along the skin when he managed to escape. Nezuko was careful as she produced a little packet of medicine, opening it and scooping up some of the salve.

“My teacher gave me this,” She spoke lightly, smiling fondly in remembrance. “He has funny eyebrows. Big, thick ones.”

“Like caterpillars?” The boy asked. The older girl laughed.

“Yes, exactly. Like twin furry caterpillars. But he’s very kind. He gave me this medicine, it should make the pain go away.” As she finished applying the salve, she tied a bandage around the wound and gently patted the boy’s head.

“There. Is that better?”

“Yes. Thank you, Nezuko-san.” The two took a minute to just breathe, gather their thoughts. The eldest of the two looked down, noticing that the boy had a drum.

“What’s that?”

“Oh… It’s from the demon who captured us… Me and the others. But the demons started fighting with each other, and the drum on his back fell off. So I grabbed it. The magic makes the rooms change so I’ve just been hitting it every time I hear a sound.”

The girl gave pause, then hummed. “That’s a pretty wild adventure… What’s your name?”

“Kiyoshi.” The boy responded in a rasp, tears still falling from his big brown eyes. Recounting the story had clearly frightened him all over again.

Sensing this, Nezuko again smoothed the hair away from the boy’s eyes, smiling down at him with all the warmth and sympathy she could manage. 

“You were very brave, Kiyoshi-kun. Good job!”

Kiyoshi sobbed.

After talking a while more, Nezuko learned that the reason Kiyoshi and the other humans were captured was because they had a special type of blood that gave demons even more power. It was called “marechi,” and she only came to know this thanks to her crow’s sudden appearance to very conveniently divulge such important information to those present in the room.

“Kiyoshi-kun, I need you to be brave for me one more time.” Nezuko could sense that same intimidating presence as before, very slowly approaching on heavy feet. The little boy gave a great shiver, staring up at his rescuer with obvious hesitation.

“I’m going to defeat the last demon. Anytime you hear a sound, flee with the drum. I’ll find you again and call out your name before opening the door. I promise.” Holding up her hand, she extended one pale pinky. “Pinky Promise.”

Kiyoshi was quiet. But after a moment, he seemed to rally, and he wrapped his own pinky finger around Nezuko’s. The girl beamed in response.

“Good. I’ll be off now. Your big sister Nezuko-chan has it covered, alright?” Doing as best as she could to be confident and brave, she set off into the hallway, hand resting on her blade with full intent on hunting the drum demon down.

A beat of the drum was all she heard behind her, and she felt Kiyoshi’s aura disappear. Good. He would be safe this way. Hopefully.

Opening the door in front of her, she was greeted by the same spiteful red eyes as before. The towering, lumbering drum demon just snarled, raising a hand to beat the drum on his shoulder.

“Disgusting insect!”

The room rotated, and thankfully, Nezuko found she could recognize the patterns of the demon by now. Her adaptive nature was a blessing now, just like in all the other battles prior.

( Right shoulder means rotate right. Left shoulder rotates left. The shoulders and legs are equivalent to the direction of the room .)

She gave a gasp, claws shredding the room’s tatami floor and revealing the darkness below the wooden floor. Her analytical eyes just barely caught the sight of the demon smacking his stomach’s drum, which produced the same effect.

( Stomach drum makes those claws tear the room up. I got it now! )

Her confidence was immediately misplaced. The room began rotating so fast that she barely had any time at all to fix her footing, spinning around and slamming against bookshelves and furniture this way and that. Every time her body hit something, she would cry out in pain, her wounds pulsing and growing in severity of their soreness by the minute.

( I’m still not healed. I was in so much pain even when dealing with Zenitsu… If I wasn’t the eldest daughter, I wouldn’t be able to deal with this! At all! )

Landing face first against the ground, Nezuko gave a shriek of pain, but thankfully, it seemed the demon had paused. As if he was trying to see if he had crippled the slayer and could attack to finish her off.

(I can’t do this. I’m scared.)

(“ Kamado-shoujo .”)

Nezuko’s eyes snapped open. The image of her teacher, Rengoku-san, filled her mind. His comforting, bright, never-faltering smile. The way his spirit was a constant flame, burning so bright she nearly felt like ash in his mere presence. 

(“ Flames can endure anything. If the situation gets tough, you get fired up! If things seem dark, you turn on the light, right!? Never give up! Reach deep down and ignite your spirit! ”)

The girl came to a kneel, her blade shaking from how her arms trembled. But she still held it aloft, defensive and ready for the offensive all at once. Rengoku-san’s bright smile burned even hotter in her imagination, as if he were proud of her effort to simply get up.

(“ Set your heart ablaze! ”)

“LISTEN UP, DEMON!” She wasn’t exactly sure where it came from. But Nezuko found herself shouting at the top of her lungs, energy raising in a final ditch effort. The drum demon stared back at her, seemingly stunned and confused to be addressed at all.

“I MAY BE BROKEN AND BRUISED, BUT I’M NOT DONE YET! I’M KAMADO NEZUKO! A KAMADO NEVER GIVES UP!” Was she convincing him or herself? “EVEN IF I AM BROKEN, I’LL NEVER GIVE UP!”

“DAMN INSECT!” Rage flared so powerfully in the demon’s soul, that for a moment, Nezuko swore she saw the man the demon used to be– groveling before an older man who just shredded his precious work into pieces. The older man’s body was destroyed with the claws of the drum, the attack shattering the vision for the swordswoman at the same time.

( The drums got faster! I can barely think! ) 

Nezuko swirled around and around, and for just a moment, she felt as if she were flying. A fluttering of paper, the sound of old wooden doors shrieking as they slid open, gears and paths of metal protesting a slightest move.

( Those papers are the same ones from the vision in his soul… ) The girl realized, and with a loud grunt, she managed to shift her legs, landing with the papers between her feet. They were completely untouched by her sandals, still clean and precise.

The demon’s soul gave a shiver of confusion. At the same time, an epiphany came to the young girl, her eyes widening just as large as the demon’s. 

( If I breathe shallow and move in more smooth, concise motions, I can dodge quickly! There’s a shiver in his soul before he uses his art- I just have to use it as an opening! )

Breathing in deeply, Nezuko felt the air around her vibrate, the blood art making gashes fly around the ancient room. The walls kept spinning, and yet, the girl managed to use the spinning to her advantage. Flames ignited, and she almost seemed to dance in midair.

Flame Breathing, Fourth Form: Blooming Flame Undulation!

Just then- That little glimmer of white. A line between soul and blade, traveling through the neck of the demon. Nezuko smiled brightly, her blade changing position as she fixed the form’s flow. The end of the form’s arc would be now, and she would close the opening thread!

“Your Blood Demon Art was amazing!” Nezuko shouted, just as her blade sliced through the drum demon’s neck…

And immediately collapsed to the floor in a heap, the exact same time the demon’s head landed on the earth. Nezuko gasped for breath, grasping at her neck and her chest. She had taken too deep a breath, and her ribs had screamed in such pain she could barely think. Her mind was an explosion of stars.

“Hey. Girl!” That deep voice. Nezuko lifted her head, vision fading in and out. The demon’s head was slowly burning away, disintegrating into nothingness. Yet his red eyes stared up at her with the same tearful expression as Kiyoshi had when she had found him.

“Was my Blood Demon Art really that good?” The demon asked. 

The swordswoman normally would have ignored this question. After all, demons were cruel, horrible creatures. And yet…

“It was. But I can’t allow evil demons to kill innocent humans. Ever.” The demon just frowned, before his mouth melted away into his dying disintegration. Nezuko wordlessly reached into her haori, then tossed the needle pen that Tamayo had given her for gathering the blood of powerful demons.

Very carefully, she got to her feet, limping over to the demon’s head. The pen’s clear display line showed the red filling it, until it was at the fill line. Nezuko took it, and looked it over. 

“Mew.”

“Oh Gods-!!” Gasping and very nearly falling on her ass again, Nezuko took notice that she wasn’t alone. It was Tamayo’s calico cat, Chachamaru. Around his neck was one of Yushiro’s spell cards, as well as a backpack on his back. 

The swordswoman smiled fondly, petting the tomcat’s head and slipping the needle pen into the backpack. “Be safe, little guy.”

With a meow, Chachamaru disappeared, leaving Nezuko alone once again. But she couldn’t rest, not now.

Painfully, she made her way through the halls, using the color of Kiyoshi’s aura to retrace her steps and find his hiding spot. Once she had found it, she grasped the handle of the shoji door and called his name.

“Kiyoshi-kun! It’s me, Nezuko!” 

“Nezuko-san?! Are you alright?” With the little voice’s answer, Nezuko felt it was safe to open the door. She slid it open and stepped inside, watching as the little boy’s face went through multiple rollercoasters of emotion- primarily concern, seeing as his savior was limping.

“I’m okay. C’mon. We can go outside now, to your brother and sister.” Getting down on her knees, she held out her arms, gesturing towards her pink haori draped over her back. Kiyoshi carefully got on her back, and with a groan, she got to her feet, supporting the young boy under his legs.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re shaking.” Kiyoshi murmured, clutching onto Nezuko’s shoulders. Despite the pain, the sensation of someone riding on her back gave her comfort. It reminded her of her siblings.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I used to carry my little brothers and sister on my back all the time.” Shrugging a little, Nezuko trotted towards the open door… 

Only to watch as Zenitsu’s nose spurted blood, which splattered against Tanjirou’s wooden box. 

“C’MON YOU BASTARD, PISS OFF! LET ME GET THAT BOX!” The boar-headed boy was beating the shit out of Zenitsu, whose arms remained protectively clasped around the box. Nezuko went pale, before racing out into the yard.

“Nezuko-chan…” Zenitsu whimpered, staring up with teary, swollen eyes. His cheek was the size of a golf ball, and bruises were already forming on his face. “I protected the box for you… Because you said it was worth more than your own life.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 19: Inosuke Hashibira

“You talk tough shit, yet you won’t draw your blade!” The boar-headed boy roared, slamming his foot against Zenitsu yet again. Nezuko watched as the boy, the boy who was somehow selfless enough to protect something for a girl who had treated him like a bratty kid before… Fell to the ground, still holding the box so tight. 

The image of Tanjirou’s bloodied body, holding baby Rokuta in the snow immediately flashed into Nezuko’s mind. Her scarred forehead bulged with veins, rage flooding her with such intensity it was if someone had lit gasoline in her soul.

“I’ll skewer you AND the box at the same time!” The boar shouted, his saw-toothed blade aimed to stab through Zenitsu and the box.

Fast as she could go, powered by adrenaline and rage, Nezuko launched herself at Inosuke, tackling him to the ground. His blades fell from his rough hands, landing with dull thumps in the grass. Distantly, Nezuko was aware of the children nearby gasping in fright, but none of them moved an inch.

“YOU IDIOT!” The Kamado girl shouted, watching the boy writhe around under her legs. She held him tightly to the ground, her powerful legs anchoring her in place. “HE’S IN THE DEMON SLAYER CORPS WITH YOU! YOU CAN’T DRAW YOUR SWORD AGAINST YOUR COMRADES!!”

But that rage, the anger that always got her in trouble even as a plain mountain girl, continued to burn hot at both ends. Nezuko was laying it on thick, voice nearly raw from the shouting and screaming her high pitched voice tried to emit.

“DO YOU REALLY GET INTO DEADLY FIGHTS JUST FOR FUN?! ARE YOU REALLY SUCH A COWARD?!”

The boar-masked boy just coughed, before laughing right in her face. “You have such a problem with swords? Fine, let’s fight barehanded! You and me!” His legs bunched up under him, and with a grunt, shoved Nezuko off of him. She landed on her back with a choked gasp, cracked ribs still protesting the slightest bit of movement- especially now.

Nearby, Zenitsu screeched something about both Nezuko and the boy having broken ribs now. Yet it just made Nezuko grin, knowing she managed to injure the bastard that easily. She wasn’t that weak after all- a girl could beat anybody up as easily as a boy.

“You wanna fight? Fine!” 

With a battlecry, the swordswoman lunged, tackling Inosuke again. The other just laughed, kicking her harshly in the legs to try and get her to fall to the ground. No matter what, he aimed low, fighting dirty.

( Like a wild animal. Like the boar that Okaa-san headbutted back then .) 

But she couldn’t headbutt this guy. That was Tanjirou’s forte. All she had was her fists and her legs, but if she kept getting battered so low, her legs couldn’t really be of much use. 

As the fight went on, she got more and more irritated. This guy was remarkably flexible, praising himself for every little thing he did. Even if Zenitsu just screamed about how disgusting it was to watch a human contort themselves in half for the fun of it (with broken ribs).

Nezuko didn’t have Tanjirou’s patience. Her anger always overflowed, and got too hot. His kindness and gentle nature would soothe her back to earth, and they could avoid making foolish decisions. 

Her twin wasn’t here to help her. No, and he wasn’t here to save the damn boar kid either.

“CALM DOWN!” Weaving past an attack meant for her stomach, Nezuko instead aimed higher than the boar was daring to go. Her leg raised up high, higher than most could get their leg to go without some stretching. 

WHAM!! And it came right down on Inosuke’s head.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT SOUND?!” Zenitsu wailed. “DID YOU BREAK HIS SKULL OPEN? DID YOU KILL HIM, NEZUKO-CHAN?!” 

Nezuko said nothing. She only glowered at the boy with the boar hide, watching as he stumbled backwards. His mask fell to the dirt, and while holding his head, he stared up at the girl with both excitement and barely hidden anger.

“DID YOU JUST BEAT UP ANOTHER GIRL?!” Zenitsu’s head whipped between the boy and Nezuko, eyes bulging so wide it seemed as if they were coming out of his skull. 

The girl stared down at the boar boy, eyebrows furrowed. Yeah, this kid had a very feminine face, but his body and soul were entirely masculine. He had to be a boy.

“What? You got a problem with my face, blondie?” The other boy asked with a grin. “Doesn’t matter! Hit me again! Kick me again, girlie!” 

Nezuko blanched. “You’re joking. You have a feminine face, but you act like a total boy!” But then the other thing he said hit her, and she just stared at him like he grew another head. “Sit the hell down! I’m not hitting you again!”

Because honestly, she had overdone it. She had gotten ahead of herself, and now they were all injured and grumpy.

“Listen leg lady!” The blue haired boy grinned even wider, smacking his own toned chest. “I’ll tell you who I am! I’m Lord of the Mountains! Inosuke Hashibira! Remember it!”

“How do you write it?” Nezuko asked, voice still just as loud as Inosuke’s. The boy just furrowed his unkempt brows at her, head tilting in confusion. 

“I don’t know how to read or write. My name is written on my waistband, though I–” 

Silence. Everyone present froze, before watching as Inosuke began to gurgle foamy spit, and then collapsed, face forward in the dirt.

“Is he dead?” Zenitsu asked, hiding his face into Nezuko’s haori. At some point, he had hidden behind the strong girl, wanting to seek protection from her now that he had seen her beat up a boy almost twice her size, as well as emerge from the mansion full of demons relatively unscathed.

“No. I gave him a concussion. I kicked him too hard.” Nezuko immediately blushed when all present just gawked at her. Yep. She definitely overdid it.

A couple hours later, Inosuke had woken up, practically jumping off the ground with a roar equivalent to the beasts he claimed to rule over. Zenitsu squealed, hiding behind Nezuko again. They had been in the middle of burying the body of the man who had fallen out of the mansion window when they had first arrived. Even the kids had helped, their little hands stained with dirt.

“C’mon! Fight me again!!” Inosuke shouted, grabbing at Nezuko’s haori. She just stared at him like a disappointed mother, and strangely, the boar backed off a little. 

“We’re burying the dead victims of the demons. Can you help us out, Inosuke-san?”

“Why?” The boar scoffed. “The vultures will eat ‘em. What’s the point of burying them underground?”

The swordswoman was quiet, before shrugging. “Guess it really can’t be helped. Guess your wounds hurt too much to help, huh?”

Inosuke blanched, before shouting at the top of his lungs. “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”

“Everybody has a different pain threshold. It’s okay. Just rest. Zenitsu-san and I are strong enough to bury these bodies on our own, no problem!” Nezuko cheerfully and confidently smiled, watching as Inosuke suddenly shot off towards the mansion door.

“NO WAY! I CAN BURY MORE BODIES THAN ANY OF YOU! 200 OF THEM EVEN!!”

Eventually, the bodies of the victims were buried. Nezuko, Zenitsu and the kids gave them proper burial rites, praying for their souls to pass on peacefully. Inosuke just played with a stick, not quite sure why the others were insistent on mumbling mumbo-jumbo.

Nezuko’s crow showed up with a bag of wisteria incense, giving it to the children. Kiyoshi and his siblings would be protected by the smell, on their way back home, and if they went out at night, they would carry the satchel with them. Once that was done and the children had all said their goodbyes, the crow exclaimed that he would lead the injured slayers to a Wisteria House, where they could recover from their wounds.

While they walked through the forest path, Nezuko carried Zenitsu on her back, and had Tanjirou’s box on her chest. She could feel Tanjirou’s discontent, but he did nothing but lay against the back of the box. The warmth of his little body against her chest gave Nezuko some comfort to deal with the throbbing body pains.

“Did you grow up in the mountains too, Inosuke-san?” Nezuko asked, trying her best to make pleasant conversation with the boar. Hopefully they could patch things up and have an amicable comradery.

“I’m nothing like you,” The boar proclaimed. “I have parents! Siblings too! My only desire is to match strengths with others!”

Nezuko and Zenitsu just stared disappointingly back, listening as Inosuke bragged about stealing a corps member’s sword on the mountain he grew up, teaching himself his own Breath, and then heading to Final Selection. He had passed, but only slayed demons to get stronger. That was all.

“I’m Kamado Nezuko.” The girl found a spot to introduce herself in the conversation. Inosuke flexed his muscles, then pointed at the girl threateningly. But with all the wiggling around and posturing, it just looked silly.

“I’m gonna take you down, Ponyuko Kamaboko!!” 

“WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!” The girl fired back, feeling Zenitsu tremble and whine about their arguing, making his ears hurt. Unfortunately for him, the arguing continued well into the evening.

Upon entering the Wisteria House, the owner gave them food, warm clothes and beds to sleep in. A doctor would check their injuries in the morning. It was explained that Wisteria Houses were run by citizens who were saved by Demon Slayers, and wanted to show their gratitude by opening their homes and businesses to them. 

Despite being old, the woman quickly produced anything the three slayers desired. Zenitsu thought she was a ghost, and Nezuko smacked him to get him to be respectful. The old woman also hypothesized that all three of them had broken ribs, and would need to rest a couple weeks to heal.

Inosuke never apologized to Zenitsu. Nezuko had apologized to both of them, yet they didn’t apologize to one another. Their relationship was tense from that point on, but it wasn’t terrible.

Nezuko watched, a bit dismayed and disgusted at Inosuke’s table manners, as he consumed his plate of tempura and stole from her own plate. She did kindly (but secretly begrudgingly) share her plate with him. He just kept trying to pick fights, and would get frustrated when the girl’s kindness deflected his efforts every single time.

When they settled down for bed, Zenitsu finally broke the question he had on his mind for hours. 

“Nezuko-chan, why are you traveling with a demon?”

Her rose eyes flickered over to the box, then back to Zenitsu, eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “You knew, yet you still protected it?”

Zenitsu blushed. “U-um- I wanted to impress you, Nezuko-chan, and make a good impression. I knew someone like you would have a good reason for traveling with a demon.”

The girl just smiled patiently. Despite her prior qualms about Zenitsu and his whiny behavior, he had done a (somewhat) selfless act and protected the box with a demon in it, despite being both a demon slayer AND having no idea why such a thing would be worth dying for.

“You’re not as bad as you seem, Zenitsu-san. Thanks.” Nezuko hummed. Zenitsu giggled, as if he had forgotten about the first thing.

Scratch scratch. Scratch.

“EEEAGH!!” Zenitsu shrieked, leaping from the futon and hiding behind Nezuko yet again. “IT’S TRYING TO GET OUT! IT’S TRYING TO GET OUT!!”

“It’s okay, Zenitsu!!” Nezuko urged, grabbing the boy by his wrists to try and get him to stop flailing around and stomping his feet. “It’s the middle of the night!!”

Yet as Zenitsu carried on, the door of the box creaked open. Nezuko trotted over, and knelt down with an excited, warm smile on her face. 

Emerging from the box, slow and careful, was a very little demon with a too large bamboo muzzle on his face. His checkered haori skidded along the floor, and he stared up at the three watching him. Once he was out of the box, his body grew back to his normal height, ruby eyes glinting with friendliness.

Zenitsu had stopped crying. He stared at the demon boy, and the boy stared back. Nezuko beamed.

“Tanjirou!”

Zenitsu deflated. He seemed to retreat into his own body, face so ashen and pale, it was as if someone had sucked his soul out of him just from looking at him. He crumpled to his knees, defeated, and covered his eyes with his hands.

“I knew it…”

Both Nezuko and Tanjirou tilted their heads, entirely in sync. But it was the sister who spoke. “Zenitsu-san?”

“I knew it.” The blonde’s voice was so soft, so broken. “You had a boyfriend. Your demon boyfriend in your box, no wonder you couldn’t live without him… You have a tragic love story. I never had a chance. Like usual… I should just die…”

“Zenitsu-san!!” Nezuko exclaimed, “What the hell are you talking about?! Tanjirou’s my brother!!”

Zenitsu’s head lifted. Tears were streaming down his face, and an ugly snot bubble had already formed at his nose. “Wh-huh?”

“Tanjirou’s my twin brother!” Nezuko explained. Tanjirou immediately came to stand next to her, nodding and smiling behind his muzzle. He gave a little “hmph!” Then pointed at Nezuko’s hanafuda earring on her right ear, and the matching earring on his left.

“See? We share our family heirloom. I’ve been traveling with my Onii-chan to find a way to turn him back into a human.”

Zenitsu was quiet. He looked from demon to human and back, before his lip began to wobble. His cheeks turned pink. The Kamado twins just tilted their heads down at him in dual confusion. Had they comforted him or made things worse?

“I knew it…” Zenitsu began again, but then cheered, launching himself to Nezuko’s feet.

“Nezuko-chan’s got a heart of gold!! What a bright, brave young lady! Oh, I’d kill to have a wife as pure-hearted as you!”

Tanjirou growled, and before his little sister could stop him, he headbutted Zenitsu. The Thunder Breath user shrieked, blabbering Nezuko’s name as he tried to get her to comfort him or control her “mean” older brother.

Inosuke had tuned out. Lucky guy slept through anything.

Chapter Text

Taisho Secret 2: The Flower of Happiness

The crisp black kimono with long, beautiful sleeves would illuminate her pale skin… A golden-orchid obi tied perfectly around her waist, despite it being something she would have never imagined herself wearing in a million years… Her ebony hair tied up in bunkin-shimada style, with ornate golden pins dangling and shimmering under the morning sun. Would she have shed tears? Ones of joy? Maybe some melancholy, as Nezuko felt now… Because surely… 

( I will never be a beautiful bride .)

…

There’s to be a celebration for the village’s young bride. The old woman (named Hisa) tending to the Wisteria Inn had announced, her old, yet strong hands folded upon her tiny lap. Nezuko listened intently, the vision of the village bride and her own imagination disappearing as Inosuke once again rammed his head against her still-tender frame. 

“Ow, Inosuke.” The girl hissed softly, and the boar child just grinned, making a grab for the manju buns sitting on her plate. She just let him have it, focusing her attention on the old woman, so to be polite.

Zenitsu, meanwhile, just scootched a little closer to Nezuko, whose body stiffened slightly just out of the unease starting to brew inside her. Even for how kind Zenitsu had been before, he was getting on her nerves during their stay.

With the bounties of the mountain present in their food, soft kimonos, and pillowy futons, it hadn’t taken long for all the slayers present to feel as if they could be back to work in no time. Even Inosuke, who had screamed and made a fuss over being confined to the stuffy indoors, had found some comfort in the cushy living made available to him- especially the cooking of the Wisteria Inn’s head. 

“We would like you Demon Slayers to attend the celebration.” The old woman explained, and Nezuko swallowed, straightening her back to try and look as formal as possible.

“That would be a great honor, thank you, ma’am…” 

“We old folk here in the village aren’t exactly used to the diets of you young folk, but I can make arrangements for meat to be on the menu tonight.” Hisa’s old voice warbled, and Inosuke immediately perked up.

“And what about the stuff with the coat?!” He growled, fingers wiggling as he tried to explain himself. “Ya know!! The stuff you made the first night we came here!”

“Yes,” The crone laughed behind a wrinkly hand. “I will make sure there is tempura for you, Inosuke-kun.”

Inosuke pumped his fist, grinning wide, before resuming his face-stuffing of the manju buns set in front of him. He really couldn’t help it, seeing as manners were never taught to him. Like a true animal, he believed that any food set in front of him was his to take. If he didn’t, then he would miss out.

 Nezuko looked from the boar back over to Zenitsu, who was seemingly lost in some sort of daydream… One that elicited a very creepy expression on his face. The girl grimaced, before elbowing the other slayer in the side to get his attention. He squeaked.

“Y-yes! O-of course we’d be honored to come.” Zenitsu finally said, and the old owner of the inn gave a pleased smile in return, bowing her head in gratitude. With that, she stood up to leave, nodding as Inosuke barked at her to bring more food, even with Nezuko’s frustrated scolding at the boy’s behavior. Hisa had disappeared without a sound.

“She must speak wild idiot.” Zenitsu muttered to himself, though purposefully loud enough for Nezuko to hear from his side. She nodded, agreeing for once.

 Inosuke didn’t seem to even notice, or he just didn’t care. He was busy stuffing his face, and as Nezuko peered at his soul, she could see how pleased he was, deep down, to be taken care of. Hisa treated him like her own grandson, not afraid whatsoever of his ostentatious boar head mask, or how loud and unruly he could be. Even for how he had thrown a fit over the kimonos, seemingly, Hisa hadn’t cared one bit.

( I’m lucky .) Nezuko thought to herself fondly, watching the two boys she had come to tolerate. After all, what would they have done if Hisa had thrown them out, as any normal business owner would have done with how Zenitsu screamed, or Inosuke beat others (and the walls) up? 

Especially… Nezuko turned to look over at the box, watching as Tanjirou sleepily turned over. Her elder twin brother was accepted here. In fact, Hisa had cooed at how much of a poor thing Tanjirou was. That he was lucky to have Nezuko as his big sister… 

( Except I’m not. I’m his little sister. I don’t know if I’m doing enough .)

Dark thoughts always came at night, when nobody spoke to her and she was alone. More than anything, she wanted to make sure Tanjirou was happy. He smiled at her when they gazed into one another’s eyes, as if he knew his poor sister was struggling.

( I can’t struggle anymore. I have to be happy for Onii-chan’s sake .)

Her thoughts were interrupted by an ear-piercing shriek. Zenitsu was writhing on the floor, clutching his head. Inosuke stood over him, laughing maniacally as he kicked and beat the other slayer. Something was being said about sharing food…

Nezuko sighed, coming to a stand. She placed herself between the two boys, and with a hearty shove, she pushed Inosuke off Zenitsu. Though, before he could thank his crush for her heroism, she flicked his forehead.

“Stop fighting.” That was all it took- a scary glowering from the Eldest Daughter, before they begrudgingly went to get tidied up for the bride’s celebration.

“Aaaah~ The bride was so beautiful~” Zenitsu chirped, placing a hand to his warming cheeks as he walked. Inosuke patted his own bare stomach, satisfied.

“What a serious feast. Urp.”

Nezuko snorted quietly, but other than that, said nothing. She had barely eaten anything, or said much of anything at all during the party. She usually was very social, sweet and funny with strangers. 

But it had been like staring into a cruel mirror when she saw the bride, all dressed in a black furisode kimono and golden obi belt. The bride had cranes and flowers dancing upon her kimono,  her face alight with joy that rivaled the brilliance of her golden belt. Sure, Nezuko had found her beautiful, and her heart had skipped a beat just watching the bride glide into the room.

What had ruined her mood was the realization that the bride had to be her age. 14, maybe 15. A child, no, an almost-woman with happiness that had been ripped away from Nezuko. 

Her mind drifted not only to her own future, but to her poor baby sister Hanako. She could just barely imagine those chubby cheeks turning slender, painted with blush, as her beautiful poker-straight hair was pushed into traditional buns. 

( “Onee-chan, your hair just never cooperates!” Hanako laughed, just barely getting the comb through my long, wavy hair. I just smiled. Hanako had Okaa-san’s beautiful straight hair, while I got Otou-san’s wavy hair, just in black… )

Tears burned at her rose hues. Nezuko swallowed thickly, pulling the sensation back, deep down into her skull. She felt worse just feeling jealous over a stranger’s luck. Just because Hanako and herself couldn’t have the same fate as the village bride… Didn’t mean…

“Nez… Nezu… Nezuko-chan. Oi. Nezuko-chan!” A hand shook her shoulder sharply. Nezuko blinked, startled.

“Zenitsu…?”

“You alright?” Those dandelion gold eyes filled up with sadness and concern. Hadn’t the boy said before that he could hear emotions and things better than most? Maybe he had heard her thoughts. Her selfish, awful wish.

“What’s wrong?” Zenitsu pushed. “You’ve been acting weird ever since we got to the party. Are you sick?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Like putting on a well-worn mask, Nezuko smiled sweetly, warmly. She waved away those concerns expertly, just as she had many times before when others had expressed sympathy for her father, or for her ruined kimono, or the lack of toys for New Years gifts.

“It’s because you didn’t eat enough, Genzoku.” Inosuke piped up, his hands on his hips. “Just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean ya hafta eat less than us guys!!” 

“I’m really okay, Inosuke…” Nezuko insisted, but the boy just turned on his heel, beginning to march back into the village to find the party they had just left.

“No way! A boss has to take care of his underlings! I’ll getcha more food, Pyonuko. Then you’ll feel better!”

“Inosuke!!” Nezuko raised her voice, and surprisingly, Inosuke froze. Maybe it was because she sounded so much like a scolding mother then, but all it took was some more convincing in that tone of voice for the boar boy to begrudgingly back down. 

“You’re worried about your future, right?” Zenitsu suddenly piped up after a long bout of silence between them. “Because you’re a Demon Slayer, and they don’t marry often.”

Nezuko felt her heart drop down to her feet, growing cold. Had her thoughts really been that easy to read? She thought she had been doing a good job keeping them hidden.

“I get it.” The boy mumbled sheepishly, though from how his soul shivered, Nezuko could tell that he really did get it. He had been accosting that stranger when they first met, begging to be married. Was it because of an insecurity that he would never get a normal, loving life as it was? 

( No! You don’t get it. I’m going to be ugly. Scarred up with thick, calloused hands. My hair is short like a boy. I have this ugly scar on my forehead that no makeup could ever cover. Who wants to marry a bride with muscles? )

Nezuko bit her tongue, enough to feel a sharp prick of pain shoot through her mouth. There was no blood, but if she had been any more angry or anxious, maybe that restraint would have vanished. Because honestly and truly, she felt even more horrible just for thinking selfish, angry thoughts.

“You’re worried about leaving your brother behind too, right?” Zenitsu began, and before either of them could go deeper into the conversation, there was a shriek from just ahead on the dirt road.

“No!! Akari, let me go!!” A little girl with long brown hair struggled, while another, taller girl with red hair held her wrist. 

“No, Mai-chan! You shouldn’t go into the mountains at night. There could be demons. And a demon isn’t worth that stupid flower at all!”

The brunette, apparently Mai, just whimpered. “I don’t wanna work forever! I wanna get married and put up in a nice house like Toyo-nee-san!!” 

Elderly sister senses tingling, Nezuko trotted over, gently putting a hand on the grasp of Akari, trying to ease her off from squeezing Mai’s wrist so hard.

“What’s going on, you two? Don’t fight.” The elder girl tried to mediate, and thankfully, she didn’t have to say more than that before the kids broke away from one another. They stood side by side, the red one seeming to step protectively into the younger brunette’s space.

“Are you Demon Slayers?” Akari asked softly, voice much more timid and polite than it had been a second ago. Within the back of her mind, Nezuko could see her littlest brother, Rokuta, his timid red eyes gleaming as he hid behind his brother’s legs from any strangers.

“Yes. I’m staying at Hisa-san’s house.” Nezuko explained, crouching down to the height of the little girls. “Why were you fighting? You’re friends, yeah? You shouldn’t fight.”

“I’m Akari… This is my best friend Mai. Our big brothers are friends too.” The redhead explained, and Mai just slowly peeked out from behind Akari. “Mai-chan was talking about a secret flower that Toyo-nee-san told her about.”

“Toyo? Is that the bride?” The Kamado girl asked. Both little girls nodded.

“Uh-huh. Toyo-nee-san said she found a vine lantern flower, and it let her marry purple.” Mai explained, brown, fuzzy eyebrows lifting up so her eyes shone wide. Clearly, this was some big deal or secret, so Nezuko lowered her voice with a little grin.

“Marry purple? You mean marry rich?” 

Again, the children nodded. Akari spoke next. “Yep. So Mai-chan wanted to find it so she can marry and be happy one day too.”

“I see,” Nezuko nodded. Distantly, she wondered if such a superstition would work. After all, her brother had told her about a special flower that their Okaa-san had showed him in the mountains one time… 

“But it only blooms on the night of the full moon. And it’s too dark, so I told Mai-chan not to go…” Akari growled the last bit, and Mai just pouted, stomping her foot like she was on the verge of a tantrum and just barely holding her little self back. 

“You’re right. It’s not safe. It would be very dark, and demons are afoot.” Nezuko looked from child to child, before petting both their heads. “I would feel so lucky to have a best friend who cares about me so much. You guys shouldn’t fight. You can be happy if you stick together!”

Akari and Mai looked at one another, then smiled warmly, giggling. They grasped tiny hands together, and turned to start running back to the party. 

“See you soon, miss Demon Slayer!” Mai shouted. Nezuko straightened up, waving goodbye. Her heart pinched with sorrow, even though the scene was so incredibly warm and pure. It was just sadness and longing, for the bygone days of her youth.

“Onii-chan… Onii-chan…!” Lightly rapping her knuckles against the box, Nezuko waited somewhat impatiently for her twin brother to wake up. It was nightfall by now, and he should have been awake.

After the fifth or sixth knock, finally, the wooden door swung open. A very groggy demon crawled out, sleepily rubbing his ruby eyes free of any crust. Once he was done, he looked up at his sister and hummed softly in questioning.

“Onii-chan, do you remember really far back? Like when we were little kids?” The sister asked, sitting back on her legs. Tanjirou peered up at her curiously, before nodding, emerging from the box completely and flopping onto her lap. Nezuko sighed out, gently running her fingers through her twin’s long red hair, being sure not to undo his ponytail. He had a lot of trouble putting it back up, so often she had to do his hair for him.

“The kids were talking today in the village about a special flower. A purple vine lantern flower. They told me if you find it when the new moon is out, you can have eternal happiness.” Deep down, she wanted to find that flower for Tanjirou. If he had it, maybe he could be happy, and she could find the cure for his demonhood faster.

Tanjirou hummed thoughtfully. He rolled onto his back, gazing up at Nezuko with such bright, large eyes, it was as if he was trying to speak to her telepathically. Of course, no such luck, but as twins, they had a tight bond. Enough that they could understand one another’s body language.

It also helped that Rengoku-san had taught Tanjirou sign language. He didn’t often use it, but sometimes he surprised Nezuko and spoke to her using the language.

Just like now, his little fingers curling and moving, as he signed out a sentence. A broken one, but understandable.

‘ Blue. Flower .’

Nezuko chuckled tiredly, yawning. “No, Onii-chan, it wasn’t blue. It was purple. Maybe the flower could help you be human again.”

Tanjirou just frowned. He huffed, then signed again.

‘ You. Need. Happy. Flower. ’ Her selfless brother was always doing this, pushing aside anything for himself in the name of her or their siblings’ happiness. If she wasn’t so tired, she would have argued that fact with Tanjirou then and there. Even if he couldn’t completely understand.

“I guess I should write a letter to Tamayo-san. Maybe she will know if the flower has potential to be good medicine or not. I’m sure Chachamaru-kun could bring it to her tonight and we can get results before morning…” Yawning, Nezuko got up on her knees, crawling over to the little desk that was pressed against the wall of their bedroom. She took out a brush and ink, as well as paper, beginning to compose a letter to their demon ally.

Of course, the activities of the day wore the poor girl thin. She fell asleep right at the desk, head pressed to the tabletop and her hand loosely holding the ink brush. As her chest slowly rose and fell, she drifted, unaware that her brother had stood up to his full height.

Tanjirou smiled sadly behind his bamboo muzzle. His twin sister was always tiring herself out. Though, even when they were kids, she loved to sleep. Loved to oversleep and sometimes miss her chores. 

(“ I love sleeping, because then I don’t feel hungry! ”)

The redheaded demon carefully took a blanket off his futon, placing it over top of Nezuko’s sagged shoulders. He grabbed his sandals, and very quietly opened the door, slipping out into the night.

That evening, Zenitsu was in the middle of an extremely good dream when someone fiercely shook his shoulders where they poked out from under his blankets.

"Nooo... Go away... Aah, I'm at a really good part right now.. Don't bother me, Inosuke... Ngh... Wee hee hee...

That's not true... Mwah mwah... Nezuko, you are so cute...

Snrr hee hee. He rolled over to try and escape the annoying hands on his shoulders.

The person trying to wake him remained silent but undeterred.

Now something whapped him on the forehead, and his brow creased as he slept.

"Mmm... What? Now it's Tanjirou? I'm talking about love with Nezuko, so hang back a bit... Fwoo fwoo... Right, Nezuko..." Whap, whap, whap .

"Ever since we first met, Nezuko, I've been... Hee hee! Wee hee hee... No, it's true... Snrr... Right? We're destined to be together... Snrr snrt.."

Whap, whap, whap, whap, whap, whap, whap, whap!

"Gah! Come on! I said, shut up! What's with the whap-whap-wapping! Huh? What, exactly?! You're being mean! Why do you both hate me?" Zenitsu snapped, finally opening his eyes at the persistent slapping to find…

“GAH! NEZUKO!!” Nezuko stared right back at Zenitsu, with eyes so wet they seemed to be like pools of sakura tea. Such a sad sound was coming from the girl, as well as sheer, unadulterated panic. In her panic, she had been frozen-lipped, unable to shout at Zenitsu. Just beat him over the head with a pillow.

“Nezuko-chan, what is it?” Zenitsu asked with thick eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you look so scared? Is there a demon nearby? That can’t be, there’s wisteria incense and trees everywhere here!!”

A little sob escaped the girl. “Zenitsu… My brother. Tanjirou!! He’s gone!!” 

“Maybe he had to use the toilet? I’m sure he’ll be back soon! Don’t cry, Nezuko-chan, or I’ll start crying too…” Zenitsu placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She slapped it away, before hurriedly whispering an apology. She really was frightened.

“No… He’s gone. His futon and his box are cold. And he took my nichirin sword too!” 

Now that… That was just weird. Why would a demon take a sword with them? From what Zenitsu remembered, Tanjirou was childish. He seemed to hang back and sleep a lot, but he was prone to tantrums if any of the boys got too close to Nezuko, or if she got upset. He didn’t seem quite all there. 

So how would he know how to use a nichirin blade? Could demons even use Total Concentration Breathing? So many questions, and none of them would help them find Tanjirou and make Nezuko-chan smile again!!!

“Let’s think. Why would Tanjirou leave?” Zenitsu tried his very best to stay calm, even if he was trembling from his own anxiety as he spoke. 

Nezuko shook her head mournfully, voice warbling. “I don’t know, I don’t know…” But then, those eyes widened, as a realization drove her into stiff shock. 

“Oh Gods. You don’t think he went to look for the flower…?”

Zenitsu paled. Oh. The flower Nezuko was talking about when they came back to the inn for the night. Little girls always loved magic spells and stories like that. So it was kind of weird that Tanjirou believed it. Unless he was trying to do it for Nezuko’s sake… All because she was too tired and sore to go looking for the wives’ tale herself.

The girl that Tanjirou loved more than anything, even himself… Just scowled, grasping the futon. 

Tanjirou’s ruby eyes slowly blinked open. Up above, all he could see were dozens, if not hundreds, of glittering stars, blinking back at him. He slowly rose up from the grass and leaves, rubbing his back so the soreness would go away faster.

Yep. He had overdone it. Running at full speed through the mountains, not paying attention to anything other than the lower foliage to try and spot the elusive flower. In his memory, he had a hazy recollection of blue, spider-like petals. Not the purple lantern shapes his twin sister had insisted on.

But whatever Nezuko wanted, he would get for her. Especially now that she was all he had left, and vice versa. And his foolish ass landed right at the bottom of a cliff, having tumbled off thanks to his carelessness. His sister’s sword hung to his belt, and thanking every God he could imagine, Tanjirou witnessed that the blade wasn’t broken.

Sure, he had grown up in the mountains. But these were entirely different from his homeland, and their paths unfamiliar. He had come across a boar, and in his sleep-addled mind, he had thought the wounded creature was the funny boy who Nezuko traveled with. He had tried to come closer, urging the wounded animal away from the prickly brush…

And wound up here. Thankfully, he could smell the boar wasn’t hurt. In fact, it had come up to him, snorting curiously. 

( I’m okay. But you’re still hurt! ) Tanjirou wanted to say, but with the muzzle and his too large fangs, he couldn’t. So he just set to work, ripping off a piece of his white kimono to use as a makeshift bandage for the boar. 

Satisfied with his handiwork, Tanjirou hummed and nodded. The boar licked his clawed hand, unafraid of the sharp nails there. The demon’s cheeks warmed, imagining a grateful scent coming from Inosuke instead. 

The boar grunted. With a toss of its mighty head, it gestured towards a cavern within the cliff face. Tanjirou just nodded, squeaking as he had to run to keep up with the incredibly quick beast into the cave.

Right there, blooming towards the starry sky, was a flower of luminous petals, not unlike the lanterns the village would put up for festivals. Tanjirou beamed happily, patting the boar’s head in gratitude. 

( Nezuko… My dear little sister. You’ve done so much for me already. I wanna make you happy. You deserve to smile .)

When Tanjiro returned to Hisa's house, he noticed a serious commotion in the room where he and the others were staying. Even though it was the dead of night, a lamp was lit, and the voices inside were loud enough to hear in the hallway.

"I told you, that idiot Tanjirou went looking for a flower on the mountain! Yes, the mountain at night. Pretty dangerous if some demon shows up, right? We’re going to look for him, so you come too. That's what I'm trying to say here, Inosuke!”

"Huh? Why should Lord Inosuke go looking for Koniro in the middle of the night? You're good on your own, yeah?"

"The mountains at night are scary! It's too scary to go alone! And Nezuko can’t go because Tanjirou stole her sword!”

"Ich! Coward. And why would that idiot Tanjirou go up the mountain, anyway?"

"I told you! He went to look for a flower! Listen when people talk to you!"

"A flower? Why would that idiot Butaro go off and pick a flower? That guy's practically a girl."

"He probably heard the story of the vine lantern and wanted to give one to Nezuko. Stupid Tanjirou."

"Huh? This wine lamb, is it some kind of food?"

"Vine! Lantern! Those village girls were talking about it this afternoon. You were there. You heard them, right, Inosuke? You were chomping away on mochi. Did you forget?"

"I remember the mochi. It was great."

“Idiot! You stupid idiot! No brain in your head!"

"What did you say?!"

( They sure are calling me an idiot a whole lot. And the way Inosuke constantly gets my name wrong is really something .)

Swallowing hard, Tanjirou tentatively slid open the door.

When Tanjirou opened the door, he laid witness to an awful sight. Inosuke was holding Zenitsu by his throat, while Nezuko tugged at his muscular arms with tears sticky on her pale face. She was screaming at them to let go, that they had to work together. 

Tanjirou let out a loud hum, practically a whine. Everyone present froze. And joyfully, the demon held up the plucked flower, his eyes sparkling like twin suns. And yet, Nezuko’s eyes looked incredibly sad. He felt like he'd seen that emotion in them somewhere before, a long time ago.

The younger sister stared at her older brother. As if reproaching him. He caught the scent of something like pity.

Nezuko couldn’t believe it. Her twin brother, her idiotic, demonic, twin brother, had gone into the mountains for a stupid flower she wanted to wait and think over retreating. Because even she had a moment of realizing how stupid and childish the legend was. It was a flower. What could a damn flower do to guarantee happiness?

“Onii-chan…” Yet the anger couldn’t even burn past her relief. Her pity, that her brother felt as if she had such a need for a trivial item. Like somehow that would make her a sweet and gentle little girl again.

Tanjirou stared back at her. His eyebrows furrowed. There were twigs and leaves caught in snarls of wavy red hair, his ponytail mostly undone. His haori was a mess, smudged with dirt and green moss. His white kimono top was torn at the bottom, as if he had pulled strips off. Even his sandals seemed to be undone, as if he had sped through fields of rocks and bracken to deliver the present to his little sister.

Understanding dawned on the younger twin sister then. He and Nezuko felt the same way.

Above all else, she wanted to make Tanjirou human again, while He wanted her to one day live the lavish life of a girl her age. He prayed she would do it alongside a boy she loved.

( I want him/her to be the happiest boy/girl in the world. ) There wasn't a day that went by that either of them didn't have this thought.

Yet, Nezuko felt exactly the same way. Just as Tanjirou held his sister in his heart, she held him in hers. That was why he had given her the flower that brings happiness.

Alive now, with a future ahead of him, Tanjirou was not an unhappy boy. Their family had been slaughtered, he had been turned into a demon, and they would certainly come up against other hardships. But they had one another.

"Thanks, Onii-chan." Nezuko whispered at long last, and pulled her brother to her and hugged him gently.

Tanjirou responded by squeezing her tightly, pressing the flower into her short, raven hair.

This certain, warm pressure, tears spilled unbidden from Nezuko’s eyes, and for a while, she simply hugged Tanjirou silently.

"Hey, why're you crying?" Inosuke asked curiously "You hurt or something?"

"Inosuke," Zenitsu chided him quietly through his own tears as the moment's emotion swept through him. "Read the room. If you can't, then at least shut up."

"So?" the boy in the boar head replied. "Why’d Soichiro go traipsing around the mountain, anyway?"

"You-! Were you not listening to a word I said? He went up there to pick the vine lantern. See? That." Zenitsu pointed at the flower in Nezuko's hair.

Inosuke glanced at the flower lazily and said casually, "But that's not a vine lantern."

"Huh?" Nezuko and Zenitsu replied in perfect unison, gaping.

The next morning, the trio had come to rest and stretch their aching limbs out in the garden. In the center of the yard, Inosuke was racing around, shouting, 'Boar super charge!"

Next to Nezuko was the wooden box that held Tanjirou.

The flower that Tanjirou had picked the night before turned out to be not a vine lantern, but a boar winterberry. Because the petals were terribly sweet, animals generally devoured them. For some reason, boars wouldn't touch them, and because of that, they bloomed quite often near boar dens.

In other words, the boar the previous night hadn't read Tanjirou's mind, but had simply invited him back to its den as thanks for saving its life and treating its wound.

This flower didn't only bloom on the night of the new moon, apparently. It also bloomed the night of the full moon and in the morning and afternoon, as one would expect from a flower.

"It's because I was saying all that stuff about making girls happy and that maybe the flower actually existed, huh? I feel kind of bad." Zenitsu hung his head.

"No, I decided to do this myself. It's not your fault at all." Nezuko shook her head with a smile. "Yesterday, you said that I sounded weird, right?"

"Huh? O-oh, yeah, I did. And?"

"I didn't really get it myself at the time, but when I saw Toyo looking so happy, this beautiful bride, I thought how miserable Tanjirou must be not being able to bathe in sunlight. I had thought about myself, how I could never be a bride. But then I remembered… That Tanjirou was unhappy."

And then there was her, not being able to dress in a beautiful kimono. Tanjirou could not live in the light of the sun. Nezuko had to continue dragging him into bloody battles, hurting him, not being able to give him a single one of the joys of his past life.

She'd felt so bad about all of it, she could hardly stand it. She didn't know what to do.

"But Tanjirou..." The girl began softly. Zenitsu looked back at her in silence.

Tanjirou was not a boy to be pitied and assumed to be unhappy. And neither was Nezuko. Just like she had when she was a normal mountain girl, she was trying to live and be present in the moment. Nezuko was the one who would decide what happiness looked like to her. Maybe that meant marrying someone she loved and running away together. Or maybe not. Tanjirou couldn’t speak of her happiness, nor could she speak of his own.

Either way, it definitely wasn't something he could push on her as her older brother. And yet he had jumped to the conclusion that his little sister's "now" was unhappy and pitiable, and tried to push his "happiness" on her. Just like how she had done for him. As twins, they had done the same exact action, but came to the same realization despite the different paths they took.

"I need to defeat Muzan Kibutsuji and make Tanjirou human again as soon as possible," Nezuko announced, facing forward. "I have to avenge our family.”

"Nezuko-chaaaan," Zenitsu said, sniffling, "I'll do whatever I can to help. I'm super scared, though. And to be clear, I'm totally useless, weak, and I'm sure I'll die soon. I need you to not rely on me at all, but... I'll fight wherever I can, so…”

"Zenitsu…”

"I really need you not to count on me at all, though" He lacked confidence to the point where he felt the need to repeat his statement. Even so, his kindness made Nezuko happy.

"Hey! You guys gotta run around until you puke blood too!'

Inosuke shouted so loudly that it echoed not only through the courtyard but the entire town, abruptly shattering the tender moment. "We're gonna take down the demon boss to make my third underling human again, right? So we gotta get stronger! Don't sit there whining your life away! Stupidzuko!”

"Who's this third subordinate?! How dare you talk about Tanjirou-" Zenitsu erupted in indignation.

"You're exactly right, Inosuke." Nezuko laughed. How straightforward, how unwavering Inosuke could be, was truly dazzling, "We have to get stronger."

"Right?!" Inosuke cried.

"What are you talking about, Nezuko-chan?!" Zenitsu said, exasperated. "You'll break your ribs again, you know? And just when they're finally almost healed. Why should we come here to rest and then have to throw up blood? The whole thing is a terrible idea!"

"Come on, minions! Follow Lord Inosukeeeee!" Inosuke’s ferocious roar drowned out Zenitsu's complaints.

Nezuko heard the excited cry of a young villager in the wind. "The bridal procession is coming!”

She gently closed her eyes and saw the fresh and unsophisticated bride-to-be Toyo in her mind, Hisa's gentle smile, and Mai and Akari watching over them, eyes glittering, cheeks flushed.

She stroked the wooden box next to her with one hand, and a sound came from inside, as if in response. A small, very gentle sound.

Smiling, Nezuko looked up at the deep blue sky.

It was a perfectly clear day, not a cloud to be seen.

Chapter Text

Those calm, relaxing days at the Wisteria Inn could not last forever. None of their happiness really could. It was a fact that Nezuko had come to accept over her short time on Earth thus far. Happiness is always shattered by blood.

The doctor that Hisa had called weeks before had again returned, this time with the almost bittersweet news that their injuries had all healed. They were cleared to return to the front. 

Not even a moment later, the Kasugai crows had come with the news of their mission. Slayers had been called to a mountain within the nearby province, and all of them had disappeared. They were assumed dead. This was a mission of utmost importance, needing to be attended straightaway.

Nezuko sighed softly, adjusting the pink hairbow so her bob was properly in shape, bangs pulled out of the way from her eyes. With that last bit of her routine done, she grabbed her sandals and Tanjirou’s box, walking behind Zenitsu and Inosuke as they vacated the main halls of the inn.

“Thank you for everything!” The girl called, waving to the little old lady at the front of the entrance gates. Hisa smiled back, before clicking a piece of flint against a piece of wood. Sparks flew through the air, glistening, before quickly popping into nothingness.

Inosuke immediately stiffened, fists tight at his sides, muscles all rippling with nervous energy. The very first signs of an animal frightened into attack.

“What’re you doin’, y’old hag!!” The boar headed boy shrieked, before Zenitsu clapped him over the head. He had done it so quickly, only the hairs of the hide’s head moved.

“Are you stupid?! It’s a purification ritual, dummy!! We’re going into danger!!”

Hisa just bowed deeply, nonplussed (as usual) with Inosuke’s harsh voice and strange bluntness. “At all times, please live with pride. Keep your head up. I wish you good fortune in war!”

The three young slayers set off at once into the thick forest, plunging into danger as the sun remained somewhat high in the sky still. It wouldn’t be long before the sun would set, and their prey would return to the battlefront.

“I don’t get it.” Inosuke mumbled, one hand propping up his mask, the other with its pinky finger stuck into his ear to clean it. “Live with your head high? Wuzzat?”

“You really don’t get it after I explained it to you five times?!” Zenitsu fired back, almost hopelessly. He really shouldn’t have expected much from his comrade, considering that Inosuke was so damn stubborn before proving he was right. 

“Live with your head high. It’s something my teacher always tells me.” Nezuko spoke up, keeping the quick pace with long, almost graceful strides. Zenitsu was ahead of her thanks to his natural speed, but she would soon catch up.

“It means you shouldn’t be afraid of your circumstances. You should go into battle proud of yourself and your cause. We’re here to protect innocent human lives and eradicate all evil demons. It’s something to keep your head up over. So to speak.” The girl shrugged a little, hoping what she had said made sense. 

“Your sensei is a proud man, huh, Nezuko-chan?” Zenitsu smiled, though he wasn’t really smiling over a preconceived notion of Rengoku-san. It was more that he was proud and jealous of Nezuko for having such an amazing sensei!

Inosuke had slid his mask over his head, obscuring his confused expression. “I just don’t get why that old lady cares so much about us. That’s all.”

Their comrade in pink haori said nothing. She just sped ahead, causing both Zenitsu and Inosuke to squeak out for her to wait up.

The sun had already set by the time they had reached Mount Natagumo. The mountain was densely covered by forest, trees obscuring every bit of rock and ground. It was possible that even during sunset, the brush and canopy would be thick enough that demons could leave their hiding places far earlier than they could out on the rice paddies or towns.

Nezuko had not stopped running. But Zenitsu had, abruptly dropping to the ground with a loud THUMP! That caused the other two slayers to halt immediately. Nezuko first, before Inosuke begrudgingly halted a few paces ahead.

“Stop!! Stop, please!!” Zenitsu whined, hugging his knees to his chest. Had he just fallen to his butt then? The sound had been so loud, Nezuko had thought maybe he had tripped and fallen.

“I’m scared! I’m scared, Nezuko-chaaaan!!” Zenitsu’s voice was a shrill wail, golden-brown eyes already filled with tears. Inosuke snorted ahead of them.

“Crybaby. You’re disgusting, sitting like that.”

“I AM NOT!! YOU TWO ARE THE WEIRD ONES!!”

“Please… H-help me-!!”

All three slayers jolted then, heads turning at breakneck speed towards the mountain pass. Before them was another Demon Slayer, crawling on his stomach towards them. The slayer’s face was covered in scrapes and lacerations, as well as dirt and tears.

“He’s part of the corps! What happened?!” Nezuko was quick to race to the boy’s side, but she wasn’t quick enough. 

There was an awful sound, like wires being tugged across a broken instrument. The corps member before her was suddenly yanked back into the forest with dreadful screaming, pulled like a puppet by invisible strings into the brush.

Silence. Zenitsu sat mortified, hands clasped over his mouth. Nezuko just stared at where the other boy had laid, before her fearful expression hardened into one of determination. She took a step forward.

“I’m going in there.”

“ME FIRST!” With a slam of his foot, Inosuke put his body directly in front of Nezuko’s path, grasping both his nichirin blades eagerly. “You can tremble in fear and follow behind the Great Inosuke!!”

Without much protest other than a nervous smile, Nezuko followed behind her companion into the forest deep.

Like many girls her age, Nezuko wasn’t exactly fond of spiders. She understood their importance to the world’s circle of life thanks to lessons from her father, but that didn’t mean she had to like them.

The forest pathway was rich with webs and small spiders of varying lengths. All around, the girl could sense little pathways of fear and despair. Lives snuffed out even as close to the exit as they could be. A twisted, ominous feeling permeated the entire area. ANd they hadn’t even begun their ascent!

“Inosuke.” 

The boar headed boy whirled around, hands held up defensively. “HUH?!”

Nezuko flinched back a bit, holding up her hands in a sort of reassuring gesture. “I-I just wanted to say thank you. For coming with me. This place is really scary… But somehow, being with you, I don’t feel as frightened anymore.”

Inosuke was quiet. He just stared back at Nezuko’s warm smile, before a strange sort of reaction took place.

Nezuko watched as the boar’s entire soul flushed red. Not an angry red, but… Something more like flustered warmth, the sort of giddy happiness that came from being complimented or praised. He even seemed to be making a weird chuffing sound, like a beast…

“Hey! You over there!!”

Both slayers jolted. Ahead of them was another slayer with long, dark hair. He was crouched on the forest floor, beckoning to Nezuko and Inosuke with his pale, clammy hand. The two rushed over, quickly kneeling down beside the stranger.

“We’re here to help.” Nezuko whispered. “I’m Kamado Nezuko, Mizunoto rank.”

The boy’s face paled even more, if that were possible. “Mizunoto?!” He whisper-yelled back. “It doesn’t matter how many Mizunoto come!! It won’t make a difference! We need a hashira!”

Inosuke took a threatening step forward. Thankfully, Nezuko had sensed his ill intent, and grabbed his wrist quickly, pushing the closed fist away from the poor victim’s face. Said victim just tensed up, staring agape at the weird boar mask as if he wasn’t just threatened.

“Stop it, Inosuke!!” Nezuko hissed, squeezing his wrist. The boar snarled before opening his mouth to speak–

“Don’t fight on my account, please!” The black haired boy whimpered a little. “Let me explain! A crow brought the order, so ten of us came up the mountain! But then… The slayers started killing each other!”

“What?” Both Inosuke and Nezuko asked, dumbfounded.

They didn’t have time to ask any more questions, because the answer soon came flying right at them like a painful gift from the gods. Another slayer corps member had stumbled in, sword held high, dead eyes staring back at the three in a permanent grimace of fear.

A woman was within the brush, miles away, Demon Blood Art working overtime to make her captured slayers dance. Each member was tied by spider’s thread, and with it, she could laugh and witness their misery before eating them up.

Meanwhile, somewhere hidden from normal humans and demons alike… Sat a man with short cropped black hair and sightless violet eyes. His hands gently caressed the back of a very worn out Kasugai crow.

“You fought hard to make it home. Most of my children were done in… This is definitely the work of the Twelve Demon Moons…” The man’s voice was almost impossibly gentle, sweet as the wisteria that surrounded his manor estate. “It seems… I must dispatch the hashira.”

Behind him, a young woman and a man with a weird dual-colored haori knelt, waiting in respect for their orders. 

“Giyuu…” The dark haired man looked up, hazy blue eyes gazing upon the back of his master. When he moved, his wooden fox mask placed against his hair jingled just a bit.

“Kanae…” Beside him, the young woman with beautiful long hair and a butterfly patterned haori smiled pleasantly.

“Please advance to the Natagumo Mountain pass at once.” The Master finally finished his order, and his corps members nodded.

As Kanae stood up to leave, she sighed, the voice as airy and beautiful as perfume from flowers. “Ah… It would be so nice if humans and demons could be friends one day. Having to go after them all the time is tiring, don’t you think, Tomioka-san?”

Giyuu stood, expressionless as usual. “As long as demons continue to eat people, it is impossible.”

Little did Tomioka Giyuu know… But the walking contradiction that he had saved that day two years ago would soon be reunited with him upon this mountain pass.

Chapter Text

Chapter 21: Natagumo Arc 2

There was something very wrong here. Nezuko could just barely make out the thin lines above each limb of their comrades’ corpses. With a little extra straining of her special ability, she could begin to make out the milky perfectly thin strands of silk that made the slayers into marionettes.

“Inosuke, they’re tied up in spider webs!” The girl shouted in alarm, readying her blade as one of the corps members staggered towards her at incredible speed, disjointedly trying to slash at her face with his blade. She dodged, but not before shuddering in disgust.

“Yeah, I coulda told you that, Nobuko!!” Inosuke shouted back, lunging at the slayer that was nearest to him in a tackle, wrenching him down to the ground. Nezuko winced, but ultimately, she was too busy defending herself to comment on Inosuke’s way of fighting. After all, this same boar of a boy had attacked her last mission just in the spirit of a fight.

A demon had to be controlling the corpses. It was the only explanation. But where were they? 

Desperately, Nezuko’s eyes twitched, brows furrowing as she attempted to source the threads. She had no way of tracking them the way her brother could with smell. As it stood right now, it wasn’t safe for him to come out. A rogue nichirin blade could easily injure him or worse when her back was turned.

As she began to trace the path of a spider thread, her arm suddenly yanked forward. Hissing in pain, she whipped her head forward, taking notice at last of the tiny spiders that had crawled onto her left arm and begun weaving many threads up into the trees.

A quick slash of her nichirin caused the threads to break, her arm relaxing as the tension dropped simultaneously. 

( Even if we cut down the threads, these spiders will just keep weaving more. We have to find the actual demon or we’ll be here all night! )

“We hafta kill all these spiders!!” Inosuke shouted, returning Nezuko’s attention to him at long last. Beside him, a pile of once cut down slayers rose back up, disjointed and creaking upon fresh webs.

“There’s too many of them! We have to find the source or we’ll be stuck!!” Nezuko was in a bit of a panic, stuck between keeping an eye on her own body for spiders, watching for the puppet corps' attacks, and looking for the demon. “Inosuke, you need to–!!”

“What are you doing?” A cold, youthful voice. Right above them. Both living slayers snapped their attention to the sky between the trees, beneath a pale, full moon.

Standing barefoot, suspended on a bridge of spider threads was a pale boy, clearly a demon with the red markings etched upon his face and limbs. His hair was like snarls of insect legs, all curled around his plain stoic face.

“Don’t disturb the peaceful life of our family. Mother will waste no time in killing you!” The demon boy spoke with sheer venom in his voice, before turning away and walking along a tightrope of threads deeper into the mountain brush.

With a hunting howl, Inosuke lunged, but he fell too short, unable to cut down any part of the spider demon child’s body… Not even close enough to knick a toe.

“WHY TH’ HELL DIDJA EVEN SHOW UP IF YOU’RE NOT GONNA FIGHT ME?!?” Inosuke snarled, shaking his fist. Nezuko was quick to dodge an attack, but not before she nearly tripped.

“Inosuke, that isn’t the demon causing the spider threads!”

“You think I don’t know that? You never stop yapping, Yozuko!”

The boar headed child shoved his swords into the ground, kneeling down with his arms spread out evenly at his sides. His palms remained flat, pointed outwards. He was the very image of a compass, breath fanning out from his mask’s nostrils as he breathed a concentration technique.

Beast Breathing, Seventh Form. Spatial Awareness!

Nezuko watched with wide eyes as Inosuke’s aura flared to life, fanning out in waves that zoomed through the clearing, deep into the forest brush. She couldn’t quite pinpoint where they went, but the way it trembled several feet away showed the demon slayers their mark.

“Found it!! There!!” Inosuke growled, shooting up to his feet and yanking his blades from the dirt. “There’s not just one demon… There’s multiple!!”

“Multiple… The boy mentioned a family, didn’t he?” Nezuko murmured, scanning the brush. As she focused on the little twinges of aura left behind, she could indeed sense multiple demons nearby… Around 3.

Quick as she could, she began to formulate a plan. They had to split up and find the living members of the slaying corps, take down the demons, then find the main leader of the “family.” 

“I got this!!” The boy from before with dark hair… Murata. Nezuko and Inosuke turned to look at the higher-rank slayer they had forgotten all about, watching as he sliced down one of the marionettes. 

“Go ahead! Find that mother demon or whatever! GO!!” 

“Haw?! No way, you–” Inosuke was about to argue, but Nezuko scooped him up and took off, running as fast as she could towards where the Mother Spider had been spotted.

“Knock it off, Inosuke! Focus!” Nezuko tried to reason with her comrade, but… 

“No… Don’t… Bring a hashira!! Run away!!” An actual living slayer… Someone older than either Inosuke or Nezuko. She was weeping uncontrollably, the marionette strings puppeting around her broken body to stab and slice at her comrades. Several freshly murdered slayers laid at her feet.

“If you don’t, I’ll kill them all!! Please!!” 

“Hang on!” Nezuko could feel her heart thudding unbearably loud. The poor girl before her was unimaginably terrified. What’s more, the threads holding her were much thicker and stronger than what the other puppets had.

The Kamado daughter wasn’t sure what to do. What could she do? The slayers here were still alive, their bodies horribly mangled and pulled beyond their limits. If they weren’t careful in immobilizing them, they could die.

The girl before her was shrieking unbearably loud now. In fact, the entire cast of puppets were moaning in sheer agony. The threads trembled, and as Nezuko stood immobile in her indecisive fear… 

SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!!

All she could do was watch as each slayer’s heads twisted completely around, necks snapping with such intensity, the trees seemed to echo those sounds right back. In her fear… She had allowed these poor souls to be killed.

The young girl hadn’t even realized it, but she had fallen to her knees, staring at the dirt. She couldn’t move. Her head… Her heart… Were pounding. Even her lungs felt shrunken and heaving for strength.

( Oh gods. I failed. I fucked up. They’re dead. I… I wasn’t quick enough. They’re all dead! )

“Nezuko?” Strangely, Inosuke had said her name. Her true name. And just as strangely, he sounded even a little worried. 

A creaking of wood resounded behind her. The weight on her back shifted, then lessened, as her elder twin brother emerged from the box and came to her side. Easily, his small form grew back to normal height, and he hummed gently to her in concern.

Tanjirou shoved himself into her field of view, grabbing her by the shoulders. With a loud HMPH! he shook her a bit, before shooting his little sister a supportive thumbs up.

( Right. I’m not alone. Of course Onii-chan would be calm now, and would know how to find the demons .)

“Hey, Ponjiro, what’re you doin’ here?” Inosuke’s gruff voice asked, head tilting to the side in slight confusion. Tanjirou turned and hummed at him with the same thumbs up gesture, before clenching his fists in determination. 

Nezuko came to a stand. Her twin brother seemed to grin behind his bamboo muzzle, getting into an offensive stance with claws bared. He was raring to go.

“The demon is just up ahead. One of us should take her down, and the other two will find the other demons. It looks like there’s two others besides Mother.” The girl wiped her eyes, then straightened. She gestured ahead.

“Inosuke, you take on Mother. Onii-chan, you head towards the West. Can you smell the demon that’s that-a way?”

Tanjirou paused, lifting his nose up into the air and taking a big, long inhale of air. Almost like a hound dog, tasting the air for the familiar foul stench of demons. When his pupils sharpened into slits, veins bulging at his scarred forehead, Nezuko knew her brother had found his prey.

The demon boy nodded. Nezuko nodded back. 

“And I’ll try to find the spider kid from before. I think he headed Northeast, so I will head that way. Okay?”

Inosuke grumbled. “Don’t tell me what to do, Noruto…” 

“Please?” Nezuko’s rose eyes glimmered, and Tanjirou’s own ruby eyes seemed so puppy-like at that moment. The twins had begun their most devastating attack… The Kamado Staredown!!

“We can’t do it without you, Boss Inosuke…” Nezuko finally said, batting her eyelashes with a very warm smile. 

Inosuke stood frozen. Then almost like a dandelion, little puffs of happiness and warm-fuzzies began to waft from his soul, and if Nezuko could see under his mask, he was most likely blushing.

“Alright. Fine!! But I get to kill the leader! Got it?!”

Both Kamados beamed. “Yep!”

With that settled, the three split up. Nezuko plunging into the brush Northeast, Inosuke charging and leaping ahead, and Tanjirou zipping down into the lower gully of the Mountain pass.

The remaining demons:
Mother. Attacker: Inosuke.
Sister. Attacker: Tanjirou.
???. Attacker: Nezuko.
Brother. Attacker (unknowingly): Zenitsu.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22: Natagumo Arc 3

Natagumo Mountain had always been infested with spiders, long before the demon family had made their home there. The humidity and darkness of the forest made for a breeding ground for insects, giving the spiders ample prey choices. Sure, some would be taken by birds and serpents, but more often than not, the spiders were their own apex predator within the habitat.

In a sense, because of the abundance of arachnids, the Spider Family was able to thrive in a similar way. Any slayers sent their way were quickly disposed of, in different fashions depending on the members of the family’s preferences. 

Mother’s preferred method was the spider strings upon tiny, miniscule sized spiders. This was enough to attack the slayers without revealing herself, and she had never had to take one on in close quarters. Her failures were not many… 

Unless Rui was in a bad mood that night. And that was why she fought so hard tonight, desperate to avoid the wrath of Rui’s painful webs or the cruel grabbing, pulling and hitting from Father. Already, Rui had used Father’s wrath on her, and if not for her speedy demon regeneration, her face would be black and blue then. Perhaps unrecognizable to the other family members.

In her haste to finish the job quickly, Mother had foolishly destroyed every single one of her puppets. The slayers who had evaded the strings were now dispatched to her location… As well as the family’s. She had doomed them all.

Rui was going to be so upset. Already, Mother could visualize his disappointed face, cold and calculating, as his tiny hand raised to threaten violence upon her wretched form. Tears spilled down her pale face, hands messily trying to swipe them away, all while panicked, trying to sense her tiny familiar spiders to get more puppets nearby to take on the attackers.

In her panic, she did not notice Inosuke in time. She could only gasp, staring up at the boar headed boy as he shrieked out in his valor, self imposed. 

What was peculiar… Was that the boy seemed to freeze while moving in midair. Mother could sense his sudden confusion, his mixed emotion. He was moving fast, and she could just barely see those changes even in the pelt’s stoic expression, a pinprick of a woman’s motherly instincts reaching out to a motherless child.

Just like Mother Spider, Inosuke was confused and a little panicked. He was all too used to fighting demons without a fuss, feeling virtually no fear. He was self-assured. Confident. Bold.  

For whatever reason, the second his eyes had landed on this demon’s face, he felt such a twinge of pain in his heart he figured he had to be dying. His brain swam with flashing images of a woman with similar long, wavy hair. A young girl like this demon, with a pale, tear-stained and pathetic face.

“I’m sorry. Inosuke, I’m so sorry.” Real life and hallucination blurred, vision swimming, eyes stinging with tears he could not understand. 

“STOP THAT!!” That rage he was so comfortable in had returned to save him, swords bared as fangs to dispatch the demon. There was a swiftness in his movement, a sort of mercy he did not often give to his prey.

“STOP CRYING AT ME LIKE THAT!!” The foolish Mother Spider said nothing. In fact… Strangely, and so painfully to the confused child, he could only watch as if in slow motion as her arms outstretched.

( Is she going to grab my neck? Snap it like those other guys? Oh shit, did I mess up?! ) Thoughts racing, spinning, blinding… 

But the demon did not grab him. She did not lunge or bite. Her arms remained outstretched, spread out, her tearful expression turning into one of peace. Again, those awful visions blurred Inosuke’s mind, a woman’s tearful smile as she disappeared from him.

Beast Breathing, Third Fang: Devour!

It was over. Inosuke landed with a thud, his usual soft landing on his feet stunted and disjointed from the strange encounter he had had. He panted hard, staring down at the demon’s decapitated head. She was already beginning to burn away into ashes, but her expression remained tearful. Just before her mouth had vanished, she had mouthed a single word to him.

“ Thank you .”

The board headed child was left standing there, frozen, as he felt dizzy and sick. He clutched his chest, then smacked it. 

Why was he still so sad?

~~~~

Laughter was echoing throughout the trees. A feminine voice, giggling and cackling, as she spun webs of sticky fluid all around the poor pathetic slayers she had found in her domain. Sure, her confidence was a bit bruised, considering she got an earful from her little brother not a minute or so ago.

Rui had found the most peculiar of the slayers sent to destroy their family. A girl with ugly black hair and a big red scar on her forehead. Supposedly, this girl was the one Muzan-sama was looking for. Why, though? She wouldn’t make good demon material. And Sister had announced that very urgently to Rui, cackling at how pathetic this human girl was…

Only for Rui to decapitate his sister with his threads, spouting the same nonsense about sisterhood and being a decent girl to potential family members. In her embarrassment, Sister ran away.

Thankfully, she could actually prove herself useful again! These slayers were everywhere, swarming like ants and flies. She would kill them, suck their fluids out of the web cocoons. Get stronger so she could protect and be of use to Rui again. 

Just then, there was a very aggravating smell. At first, Sister thought maybe it was that raven haired bitch from before. But the smell was more demonic than that. 

As she turned to face the oncoming demon, she noticed first that they also had garish hair– ruby red eyes and fire-like locks upon their head. A similar scar was on their forehead too. For another brief moment, Sister considered maybe this was that same girl from before, transformed into a demon and not yet initiated into the Spider clan. After all, they had the same scar, the same fiery eyes… 

But then she noticed the muzzle. Bamboo, maybe a hair ornament once, but placed in the jaws of the demon boy. It was a boy. 

“What the hell are you doing in my territory, pipsqueak? Piss off, or I’ll call Father on you–!!” The demon Sister began. But she noticed the boy wasn’t stopping or listening at all.

Tanjirou snarled. All around him, he could smell death and decay. His senses were on overdrive, fighting with his steel will. He couldn’t focus on the cocoons. If he even considered the sweet scent of blood and decomposing bodies, he would fail. He had to focus on fighting this demon.

He had no nichirin blade to decapitate her with. Perhaps he should have asked Nezuko’s teacher for one, so he could be of better use to her and the Corps. On his own, he could not slay demons. Just keep them busy and distracted while waiting for his twin to deliver a final blow. 

Maybe they hadn’t thought this through. 

No. It was too late to turn back now.

He had to do what Nezuko expected him to do. He had to hunt this demon, for her, for the other corps members who had died.

“Pathetic ant!!” Sister Spider laughed. “I can tell, you’re really not that strong, are you? Don’t worry. I’ll tie you up reallllll nice and comfy. That way you can die in the sun without any bruises or missing limbs thanks to me or my brothers~!” Her hands shot out, webs bursting from her finger tips and racing for Tanjirou at blinding speed and accuracy.

But Tanjirou jumped. And as he did, he flipped, glaring down at the surprised Sister…

Before slamming his rock-hard forehead into her own. Blood gushed from her nose and she gasped in a choked breath, stumbling backwards with obvious pain dancing in her wide, unnatural eyes. For just a moment, her pale hair turned black, her skin a darker gray rather than pure moonlight. Her appearance was wavering between her first demonic one and the Spider.

“RAAAAGH!!” Sister screamed, clutching her nose, trying to ebb the flow of blood. Her appearance continued to cycle, until finally, the regenerative power stemmed the pain and allowed her to calm down. 

“YOU BRAT!” Her teeth bared, veins bulging in her head, as her shrill voice shrieked at Tanjirou’s unflinching face. “THAT HURT!! I’LL KILL YOUUUU!!”

Again, more strands of sticky fluid were shot at Tanjirou, with less accurate aim as he danced and weaved through the trees. His scarlet gaze remained upon her the entire time, getting closer and closer as he readied another headbutt or flashed his claws to scratch her eyes.

This dance between demons was deadly, one that grew in speed and startling injuries the more it continued. Tanjirou had adapted since his first fight with Susumaru back in the city. He could hold his own, fighting back tiredness through sheer anger and stubbornness. For demons, it was a playground brawl. For humans, it was life or death.

~~~

Nezuko shuddered, spitting and coughing as she desperately fought the winded affect she had received. Her back remained smushed against a tree, the wood splintering from the force she had hit it with. 

Her entire body ached. She hadn’t expected this demon to be so powerful, nor so aggravating. Rui, as she learned he was called from the other Spider demon, seemed like he was merely toying with her. Like he was interested in seeing how she ticked rather than going immediately for the blow.

( No wonder he employed a demon like the one puppeting the other slayers. They’re all sadistic .)

“Had enough yet?” Rui’s cold voice rang out, his hand still arched into a crawling spider-like position. Threads remained tied to each fingertip and pale blue nail, waiting the moment they could fire out at the human girl.

“The more I take you apart, the more it’ll hurt when you become a full demon. Not everyone survives joining my family.” The boy tilted his head down at Nezuko, who shuddered again, trying hard to get to her feet again. 

“I’d never join your family. It’s not even a family!” Nezuko spat, finally clawing up the tree to come to her full height. She glared with hatred at this strange demon boy, her hands finding her nichirin blade still stuck into the ground. There was a crack forming in the blade from when she had tried to slice the threads.

“You don’t hurt or maim your family! You nearly destroyed that sister of yours over a petty argument!”  Rui just tsked.

“She didn’t respect what I had told her. She had to be scolded.”

“That’s not scolding, you—!” The slayer snarled, before gasping as she had to again roll to dodge the threads Rui had sent her way. One of them sliced her shoulder, causing her to squeal out briefly in pain. The demon just advanced further, stepping nearer.

“I’m getting tired of your arguing, little girl. Why not be good and let me take you away? Or even better, I can surrender you to Muzan-sama, like he had asked me to.” Crouching to the collapsed body, he grabbed her hair, tugging her up to look at him. “See, I was going to initially. But you intrigued me.”

Tilting his head, a sadistic grin came over Rui’s face. His free hand pushed his wavy, matted hair aside, revealing an intricate carving on his blue eye- Lower Rank Five. 

“As Rank Five of the Lower Kizuki, Muzan-sama would grant my request of toying with you as my big sister. But I guess I just have to let that fantasy go. Perhaps he’d give me an even higher rank if I killed you for him.”

Nezuko froze. A member of the Kizuki… The Demon Moons. Tamayo had mentioned them. They were the most powerful of Muzan’s elite demons, and the Lower Kizuki were nothing to snort at even when compared to the Upper level. She was out of her element here.

Again, like a cat toying with its prey, Rui allowed Nezuko to get to her feet. She glared at him once more, shaking as she fought to get her breathing under control. 

( I have to calm down. I have to. If I don’t, he’ll kill me, and Onii-chan or Inosuke won’t get here in time… )

~~~

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Tanjirou could feel it, feel how every cell of his body was trembling, every hair on his skin standing on end. His blood was bubbling, his heart throbbing and shaking like a caged dog. 

Nezuko. His sister. His twin sister was in grave danger. 

As his head whipped around toward the direction of Nezuko’s location, Sister Spider gave a joyful, malicious giggle, slapping Tanjirou’s face. The demon boy stumbled, nearly falling down.

“What? What now? You’re all distracted~ Why? Are you scared?” Sister was delighted, able to use this to her advantage in that split second to lay blow after blow upon the younger demon’s body. 

Tanjirou could only dodge and block, still feeling bruises blooming where the hardened hands and threads of Sister made contact with his limbs. His face kept turning away, whipping between the forest path and Sister, unable to find a way to break away and run. 

If he didn’t keep Sister Spider distracted, she could easily kill more of the Corps members trickling into Natagumo. Or she could follow him to Nezuko and put her in even more danger.

The demon boy was beginning to breathe hard, hyperventilating as panic settled in. What could he do? If he didn’t hurry, Nezuko would—!!

Flower Breathing, Third Form: Iris Fall.

An explosion of rosy color burst into Tanjirou’s vision, able to alarm him in time to step away from the attack. The slices reminded him of the shape of an Iris flower, brought downward by the reddish-pink blade. 

The attacks made most of their marks, slicing Sister Spider’s limbs off, causing her to shriek out in pain and alarm. She too stumbled back, just barely missing the petal of the attack formation that would have decapitated her. Enraged, she whirled around, glaring at the woman who had attacked.

“Who-?!”

The woman had incredibly long black hair tied back in a high ponytail with a purple butterfly hairpin. Her haori was decorated just like the wings of a beautiful white butterfly dipped in pink and blue, pairing with her strange violet eyes for an overall insect-like appearance. 

The most peculiar thing was that she was staring at both demons with pity, empathy warm in her fair, doll-like face. 

“Ah~ I missed it. That rarely happens. I’m sorry, Miss.” The slayer smiled with painted lips in a gentle curve. Sister Spider stared bewildered at that expression, before shaking it off and arming herself with strings again.

“I’m busy right now, lady, so bug off–!!” 

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that. That boy is under my protection now. Don’t you know not to bully the younger generation?” The woman again smiled, voice light and gentle as she scolded the Spider with a wag of her finger, as if chastising an unruly child and not a man-eating beast.

“What the hell? Just who the hell is this chick?” Sister hissed under her breath. Meanwhile, Tanjirou gave a loud hum, waving his arms this way and that, causing his checkered haori to flap like wings.

The strange slayer just chuckled quietly. “Don’t worry, dear. Go find her. I’ll take care of this unruly child.” Waving him off, she turned to Sister and gave a little bow.

“My name is Kocho Kanae. The Flower Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps. I just have a few questions for you. Gotta keep you occupied while Kamado-kun goes to defend his sister, ne~?” 

Tanjirou smiled gratefully behind his muzzle. He wasn’t sure how one of the Hashira knew of him and his twin sister, but maybe Rengoku-san had spread word about them. Regardless, he had no time to consider whether this was a trap or actually good intentions. He had to run.

With a leap, he burst into the forest bracken, racing after the scent of his beloved baby sister.

“Now. Let’s get started, shall we~?” Kanae beamed, readying her blade.

~~~

“I might reconsider killing you straight away. But instead, I’ll make it slow. Chop up your skin. Flay out your organs.” Rui had returned to his deadpan voice and cold, stoic expression, as if he wasn’t discussing brutal murder. “Maybe if you apologize for calling my family fake, I’ll make it merciful and quick instead of my original plan.”

Nezuko could feel her face throbbing. The threads had sliced her head and cheek, blood streaming down her skin and making it hard to concentrate. But still, the anger remained, bubbling and boiling beneath her flesh. Rui was everything she could not stand, would not stand for.

“Never. You’re crazy.” 

“Very well.” Rui shrugged nonchalantly. With a flick of his wrists, a strange cat’s cradle had formed from threads in his fingers. That same thread amalgamation had appeared above Nezuko’s body, coming fast. 

Those colors were easy for her to spot with her enhanced vision. The anger, the destroyed bonds… All of it was visible. Lifting her blade, she readied one of the forms of Flame Breathing in a powerful, quick strike…

WRACK!

As if in slow motion, she watched as the nichirin blade snapped clean in half when meeting the spider silk.  Her body tilted with it, just barely dodging the strings, but still receiving more slices to her face and hair in the process.

( Crap. Crap. Crap!! I broke the katana! I was careless. Rengoku-sensei, Haganezuka-san… Forgive me. But I can’t focus on that now! Think! Think!! )

She could tell that Rui was holding back. He was playing with her, watching her struggle. His threads were wiggling, almost alive, and entirely different from the ones that Mother Spider had used to puppeteer the slayer corpses.

She couldn’t dodge this one. It was too late. 

Red exploded before her vision. It was a current of red, sticky fluid, spraying out over the night sky and the forest horizon. But she didn’t feel any pain. Had Rui done what he said and taken her out mercifully with a swift cut?

No. Because she could see now that she had not been sliced to ribbons. 

Tanjirou had. Her twin brother had come just in time, arms flung out at his sides to protect her, each thread having torn him to near shreds so that Nezuko didn’t suffer a single bit of pain. He had shouldered it all for her.

“ ONII-CHANNNN!!! ” The girl screamed, arms flying to wrap around Tanjirou’s broken body, diving into the bushes to protect him from Rui, should another attack come. 

There was silence. Only Tanjirou and Nezuko’s heavy breathing filled the glen, before strangely… Rui smiled.

Chapter Text

Chapter 23: Hinokami Kagura

“A family has its own roles to play on the stage show of life. Children are the future. They must be protected by the older generation…. Even at the risk of their own lives.”

The cold, almost robotic voice of the grinning spider demon forced Nezuko to look up from her work at hand. She wasn’t sure what to do. Her mind was spinning. Think. Think.

Tanjirou’s arm had nearly been de-gloved by the spider silk. The skin was barely hanging on, red muscles and tendons visible for the first time to the open air. If she wasn’t already feeling nauseous over her brother’s stupid act, the young Kamado felt her stomach sour further upon witnessing her twin’s flesh. 

However, he seemed to be okay. Just shaken up. He was grabbing onto Nezuko with his good hand, the other in her own delicate ones, trying desperately to slide the skin back into place so Tanjirou could heal the wound faster. But each motion would make the boy wince or whimper, thus causing Nezuko to apologize tearfully, and stop.

“Are you listening to me?” Rui’s voice cut through the glen again. Nezuko shuddered, eyes flicking up to the Lower Moon demon, full of rage and desperation over what had been done to her poor brother.

“You failed him. You could not protect your brother, but he protected you. He fulfills his role as the elder sibling perfectly.” Those cold eyes glowered down, the spider’s smile fading into a frown of sullied anger. “Therefore, your brother should be protecting me. Give him to me, or die.”

The young girl felt her body bristling, her hands clenching and unclenching like the anxious claws of a cat. “I’ll NEVER give you my brother! I’ll decapitate you before you can lay a hand on him!!”

Rui just stared at her with an almost pitying look. “You think so? You really think you can win?!”

A loud creak resounded through the air, and just like that, the space where Tanjirou had laid was empty. Nezuko whirled around, gasping sharply as she saw her brother get embraced by Rui’s arms and spider silk.

“Tanjirou!!” Nezuko shouted, desperate. Her brother just stared back at her with only slight panic, before he too let out a snarl of rage behind his bamboo muzzle. 

Rui’s mouth opened to speak, probably to gloat. But Tanjirou’s hand interrupted him, claws raking across his face not unlike the scratch of a miserable kitten. His enraged shriek filled the air, before another creaking was heard…

Tanjirou was gone. Nezuko felt her body stop of its own accord from its dash towards the spider demon who had once held the younger. What… What happened?

Plip. Plip.

Red, hot blood fell into her eyes. The young Kamado wiped the blood away, turning her gaze towards the pale moon in the sky…

It was Tanjirou. His body was held upside down, strung up by countless spider silk strings that creaked and moaned from his struggling weight. He kept writhing, desperate to get free, even if that meant causing his skin to bleed from the sharp wire digging into his flesh.

“ONII-CHAAAAN!! STOPPPP!!” Nezuko had never heard her own voice that shrill before. Maybe not since… Since that snowy day. But she wasn’t sure whether she was yelling at her foolish elder brother to stop squirming or was screaming at Rui for harming the boy to begin with.

“Oh, stop your screeching. He’s a demon. This won’t kill him. I’m just punishing him for hurting me.” The stoic Lower Moon just scoffed. “He must learn his role. If he doesn’t, I’ll let him get burned by the sun for a while until he learns to behave.” 

Rage filled the girl. Nezuko could feel her body trembling, every vein in her body bulging and straining, muscles tensing to their full tautness. She wanted to destroy. She wanted to ruin this little demon boy, make him feel all the pain he had brought upon her and her twin.

Her eyes kept switching between Tanjirou’s hanging body and Rui’s cold face. If she hadn’t looked just then, she would have missed how her brother’s ruby eyes had slid closed… And his breathing slowed. 

Anxiety ran rampant in her mind. ( DId he die? No. No… He fell asleep. Or unconscious. His wounds are too much .)

A memory flashed across her eyes, as flames began to fan from her lips, stance changing into the final form of Flame Breathing that her sensei had taught her. 

“Young Kamado. This is a move passed down through the generations of Rengoku. It is a deadly, precise move, full of power and passion. It takes a heavy toll on the body. None of my previous tsukugo were able to perform it.”

She had frowned then, nervous. His large hand landed on her raven hair, stroking it away from her face in a quick, fond ruffle. Her frown melted away instantly, warmed by the brotherly gesture.

“However!! I have utmost faith that you will be able to perform it. The flame in your heart must be set ablaze! Never let it die, Kamado Nezuko!”

Those gleaming eyes and warm smile filled her head. Her heart shuddered and throbbed, before that rage built to a stunning crescendo. The flames around her broken katana formed the glowing snarl of a dragon, protecting her small body as she blasted from the ground.

“Flame Breathing, Ninth Form: Rengoku!”

Each powerful step urged her forward, the power building in her slice to cut through the threads in her way. For a hopeful moment, she was certain she could win this way…

If she just kept pushing! If she just pushed hard and fought with her entire being…!!

“Oh. Did you really think these were the strongest threads I could make?” Rui’s chilling voice cut the flames, turning her blood cold. The threads suddenly took on the color of red blood, his hands dyed with the stuff as his power overwhelmed the Blood Demon Art.

“I’ve had enough of you. Goodbye.”

The threads were encircling Nezuko in a massive cage. Each step she took felt like it was in slow motion, her breathing slowing and eyes widening with animalistic fear.

( There has to be a way out. There has to be a way to win. But… I don’t see a way out. I’m going to die! )

The spiderwebs filled with her memories. Rengoku-sensei. Urokodaki-sensei. Tomioka-san. Her brother. Zenitsu-san and Inosuke-san. Senjuro-kun. Her siblings. Mother.

“ Nezuko .” 

Warm, red eyes. A smile like the sun. Summer rays danced over that face, gaunt, but so full of love and patience she felt like crying.

( Father .)

“ Breathe, Nezuko .” Within her mind’s eye, her father spoke from the Kamado house’s engawa, watching with obvious pride in his gaze as his eldest children played. Tanjirou was laughing, waving around a large frond of a plant tied with little bells. 

In her tiny hand was a little drum, and she spun it, beaming at her twin brother.

“ Breathe, Nezuko. Become Hinokami. ”

Another memory. She was fighting sleep, giggling as her brother grabbed her hand, so much smaller than his despite their age being the same. They rushed into the snow together, shivering and huddling close to their mother.

Tanjuro Kamado, their father, his body thin and gaunt. He wore a beautiful ancient robe aligned with flames and faded gold emblems, his face covered by ceremonial cloth with the character for FIRE . 

“ Look, Nezuko. Tanjirou. Your father is performing the Hinokami Kagura .” Oh, she had forgotten how gentle their mother’s voice was too. How she smelled of lavender and lilies and warm rice. “ Our family works with fire. So every year, we offer this kagura dance to Hinokami-sama so we may have good fortune. ”

Each jump, each twirl, stomp, slash of the ceremonial items… The snow seemed to evade. The flames of the ceremonial pyre around their father continued to gleam. Each movement was like gazing at a god in motion. 

Sleepiness burned in her eyes. When Nezuko blinked, it was daytime. She laid across her father’s bony lap, looking up at him while her brother dozed next to her. Out front, their mother was hanging the laundry while baby Takeo slept on her back.

“I don’t think I could do it.” Nezuko heard herself saying, voice much squeakier than she remembered. “My lungs would freeze!”

“ There is a special way of breathing… That never lets you get tired, no matter how hard you move .” Her father explained, hand combing through her wavy hair. He was so gentle, removing any snarls from playtime as easily as a fish gliding through water. He just always seemed like that… A plant who simply moved with the air rather than against it.

“ If you learn how to breathe properly, you can dance all night in the cold too, Nezuko, and never get tired .”

Nezuko frowned. ( But, Father… The Hinokami Kagura was meant only for the eldest Kamado son. I’m a girl. I’m the eldest daughter. Do I deserve this birthright too? )

“ You and Tanjirou were born to shoulder this together. ” The world froze. She was certain that her father was here, gazing upon her in this spider’s web, his smile warm and comforting. His voice was slightly firm. Insistent.

“ You share the earrings. The Hinokami Kagura are both your birthrights. Breathe, Nezuko. Become Hinokami .”

Breathe!

Nezuko felt her lungs inhale of their own accord. Within moments, the flame within her changed. It was like stepping away from a campfire to instead stand in the glow of the summer sun. Her skin was alive with senses, goosebumps raised. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. Her heart was slamming against her chest.

The spider silk exploded. Her blade had elongated with solar flame, slicing through the red threads as if they were fate itself… Being smashed by the first Kamado heiress. 

“ Hinokami Kagura: DANCE! ”

Every thread was moving like it was alive. But Nezuko didn’t stop. She wasn’t going to. She had to keep going, if it meant saving Tanjirou.

( I’m sorry, Onii-chan. I wasn’t there for you back then. But I am now. I’m coming! I’ll shoulder this burden for you! !)

“How?!” Rui was snarling at her, weaving away from each attack. “You foolish girl!”

The threads just kept coming. Nezuko could feel them slicing at her body, her face, her hair. But she didn’t stop. She would never stop. 

Above her, Tanjirou was having his own dream.

As he hung suspended from the threads, his body felt impossibly heavy. How could he protect Nezuko now? He had failed her again, he was foolish and got himself in this situation. Trapped like a stupid fly. 

( I’m sorry, Nezuko… )

A gentle hand touched his face. He didn’t dare open his eyes for fear of seeing Heaven… For fear of being away from Nezuko forever. Only one person had these hands and that was…

( Mother .)

“ Come on, Tanjirou. Wake up. The way you are now… You can do this. Be brave. ” Ah, her voice was so soft, so sweet. Tanjirou barely moved. He had failed them all, hadn’t he? His role as the man of the house was to protect them, and he had failed…

The scent of tears filled his nostrils. The demon boy shuddered. Yes, his poor mother was crying, her hands cupping his face. 

“ Please, Tanjirou. You have to wake up. Otherwise your sister will die too! You have to do this, together!! ”

Together. That was right. Back then, when she had cried over their new circumstances, he had held her hand and stayed by her side. They had to win this together. Not apart.

Something clicked into place. Those old bonds, red as flame, burned within his heart. Tanjirou’s eyes snapped open.

The blood, his blood, was vibrating. He could somehow sense it everywhere, smell how it was starting to glow and burn like charcoal. His hand stretched, tugging and pulling hard against the spider silk holding him down. Within that outstretched palm, his blood glowed, and he set it alight.

( Demon Blood Art: Exploding Blood! )

Nezuko felt the heat, but nothing burned. Her heart was the only thing aglow with pain, with the grief and rage she felt for her family. For the bastardization of a family bond she had to put down in this demon spider, her blade pressed to his rock-hard neck.

“Don’t you understand it now?!” She was screaming, her eyes practically aglow amongst the spire of pink and red flames. “The bond between Onii-chan and me,”

The blade made its way through, as her shout exploded through the forest glen.

“ CAN’T BE SEVERED BY ANYONE! ”

Chapter Text

Chapter 24: Against Corps Rules

The very first thing that Nezuko noticed was that her lungs felt like they were burned to ash. Her body was like lead, and at some point, she had collapsed to the forest floor. Maybe she had blacked out momentarily.

Regardless, she was awake now. She looked up blearily from the dirt, trying to crawl away from Rui’s decapitated body. Where was Tanjirou? She didn’t have his sense of smell, and even if she did, it was hard to get in deep enough of a breath to sense him around her.

She was scrabbling around nearly blind. Her ears were ringing, but… Something was behind her. She was sure of it.

Slowly, her head turned. 

“You really thought you won?!” Rui’s enraged voice came from behind. His head was suspended by a basket of spider threads, his headless body standing upright and trying to puppet the head back onto his neck. Nezuko felt her heart drop to her stomach.

“You incompetent fool. I was so tired of playing with you that I cut my own neck with the threads! But oh, it hurts, all because of that stupid power of your brother!!” 

The Kamado girl paused. Was that why she was able to push her broken blade through Rui’s neck? Because Tanjirou’s blood had exploded on it? Strangely, the fire hadn’t burned her at all. Maybe it only burned demonic things…

Either way, she didn’t have time to mull on it. She had to get her strength back. Otherwise, Rui would kill her and Tanjirou. 

“I’m so mad I could kill you without even blinking!” The Lower Moon hissed, waving his hands together until a basket of threads was weaved together. His eyes narrowed hatefully down at Nezuko, watching as his Blood Demon Art encapsulated her again…

( This is bad!! ) Nezuko squeezed her eyes shut. ( Breathe! Breathe!! )

There was a sudden sound like the crash of waves against a shore. Nezuko opened her eyes slowly, watching as the threads were sliced cleanly and melted away as if dissolved in water. 

A man stood before her. Old memories blurred together, until Nezuko at last recognized the man as the swordsman from that icy day 2 years ago… Tomioka Giyuu. 

He seemed older. His hair was longer, messily tied back into a ponytail with a thick red cord. A kitsune mask rested against the side of his head, the expression on its carved face not unlike a sad kicked dog. 

Giyuu breathed out slowly. “You did a good job hanging on until I got here. I’ll take care of it now.”

The swordswoman shuddered, eyes gleaming with gentle surprise and admiration for the elder. He had saved her again. But what’s more, he had recognized she had fought so hard to get here… 

Her vision was still swimming. But she watched as Rui forged another attack, ready to make a swift and ugly end for the hashira. Hatred clung to the aura around the demon, swimming in deep angry red…

Until it was swiftly sliced away by a dead calm of blue. Nezuko’s vision cleared out of pure shock for the move she had witnessed. Did… Did Giyuu even move? The Breath technique was not one she recognized from Urokodaki-sensei’s teachings at all!

The Kamado daughter shook her head. She couldn’t focus on that right now. Her vision had cleared up, and now, she could see where Tanjirou had fallen nearby. 

Oh so slowly, she crawled over to her twin brother, cradling his body in her tense, trembling arms. He was asleep. But she felt him twitch and grab onto her too, hugging her tight for just a moment, before relaxing again.

( Father… Thank you .) 

Something landed with a thud beside them. Nezuko’s rosy eyes peeled themselves open one last time, looking down almost sadly at the decaying body of Rui. With her aura ability, she could see those old memories… The poor boy had wanted a family and friends and lost them all thanks to Muzan’s power.

Slowly, her shaking hand lifted, before landing on the boy’s back, stroking it slowly like she used to do to soothe Rokuta during his nights struggling with colic. She felt Rui’s corpse shudder, before it decayed completely, leaving only the scrap of white and silver kimono fabric behind.

Crunch.

Giyuu’s zorii stepped right on the fabric, narrowly missing Nezuko’s hand. She whipped her aching head up to look at him with confusion and hurt.

“Don’t waste your time pitying this demon, even if it looks like a child. It was a horrible monster that lived for hundreds of years, feeding on countless people.”

Nezuko furrowed her brows. No. It wasn’t quite right. Not this way of thinking. Not when she knew so much about demons now, and now that Tanjirou was one.

“In order to soothe the spirits of those it killed, and to make sure it claims no further victims, I will swing my blade and decapitate any demon without mercy! But I won’t belittle the ones who regret their actions! These demons were once humans like you and me.”

Her voice sounded so far away. But she felt Tanjirou twitch against her, tugging her uniform shirt. His eyes had opened, also peering up at Giyuu with the famous Kamado puppy eyes.

“Move your foot,” Nezuko continued, voice much more firm. “They are not worthless monsters. They are pitiful beasts, shells of what was once human.”

Giyuu’s hazy eyes seemed to gleam in recognition. “You…”

KLANG!!

Nezuko could barely see what had just happened. But she felt the exchange that took place over her head- two swords meeting in the fraction of a second it took to block an attack that would have lopped Tanjirou’s head off. 

Standing in the forest clearing was a beautiful girl, with a ponytail on the side of her head. The ponytail was also clipped with a pink butterfly ornament. She appeared to be the same age as the Kamado’s, wearing the same uniform as Nezuko but with a skirt rather than the hakama.

“Kocho’s tsukugo?” Giyuu spoke softly, as if confused. As if this girl wasn’t supposed to be deployed on this mission at all.  

“You blocked me.” The girl spoke with an overly saccharine voice, her eyes completely devoid of any emotion. “My orders are to decapitate all evil demons. Are they not your orders too, Tomioka-sama?”

Giyuu swallowed thickly. He adjusted his stance, standing protectively over the twins. Nezuko felt her heart stutter.

“You do know you’re protecting a demon, right, ma’am?” The girl pointed her sharp blade at Nezuko, her head tilted to the side like a confused pup.

“Yes, but he is my brother!! He won’t hurt anyone!!” Nezuko shouted back, still feeling her head pound. The other girl just stared robotically back, before sheathing her sword. The sakura eyed swordswoman sighed in relief…

Before watching the other girl pull out a different katana, one that resembled a needle or a bee stinger. The tsuba was crafted after a butterfly, hiding the poison within. 

“Then I will dispense a poison that will kill him mercifully. That is the only option I can give you.” 

“Tsuyuri, you don’t have to do this.” Giyuu spoke up, and the girl, Tsuyuri-san, just smiled.

“I have my orders and you have yours, Tomioka-sama. Now move out of the way.”

The Kamado daughter swallowed thickly. Giyuu leaned down and spoke under his breath to the girl. 

“If you have any strength, run. Take your brother and run as fast as you can.”

There was no other option. Nezuko got to her feet, grabbing Tanjirou bridal style, before taking off into the woods as fast as she could on numb, unsteady legs.

“You really shouldn’t have done that.” Tsuyuri said. Giyuu just adjusted his blade stance. 

“The orders have changed, Kanao.” Using her first name, the Water Hashira hoped he didn’t have to fight. “We have to secure the Kamado’s, not destroy them!”

“I thought you said you were not the Water Hashira, Tomioka-sama?” Kanao’s voice was light and airy, but her energy was incredibly cold. The elder man stiffened, shocked.

“Therefore, your orders are not definite. I answer only to Oyakata-sama and my Master.” With one tense footstep, the tsuguko rushed forward, poison at the ready to try and numb Giyuu. 

“Sayonara.”

Nezuko wasn’t sure how long she was running, or even how far she had gotten. All she knew was that they had broken some sort of Corps rules. Harboring a demon, fighting with their fellow Corps members… It was like a day of neverending crimes!

Tanjirou was almost limp in her arms. He didn’t seem keen on standing, though she could tell he was fighting his own sleepiness to stay alert enough to guide her out of the woods with his sense of smell. He would point a direction now and again, or hum loudly when she went the wrong way, and she would adjust and run that way with a “THANK YOU ONII-CHAN!!” or “I GOT IT, TANJIROU!” that got more and more irritated.

Up until she felt something slam into her back. 

Nezuko coughed loudly as she fell to the forest floor, pinned by that same girl from before. It seemed that Kanao had caught up, and probably managed to evade Giyuu. Which was not a good sign.

Tanjirou had flown a bit in the fall, landing a few feet away from the two girls. He rubbed his head, sleepily staring at Nezuko.

“ONII-CHAN!! RUN AWAY!! DON’T LET HER GET YOU!!” Panicked, the swordswoman tried to wriggle out from under Kanao. “RU-”

SLAM!! Her world went dark when Kanao’s heel came crashing down into her head, jaw smashed between the ground and her skull.

Tanjirou didn’t need to be told twice. He took off instantly, running through the forest and away from Kanao. Though, he did have to pull some risky evasive maneuvers to avoid her attacks…

Which included turning into a smaller, child-like version of himself so each attack would just miss him.

Kanao seemed confused, but she said nothing. Just robotically following the orders to attack and take down Tanjirou.

Until…

“CAW! CAWWW!! ORDERS! ORDER! TAKE NEZUKO AND TANJIROU KAMADO INTO CUSTODY! BRING THEM BACK TO HEADQUARTERS! CAWWW!!” 

“Kanao!” A voice shouted above all the cawing. The beautiful woman with long hair from before reappeared, trotting towards Kanao and Tanjirou, who was pinned to a tree.

“New orders!! Don’t hurt him, you silly girl!” Kanae was quick to urge Kanao away from the demon boy, before standing between them. Kanao just frowned a little, head tilting.

“I was just following orders, Master…”

“I know, but did you have to go and knock Tomioka-san out?!” While she was scolding her tsuguko, Tanjirou just hummed worriedly, trying to gesture to where Nezuko had fallen.

Thankfully, it seemed some masked workers were carrying her on a cot out of the forest… Along with Inosuke, Zenitsu, and Giyuu. Also that guy from earlier… Murata?

With the team worse for wear and all the demons of the Spider Mountain defeated, they only really had one trial left ahead of them to conquer…

When Nezuko awoke, her jaw hurt. It felt like it might fall off at any moment, aching so terribly that she was sure she could feel her heartbeat in it.

“Get up! Wake up, girl!! You’re in the presence of the hashira!!”

Rose eyes snapped open, and the girl stared, wide eyed, at the slayers who would decide her fate. But what she didn’t expect to see standing there with them was…

( Rengoku-sensei?! )

“Kamado Nezuko, you are at the Demon Slayer Headquarters. Before you are the Hashira. You are about to be put on trial.” Her sensei spoke, his fiery eyes all aglow with uncertainty. His arms remained crossed over his chest, per usual. 

The Hashira were the highest skilled slayers. Nezuko knew this. There were usually only a small handful of them, since so many slayers were killed in battle. Not many could have the skills these slayers possessed. Some inherited the title, like her teacher. Some retired the title and gave it to others, like Tomioka and Urokodaki.

If she was put on trial before them, they had all seen many years of demons destroying humans without a second thought. None of them would have much patience. It was a miracle at all that she was allowed to get this far.

Nezuko opened her mouth to speak, only to start coughing viciously. Her jaw was in so much pain, and her lungs didn’t want to work properly. Before her eyes, a small bottle was produced and pressed to her lips.

“Drink,” It was that beautiful woman from before. “It’s water with a pain killer. You’ll feel better. Then try to talk.”

After drinking most of the bottle, the young Kamado gave pause, before speaking loudly. “My brother has never hurt anyone! He has been a demon for two years and never hurt anyone or tasted human flesh!! What’s more, he has fought alongside me to slay evil demons!!”

“Pah.” One of the hashira snorted. He was huge, practically a large hulking man, covered from head to toe in flashy jewelry and fabrics. His arms were scarred by burns, tattoos covering the older burns. His white hair was tied neatly back by bandages and jewels that trickled down his face like wisteria.

“Just words. Show me. Show me proof that your brother won’t bite anyone!” 

“Such a poor child, possessed by a demon’s influence.” Another large man spoke, but he was the largest of all. His sightless eyes peered into nothingness, but Nezuko swore he was looking directly at her somehow. His hands held several rosary beads, clicking and rolling together as he prayed namida butsu.

“He’s your brother. Of course you’ll protect his integrity.” Another voice. This time, it was a skinny man, hanging out in a tree with a white snake perched on his shoulder. His mouth was completely covered by a cloth mask, which muffled his voice slightly. “Why should we believe you?”

“I became a swordswoman to protect Tanjirou!!” Nezuko snarled. “I can prove he never hurt anyone! Rengoku-sensei!!” She whirled her head back to the Flame Hashira, who just stared back at her.

“Please!! You know my brother!”

The hashira all murmured in surprise. “Rengoku-san? Housing a demon? Impossible!” 

“Nezuko,” Rengoku began. “I have not had you or your brother in my care in many, many days. I am not responsible for what you two do. Justice still must prevail in a trial, regardless of our ties to one another.”

Nezuko swallowed back tears of frustration. Not even her beloved teacher would speak up for her? 

“I’m not sure about this,” A feminine voice spoke. Beside Rengoku was a girl with insanely pink hair, fidgeting as she looked at Nezuko and Rengoku in turn. “We should wait for the Master to arrive.”

“No need!” All heads whipped to the back of the stone laden pathway, which revealed a man covered in scars and strange white hair. Nezuko was aware of his hatred and anger straight away, even without visualizing his aura. His eyes spoke of it all openly- a true window to the soul.

“Shinazugawa-sama! Drop the box, please!!” One of the masked kakushi shouted, hands outreached. 

Nezuko’s heart froze. Tanjirou. 

“We can talk fairytales all we want, but there’s no way a demon would ever protect humans! Wanna know why?!” Shinazugawa’s manic grin spread across his scarred face, and within seconds, his green nichirin blade was unsheathed. The swordsmen could only watch as he plunged that blade into the box.

Bright red blood began to ooze through the cracks. Nezuko heard her twin brother’s strangled whimper of pain, and knew nothing more.

She wasn’t even aware of what happened. She only knew that her beloved twin was hurt, and she could still use her legs, so she could seek retribution.

Pushed off from the ground, pebbles flying in her wake, the young girl screamed her fury as she lifted up, jumping over Shinazugawa’s defensive slice. 

“I don’t care if you’re a hashira! I won’t let ANYBODY hurt my brother!!” With a twist of her aching body, she slammed her foot down on the hashira’s head, listening with some sort of fiendish glee as the crack of a broken vessel ran through the air.

Shinazugawa stumbled back, blood gushing from his nose. He cursed loudly, stemming the bleeding, before laughing. “Good! I’ve been itchin’ for a fight–!!”

Giyuu’s voice rang out from the garden. ( When had he arrived? Was he here the entire time, just quietly watching from the sidelines? )

“The Master is here!” His voice was simultaneously joined by that of a young girl’s.

The sudden jump of all bodies present was remarkable. Nezuko watched in awe as each person got into a bow, knelt on one knee, prostrating before the engawa. 

“Welcome, my dear demon slayers…”

The swordswoman paused. The man on the porch was incredibly scarred, covered near head to toe with awful wounds. Though, she could tell they were not inflicted from attacks. They were illness related. A disease of some kind. 

Distantly, she wondered if this was a form of terminal illness like her father’s.

“It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it? The air feels beautiful, and the sun is shining.” The Master’s voice was calming, incredibly so. Any prior rage Nezuko had felt was starting to melt back into a dull ache, feeling more akin to anxiety.

“It is very auspicious that our meeting has the same members as before. To have everyone present for both our biannual hashira meetings… Makes me very happy.”

“I am glad for your happiness. I pray it lasts, Master.” Shinaguzawa’s voice spoke above Nezuko, though she couldn’t lift her head. It felt too heavy… Probably because the hashira was leaning on it.

“I’m sorry, but before the meeting… Could you tell us about this Corps member Kamado and the demon she travels with?” The hashira’s voice was so much more polite than before, and honestly, Nezuko felt like laughing. Was he trying to butter up the Master?

“Yes. I am sorry for not enlightening you before,” The Master began, smiling serenely. “I have accepted Kamado Nezuko and Tanjirou. I urge you all to do the same.”

The yard was at once a clamor of dissent. Numerous voices announced their hatred for demons, that it was impossible for one to travel alongside a swordsman. Even Rengoku and Tomioka, who had protected Nezuko before, said nothing, which was as bad as dissenting aloud.

“The Demon Slayer Corps kills demons. Punish the Kamados AND Tomioka.” Shinaguzawa hissed, eyes narrowed. Nezuko furrowed her brows. 

( Why was Giyuu-san being punished? Just because he had spared us that day, two years ago? )

“Well then. The letter, please.” The Master turned his head towards his daughter, the little girl who had spoken earlier. The girl nodded, taking the letter and speaking out.

“A portion of the letter from Sakonji Urokodaki, the retired Water Hashira.” With a slow inhale, the girl began to read.

“Please forgive Kamado Nezuko, who travels alongside her brother, who is a demon. Tanjirou maintains his strong human reason through spiritual strength. Even when starving, he refuses to eat people. He had persisted in this way for more than two years.” A breath.

“It is difficult to understand, but it is the truth. Should Kamado Tanjirou ever attack anyone, together with Kamado Nezuko… I, Sakonji Urokodaki, and Tomioka Giyuu will atone by slicing open our stomachs.”

(... What? ) Nezuko’s eyes widened and at once filled with tears. She looked up at Giyuu, as did all the other hashira, who just kept his head bowed. She could sense his resolve… Along with the sudden same emotion from Rengoku.

But the Flame Hashira said nothing. Nezuko turned her eyes away from her teacher, hurt.

“So what if he commits seppuku? He can rot in hell for all I care! It means nothing!” Sinazugawa hissed. 

“It will be all for nothing. The dead do not come back.” Rengoku nodded. 

“That is correct. I cannot confirm or guarantee that he will not harm a human being.” The Master continued. “However, you cannot prove that he WILL attack people.”

All the hashira froze. Shinazugawa bristled, then snarled, as he got to his feet.

“Forgive me, Master, BUT I CAN!!”

Nezuko gasped sharply, unable to move as Shinazugawa grabbed Tanjirou’s box from his side, lugging it up onto the engawa and into the shade of the interior building. Some of the hashira murmured in shock and confusion, but nobody made moves to stop him. Not even when he sliced his own arm open.

“Demons are not to be trusted! They are cruel, savage creatures! And I’ll prove it to you all now!!” The hashira held his bleeding arm over the box, before stabbing it a few times for good measure. Nezuko screamed in protest, writhing painfully.

“NOOO! DON’T-!!! GHK!!” Another elbow drove into her back. It was the hashira in the tree from before, Obanai. 

“Don’t move.” He hissed. “Watch.”

“Come out, demon!! Come get this mariechi blood you crave!!” Shinazugawa cackled, flicking the box door open with his blade.

Slowly but surely, Tanjirou emerged. His body grew up to full height, covered in blood and dirt, as well as countless awkward slices to his clothes from the spider silk’s bite. His muzzle was clenched tightly between his sharp fangs, glistening with drool.

The demon boy stared almost ravenously at Shinazugawa’s arm. Nezuko shuddered violently, feeling how the dark red aura within her twin brother’s soul began to take root and bury itself within him. She had to do something.

The yard was filled with a sudden sound of screaming. Nezuko was screaming, sounding like a wounded beast, as she writhed and fought under Obanai’s grasp. Kanae tried desperately to get her to stop, and she swore for a moment Rengoku had frowned worriedly down at his student…

Before Nezuko launched herself at the porch, wrists breaking free of the rope. She clung to the wooden panels and screeched her brother’s name.

“TANJIROU-ONII-CHAN!!!!”

Tanjirou jolted. His ruby, beast-like eye glimpsed his sister. His breathing intensified, and he seemed to sway a bit in place.

“ Humans… Are to be protected and saved. I will never harm them. I cannot hurt them. I must NEVER hurt them. ” Urokodaki’s voice rang in his head, echoing amongst memories. Within his mind’s eye, he could hear Nezuko’s voice, so young, as she sobbed.

“ I don’t know what happened!! But my Onii-chan would never hurt anyone!! He would never become a demon and hurt our family! Never!! ”

The smell of the kitchen. The charcoal crackling and burning. His father’s warm smile as he carefully lowered himself down to sit. His mother’s smiling face, mouthing his name. 

The cherry blossoms are spinning and dancing in their yard. Hanako was dancing about with her brand new haori that Nezuko had just finished sewing, giggling and shrieking as she played keep away with Shigeru. Takeo was waving at him while working on a project with a piece of wood. Rokuta, as always, clinging to his side, giggling and hiding under his checkered haori.

“ All humans are your family. Protect them .”

“ONII-CHAN!!!”

Tanjirou blinked. He huffed, staring up at Shinazugawa… Before swiftly turning his head away with a loud grunt of indignance. Even as he panted and struggled against his hunger, he didn’t even look at the hashira, and instead slowly shrunk to hide in his box.

“What happened?” The Master asked quietly. His daughter spoke up.

“Kamado turned away. Shinazugawa offered him his bloodied arm after stabbing him three times, but Kamado controlled himself and didn’t bite it.”

“In that case, Tanjirou has proven he will not hurt any people.” The Master smiled. “Nezuko, people will still view Tanjirou unfavorably. Proof was needed, and it was fulfilled. Nezuko and Tanjirou will work together in the Corps to slay demons and find Muzan.”

Nezuko bowed her head in relief.

“She is best suited to our cause… For Kamado Nezuko has encountered Kibutsuji Muzan.”

All at once the garden was in a tizzy, again. Each hashira began to yell and carry on, asking Nezuko questions over the appearance of the Demon King and his power. But the Kamado girl could do nothing, voice unable to leave her lips.

The Master silently placed a finger to his lips. The hashira fell silent and returned to their knelt positions.

“There is something different about Kamado Tanjirou. Surely, Muzan has realized this. He has shown his tail, and we must cling to it, if we are to change this war once and for all.” His sightless eyes turned towards Nezuko. “Defeat one of the Lower or Upper Moons, and the hashira will recognize the weight of your determination, Nezuko.”

Nezuko lifted her head, eyebrows furrowed, as she shouted up to the leader of the Corps. “I promise!! TANJIROU AND I WILL DEFEAT MUZAN! WE WILL NOT FAIL!” 

The Master smiled patiently and chuckled. “You are not ready for that yet. For now, focus on one of the Twelve Moons.”

Behind her, Nezuko heard someone snicker. Her face flushed red and she covered it with her hands in shame.

“It goes beyond saying that the hashira are beyond compare. They are extremely talented, and have fought hard to defeat members of the Twelve Moons. That is why people warmly accept and welcome the Hashira. Kamado Nezuko, you must be careful when you speak.”

Nezuko nodded. “O-okay.”

“Obanai, Shinazugawa, be nice to the younger children.” The Master smiled at the men, who only nodded begrudgingly with small “okay”s whispered. 

“Nezuko, you may go. It is time for the hashira meeting.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 27: Butterfly Estate

“Kamado and her brother can stay with us!” A cheery voice broke the awkward silence, pale and slender hand lifting high up in the air with a flutter of butterfly wings. All the hashira present jolted, looking over at their comrade who had spoken so cheerfully and suddenly.

Kanae chuckled. She knew that nobody else would volunteer to keep Nezuko in their watchful eyes. After all– death’s possibility was awaiting anybody who supported her brother.  She already knew about benign demons. Tanjirou was no different. In fact, he only confirmed her studies.

“Nobody objects? Alrighty then~! Kakushi, take them away!” The woman beamed, clapping her hands. The masked aid- kakushi– immediately appeared, grabbing Nezuko and lifting her up. But the Kamado daughter didn’t plan on going quietly.

“NO WAY! LET ME FINISH!” Scrabbling to grab hold of the engawa support beam with her nails, she strained against the kakushi’s surprisingly strong grips. “Let me kick that bastard!! One for each time he stabbed Tanjirou!!”

Snarling as she thrashed, Nezuko was only stopped when a rock was flung at her head, further sharpening the dull ache of pain and fatigue for her. She whirled around to gaze at the perpetrator.

“Hey, don’t interrupt the Master like that. It’s rude.” It was the strange boy with glassy, foggy eyes and wavy dark hair. Later, when stubbornly and grumpily recounting her trial, Nezuko would learn that the boy’s name was Muichiro, and he was the youngest member of the Hashira. In fact, he was her age.

“S-sorry, Master.” Nezuko swallowed down her anger, allowing it to return to a soft boil in the background. 

“Just get out of here before she makes a bigger scene.” Muichiro mumbled. 

As the kakushi gathered Nezuko up, along with her box with the grumpy Tanjirou, Ubuyashiki suddenly spoke.

“Nezuko,” A fond smile had taken his scarred features. “Give my regards to Lady Tamayo.”

The slayer stiffened, eyes widening. For the first time that meeting, she was rendered totally speechless. She remained that way the entire trip to the Butterfly Estate, not even responding when the kakushi reamed her out for being so disruptive before.

For a time, Nezuko dozed on the back of the kakushi carrying her. She was exhausted, but sleep would not completely come her way. No, she was too burdened by the anxiety and frustration, as well as the grief of her sensei not speaking up in her defense. 

She had loved Rengoku-san, she realized. Loved him like a big brother, someone fierce and energetic who stoked the same flame in her heart. She had never had a chance growing up to let that energy out, to be her true self. 

She had been so sure that Rengoku-san was her greatest ally. If she needed help, she would look to him. But his silence only hurt the more because of her heart being wide open to the burning purgatory.

Hazily, she could sense Tanjirou’s energy trying to console her. Even if he was deep asleep, their bond was strong enough to persist through unconscious means. 

That was right. Tanjirou had fought bravely to save her. He had clawed at the demon’s face, endured unimaginable pain when strung up, and…

“Excuse me!!” A kakushi’s loud voice interrupted Nezuko’s thoughts. Her eyes snapped open, suddenly aware that they were in a beautiful cultivated garden. Butterflies were everywhere– flitting about and drinking from the wisteria that grew in huge clumps around the barrier. 

Standing on the engawa was a young girl that Nezuko recognized, but only barely. She was wearing a much longer uniform than she had when Nezuko had first seen her in the woods– as well as a wide brimmed hat with long silk-like webbing coming down the sides. The only hint of the beautiful girl being a demon was those emotionless, strange eyes.

“Tsuyuri-sama.” One of the kakushi spoke, bowing deeply in respect. Nezuko was jostled in the process, but she couldn’t look away from Kanao’s mostly concealed features.

“We come with orders from Kocho-sama. May we enter?” 

Kanao said nothing. She just smiled serenely, staring back at the aids and Nezuko. All except the strange demon fidgeted.

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” A rough voice shouted, right behind them, causing the humans to startle. It was another girl, with dark blue curly hair tied into pigtails. Her sharp eyes peered judgmentally at the intruders, hands hidden under a large sheet she was presumably hanging to dry nearby.

“WAGH!” One of the kakushi immediately bowed, but noticeably not as deeply as he had for Kanao. “Kanazaki-san, forgive us for the intrusion–!!”

“She’s hurt, right?” The girl shuffled a hand out from the sheets, landing it upon her hip. “Come on. Bring her in.” With that, the girl turned and trotted away, her speed causing Nezuko to gape a bit in surprise.

“YOU’RE KIDDING ME!! I HAVE TO DRINK THIS POISON SIX TIMES A DAY?!” A familiar voice greeted the Kamado daughter when she was brought into the hospital wing and laid upon a cot. It was Zenitsu… She would recognize that shrill shrieking anywhere.

Despite it causing annoyance in the past, that sound only made Nezuko’s heart clench in fondness, as well as deep relief. 

“Quit your whining!!” Kanazaki-san roared, hustling over to Zenitsu, who cowered in his blanket. “You gotta drink that medicine if you want your limbs to grow back, so stop fussing!!”

“Zenitsu-san!!” Crying out over the shrieking, Nezuko’s presence caused the Thunder breather to jolt. Zenitsu’s head whirled around, before tears filled those honey eyes.

“Aaaah!!! Nezuko-chan, you’re here! You’re alive! Thank goodness!!” Waving his arms around, his sleeves seemed too big for them. He latched onto the cot beside him, staring at Nezuko snotily.

“It was so awful!! This stinky spider injected me with his venom and it made my arms and legs shrink!! What’s worse is that nasty girl keeps yelling at me!!” On the other side of the room, Aoi glared over her shoulder, which caused Zenitsu to deflate further.

“What about Inosuke-san? Murata?” Nezuko tried to reorient the complaining swordsman, her hands gently laid upon his shoulder. “Are they okay?”

“I dunno about this Murata guy, but Boar Head is over there. He hasn’t said a word since he got here.”

Nezuko found her breath stumbling in her throat. Last she had seen Inosuke, they had separated to fight the Spider family. She had been overconfident, certain that her friends would be just fine. Clearly, this wasn’t the case. Their separation had meant she couldn’t help them avoid getting hurt.

“Inosuke!! I’m so glad you’re alright!! I’m sorry, I should have been there!!” Nezuko whined, eyes threatening to spill with tears. She was in too much pain to swallow them, and she loathed that.

Inosuke said nothing. He was laid up in bed, wearing the pajamas that all the hospital patients were given. His boar mask remained on his head, moving only a bit as he rasped.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“What?” Softly whispered, the girl gazed in confusion. That did not sound like Inosuke at all. He almost sounded like he had been crying.

“I think he’s depressed.” Zenitsu smirked. “I dunno what happened, but the kakushi found him thrashing around and screaming til his voice gave out! Poor guy!” 

“Don’t be mean.” Nezuko narrowed her eyes at the Thunder user, who shrank back like a scolded dog. 

“Don’t you get mad and mean with me too, Nezukoooooo!!!” Zenitsu sobbed.

Nezuko’s injuries were not nearly as bad as some of the others, but her inexperienced body treated them as such. Most days were spent in bed, groaning and trying desperately to suck down the pain meds and broth given to her daily. 

Tanjirou slept. A lot. He only came out once to check up on his twin sister, who had been asleep at the time and didn’t notice. 

Zenitsu’s limbs grew back steadily, with numbness, shaking and tingling as side effects. He moaned and cried more than all the patients combined. Somehow, the Kamado twins slept through even this.

Inosuke had damage to his vocal cords and several abrasions, but mostly just sat in silence. It was eerie, and those who knew him well were unsettled by his strange mood swing. Nezuko and Zenitsu did their best to encourage him, but he would say nothing back.

Even Murata came to visit, his burns sustained from the chemicals of a spider cocoon’s acids had healed nicely. Mostly he had only jammed fingers to deal with, bandaged together so they would heal better. All he did was complain the whole time… Which soured Nezuko’s mood.

When Kanae came to visit, Murata was quick to leave. “Hashira are scary!”

“How are you all feeling?” Kanae asked softly once Murata had fled, sitting on the end of the bed. Nezuko noticed that the elder girl had chosen hers. Maybe she wanted to avoid Zenitsu’s staring… 

“Much better, thank you.” Nezuko did her best to be positive, even if she still ached when waking up in the morning. 

Kanae beamed, nodding as she clapped her hands together. “Then it’s time to start rehabilitation training!”

Inosuke and Nezuko were the healthiest of the trio, so when training did begin, they were the only ones to exit. Each time they returned, their faces were drained of color and all life, bodies trembling. 

Zenitsu did his best to ask what was going on, to be supportive for his friends. But they would ignore him and murmur “I’m tired” before curling up in their cots. It did nothing but give him severe paranoia over what the training must be like.

After all… If two strong slayers like those two were suffering, then he would have huge trouble ahead for him!!!

“Alright! Since it’s Zenitsu’s first time, I’ll go over the rules again.” Aoi’s sharp voice rang out through the dojo, her hands forcing a wooden sword down to the floor with a mighty THUD. All present stiffened at attention.

“First, the triplets will assist you with stretching out your body to get your muscles warmed up. Second is reflex training.” Gesturing over to the table, Kanao knelt there, smiling serenely as always.

“Each of the cups contains a stinky medicine!” Aoi continued. “You will compete to see who has to take the medicine. If your opponent holds down your cup before you can lift it, then you have to ‘drink it.’” 

Zenitsu shuddered. He didn’t have a nose like Tanjirou’s, but he could already smell the medicine from here. It was somehow even worse than the thick sludge he had been drinking to grow his limbs back!

“Lastly, we will do speed training. Simply put, we play tag. Your opponents are myself and Kanao over here.”

Nezuko gazed over at Zenitsu, whose eyes seemed to be glazed over. She recognized that look… He got that way when he spoke about his appreciation of girls. They had discussed it briefly during their time at the Wisteria Inn.

To curb those impure intentions, she raised a hand and flicked his forehead. Immediately, he tumbled backwards, and for the first time in days, Inosuke cackled.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?!” Zenitsu shouted as he righted himself. 

“YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT GIRLS AGAIN!!” Nezuko snapped back. 

“HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW!!?”

“NYEHEHE!! FIGHT! FIGHT!!” Inosuke roared, only for another loud THUD to resound through the room, followed by three more. It was like a judge hitting the gavel to get order in the court.

“Enough!! Treat this seriously, you three!” Aoi hissed, before jabbing a finger at Zenitsu. “If you don’t chill out, I’ll remove you from the dojo! Are we clear?”

The trio nodded. They all knew the might of Aoi, even if she was little. 

“Good. Then let’s get started. Zenitsu-san, you’re up first!!”

Zenitsu did… Surprisingly well. But Nezuko had a feeling it was because he saw it like a game to play with the girls. He was quick with his reflexes, stretched easily, and was able to outrun Aoi easily. 

Inosuke hated losing in general. With another boy in the fight, his territorial streak had exploded, leading to more wins than he had in quite some time. Perhaps competition was what was needed to get him out of his slump…?

Nezuko, on the other hand, kept losing. By the end of the session, her hair was soaked with the stinky medicine, making her gag unconsciously every few minutes. Even if she eventually was able to outwit Aoi, she could not get a read on Kanao.

She lost to Kanao for five days straight. And when Zenitsu and Inosuke refused to come to training anymore due to being sore losers to Kanao, Nezuko was the only one to stay.

And lost for ten more days.

( I just don’t understand. We both became Demon Slayers at the same time. But Kanao is far stronger than me. Faster. Her eyes are different somehow, but how…? ) 

Nezuko’s thoughts wandered as she stumbled through the Estate halls, heading towards the washrooms to once again rinse her hair. She was halted by tiny hands on her shirt, making her jolt a bit.

( Hanako, Shigeru, Rokuta, I can’t play right now– )

“Nezuko-san?” It was the triplets. Nezuko had always called them caterpillars in her mind, but today was the first time she had imagined them as her siblings long gone… She had to be really tired.

“You surprised me. What’s the matter?” Nezuko asked softly, watching the triplets fidget in place. One of them, Naho, suddenly lifted a clean, fluffy towel.

“Here.”

“Wah!” Rose eyes sparkling, the slayer grinned as she took the towel to dry her face and dripping hair. “Thank you, you guys! How kind.”

The girls beamed right back. More comfortable now, one of the girls, Sumi, piped up with a tiny voice.

“Nezuko-san, do you practice Total Concentration Breathing 24 hours a day?”

The slayer gawked. Right. She had completely forgotten. That was one of the things that Rengoku-sensei had mentioned, but she had struggled to perform it then. He had proclaimed she needed to focus more.

“Do you do it while you sleep?” Kiyo asked. Sumi nodded in agreement. 

“Morning, noon and night?”

“Is that even possible??” Nezuko rasped, all at once very embarrassed and confused.

“Yes,” Naho grinned. “It makes a world of difference. All the hashira and Kanao do it. You should give it a try, Nezuko-san!”

The slayer smiled. If these girls believed in her so strongly, maybe that was the key to performing better! 

( I CAN’T DO THIS, NO WAY!! )

Her heart was thudding in her ears, lungs burning and limbs trembling. No matter how hard she tried to hang onto Total Concentration Breathing, it felt like she was going to die! She felt so sick.

( How did Father do this every year, in the snow? It feels impossible! )

Even now, her mind drifted to that snowy vision that had saved her and Tanjirou’s lives a month or so prior. Her father’s weary body was like a plant most days– inconsequential. He hid in plain sight, soaking up the sunlight with a pleasant flowery smile. But every year for New Years, he would dance from dusk till dawn, performing the Hinokami Kagura.

Even the year he died, Tanjuro Kamado had danced. He had not faltered a single step.

( I should have paid more attention instead of falling asleep every year. I should have forced Onii-chan to let me practice with him more. I should have– )

“Nezuko-san, we brought you some rice balls!” The cheerful voices of the triplets broke her mind spiral, body relaxing subconsciously as she let go of that thorny trail of depression.

“Really? Thank you so much.” Carefully, the slayer sat on the engawa, panting and greedily gobbling up the food gifted to her. She wanted every bit of strength back she could get.

It was then she noticed the empty gourds set on the porch beside her. Carefully, she picked one up, examining it.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s a training gourd! You blow into it. Kanae-sama used this to train Kanao-san when she first started out.”

“Does it make a sound?” Nezuko smiled.

“No. You’re supposed to break it.”

“.... Ah .”

( THAT SKINNY GIRL BURST ONE OF THESE?! )

“As the training went on, the gourds got bigger.” Kiyo beamed, before the other sisters slammed down a gourd as big as them onto the engawa.

“This is the one Kanao-san’s working on!”

“I’ll do my best.” Nezuko steadied her trembling hand, looking away as if the gourd might bite her.

Fifteen more days went by. Every morning, Nezuko woke up at dawn, running laps around the Estate to push her lungs to the limit. She would lift weights and push boulders around the garden, forcing her muscles into further growth and stamina. 

At night, she would find a quiet place to meditate. But slowly, Tanjirou would come out to bug her to play or fix his hair, and her concentration would be broken. As much as she adored playing with him, she had to focus.

And so, that was how the Kamado girl wound up sitting on the Butterfly Estate roof, legs crossed and hands curled upon them in meditation.

( Urokodaki-san… Said meditation improves concentration. Rengoku-san said to feel your blood boiling in your body, let the air fill you to your fingertips… Urokodaki-san said…. He said… )

Her mind flashed an image of the swordmaker, a knife gleaming hatefully in his weathered hands.

“I can’t believe you broke my sword.”

Nezuko shuddered. ( I said I was sorry!! All I did on this mission was mess up. Tanjirou got hurt because of me. I broke my sword. My hair got cut by those damn spider strings so unevenly I had to chop all of it off!! I look like a BOY!! )

“Yoohoo.”

The slayer gasped sharply, cheeks reddening in embarrassment, as if somehow the intruder to her session could hear her thoughts. But when she turned, all she saw was Kanae, with her usual patient smile.

“You’re really dedicated, Nezuko-san. Your friends ran off to do missions again, but you’re still working hard all alone. I admire you. But aren’t you lonely?”

“I was trying not to think about it.” Nezuko responded with a nervous smile, tilting her head. “Once I learn how to do Total Concentration Breathing, I can teach Inosuke-san and Zenitsu-san how to do it.”

“You have a pure heart, Nezuko-chan.” Kanae hummed, coming to sit beside Nezuko. Straight away, the younger slayer could smell nothing but perfume. It was dizzying, further interrupting her meditation efforts.

“Um…” A few questions had lingered in her mind, and now that the Master of the Estate was here, she could try to ask them.

“What is it, Nezuko-chan? I don’t bite~” Kanae teased, leaning in so close that the younger girl had to lean away to avoid tearing up due to the perfume.

“I-it’s just– Why did you take me and Tanjirou in? We were under Rengoku-san’s care before this.”

“I know.” Kanae hummed. “The Master had filled us all in on your story during our meeting. Not everyone was willing to trust you. And the Rengoku Estate does not have a medical wing, and you were injured, so the best course of action was to have you come stay here with us girls.”

The hashira chuckled. “Weren’t you tired of being surrounded by such brash boys anyways~?”

Nezuko laughed and waved her hand. “No, no. I enjoyed living with the Rengoku clan. Senjuro-kun… Is the complete opposite of his brother. He’s quiet and gentle.” Looking down at her hands, she sighed a little wistfully. “He read me and Onii-chan stories from his favorite books. It was a nice break from running myself ragged under Rengoku-sensei.”

Kanae hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I am grateful you had some breaks even when stuck with those men.”

A sort of comfortable silence had formed between the two raven haired girls. But Nezuko noticed something then, eyes catching her gift once again. Kanae’s aura was… strange.

“Kocho-san, are you sad?”

Kanae stiffened. Her smile remained steady, but her strange lilac eyes were full of grief all at once. 

“Since we’re both girls, I trust you with this dream of mine, Nezuko-chan.” Speaking quietly, the hashira looked out over the Estate grounds dappled by moonlight. “My dream is that one day, we humans will be able to get along with demons. Kanao-chan is the beginning of that dream.”

“Kanao is…?” Nezuko began.

“Yes, I’m sure you noticed it already. Most people know she’s… Strange. But Kanao-chan was infected by a demon before we adopted her.”

( We…? )

“I don’t know the full story, but Kanao-chan was abused heavily by her birth parents. At some point… She must have broken. A demon killed her family and infected her wounds with its blood, which almost turned her completely into a demon.” A breath, as the Flower Hashira adjusted on the rooftop.

“My little sister Shinobu and I found her and rescued her from the demon. Shinobu wanted to put her out of her misery, but… I could tell Kanao-chan was different. She hadn’t tasted human flesh. She didn’t do anything her body wanted her to. She was like a doll.”

Within her mind, Nezuko could picture Kanao… Skinny like now, but with strange dark veins and red eyes. The image blurred with Tanjirou’s mangled and bloodied, snarling face from several years ago, and she had to resist flinching and sobbing from the grief of it returning tenfold.

“My sister studied pharmaceutical medicine for a long time. I wasn’t quite as good as her, but we worked together to test wisteria’s effects on demon blood. Slowly but surely, Kanao-chan’s demonic instincts and features receded. She can venture out into the sunlight with adequate protection. She became a demon slayer without me training her at all… She had watched us the whole time. It was her first independent act.”

That grief had returned in full blue, covering Kanae’s soul. Nezuko found herself coming closer, eyes filled with worry.

“You’re conflicted, aren’t you, Kanae-san?”

Kanae shuddered, hands trembling. Her right hand lifted, touching the purple butterfly pin securing her long hair back.

“... Yes. I have always pitied demons. But my little sister never understood. A demon killed her. I was too late. Now whenever I see demons, I can’t help feeling angry… Just like she did.”

Nezuko swallowed thickly.

The hashira sighed softly, hands returning to her lap. “All the hashira share a hatred for demons, way deep down. They have seen Tanjirou-kun, who hasn’t killed a human, and they feel conflicted. I know they won’t hurt him.”

As the hashira tilted her head back, the night breeze tussled her long hair, carrying that flowery scent back to Nezuko. 

“I just wonder what Shinobu would have done in my place. Maybe she would have the cure for demonism now. Maybe your brother would be human right now, training alongside you to face Kibutsuji Muzan. I try to not think of the what-ifs, but I am certain of one thing.”

Nezuko watched Kanae stand up, her heart thudding in her chest. “And what’s that?”

“I am certain my sister would have protected you the same as I. Keep up the good fight, Nezuko-chan. Okay?”

In a flutter of butterfly-haori sleeves, she was gone.

Chapter Text

Chapter 28: Nichirin’s Return

With the support of the Butterfly Estate’s resident caterpillar triplets and the Flower Hashira’s distant support, Nezuko was able to finally break the training gourd in ten days. It had been a long and laborious affair, but the lesson that the young slayer took from it was that she had to always be practicing and honing her skills– even when at rest.

When she felt ready to do so, Nezuko returned to the training dojo alongside Zenitsu and Inosuke, who had sort of flatlined in their training regimen since the girl had left their side. Part of her wanted to keep that look of hope within those boys’ eyes forever, the vision of their joyful but subdued reaction to her return.

Sock-clad feet pounded against the polished wood, taking care to use even steps to avoid slipping and sliding. Kanao was striding easily around the large dojo, smiling serenely and without a drop of sweat on her pale face. Nezuko was sweating a bit more profusely, but with clouds of cinder speckled haze coming from her jaws. 

( I think… I think it’s working! The Total Concentration Breathing is improving my fitness! I’m keeping up with Tsuyuri-san! )

The issue was closing the gap.

With a loud grunt almost like a battlecry, Nezuko’s legs started pumping faster, relying on their hidden strength to begin closing the divide between herself and Kanao. Her hand outstretched, reaching…

Before finally snatching the slender hand of the other girl. Kanao jolted, surprise flashing over her face and breaking that usual pretty mask.

For a long moment, they just stared at one another, eyes gleaming with surprise and budding pride. There was also a weird sort of color coming from Kanao’s usually gray soul. What color was it?

The Kamado girl didn’t have time to think it over. That silent moment was at once exploded by the triplets, Zenitsu and Inosuke’s cheering, exclaiming their pride over their friend finally beating Kanao at one of the training games.

That was not the end. There was still the reflex training game!

Seated before Kanao as her opponent once more, Nezuko focused hard. With her new Breathing technique, the world of color bloomed far more vibrantly before her eyes. It was easier to watch the tsuguko’s movements, tracking where she would tap a cup and try to lift it up.

Each movement would then be quickly matched by Nezuko’s own hands, blocking any attempts to pour medicine all over her, as it had been done so many times before. At least with short hair, it was easier to wash out… But she didn’t intend on losing this time! Not when she had come so far!

Finally, in one sharp jolt, the cup was in her hand. She held it high above her head, teeth clenched, ready to splash it all over–

( Hey, but isn’t that mean? This medicine really stinks .) The little voice of reason in her head whispered.

Tonk .

Nezuko gently laid the cup on top of Kanao’s head. It somehow balanced there, the half-demon girl staring blankly back at her training partner’s sudden move. 

“Did she win?!” Sumi gasped.

“She set the medicine on Kanao-sama’s hair, so it counts!!” Naho beamed. The girls all whooped in their joy, and Nezuko was quick to leap up from the ground to dance about with them. Finally, finally, she had managed to get the training done! She had grown stronger!

Zenitsu and Inosuke blanched. Ah. No more fun and games.

Zenitsu didn’t like hard work very much at all. And Inosuke was impatient to a fault. It was almost impossible to teach them, especially if the girl trying to educate them on Total Concentration Breathing felt her head might explode from frustration.

“See? See? It’s like this?” Moving her arms around, she tried to make the imagery of air flowing in and out of the lungs. All that she got back was the blank looks of her comrades, causing a very distant vein in her head to pulse.

“It’s useless. Nezuko-chan, you’re not gonna teach us through show-and-tell, I don’t think.” Zenitsu scratched his chin, eyebrows furrowed. Inosuke wasn’t even looking at Nezuko, more focused on staring out the window at a bird watching them.

“It- It’s not useless–” Nezuko stammered, face reddening. “You, you just gotta–”

A soft hand landed on her shoulder, causing her to jolt. That familiar flowery perfume overwhelmed her nose, and Nezuko froze up, knowing all at once who it was that was behind her.

“Nezuko-chan’s right you know~” Kanae hummed, lifting her opposite hand like a well-intentioned teacher pointing at the board. “The technique that Nezuko mastered is called Total Concentration: Constant. By doing Total Concentration Breathing every minute of the day, physical fitness drastically improves.”

Moving away from Nezuko, Kanae lightly strided close to the boys, giggling a little.

“It’s a basic move, a beginner’s technique, in fact! So of course she could do it, but mastering it takes incredible effort!!”  Her gentle hand patted Inosuke’s boar mask, ruffling the fur. “Anyways, of course you can do it. But if you can’t, well, that’s that. Such a shame~”

Inosuke bristled. “Are ya JOKING?! Don’t talk down to me! If it’s possible for Noriboko, then it’s possible for King Inosuke!!” Thrashing this way and that, the boar-headed boy stomped away to go and really start his training.

Zenitsu snorted. But then his knowing look all but dissolved when Kanae got in his face, holding his hands close to her cheek to nuzzle them.

“And I’m cheering YOU on the most, Zenitsu-kun~! Do your best, okay? I know you can do it!” Giggling girlishly, she winked at him. “Fight o~n!”

The Thunder Breather looked ready to explode, face the color of dark plums. “I’ll do it!!”

Nezuko sighed and rubbed her temples. Once the two boys had raced off, it was just her and Kanae. The younger girl stared up at her senior, eyes narrowed with displeasure.

“Did you have to go and rile them up like that?”

“Yes, if it motivates them, they should have mastered the technique in ten days, just like you did.”

She didn’t want to believe it, but it was the truth. Motivated by spite (and the power of cute girls) the two boys were able to finally conquer Total Concentration: Constant within the timeframe Kanae had predicted.

All at once, Nezuko was grateful she didn’t make a bet with Kanae, even if she had wanted to at the time. 

With their training complete for the time being, word soon came by the way of crow that their nichirin swords were being returned to them at last. The swordsmiths would come by the Estate that morning.

Rushing down the halls, Nezuko laughed joyfully, racing alongside Inosuke as they made for the entrance of the Estate grounds. Zenitsu had not broken his sword during the Natagumo mission, so he did not join them in greeting the smiths.

Upon coming out onto the dirt path, Nezuko waved her arms to the approaching smiths in their strange masks. She recognized the gentleman wearing the strange straw hat adorned with chimes, his long geta sandals clanking against the ground. She did not recognize the other swordsmith, who dressed more plainly than Haganezuka. 

“Hey!! Haganezuka-san!! It’s been so long!!” Nezuko shouted, cupping her mouth with her hands to get the sound to travel further. “How have you been? Have you–”

Wait. Why was… Haganezuka-san removing his hat? Why was he running so fast with his arms forward like that?

Was that… Was that a knife?

Just in time, the swordswoman dashed out of the way, shrieking her alarm at almost being stabbed by someone she didn’t think capable of such an act.

( Then again, he did scream like he was wounded because my sword turned black instead of red .)

“WHAT THE HELL DID I DO TO YOU?!” Nezuko shouted, whirling around in a defensive position. The swordsmith just whirled around to try and charge aain with the shiny knife.

“YOU! YOU BROKE MY SWORD!!”

“I SAID I WAS SORRY IN MY LETTER!! IT WASN’T MY FAULT!”

“I DON’T CARE! DOESN’T MATTER! IT WAS YOUR FAULT! YOU WERE WEAK, MY SWORDS ARE STRONG!! YOUUUUU BROKE IT!!!”

Haganezuka was tugging her cheek and hair now, thankfully forgetting the knife. Nezuko whined loudly, trying to pull his rough hands away. Once she had, she dashed away, inciting a chase between the 37 year old man and the frightened 15 year old.

Once Haganezuka had run out of steam after an hour of running, he was lured inside the Estate by a very helpful Aoi-chan and her dango snacks. This placated the swordsmith, since the treat was his very favorite in the world, and Aoi was a very fine cook.

“Please forgive my associate here. He’s a passionate artisan, with a love for katanas twice as passionate as anyone else. …. Forgive me. My name is Kanamori.” The other swordsmith nodded in greeting, bringing out three very carefully wrapped boxes. The first one was handed to Nezuko, then the other two to Inosuke.

“I forged new swords for you, Inosuke-sama. I hope they will serve you well in battle.” Kanamori turned to speak to the boar-headed child, who gruffly removed the box covers to retrieve his shiny new nichirin blades.

“How are they? Is the weight good? How does it feel in your hands?” The gentle voice of the swordsmith continued prattling on questions, all of which Inosuke did not respond a single time to. He was focused on looking around the yard, tossing stones this way and that.

“Inosuke, Kanamori-san is talking to you–” Nezuko began, voice not unlike a very impatient mother’s…

Only for her sentence to be drowned by the very loud clanging of Inosuke smashing his katanas with rocks to reproduce the jagged chips his previous pair had had.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU, THANKLESS BRAT!!” Kanamori was enraged, about to leap from the engawa to take down Inosuke himself. He was barely restrained by Nezuko, who kept on apologizing and pleading for everyone to please just CALM DOWN…

“And then, Inosuke was wriggling around like a fish out of water, and I couldn’t hold in my breaths anymore!! It was just so funny. I think he might have killed me if I had let my laughs out for real, though…”

Zenitsu sighed out, resting his head against the lacquered wooden box. Sunlight was pouring through the window, which prevented Tanjirou from coming out of his box. But the demon boy appreciated the company deeply.

Scrrt, scrrttch.

Carefully, he scratched against the wood, responding to Zenitsu’s story. A little bonus, though, was a laugh– muffled behind his muzzle and layers of wood.

Zenitsu’s golden eyes sparkled. He had gotten a laugh out of Tanjirou? Wow.

“I can even show you when it gets dark out. We should go see the flowers in the garden under the full moon! It’ll look so pretty. Maybe you can pick some for Nezuko-chan, I’m sure she’ll love it…”

Tanjirou smiled to himself. Yes, his sister would appreciate that sort of gift. And time with his friends would be appreciated more than he could ever say.

“She’s a supportive sister. You’re really lucky, Tanjirou.” Zenitsu murmured. And Tanjirou couldn’t agree more.

As the swordsmiths walked back, Nezuko forced Inosuke to bow deeper, hand firm on his back. Anything to show they were sorry for breaking their swords and disrespecting them. She didn’t know if Kanamori and Haganezuka even saw or cared, but they did wave goodbye. Which was something.

“Pssh.” Inosuke finally straightened when Nezuko’s hand retreated, picking at the wax in his ear. “I’m gonna go get grub. You better come too, Pyunoko! You’re so skinny!! You gotta beef up before the Flower lady’s physical!”

“Maybe later, Inosuke. Thank you.” Nezuko smiled, but it didn’t really reach her eyes. Seeing the swordsmith from before had reminded her of her lessons with Rengoku-san.

As she walked into the garden, she kept a hand to her chin, deep in thought. Recalling all those days and nights within the warm Rengoku Estate, laughing over the silly antics of her teacher and how Senjuro would squirm when teased.

Rengoku-san had called her his tsuguko. His student. So why had he not said a word in her and Tanjirou’s defense at the Hashira trial? Had he been lying the entire time, and was actually as hateful and afraid of the twins as the other hashira?

 What was worse was he wasn’t replying to any of her letters. Urokodaki-san had responded to her last one, soothing her that Rengoku-san was very invested in justice and his cause. He probably still cared for her, but his duty came first.

A rush of grass and flowers went flying as Nezuko kicked the dirt, hissing angrily. After everything? He hadn’t spared a single kind word, even after the trial when the Master had proclaimed her and Tanjirou innocent!! He didn’t even know she had improved her fitness, her Breathing, the way he had wanted her to!!

Tears threatened the young woman’s eyes. She kept swallowing them down, glaring at the mess she had made. What a tantrum.

( I’m really just a kid. I’m not like him at all .)

Chapter Text

Chapter 29: Resolve

She had promised to always be by her twin brother’s side, especially after nearly losing him to the Lower Moon. If they were separated, they could fight well, but there was a better chance of survival if they did it together. That had been their oath, their truth, for as long as they were alive.

And yet, as she swiftly fled the Butterfly Estate at sundown, Nezuko was certain that she was doing the right thing for both of them by leaving Tanjirou behind. He was safe there, surrounded by people who would protect him. The sun would never harm him either, with such an expansive estate to play inside.

It had taken a lot of sneaking around, and a lot of bribing the crows that came to deliver messages to Kocho-san… But Nezuko had learned that a very powerful demon was haunting a mountain village not too far from here. It was very likely that Rengoku-san was there, deployed not long after several younger slayers had vanished from the village night after night.

Truth be told, she was not fully cleared for missions. She had just gotten her sword back, and she had completed her Total Concentration test. But Kanae had not examined her physical state one last time.

In the back of her mind, Nezuko just hoped she would return with Rengoku-san in one piece. To be less of a burden to the hashira that spoke for her and her brother.

The sun sunk slowly, a constant crawl, the temperature slowly dropping. Nezuko had made it to the village in time to watch the townsfolk hide within their homes, latching their doors shut. Nobody would even chance being seen by the girl, darkening their windows.

“I just wanted to get information on the demon…” The swordswoman sighed to herself. However, something told her that she would run into that demon’s whereabouts quickly.

A red color lingered upon the air, burning and hissing like a snake about to lunge. Nearby to that color was something much more brilliant scarlet. A flame that Nezuko recognized immediately, heart clenching with both excitement and dread.

It was her old teacher. Rengoku Kyojuro stood at the edge of town, right where the village began to be swallowed up by trees and thick brush, heralded by a large stone torii gate. Before the hashira was a temple that oozed with darkness and that same, awful red color that Nezuko had first sensed. It was evident that he had sensed it too, much quicker than she could be.

As she began to approach the gate, she saw the brilliant gold hair fluff a bit, shoulders tensing, before the hashira turned to look over one shoulder. His arms were crossed, per usual, hawk-like eyes peering sharp upon the young girl.

“Ah, Kamado-shoujo!” His voice was as booming as ever, and he smiled, even if there was a twinge of uncertainty within his eyes… or perhaps Nezuko was just imagining it. Maybe it was her own feelings self imposed on his image.

“How did your training go? Kocho-san told me that you have mastered Total Concentration Breathing - Constant at long last!! I see that your training has made you stronger. This is good.” Rengoku-san spoke, his body still not completely turned towards the young girl’s. As if his attention was not truly on her at all, and he was merely engaging in polite pleasantries while his mind was elsewhere.

For whatever reason, this just darkened Nezuko’s heart further. Why wasn’t he even bothering? He was supposed to be her teacher, her Master, someone who protected her…

“Why didn’t you defend me and Onii-chan?!” The question she had yearned to ask for months finally exploded from her lips, fists clenched at her sides. The mountain breeze slid by, billowing her haori, a flash of pink in the night. 

Rengoku’s smile slowly diminished. “I had my reasons.” It was not a clear, booming answer she had expected. Her teacher was usually blunt, to the point. He didn’t like to dance around answers if he had a way of blazing through the conversation.

It was evident in how the hashira began walking into the temple that he was finished with the conversation. Again, another trait of her teacher she recognized– his constant moving around.

But Nezuko was not going to just let it go. “You were supposed to be my mentor! Did you think I wasn’t strong enough? That I wasn’t worthy?” 

There was that anger, that temper that Takeo had always warned her about. It burned so hot, the smoke would cover her eyes to her own truth.

Rengoku’s eyes flicked over to her own, lips parting a moment– before those dark and heavy brows suddenly furrowed sharply, his attention flashing on a hair’s breadth to the darkness of the temple depths.

It’s their prey. A foul red light they had sensed, now coming forward, bleeding from the darkness. The demon was a grotesque amalgamation of limbs and shifting masks, an old wandering creature that has devoured many hunters before. It moved unnaturally, emerging from the darkness like liquid shadow. 

It took everything inside the girl to not gag, her hand flying up to her mouth on instinct. The creature reeked of death and decay, as if it had consumed countless bodies that were past their prime in addition to the fresh souls they massacred upon the once sacred floor.

“Ohh, what is this? A wounded heart, thick with betrayal? How delicious~!” Its breath rattled and clicked, fangs and broken snaggle teeth visible behind a mask. 

Rengoku didn’t hesitate. His bright red blade slides out from its sheath, gleaming like a beacon in the darkness. Nezuko followed her teacher’s lead easily, her black blade unsheathed within a half second. 

“This conversation isn’t over, Rengoku-san.” Nezuko hissed.

“Agreed.” Rengoku just nodded, whatever traces of a confident smile missing from his face. Instead, there’s only the divine hatred that he held in battle against demons.

Dozens of arms lash out, their movement swift and wiggling like shadows dancing upon the wall. There’s sparks flying within seconds as each swordsman blocks attacks with their own blades, bodies dancing and weaving to avoid any further harm.

Even with the conflict, Nezuko and Rengoku are a duet. Every move that he strikes with flames upon his breath are matched by the girl, with equal strength and resilience. To anyone watching, it would seem like they were perfectly set as Master and Student.

But within Nezuko, her heart burned too painfully. The Flames that her teacher had instilled within her were not the same as the Fire God, of Hinokami-sama’s influence deep within her soul. Flame Breathing had fit far better than Water had, but it still hurt.

Crying out with effort, the Kamado daughter’s blade swung down, lodging into part of the demon’s dark body. The mask upon it crackled, staring back at her. Somehow, it was just as chilling as being stared at by millions of eyes.

“You doubt him, don’t you? That fire-haired swordsman… He let them tear into you, let them question your place. Maybe he never believed in you at all!” The demon sneered, its cold, rancid breath fanning over her face.

Nezuko found her body faltering. Her heart thudded so loud in her chest, it was hard to focus on her breathing. “SHUT UP!!”

In that moment, the demon seized the opening. Clawed hands lash out, aiming for her throat. Nezuko barely managed to parry, but it’s off-balance, messy. The demon grinned, ready to close the trap… 

Until a flash of flame cut between them. Rengoku had stepped in, intercepting with a powerful swing. A gash tears through the demon’s torso in an instant, embers consuming its flesh and making it screech in rage.

“Do not let anger cloud your blade, Nezuko!” Rengoku’s voice was loud, louder than usual. And he had used her name, not the family name as he usually did. It made the impact all the more intense within her heart.

Her chest heaving, Nezuko hissed back, “Then answer me! Why did you stay silent?!”

Rengoku did not back away. He did not falter, his eyes piercing through the young girl’s. Their energies were so similar, fierce and bold, like two big cats, lion and tiger, snarling at one another through the mouth of a cold mountain den. 

“Because words would not have changed their minds. But your strength would.”

Nezuko’s rose eyes widened. Her breathing hitched in her chest, hands threatening to tremble. She wouldn’t dare let them, trying to calm herself even as her resolve was questioned.

(As much as I hate to admit it… Rengoku-sensei is right. The hashira probably would have never listened to just words. They wanted action. Proof. And although Onii-chan defied the Wind Hashira’s blood… I have to prove myself too.)

Fire ignited along her blackened blade, the temple all at once consumed by its glow. It was almost like the sun had risen early, shining upon the grotesque demon’s form and showing its true weakness. While it shrieked in rage, both swordsmen could now see that its masks had bunched protectively around the neck, waiting to be sliced at just the right moment.

Taking a sharp, powerful step, Nezuko felt her muscles burn again, just like that night on Natagumo. Distantly, she was aware of her teacher’s eyes upon her blade, watching as it seemed almost white with the pure heat it carried.

“Then I’ll prove it.” She growled. “I’ll prove to the Corps that I have resolved to save my brother at all costs.”

Hinokami Kagura — Setting Sun Transformation!

Flame Breathing, First Form -– Unknowing Fire!

The swordsmen leapt, blades arcing through the air. Rengoku moved with her— fire and flame together. The demon screeched as their combined attack ripped through its body and the hidden neck once protected by masks that had crumbled so easily to the heat— reducing the once massive being to smoldering ash.

Nezuko raised a hand to her chest, huffing, feeling as her body struggled to recover after switching to Hinokami Kagura. While it was powerful, and far more suited to her body, the effects still made her head pound. Her training at the Butterfly Estate had made her stronger, given her more stamina.

And for once, she had come out of the battle relatively unharmed. Perhaps that was due to fighting alongside a hashira, but a glimmer of pride still shone within her heart.

“You… You did believe in me back then. Didn’t you, Rengoku-sensei?” She turned to look at her teacher, noticing the way flames gleamed in his eyes. His serious look melted away into that familiar smile. Carefully and almost tenderly, he sheathed his sword, before coming to stand before the young girl.

“I have always believed in you, Kamado-shoujo. More than anything. That’s why I needed you to prove it yourself. If I had spoken for you, they would have doubted my judgment. Not your strength.”

Nezuko laughed tiredly. “That’s a bit cruel.”

Rengoku also laughed, exhaustion evident within his stance for just a flicker of a breath. The idea that her teacher could be so world-weary was both comforting and concerning to her.

“The world is cruel. That is why we must be stronger.” For now, he seems pleased. A large, warm hand came to settle upon Nezuko’s short black hair, stroking it.

“I am proud of you, Kamado Nezuko. You fought well.”

For the first time in weeks, the weight upon her chest lifts. Nezuko smiled softly.

“... Thank you, sensei.”

The night was only about mid-way through, meaning that Rengoku would be called to another mission quickly. It was important that he continue on, and Nezuko wanted more than anything to journey alongside him.

“I’m ready, you know I am!” Tugging his haori, she looked almost like a child. It was easy to forget that a mature fighter such as herself was only 15.

“I know you are. But you have defied Corps orders again by coming to see me. You were not cleared for missions by Kocho-san.” Rengoku grinned a bit, chuckling. “You want to prove yourself to me. I understand. Strength is forged in hardship. I had to become strong without my father’s approval. I see that same struggle in you.”

Nezuko didn’t stop walking, but she felt like the moment required more seriousness. Rengoku-san was letting her into his inner soul, bit by bit. 

“You wanted me to endure it alone?”

Rengoku shook his head slightly. He smiled a bit warmer, large hand again ruffling her hair, making the swordswoman smile sadly. It felt wonderful… Almost like her big brother’s head pats. Like she was under an elder sibling’s care again, loved and protected. 

“No. But I needed you to rise above it alone. No one else can prove your worth but you.” The Flame Hashira resolutely responded, words a bit firm despite the gentle touch of his hand.

It was then a strange change came over the man. Usually so bright and resolute, Rengoku seemed to slowly retreat within himself. His eyes burned as bright as ever, but his smile was sad.

“As you know… My father was the previous Flame Hashira. He was a great warrior, strong and proud. But one day, something inside him changed. He turned bitter. Cold. He told me— no matter how strong I became, it was meaningless. That none of it mattered.” 

Nezuko turned to look up at her teacher, frowning. Was he going to explain more about that cold, broken man that everyone in the Rengoku Estate had avoided while she and Tanjirou had stayed there?

“Yet you still became a Hashira.” The girl softly added, smiling as best as she could up at him. Rengoku in turn smiled back.

“Because his words weren’t the end of me. I had to prove, to myself, that he was wrong.” 

Taking several steps ahead and towards the opposite fork in the dirt road, Rengoku Kyojuro smiled with all the kindness and softness that she had only ever seen a few times. It was for her, a brotherly smile that felt like warmth after sludging in the cold snow for days.

“And so do you.”

Nezuko shuddered, breath stilling. Just like that her teacher launched himself down the pathway to his next mission, towards where supposedly the great Mugen Train was kept.

(So you weren’t silent because you doubted me. You were silent because you knew I could stand on my own.) 

The Kamado daughter grinned to herself, and began striding the other part of the forked path, back towards the Butterfly Estate. If she hurried, she could make it before the sun rose and everyone woke up. It would be like she never left.

(I’ll continue to make you proud… Aniki.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 30: Disobeying Orders for Your True Heart

The sun was rising when Nezuko made it back to the Butterfly Estate. While she was not injured from her stealth mission, she still felt sore from the intense physical activity she had endured… Especially using Hinokami Kagura again.

Carefully, she slid the large doors to the estate gate open, slipping inside the crack and turning around just as fast to catch the door before it could thud shut. Ever so carefully, she pulled the door to its end position, smiling to herself in satisfaction.

With another turn, she lifted one foot to step into the garden…

Only to run smack into Kanae, who smiled down at the younger girl knowingly. Nezuko yelped in shock, stumbling back a few steps until her back was up against the wooden door.

“Nezuko-chan~! I do hope you had a wonderful night. I certainly had a wonderful time discovering you weren't in your room where you were supposed to be.” Kanae’s voice was cheerful, hardly any anger at all registered on her pale face. But Nezuko could see flickers of frustration within her aura anyways.

Nezuko chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. “Uh… morning?”

From behind Kanae, another butterfly-adorned girl appeared. It was Aoi, whose more stern expression seemed to show enough frustration for both ladies present.

“Don’t ‘morning’ us! You snuck out, didn’t you?! Do you have any idea how reckless that was? You could have died! You’re supposed to be recovering!”

Nezuko flinched back once again, trying to control her lips. She wanted to smile so badly, to show she was proud of what she had done. “But I didn’t die. And I got stronger!”

Instead of looking guilty, the young Kamado was somehow more energetic than anyone rightly should be after being up all night. And while it had been risky, Kanae also couldn’t fault the young girl for trying to prove herself. Shinobu had been just the same at that age.

“You’re lucky I’m such a gracious hostess, otherwise I’d punish you with endless chores~” Kanae hummed, only for Aoi to cross her arms, narrowing her sharp blue eyes at Nezuko, leaning into her space.

“She IS doing chores as punishment.”

The raven haired girl just shrugged. She was used to chores, having spent her entire life acting as the second mother of the house to her siblings. Helping out around the Estate would be nice, actually… Like going back to old habits.

“That’s fine. It was worth it.”

Kanae tilted her head, beautiful long hair like a sweeping curtain along her back. “And what exactly makes you say that?”

Nezuko seemed to beam even brighter, excitement and pride burning so intensely within her little body that she could hardly stand it. Her hand lifted to her chest, over her heart, before speaking out softly as if it felt like a dream still.

“Because Rengoku-san said he was proud of me.”

Aoi and Kanae both stiffened, before casting glances at one another. The name of the Flame Hashira carried weight. For someone as disciplined and devoted as him to personally tell Nezuko she had done well— it was no small thing. Despite her frustration, Kanae softened, and Aoi, though exasperated, gave a tiny knowing smile.

“Ah, I see. That explains the glow of satisfaction on your face.” The Flower Hashira mused, putting a hand on her hip.

Nezuko’s smile did not fade. She just looked off in the distance, remembering her cool aniki, how he had trusted her to know about his struggles and how he believed in her despite any past grievances. 

“He believed in me.”

(Even if I’m stuck cleaning hospital bed linens for the next week, nothing could take that away from me.)

After hours of being forced to help Aoi in the kitchen, Nezuko finally escaped into the courtyard to rest. The gentle breeze carried the scent of wisteria as she stretched, feeling the soreness of battle still deep in her muscles. Even if she was getting restless again, she had to admit it was nice to be cooking again. To work alongside the incredibly intelligent and brazen Aoi, who seemed to be grateful for the company in her own sour way.

Under one of the grand cherry blossom trees of the Estate, Nezuko took notice of a familiar face. It was the partially demon girl... Kanao.

Kanao wore her usual long sleeved uniform and long, dark hakama skirt, but due to the time of day, she also wore an old fashioned lady’s traveling hat. The straw brim extended with long mesh on the sides to protect her from the afternoon sun.

The skinny girl was seated under the tree with a coin between her long nails, rubbing the top as in deep thought. Though, for whatever reason, Nezuko was certain that Kanao had been watching her this whole time.

(Damn, she has an amazing grasp on her presence. If I were blind, I’d have thought she was simply a plant under the tree, not a human.)

Maybe it was due to her good mood over earning her mentor’s pride, but Nezuko found herself waltzing right over to Kanao, plopping down in the grass beside her. She beamed at her comrade, leaning into her space so Kanao would look at her.

“You’re really quiet, you know that?”

Kanao blinked, her lavender eyes slightly unsettling in the dim shade of her hat. She seemed unsure of how to respond, before she swallowed, painted lips parting to speak.

“You… disobeyed orders.” It wasn’t a question, but an observation. 

In return, Nezuko grinned. “Yep!”
Kanao frowned slightly. “Why?”

The other girl sighed, leaning back with her arms outstretched like a cat after a sunny nap. She seemed completely at ease, which in turn made Kanao relax the slightest bit.

“Because I needed to prove something to myself.” The Kamado daughter finally responded, gazing up at the midday sunny sky. Clouds floated serenely by, carrying the breeze scented by sakura. It made her incredibly grateful to be alive, to be able to stand under the sun.

Kanao’s voice came as barely a whisper. “And… did you?”

Nezuko in turn smiled bright, looking over at Kanao with eyes all aglow. Kanao thought they resembled the cherry blossoms themselves…

“Yeah. And it felt amazing.”

Kanao looked down at her lap, eyes flickering between her hands and the coin. The words linger in her mind, heavier than she expected. Choosing something for yourself… would that really feel amazing? She’s never known. Not really. She’d always followed orders, always let the coin decide. That’s what she was trained to do. That’s what Lady Kanae told her to do when she couldn’t trust herself to choose. But now…

Now, there was Nezuko, sitting next to her, so alive, so certain of herself, even after breaking the rules. Even after making mistakes. And she wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t ashamed. She’s proud.

Kanao swallowed, unsure of the feeling creeping into her chest.

Throughout her stormy, conflicted thoughts, Nezuko watched her with the same bright expression as before. Playfully, the swordswoman nudged her comrade’s shoulder.

“You should try it sometime."

Kanao blinked, coming out of her stupor. She turned carefully to gaze at Nezuko, taking care not to accidentally bump her with the large hat. 

“Try… what?”

“Choosing something. Without the coin.” The pink swordswoman answered easily, as if it were a game and not a complete overhaul to Kanao’s very being.

Kanao stared at her, her mind whirring. The idea is ridiculous. Impossible. She’s relied on this coin for so long— flipping it, letting it decide, because she couldn’t. Because when she tried to think for herself, there was always hesitation, always fear. What if she chose wrong? What if she disappointed someone? What if her indecision led to more people like her siblings getting massacred by cruel cults and demons?

But Nezuko doesn’t hesitate. She isn’t afraid. She isn’t asking what if? She just moves and thinks about the consequences later.

Kanao exhales slowly, her fingers tightening around the coin again. And then— hesitantly, cautiously— she loosened her grip on it. 

The cherry blossoms rustle in the wind. The late afternoon light glows through the petals and the mesh of her sun hat, casting fleeting golden patterns on Kanao’s hands. And for the first time, Kanao wondered— what it would feel like to listen to her own heart. To follow in the lead of this impossible girl made of sunlight.

“I don’t know how.” Kanao confessed quietly. And Nezuko just smiled patiently, grabbing the skinny, pale hands of her fellow slayer. 

Warmth floods between them, and for a moment, Kanao is certain she can remember how the sun is supposed to feel. Not scary, but warm and welcoming, a reassurance of another day.

A human’s touch.

“I believe in you, Kanao-chan!!” Nezuko exclaimed, clenching the hands in her own grip tighter. “I’ll show you how. How to let your heart decide.”

Kanao watched Nezuko’s expression— so free, so sure. And deep down, something stirred inside her, like the first flicker of a flame just waiting to catch.

The days passed at the Butterfly Estate, but something inside Kanao felt… different. It wasn’t obvious at first— just a subtle shift, like a new scent in the air or the way morning light would filter through the wisteria trees. It was small, but it lingered, refusing to be ignored. A small light, an ember waiting to be forged.

She caught herself watching Nezuko more often. Watching how she acted on instinct, how she moved through life like a current in a river— fearless, unshaken. Nezuko doesn’t hesitate when she speaks. She doesn’t question herself before stepping forward. She just does.

Kanao wondered what that felt like. She wondered if she’ll ever be able to move like that— without second-guessing every step.

The very first time Kanao allowed her heart to decide, it wasn’t over anything monumental. Nor was it terribly small. 

Walking carefully along the side of the hallway to avoid the windows as much as possible, Kanao wandered the Estate. She had resolved within her mind, somehow, she was going to do some training. Sharpen her skills for the next mission.

She nearly ran right into Aoi, who jolted, peering around a large pile of folded linen in her strong but slender arms.

“Kanao, there you are. Can you go to the market today? We’re running low on herbs, and Kanae-sama is too busy to go herself.” Aoi seemed tired, but Kanao also knew that her surrogate sister did not have much on her plate beyond the laundry today. Nezuko had cleared most of the kitchen duties so quickly, it had left some free time for everyone.

Normally, Kanao would just nod, take the shopping list, and go. Simple. She doesn’t decide to go— she just follows orders, like she always does. But today… Today, something tugs at her heart and refuses to let go.

She glanced toward the courtyard, where Nezuko is practicing her sword swings under the trees. The late afternoon light catches in her short raven hair as she moves, fluid and fierce, completely in tune with herself. Kanao thought back to their conversation. To Nezuko’s words: Try choosing something. Without the coin.

The thought makes her hands twitch at her sides. The habit is so deeply ingrained— reaching for the coin, letting it flip, waiting for the answer. But this time— she hesitated. This time, she doesn't reach for it.

Aoi was still waiting for her response. The weight of expectation presses on Kanao’s shoulders. But for the first time, she stopped and asked herself: Do I actually want to go?

The answer comes quietly, but it’s there: No, not really. I want to train with Nezuko today.

Kanao felt her heart beat faster. It was such a small thing, barely even worth noticing, but it felt monumental. Like stepping onto an unmarked path. Like stepping into unknown waters without waiting for permission. Like that ember igniting into something warm, threatening to catch a grassy field ablaze.

She found herself speaking without even realizing it. “I… can’t today.”

Aoi blinked, blue eyes wide like an owl’s. Her jaw hangs open, a comedic sight, but Kanao can’t stop sweating. 

“You… Can’t?” The blue swordswoman finally repeats, eyebrows furrowed and a frown settling comfortably on her face. It’s a familiar sight, but Kanao somehow cannot falter. Not when she’s so close. She finds herself nodding determinedly, violet eyes locking onto Aoi.

It’s strange, saying the words out loud. Defying an order— even a simple one— felt unnatural. But at the same time… a strange warmth bloomed in her chest. It isn’t rebellion. It isn’t defiance. It’s something quieter, something new— choice.

Aoi studied her face in turn, before something seemed to register in her. Like she suddenly understood the gravity of the situation, the fact that Kanao had made a decision for herself rather than robotically obeying. Finally, the pigtailed girl just shrugged and turned to walk past Kanao.

“Alright, I’ll go myself, then. But don’t think this means you’re off the hook for the evening chores later.” She walked off without much fuss, leaving Kanao standing there, her heart still racing. It was small. Just one choice. But— she chose.

Much later, Kanao found Nezuko seated near the koi pond, finishing up her training. She approached cautiously, sitting beside her comrade, hands folded neatly in her lap.

Nezuko glanced at her, tilting her head. Curiosity glinting in her cherry eyes, and Kanao thought of a cat that liked to sneak onto the Estate grounds sometimes. It hadn’t been back since Tanjirou moved in. 

“You look different.” The short haired girl’s voice cut through the image, and Kanao blinked back, startled.

“I… I do?” 

Nezuko nodded, coming closer. According to what Lady Kanae had said, Nezuko had the strange ability to see auras. She often made an expression when she was focusing on the aura, nose scrunched slightly and eyes narrowed. It was a bit alarming.

“Yeah. You’re sitting differently. Less… stiff.” The answer had nothing to do with auras, so Kanao shoved that thought away. She shifted slightly. She hadn’t realized. But maybe Nezuko is right— maybe there’s a little less tension in her shoulders, a little more ease in her breathing.

There was silence for a time, both girls gazing at the koi pond. One brilliant crimson and white koi glistened along the water’s edge, bringing to mind the old legend of a koi going up a river to become an immortal dragon. Their journeys were similar.

“I… I made a choice today.” Kanao finally spoke, not expecting Nezuko’s voice to explode out with excitement to compliment her beaming smile.

“Really?! What was it?!”

Without her coin to mess with, Kanao found herself messing with the hem of her hakama skirt, picking at a loose thread at the edge. “Aoi wanted me to go to the market. I… didn’t go.” 

And she wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to admit it was because she had hoped to catch Nezuko before she finished training, so they could spar together. To watch that brilliant light that filled the sunlight-like soul of her sparring partner’s face.

“Whoa. Look at you, breaking rules already!” Nezuko laughed. Kanao giggled a bit too, wondering distantly if real girls felt like this… Laughing together over their rule breaking. But it hadn’t been a rule broken, just… 

“It wasn’t breaking a rule. It was… listening to myself.” 

When she looked up from her skirt, Nezuko was smiling at her with pride. “That’s even better.”

Kanao felt heat flush in her pale cheeks… A sensation she had not felt since being rescued by the Kocho sisters ( her sisters, her family– ) years ago.

She looked down at her porcelain shaded hands. The coin was still in her pocket, but today, she hadn’t needed it. That thought alone sends warmth through her chest, further sparking the embers of her heart. 

Maybe it’s not about making big choices all at once. Maybe it starts with small ones, little steps forward. Maybe it’s just about trying— again and again— until it felt natural.

And maybe, just maybe, Nezuko was right.

Listening to your heart… Choosing for yourself… does feel amazing .

Chapter Text

Chapter 31: Kimetsu Gakuen- Combined Middle and High School!

Nezuko Kamado bolted through the school gates, toast clamped firmly between her teeth. She was late… Again. The morning announcements were probably already over, and the last thing she needed was another lecture from the ever-diligent student council president, Kanao Tsuyuri. But it wasn’t her fault! Not when Zenitsu had spent the whole night texting her about some new horror movie that had frightened him so bad he insisted on her soothing him back to sleep; and Inosuke had somehow convinced her to help him break into the school’s gym to test his "Beast Breathing: Slam Dunk" technique.

“Oi! Kamado!” a familiar voice bellowed from the rooftop, because of course he was up there. Inosuke Hashibira, self-proclaimed king of the jungle (or at least of the school’s delinquents), crouched on the edge of the roof like an anime protagonist. “You’re late! Again! That means I win the bet—pay up!”

“What bet?” Nezuko mumbled through her toast, sidestepping a group of students before barreling through the front doors.

“The bet that you’d totally oversleep and have to do the anime girl toast run! Zenitsu said you wouldn’t, but I knew better!” Inosuke cackled, leaping down with alarming accuracy despite the horrified gasps of their classmates.

Before she could argue, a sharp voice cut through the commotion.

"Kamado, Hashibira! No running in the halls." Kanao stood there, arms crossed, clipboard in hand, radiating the energy of a strict but fair tyrant. Behind her, Tanjirou adjusted his glasses like some kind of honor student role model.

“Nezuko, you really need to wake up earlier,” Tanjirou sighed, ever the responsible older brother. “You missed the student council’s morning announcement about this week’s cleanup duty.”

Nezuko paled. "Cleanup duty…?"

“Oh yeah," Zenitsu skidded around the corner, panting dramatically. "And guess who we got paired with?"

At that moment, the school’s PA system crackled to life. “Good morning, Kimetsu High students!” boomed the voice of none other than Sanemi Shinazugawa, Math teacher and all-around menace. “Today’s cleanup duty has been reassigned. Kamado, Agatsuma, and Hashibira! You’re on courtyard trash duty… with the Upperclassmen Committee.”

The hallway fell into a stunned silence.

Nezuko could already feel the overwhelming pressure of an impending doom.

Before Nezuko could even process her imminent doom, the doors to Class 3-A slid open with an unsettling shhhk .

“Ah, so it is fate that has brought you to this most honorable duty!”

There he was. Kyojuro Rengoku, history teacher, captain of the Kendo Club, and the most overwhelmingly enthusiastic teacher in all of Kimetsu High. He practically radiated sunlight as he strode forward, arms crossed and grinning like he had just been declared winner of a school-wide bento-making contest.

Behind him, Shinobu Kocho adjusted her uniform tie, smiling with the kind of mischievous delight that suggested she had been waiting all week for this exact moment. And at the back of the group stood the student council head teacher, Giyuu Tomioka, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Um… hello, everyone." Piped a small voice.

A much smaller, gentler version of Rengoku peeked from behind his older brother, broom already in hand. Senjuro Rengoku, Kyojuro’s younger brother and, somehow, the only person present who actually wanted to be here.

"I’ve been assigned to help with today’s cleaning duty as well!" he said, smiling warmly despite the clear chaos about to unfold.

Zenitsu immediately clung to Nezuko’s sleeve in despair, wrinkling the cloth she had tried to smooth out earlier in her fit of racing into class. "Last time we did courtyard duty, he turned it into a training exercise! I can't lift another boulder, Nezuko! I CAN’T!"

“I don’t even remember him being in charge of cleaning duty,” Nezuko muttered, side-eyeing Tanjirou, who had gone suspiciously silent.

“I might have… volunteered you,” Tanjirou admitted sheepishly.

"TRAITOR!" Zenitsu shrieked.

“I had to!” The redhead whined. “It was to get Tsuyuri-san from writing us up a uniform penalty for our Father’s earrings!”

“Rejoice, first-years!” Rengoku declared, completely ignoring the panicking children. “For today, you shall learn the ways of true discipline and perseverance through the noble art of sweeping! AND POSSIBLY LUNGES!”

Giyuu sighed. “You don’t need to yell. We’re standing right here.”

Shinobu smirked. “My, my, Giyuu, are you complaining? But you’re always just standing there. Don’t you think it would be nice to contribute a little more?”

“I do contribute.”

“Staring at the koi pond doesn’t count.”

“It’s called contemplation.”

While those two bickered, Inosuke had already grabbed a broom and was spinning it like a battle staff. "Forget the rules! I’m the king of the courtyard, and I’ll clean however I want!"

A slow, rhythmic clapping sound interrupted the chaos.

All heads turned to see Sanemi Shinazugawa, the terrifyingly aggressive math teacher, standing with his arms crossed and a dangerous smirk on his face.

"Alright, brats," he said, cracking his knuckles. "New rule: anyone who doesn’t get this place spotless in the next hour is running twenty laps. Barefoot. Through the baseball field."

A collective shudder ran through the group.

Zenitsu paled. "Nezuko, if I don't make it, tell my grandpa I love him."

Nezuko just sighed and grabbed a broom. ( Worst. Monday. Ever. )

Meanwhile, Senjuro, already diligently sweeping, blinked up at the others. "Should we… maybe get started?"

Nezuko tightened her grip on her broom like it was a weapon of war. If she was going to survive this, she had to stay focused. Just clean the courtyard. Sweep, rake, maybe pick up a few stray soda cans. Easy. It was no different from the chores she had to perform at home to keep the Kamado bakery looking clean.

Except nothing at Kimetsu High was ever easy.

"LET THE TRAINING BEGIN!" Rengoku bellowed, dramatically tossing a dustpan into the air, which Zenitsu caught incredibly quickly and immediately regretted it.

"Why does it feel like we're preparing for battle?!" He wailed, fumbling with the dustpan like it was a live grenade.

"Because," Tanjirou said, adjusting his cleaning gloves like he was about to challenge the concept of dirt itself, "hard work builds character!"

Nezuko gave him a look. "You sound like Urokodaki-sensei."

"I consider that a compliment." The redhead smiled warmly, and one could imagine a tail wagging behind him at the praise. Nezuko just deadpanned and turned away with a pout.

Meanwhile, Inosuke had abandoned all pretense of actual cleaning and was instead engaged in an intense one-on-one duel with his broom. "I'LL SHOW YOU WHO'S BOSS, TWIG-STICK!" He twirled it overhead like a nunchaku before slamming it against the ground so hard the bristles snapped off.

"That was a school broom, you absolute menace!" Zenitsu gasped, staring at the carnage. If they weren’t careful, Shinazugawa-sensei could make them run trial laps around the courtyard for hours.

"What's the problem?! It's dead weight now!" Inosuke tossed the broom handle aside like a fallen warrior.

Sanemi facepalmed, veins bulging all along his forehead. Surprisingly, he did not wreak havoc upon the students. This time. 

"This is why we can't have nice things."

Meanwhile, a soft, polite voice spoke up, completely unfazed by the chaos.

"Um… I can go get another broom from the supply closet."

Senjuro Rengoku, Kyojuro's kindhearted younger brother, was sweeping up leaves with a diligence that put the first-years to shame. Despite being younger, he had clearly volunteered to help out, possibly against his will.

"Senjuro! EXCELLENT FORM!" Rengoku praised, watching his brother sweep like it was a high-stakes competition.

"Ah, thank you, Brother!" Senjuro smiled, but his eyes darted nervously toward Inosuke, who had just armed himself with another broom.

Nezuko awkwardly nudged Tomioka-sensei with her broom. The teacher, who was crouching by the koi pond, staring into the water with an unreadable expression said nothing back. 

"Uh, uhm… Tomioka-sensei… are you okay?"

He didn’t even look up. "The fish are fighting again."

Zenitsu nearly dropped his dustpan, thick eyebrows furrowed together and making his freckles seem like a whirlpool of stars. "I—I’m sorry, the what?"

Tomioka sighed, resting his chin on his hand. "That one over there is bullying the others. I’ve named him Douma."

A long silence followed.

Senjuro, ever the sweetheart, peered into the pond. "Oh no, should we separate them…?"

"No," Tomioka said darkly. "They must learn.That is the warrior’s way."

Rengoku, still undeterred by the sheer absurdity around him, clapped his hands. "Enough distractions! The sun is shining, the breeze is gentle, and our task is clear! Onward, team!"

And thus began the most chaotic cleaning duty in Kimetsu High history.

Within minutes:

Zenitsu got tangled in a trash bag and had to be rescued, disturbing the peace with his wailing until he was pulled out...

Inosuke turned raking leaves into an all-out wrestling match…

Shinobu took one (1) photo of Tomioka and sent it to the school-wide group chat with the caption: “Rare footage of Giyuu contributing to society.”

Rengoku somehow inspired an entire flock of pigeons to follow him like he was their leader.

Senjuro, Nezuko and Tanjirou, the only responsible ones, actually got half the cleaning done by themselves before being roped into stopping Inosuke from using the brooms as sparring weapons. Again.

Just when they thought they could maintain some sort of peace within the half-finished courtyard… More incidents of pure chaos inevitably came to pass.

First, Inosuke tried to ride a mop like a battle steed. He face-planted into a pile of leaves.

Then, Zenitsu, in a desperate bid to escape, ran straight into a tree and knocked down a beehive. The next five minutes consisted of shrieking, flailing, and Rengoku declaring, “STAND YOUR GROUND! THEY CAN SMELL FEAR!” while swatting bees away with a dustpan.

Giyuu, meanwhile, took this as his cue to mysteriously disappear from the cleaning area entirely. When Nezuko glanced around, he was just gone. No one saw him leave. No one knew where he went. It was eerie.

Sanemi nearly made the situation worse by threatening to throw Zenitsu into the fountain to “calm him down,” only for Shinobu to intervene at the last second with her usual serene (read: terrifying) smile.

“Oh, my, Shinagawa-sensei, are you sure you want to be responsible for the school getting another ‘incident report’? I heard the principal wasn’t happy last time.”

Sanemi clicked his tongue and muttered something under his breath, but he let Zenitsu go.

Tanjirou, bless his soul, was actually trying to clean. He had even convinced Senjuro to help him organize the leaf piles. For a brief, fleeting moment, Nezuko thought maybe—just maybe—they could salvage this mess.

Then Inosuke, still determined to prove he was the “King of the Courtyard,” attempted to challenge a roomba to a duel. The roomba won.

By the time the hour was up, half the courtyard looked cleaner than ever while the other half looked like it had barely survived a small-scale natural disaster. Rengoku, completely unfazed, clapped his hands together.

“WONDERFUL WORK, EVERYONE! SUCH PASSION! SUCH DETERMINATION! I AM MOVED TO TEARS!” (He was not crying, but his eyes were definitely sparkling with something suspiciously close to pride.)

Sanemi pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is why I hate kids."

Shinobu hummed. “And yet you work at a combined middle and high school, just because you wanted to follow my Onee-san~”

Before he could bark out a blushing retort, Principal Ubuyashiki appeared seemingly out of nowhere, surveying the courtyard with his usual calm expression.

"You all worked very hard today," he said. "Thank you for your efforts."

Nezuko dared to hope this meant they were free.

Then he smiled. “As a reward, you’ll all be in charge of cleaning duty again next week.”

Zenitsu’s scream echoed across the entire campus.

By the time the bell rang, everyone was sweaty, exhausted, and more determined than ever to never be late to school again.

But as the Kamado daughter looked around at her ridiculous friends—Zenitsu covered in leaves, Inosuke still swinging his broken broom like a club, Tanjirou giving an earnest speech about teamwork to the pigeons with Rengoku’s fiery approval, and Senjuro trying his best to keep everyone from destroying school property—she had to admit...

Maybe it wasn’t the worst Monday ever. Just the weirdest.

Welcome to the Reiwa Era! Modern Kimetsu High, a combined middle and high school where strange and comedic circumstances happen every day! Let's meet this cast, shall we?

Character Introductions:

• Nezuko Kamado – The cheerful yet fierce freshman at Kimetsu High. Nezuko is a bit of a mystery—bright, determined, and always ready to take on any challenge. She’s the eldest daughter and Tanjirou’s twin sister, rebelling more often than he ever could by wearing her hair short and piercing her ears. Despite her habit of getting roped into bizarre situations, she’s the glue that keeps the group together (even if that glue is often exhausted). It's whispered that Nezuko has a tattoo hidden somewhere on her body—a design that supposedly symbolizes some ancient demon she has an unknown connection to. No one has seen it, but it's said to glow faintly under moonlight.
  
  
• Tanjirou Kamado – The ever-optimistic big brother who always tries to keep the peace. His endless kindness and sincere desire to help others often lead him into trouble—especially when his friends volunteer him for impossible tasks. He's known for being the “mom” of the group, even though it’s usually everyone else who gets him into messes. He’s prone to periods of mutism, silently observing. He likes wearing clothes with big sleeves. Rumor has it Tanjirou's canine teeth are unnaturally sharp, and when he smiles, they look almost like a wolf’s fangs. Some people claim that his family’s demon-slaying history might explain the strange feature.
  
  
• Zenitsu Agatsuma – The panicking, loud-mouthed friend who’s always on the verge of a meltdown. Despite his utter lack of confidence, Zenitsu has surprising moments of bravery when it comes to protecting his friends (although those moments are often overshadowed by his fear of just about everything). He’s convinced that cleaning duty will be the end of him. The Reiwa Era Rumor about Zenitsu is his legendary fainting skills. Some say he’s fainted at least a hundred times in his life, and it's become a local sport to try and get him to lose consciousness at the most random moments.
  
  
• Inosuke Hashibira– The wild and unpredictable freshman who’s a force of nature. Born to challenge authority, Inosuke believes that cleaning is a battle he must dominate at all costs, even if that means using a broom as a battle staff. His lack of understanding about what constitutes “normal” behavior often leads to hilariously absurd situations.The Reiwa Era Rumor about him is that some students claim Inosuke can talk to animals and that he has a pet boar hidden somewhere on school grounds. Others swear they’ve heard him communicate with pigeons during lunchtime. 

• Senjuro Rengoku – The calm, responsible, and surprisingly helpful younger brother of the legendary Kyojuro. Unlike his older sibling, Senjuro prefers to keep things organized, even when his peers are spiraling into chaos. He’s eager to contribute and is ready to lend a hand, even in the most ridiculous circumstances. There’s talk that Senjuro is secretly a multi-champion of various school competitions; from cooking contests to speed reading. He’s humble about it, but his family’s victories are well-known to those who dig deep.
• Kyojuro Rengoku – The history teacher and captain of the Kendo Club, known for his boundless enthusiasm and fiery passion for everything, including cleaning duty. His unshakeable positivity and tendency to turn any task into a grand training exercise can either inspire—or completely overwhelm—his students. There are whispers that Rengoku has wrestled with multiple teachers and won every single time. It’s said he has a secret wrestling league that takes place after school hours, but it’s invitation-only—and very few have seen it.
  
  
• Shinobu Kocho – The mischievous upperclassman with a soft smile and a sharp tongue. While she seems to enjoy stirring the pot, Shinobu’s true talent lies in her ability to turn even the most mundane tasks into challenges that will test her peers' patience and wit. She’s the one who makes sure everyone has just enough chaos to make things interesting. Some students believe Shinobu is actually immortal and has been attending school for centuries, though she’s managed to avoid getting caught by the administration. Others say she has a magical age-reversing elixir that keeps her looking young forever.
  
  
• Giyuu Tomioka – The cool and collected upperclassman who avoids involvement in anything remotely fun. His default expression is either neutral or disinterested, and when faced with the madness of cleaning duty, he has a peculiar talent for disappearing at the most inconvenient times. His mysterious aloofness is only rivaled by his ability to be conveniently absent when things go wrong.Giyuu supposedly knows the exact combinations to every vending machine in the school, and some say he’s even cracked the code for the legendary, seemingly broken Coke machine that no one else can figure out. 
• Sanemi Shinazugawa – The intimidating math teacher who thrives on discipline and punishment. He’s quick to threaten anyone who doesn’t meet his expectations with physical labor, though, in truth, he might be secretly enjoying the chaos just a bit too much. His gruff exterior hides a soft spot for the sheer absurdity of high school life. While Sanemi tries to hide it, there’s a whispered rumor that he has a soft spot for puppies, and his demeanor changes entirely when he’s around them. There’s even an urban legend that one time he spent an hour petting a puppy and didn’t snap at anyone.
  
  

In short, cleaning duty at Kimetsu High is anything but ordinary when this group is involved.

Stay tuned for more adventures at Kimetsu High! Oh, and happy April Fools 2025!

Chapter Text

Chapter 32: To the Mugen Train

The morning light dappled through the paper screen, soft as silk, warm as memory. Nezuko shifted on her futon as quiet footsteps approached, and the door slid open with a low shhhh.

“Good morning, Kamado-chan,” Kanae’s voice was gentle, like sunlight filtered through gauze. She carried a tray with porridge and tea, but her smile carried something even brighter. “I have good news! Your wounds have long since faded. I believe you’re strong enough to travel again.”

Nezuko sat up so fast she nearly kicked the tray out of Kanae’s hands. “Really?! You mean it?” She grinned despite the stiffness in her shoulder. “I can meet with Rengoku-san again? And maybe—maybe learn more about Hinokami Kagura?”

Kanae blinked at the name. “Hinokami…?”

“Oh! It’s a style I learned from my father,” Nezuko said, eyes shining. “We used to perform it on New Year’s Eve, a fire dance to honor the sun god. Have you heard of it?”

Kanae just smiled politely, and very bluntly replied. “I have not.”

Nezuko blanched a bit. Ah. Her own fault for getting too excited. Regardless of her prior energy burst, she frowned, recalling how the dance had returned to her life after so many years.

“It’s… strange, though. My body remembers Hinokami Kagura better than I expected, like it was waiting. Rengoku-sensei said it reminded him of Flame Breathing, but it feels… Older. Wilder.”

Kanae placed the tray gently at Nezuko’s side and sat with her, brushing stray petals from her haori sleeve.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about it,” she admitted. “Shinobu and I never studied the kagura traditions in depth. But perhaps it’s not a technique meant to be understood, only felt. A flame doesn’t ask to be known. It simply burns.”

Nezuko tilted her head, chewing on that. “I guess. But I want to control it. Right now, it feels like it controls me.”

Kanae smiled again. “Then let it teach you. Even fire has a rhythm.”

Their moment was broken by footsteps down the hall. Kanao appeared, silent as always, nodding respectfully at Kanae before lingering in the doorway. Her eyes flicked toward Nezuko, smile twitching into something more real, less doll-like. Then she looked away.

Kanae rose to leave, but paused. “Ah. Aoi’s in the courtyard, if you’d like to say goodbye.”

Nezuko glanced at Kanao, who looked away again. The air grew a little heavier.

Nezuko found Aoi in the herb garden behind the estate, her sleeves rolled, eyes down, hands digging with unnecessary force into the soil. A fresh pot sat beside her, untouched.

“Morning, Aoi,” Nezuko said lightly, friendly as always. “Digging for treasure?”

Aoi flinched. She didn’t look up. “Just replacing the mint. It died.”

Nezuko crouched beside her, watching her stab at the earth. “You okay?”

“I don’t deserve to wear this uniform. I’m not a Demon Slayer,” Aoi said flatly, before the raven haired girl could ask anything else. “I know you want to thank me or tell me I’m useful, but don’t. You’ve never seen a Hashira die in front of you. You’ve never been too scared to even scream.”

Nezuko said nothing, working her jaw. For a moment, the only sound was the wind through the garden reeds.

“…You were there?” she said softly. “When Kocho-san’s sister…”

Aoi’s shoulders hunched like they were folding in on themselves. “I couldn’t move. I saw him… The demon with the rainbow eyes. I just froze. Kanae-sama was away, the estate was half empty. Shinobu-sama came instead. She smiled at me like nothing was wrong and fought him off while I stood behind her like a coward. She bled to death before anyone else could reach her.”

She looked up, eyes glassy but dry. “So no, I’m not brave. I’m not like you or Kanao. I clean wounds. I make medicine. I don’t fight.”

Nezuko exhaled slowly. “You say that survival isn’t its own kind of bravery.”

Aoi blinked at her.

Nezuko knelt down beside the other girl, pressing her hands into her lap. “You think fear makes you weak? Then why do you carry it every day and still come back to help people? That takes strength. You’ve seen what demons do. And you still choose to stay here, with us.”

“I didn’t choose—”

“You could have left,” Nezuko cut her off gently. “You didn’t. You made the choice to live. Shinobu-san saved your life, and you’ve honored that every day since.”

Aoi’s lip trembled. “But I didn’t save hers.”

“No,” Kanao said, quietly.

Both girls turned. Kanao stood under the wisteria vine, voice small but steady.

“You didn’t. But she never expected you to.”

Aoi’s eyes widened. This was the second time that Kanao had spoken of her own accord, standing like a water lotus, brilliant and stubborn within the mud.

“She loved you,” Kanao said. “She chose to protect you. That was her gift. Don’t turn it into punishment.”

A long silence followed. The breeze stirred the mint leaves.

Then Aoi let out a shaky breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. “Damn it… You two are annoying.”

Nezuko chuckled and offered her hand. “Come on. Help me pack. I’m gonna need some burn salve if Rengoku-sensei trains me again.”

Aoi hesitated, and then took it.

They were halfway down the corridor of the estate when a black blur streaked overhead and perched on a beam.

“NEZUKO KAMADO! NEZUKO KAMADO!” the Kasugai crow screeched. “URGENT MISSION! FLAME HASHIRA REN-GO-KU NEEDS BACK-UP! PROCEED TO MUGEN TRAIN!”

Nezuko’s heart skipped. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword.

“Mugen Train…?” The name sounded foreign and unfamiliar in her mouth. Mugen meant infinity. Could a modern marvel like a train reach that long a length?

Nezuko turned to Kanao and Aoi. Kanao was already stepping forward, nodding with steel in her eyes.

Nezuko smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. They just burned, knowing that whatever laid ahead would be terrifying. But she knew that if she fought alongside her mentor, they would overcome any odds.

“Guess this is goodbye for now, Kanao-chan, Aoi-chan.” Nezuko raised a hand and waved, turning to trot to her room to retrieve Tanjirou and his box.

The butterfly sisters just stared, and distantly, Aoi’s hands clenched into tight fists. Kanao said nothing, and withdrew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun dipped lower as Nezuko tightened the wrap on her arm, tugging her sleeves into place. Her blade gleamed at her side, already familiar again. Her heart beat fast, not with fear, but with excitement.

“Rengoku-sensei,” she whispered to herself, adjusting the cloth around her waist. “I’m coming.”

The wind shifted, carrying familiar voices.

“—I told you, you can’t smuggle swords that way!”

“I did! I successfully smuggled them! They are my leg bones now!!”

A rustle of coats and a shriek echoed through the train station.

Nezuko blinked.

Around the corner came Zenitsu, red-faced and shrill, dragging a wriggling Inosuke who had somehow wedged both his swords down the back of his pants and now marched stiffly like a puppet on a string.

“Zenitsu? Inosuke?” Nezuko called, bewildered, and then lit up. “You’re on the mission too?!”

Zenitsu spun, eyes already wide. “Nezuko-chan?! You’re okay?!”

He threw himself dramatically at her feet, grasping her hands in both of his. “I was so worried about you when Kocho-san said you were still not cleared for duty! You’re even more beautiful than before—have you always had that scar?! It’s so cool—and tragic—and is that a skirt too—?”

Inosuke squawked indignantly. “Hey! Hey! What about ME?! I’m here too!! I also survived my last mission, even without my lackeys!!”

“You broke your nose on the entrance gate,” Zenitsu muttered.

“I headbutted the demon tree, and that’s called asserting dominance!”

Nezuko could barely contain her laughter. She had missed this. Vaguely, she could sense Tanjirou’s laughter within his box.

Zenitsu, exasperated, crossed his arms. “Anyway, can either of you explain what a train is? Because I read the mission note and it said ‘Mugen Train’ and neither of you seem even slightly concerned.”

Nezuko perked up. “Isn’t it that moving snake-house full of smoke and windows?”

Zenitsu paled. “That is NOT a normal description of a train!!”

“I bet I can fight it,” Inosuke declared proudly. “I already challenged the ticket machine once. I WON.”

Nezuko stifled a snort. “Then let’s go fight a demon on it. Rengoku-san’s waiting.”

They sprinted through the late afternoon bustle, following the directions from Nezuko’s crow. The train was already hissing with steam as they reached the station. The platform buzzed with conductors and passengers, none of whom noticed three demon slayers leaping over luggage carts and passengers alike.

“We’re gonna miss it!” Zenitsu wailed.

“Then jump!” Nezuko shouted, already vaulting with perfect grace onto the last car as it pulled away.

Inosuke cackled with glee, flipping after her like a wild beast.

Zenitsu groaned, adjusted his haori, and lunged with one last desperate yell, landing belly-first with a thud on the back railing. Nezuko and Inosuke aided their friend up onto his feet, the girl giggling and smiling almost fondly at her friends.

( If we’re together like this, ) she thought ( We can face anything. I’m never gonna split us up like at Natagumo ever again. )

They pulled themselves up inside the last car, winded but buzzing with adrenaline. The scent of charcoal and steel clung to Nezuko’s sleeves, taking in the all too familiar scent like a balm to her homesickness. She pushed open the sliding door, scanning the train…

And nearly fell back from the sudden boom of a voice filling the car.

“UMAI! UMAI! UMAI!”

Her whole face lit up.

There he was! Kyojuro Rengoku, sitting in perfect seiza, haori bright against his uniform, hair blazing like sunrise as he tore through his mountain of bento boxes with the energy of a small hurricane.

He looked up the moment she opened the door, his eyes glowing like firelight.

“Kamado-shoujo! Excellent timing! I ordered extras in case you arrived!”

Nezuko beamed. “Rengoku-sensei!”

She rushed forward, and for a moment, the others stayed back, watching bewilderingly.

Inosuke blinked. “Is she about to cry?”

Zenitsu clutched his chest. “She’s in love. I can tell.”

“No,” Inosuke said, scratching his chin. “That’s what it looks like when a war pig finds its alpha.”

Zenitsu stared. “What does that mean?!”

The train rumbled forward into the growing dusk. The shadows lengthened across the seats. But for now, all Nezuko felt was warmth. Her teacher was safe. Her friends were by her side. And somewhere ahead… a demon was waiting.

Her eyes narrowed as she sat beside Rengoku, accepting a bento box with both hands.

This time, she would protect everyone.

Chapter Text

Chapter 33: Dream

The train rocked gently beneath them as dusk surrendered to night. Lamps flickered in their sconces, casting long shadows on the car walls. The air inside had settled into a strange, anticipatory hush.

Rengoku placed his empty bento box atop a tall stack. His appetite had not dimmed in the slightest.

“This line…” he began, voice steady, “…has been experiencing disappearances. Passengers vanish in their sleep. Entire demon slayer squads were sent to investigate, and none returned.”

Nezuko sat straighter. Her eyes gleamed in the low light, reflecting fire.

“How many squads?” she asked.

“Two,” he said. “They were fresh, still recovering from Final Selection. None bore a breathing style beyond the basics.” He looked out the window. “If it is a demon’s work, it is clever. Quiet. And powerful enough to elude detection from the Corps.”

Inosuke crossed his arms. “So you want us to wait? That’s boring. I say we run car to car screaming until it shows itself!”

“Absolutely not,” Zenitsu snapped. “We’ll get arrested. By train police! If that’s even real!”

Nezuko ignored them both. She hadn’t been able to sit and quietly have a conversation with her teacher for some time. At least, not since they had met up in the mountains.

 “Rengoku-san… about Hinokami Kagura.”

He turned his head slightly, owlish golden eyes meeting hers, but not completely. He had a habit of either making uncomfortable eye contact or none at all. What had captured his attention?

“I hoped you might know more,” she said. “Everyone I ask seems confused by it. But when I use it, it hurts. It feels like it tears something open inside me, even when it works.”

There was a pause. Rengoku’s gaze was soft, but unreadable.

“…I looked into it,” he said quietly. “I thought perhaps it was a forgotten kata, a secret form. But there are no records of any ‘Hinokami Kagura’ in the Flame Breathing lineage. It predates the Corps’ knowledge, or sits outside it.”

Nezuko bit her lip, heart twisting. They were back at square one. “So… it’s not Flame Breathing, like you first said?”

“No. But it burns, doesn’t it?” His smile was small, but sure. “It is flame in spirit. That is enough.”

She looked down at her fingers, flexing them absently. “It burns too much sometimes.”

Rengoku regarded her for a long moment before nodding to himself.

“You’ve inherited something rare. Something that frightens even you. That’s why you must master it. One day—soon, I believe—you’ll be stronger than me.”

She blinked, immediately overwhelmed. “... What?”

“I’ve known since our first match,” he said warmly. “You’re a natural. Your movements don’t imitate, they channel. You dance like a flame obeying instinct. You learn incredibly quickly.”

Nezuko’s throat tightened. “But… Senjuro-kun, your brother—”

“Cannot wield a sword,” he said, not unkindly. “He lacks the will. The desire to fight. But you… you burn with purpose. And though I hope you’ll never need to wear my haori, I believe you will.”

Before she could answer, the train jolted.

The lights flickered. A chill rolled through the car, followed by a sickly sweet scent and a low wheezing breath.

“Anybody else hear that?” Zenitsu muttered, eyes wide as he hid behind his chair.

“Demons,” Inosuke grinned. “Finally.”

A figure stepped into the car ahead; tall, gaunt, with bulging yellow eyes and a sneer full of fangs. Its limbs were too long for its frame, bones creaking unnaturally as it crawled down the aisle on hands and feet.

“Well, well,” it hissed, eyes darting over them. “So many little toys tonight…”

Zenitsu yelped and dove behind a seat. Inosuke immediately vaulted onto the backs of the chairs, blades unsheathed and pointing like tusks.

“I GOT THIS—!”

But before he could leap, Rengoku stood, fluid as a dancing candle light.

The air shifted. The demon paused, twitching.

Rengoku lowered himself into a form Nezuko instantly recognized, the same one she had beaten her body into conforming to. Rengoku performed it instantly, practiced. He stepped once. Twice. His hand rested lightly on his katana’s hilt.

His breath fanned out, flames dancing, and Nezuko felt her heart freeze in anticipation.

“Flame Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire!”

A streak of light. A roar of heat. The demon’s body flew past them in three pieces and disintegrated midair before it even hit the wall. Ash curled lazily down in its wake.

Silence. Rengoku dusted his sleeves, and slowly sheathed his blade. He gazed at the frightened passengers, the train conductor coming to punch tickets.

“Worry not! You are all under the protection of the Demon Slayer Corps. It is alright now!” He beamed, before smoothly crossing his arms over his broad chest. To Nezuko, he looked like a statue of a god.

Zenitsu’s jaw hit the floor. Inosuke screamed with joy.

“THAT WAS AMAZING!! I wanna learn that!! Teach me!! Teach me right now!!”

“Me too!!” Zenitsu sobbed. “Please, Flame God-sama, bless me with just one cool moment in my life!!”

Nezuko stared—wide-eyed, heart pounding—not from fear, but from sheer, overwhelming awe.

He made it look effortless. Rengoku turned back to them with his usual fire-bright grin. “Rest when you can. This train holds more than one demon.”

He looked again at Nezuko, gentler now.

“And you’ll need your strength. Because the next time one appears… I won’t be stepping in. This is an opportunity for you all to prove yourselves to me as my disciples!”

The Mugen Train rocked gently along the tracks, its engine whistling a low, haunting tune beneath the starlit sky. Steam coiled against the windows, casting ghostly shadows over the slayers huddled inside.

Nezuko sat near the front of the car, her legs tucked beneath her, eyes bright with lingering excitement from Rengoku’s impromptu bento lecture. Inosuke snored in a tangle of limbs sprawled across the floor. Zenitsu was still muttering to himself about train demons. Rengoku sat upright and poised, arms folded over his chest, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. Peace—for once—seemed possible.

The door at the back of the car creaked open.

“Tickets, please,” came a soft voice.

A conductor stepped in, his uniform immaculate, smiling too still. He moved car to car with polite efficiency, punching holes through tickets with a mechanical click. Nezuko handed hers over, and the man gave her a bow so deep it nearly scraped the floor. His fingers brushed hers briefly, cold and clammy.

She blinked. Click.

The punch through her ticket sent a faint tremor through her chest. Like something pulling—plucking—at her spirit.

Inosuke, Zenitsu, and Rengoku each surrendered their tickets in turn. The conductor bowed to them all, moving with unnatural smoothness, like a puppet on silk strings.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” he said, voice oddly hushed. “Please, rest well. You’ve earned it.”

He lingered by the doorway a moment too long.

And then… Darkness crept in like mist. Not outside, but inside. Like the lights dimmed even though the lamps still burned. A presence slithered along the edges of the car, unseen but felt, a coil of something soft and sinister tightening around the sleeping minds of its passengers.

Then; A voice. Gentle. Mocking.

“ Dreams ,” it purred, “ are such beautiful things. ”

The demon lord of the train, Enmu, Lower Moon One, made his rounds through the cars. Enmu’s whisper slithered across their consciousness like silk soaked in poison.

“ So fragile. So sweet. A human’s one true escape .”

Nezuko’s eyes fluttered.

“ Inside a dream, you can pretend. You can build your heaven. Relive what you’ve lost. Escape who you’ve become .”

Zenitsu twitched beside her, murmuring something about fireflies.

Enmu’s voice curled deeper, sinking its teeth in soft.

“ Isn’t that what you want? Safety. Warmth. Love. The things your blade can’t protect. The people your strength couldn’t save. You long to go back. You long to rest .”

Rengoku’s expression remained still, but a faint line formed between his brows. His fists unclenched.

One by one, the demon slayers slumped forward.

Sleep took them like falling into warm water.

“ And in that rest ,” Enmu whispered, now unseen but ever-present, “ you will lay down your sword. You will close your eyes to the blood and the grief. You will sleep... forever. ”

The conductor passed into the next car, leaving no trace.

Outside, the moon vanished behind clouds.

Inside, a thread snapped. And Nezuko, the ever-reliable sister, the unshakable sword of her family, breathed in—slow, deep— And slipped into the arms of a dream she didn’t yet know would try to consume her.

Snow crunched beneath Nezuko’s feet.

The mountain air was brisk, but not bitter. Pale sunlight filtered through the trees like warmth caught in a dream. The scent of firewood curled in the air, mingling with pine and ash and something sweeter—rice steaming on the hearth.

Her hands were empty. Her shoulders were light.

She turned, and her younger self looked back at her from the river’s edge.

Long hair, tied with reliable old ribbons. A worn kimono, the sleeves too long. Her legs bare in the cold, a charcoal basket slung across her back. The snow rose gently around her ankles, but she didn’t feel it. Her hands weren’t callused. Her back didn’t ache from sword drills. The wind didn’t smell like blood.

“Onee-chan!! Nee-chan!! Heyyyy, Nezuko!” A voice called out, high and clear, so familiar it hurt.

Slowly, she turned. A little girl stood in the snow, holding the ends of mountain herbs. Beside her was a little boy with buzz-cut short hair, helping his sister tie the herbs onto a rope to be dried in the sun. Immediately, Nezuko recognized them. Hanako and Shigeru. Her little siblings, born a year apart, on the same day. 

“You’re daydreaming again, huh?” Shigeru beamed, before giggling, his gap-tooth smile infectious.

“Did you sell lots of charcoal?” Hanako asked, eyes crinkling with her familiar warmth.

Nezuko felt her breath freeze. The flame within her heart, urging her into battle, went silent. Her hands trembled, grasping tightly to the straps of the woven charcoal basket…

She was moving before she even realized it. Taking long, clumsy strides in the snow drifts, gasping and panting wildly. She ran as fast as she could, launching herself at the two children, arms wrapped tight around their bodies.

Tears spilled down her face like waterfalls. She stared down at her beloved little siblings, their confused faces staring back. She pulled their bodies close to her chest and sobbed, wailing like her heart might break.

“I’M SO SORRY!! I’M SO SORRY, HANAKOOOO!! SHIGERU!! I’M SORRYYYY!!” Clutching their little heads, as if they might vanish.

Hanako’s small hands fumbled upward, patting Nezuko’s tear-drenched cheeks. “Nee-chan… don’t cry. Did something happen in town? Did someone say something mean again?”

Shigeru wriggled in her arms, not to escape, but to tilt his head curiously at her. “You’re acting weird today. Did you eat? Mama said you haven’t been eating enough lately.”

Nezuko could barely breathe.

Their voices. Their warmth. The familiar weight of their tiny forms. It was all so vivid, so real. Their breath fogged in the cold. Her tears dampened the collars of their shirts. Their heartbeats fluttered under her palms.

But she remembered their faces twisted in death. The blood. The scattered limbs. The trail of carnage that led her to her broken family home.

No.

She shoved the thought away like a blade to the gut, like something ungrateful. This moment was soft. This moment was kind. She didn’t need to ruin it by remembering.

“Sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “Nee-chan just… missed you. So much.”

Hanako and Shigeru exchanged glances.

“You’re so silly sometimes,” Hanako giggled, pulling back and clasping Nezuko’s hand with her tiny fingers. “Come on! Mama’s making rice cakes, and we still have to clean the mats for New Year!”

Shigeru puffed his chest, proudly lifting a bundled rope of herbs. “And I helped gather these all by myself! Mama said she might let me help cook next year!”

The warmth of their chatter pulled at her like a lullaby, softening her senses. Nezuko allowed herself to be tugged toward the narrow path winding back to their home. The familiar shape of the Kamado house emerged through the snowy trees, its tiled roof gently dusted with white. Smoke rose from the chimney. Orange light glowed through the windows.

Her heart ached.

( Is this wrong? ) She wondered dimly, even as her fingers reached for the door frame of her home. ( It can’t be. They’re here. I can protect them this time. I can keep them close. I can be enough .)

The door creaked open.

There was her mother, setting rice cakes to steam over the hearth. Takeo was carefully carving a wooden toy, seated cross-legged in the corner. Rokuta’s laughter bubbled from behind the hanging curtain as he chased a moth across the floor.

And behind them all—

“Onii-chan,” Nezuko whispered.

There he stood, older than the others but still young—his hair tied back loosely, the way she remembered before the snowstorm. His eyes were kind, but they shimmered with confusion as he glanced up at her.

“Nezuko? Is something wrong?”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came. She didn’t run to him.

Instead, she stepped back.

Tanjirou’s eyebrows furrowed, confusion and hurt spreading over his warm face. “Nezuko?”

Her skin itched. Her feet began to ache in the snow. Something was wrong.

The air, too sweet. The scent of pine and rice, too sharp. Their voices—off, somehow. Like a puppet show mimicking love.

And she—she wanted to scream.

She had fought so hard to be this version of herself: gentle, dutiful, the eldest sister, the dependable one. She had buried her anger, her loudness, her wildness—everything that would make her a burden. But now—

Now that her family was back, she was still not enough.

Tears stung her eyes again. Her body trembled.

“I—I was too loud today,” she blurted suddenly. “I— I got in trouble with the policemen. This isn’t right. Why are you out in the sunlight, Onii-chan? If you go out, you’ll burn–”

“Nezuko?” Tanjirou moved toward her.

“I miss him,” she cried, the words torn from her throat. “I miss you, even though you’re right here, I—why does it still hurt? Why am I not happy?”

She fell to her knees.

None of them moved. The Kamado house remained still behind her. Her siblings stared, concern written on every face. That hurt more than any wound she had ever endured in battle. 

A cold wind rushed through the open door, slamming it shut. Nezuko flinched.

When her eyes opened, she was inside the house, watching the other children laugh and bicker with one another over their food. Shigeru, mischievous as ever, reached over to take some radishes off her plate.

Frozen, she just let him. Hanako yelled and grabbed his arm. “HEY! Don’t do that!! Mama just got done saying Onee-chan needs to eat more!’

Nezuko’s wide eyes scanned the room. Tanjirou was gone. His table setting sat empty, food still steaming. But nobody seemed to even care that her twin brother was gone.

“Wh-Where’s Tanjirou?” Nezuko finally spoke, the words feeling like chalk. Takeo tilted his head and frowned. When had he looked so grown up?

“Nee-chan, Onii-chan went to sell the charcoal. Don’t you remember? That’s his job.” 

“But I– I already—” But she had just gone to sell the charcoal. She had sold every piece of it. She even had enough funds to buy a hair piece for their mother, a beautiful lacquered green bamboo piece…

Within her mind, she saw the bamboo between sharp teeth and chapped lips. Her lips? No, Tanjirou’s… With his strong nose from their father…

Nezuko blinked, her breath shallow.

The clatter of chopsticks and laughter filled the room again, but it rang oddly in her ears now—like echoes bouncing off the inside of a porcelain bowl. Her hand tightened on her lap, fingers twitching.

He went to sell charcoal…?

“But I did that,” she whispered, looking down at her hands—small, soft, unscarred. Her knuckles weren’t split. There were no sword-calluses, no blisters from harsh training. “I sold all of it. I—”

Her voice faltered.

She remembered the weight of the snow on her shoulders, the way the coins jingled in her sleeves. The delighted smile of the vendor when she bought the bamboo hairpin. Tanjirou hadn’t gone that day. He couldn’t have. She had taken the earrings, hadn’t she?

But when she reached for her ears now, they were bare.

“Where’s the hairpin?” she asked, louder now. Her siblings looked up, blinking as if only now noticing her distress. “Where’s the gift for Mama?”

Hanako cocked her head. “Gift? What gift?”

“I—I bought it—!” Nezuko’s voice cracked, her chest heaving. “With the charcoal money, I—don’t you remember?!” Even though they couldn’t have remembered. They never got to see the surprise. 

The room fell silent. Too silent.

Rokuta stared blankly from the corner. Takeo’s carving knife halted in midair. Their mother, crouched by the hearth, didn’t move at all. And then, slowly, her head turned. Her eyes were empty.

“Nezuko,” she said softly, “Aren’t you happy? Everyone’s here.”

Everyone except—

Nezuko rose, legs shaky, nearly tipping the low table as she stood.

“No. No, this isn’t right.” Her breath fogged again, though the fire burned warm in the hearth. “Tanjirou—he’s not—he’s not just selling charcoal. He’s gone.”

Her siblings smiled too widely.

Hanako's voice was syrupy, hollow. “You’re being silly again, Onee-chan. Come sit, we’re celebrating. It's almost New Year's!”

“Yes,” their mother echoed. “Stay with us. You’re always so strong for the family, aren’t you? You’re the dependable one. The quiet one. You never get angry, never shout, never cry. You take care of everyone.”

The words burrowed like worms beneath her skin.

Nezuko stumbled back, her heel hitting the threshold. Her charcoal basket—when had it returned to her back?—tilted, spilling invisible weight down her spine. Her sleeves, her kimono—they suddenly felt too tight. Her hair tickled the back of her neck like a phantom limb.

Her throat closed. Her fists clenched.

( No. I’m not quiet. I was never quiet. I shouted when Hanako fell into the river. I kicked over a whole stack of laundry when I was mad at Papa. I cried. I screamed. I was never enough—but I was never silent. You just never saw that side of me, for I kept it well hidden .)

“I want to see Tanjirou,” she whispered.

The hearth fire cracked unnaturally. A long, low whine threaded beneath the silence, like a bow across an old violin.

“I want to see my brother,” Nezuko said, louder now, stepping back out into the snow. The house loomed behind her, still glowing with its too-perfect warmth.

The snow fell faster.

“I want my brother!!” she screamed, her voice raw now, ragged with longing and rage and grief.

And somewhere—faintly, distantly—a sound like chimes cracking under pressure echoed through the dream. Somewhere, ice snapped and broke, allowing the spring flow of the river to gush forth.

The wind howled. The sky darkened. A rumbling tore through the ground beneath her.

And then— Far above, across the sky of her subconscious, a single red ribbon cut through the clouds, glowing faintly like fire. A thread. Vibrating. Calling her back.

A thread that a young, sickly boy followed within the snow, using his long knife to cleave through the fabric of the dream.

“I want my brother! I want my brother!! Onii-chan!!” 

Within the waking world, Nezuko thrashed, her face dotted with sweat. Her pale skin had become white and clammy, hands clawing at her uniform collar like it might choke her.

During the dream, servants of Enmu had crept into the car. Tying ropes to each demon slayer’s wrist, they were able to enter the dream worlds to find their souls. To crush their will to fight.

But somehow, one of the passengers had snuck by the ticket collection.

Thud. Thud. THUD!! The box’s wooden door slammed open, causing the demon within to tumble out. Tanjirou groaned, rubbing his head from his spot on the train floor. Carefully, he looked up, ruby eyes narrowed in confusion. Why was everyone asleep?

He saw then that his twin sister was shaking. She kept crying out for him in her sleep, and no matter what he did to shake her awake, she would not stir. 

Panicked, Tanjirou whined. What could he do? She was really panicking in her nightmare, and he wasn’t sure she could hear him. He had promised not to ever take off his bamboo muzzle, and he doubted he could even speak anymore with these fangs.

Perhaps it was instinct, or it was the panic. But Tanjirou wheeled his head back, then forward with a loud SLAM! Connecting his stone forehead to Nezuko’s. When he drew back…

Blood spurted from a split in her hairline. It had been a bad idea to use his famous headbutt on her. Now she was stuck in a nightmare AND bleeding.

Tanjirou sniffled. Oh Gods. He had hurt his baby sister. What the hell could he do now? His poor, poor little sister. He was such a terrible big brother!!

With a loud wail, unconsciously his Blood Demon Art activated upon his sister’s blood, casting orange flames over Nezuko’s body and the rope tying her wrist to the young man’s. 

The flames surged like a wave breaking through fog.

Orange fire licked up the rope connecting Nezuko’s wrist to the infiltrator’s. The sleeping boy twitched, then screamed—his dream-self wrenched from the false paradise Enmu had constructed. The thread binding Nezuko’s soul to her illusion began to smoke, curling in on itself like a dying spider.

Tanjirou backed up, his clawed hands trembling. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He hadn't meant to make her bleed. But the moment her blood touched the air, something inside him reacted. Something protective. Desperate.

The fire wasn’t consuming her. It was purifying.

Nezuko’s body jerked violently on the floor, the wound on her head bubbling faintly with demonic energy before knitting closed beneath the heat. Her lips parted, a broken gasp clawing from her throat. And in the next moment—

The dream’s sky-bound thread blazed like a comet.

Nezuko’s eyes snapped up as the sky above her cracked, spider webbing with golden-orange fissures. The dream-world began to shudder, pieces of it slipping away like melting snow. Her mother’s frozen smile flickered. Her siblings glitched—stuttering in movement, looping their words.

“You’re the dependable one…”

“You’re the dependable one…”

“You’re the—”

“NO!!” Nezuko screamed, reaching toward the burning ribbon cutting through the stormy sky. “I’M NOT JUST THAT!! I’M NEZUKO KAMADO! I’M A DEMON SLAYER!! I’M TWIN TO TANJIROU, AND I’M—”

She didn’t finish.

Instead, she sprinted toward the horizon, toward the thread now glowing like a sunlit vein. Her legs crashed through the snowdrifts, which hissed into mist under the spreading fire. The forest fell apart around her. The house behind her shattered like paper.

She reached out, fingers extended, and caught it.

The world screamed. A flare of light, a jolt like lightning through her bones—and everything went black.

Nezuko’s eyes flew open with a rasping gasp, her entire body convulsing as air returned to her lungs.

She sat up, her hand still smoldering from where the rope had burned to ash. Her breathing was ragged, tears still shining on her cheeks. Her uniform was damp with sweat and her own blood. But her eyes—those fiery pink eyes—were awake.

Tanjirou squeaked in relief. Then immediately burst into tears.

He scrambled forward on all fours and shoved his face into her chest, wailing incoherently through the bamboo muzzle.

“ Mnfffrrff!!! Mmmm!! ”

Nezuko blinked, then instinctively wrapped her arms around him. “Tanjirou…?”

His forehead throbbed against her chin. “You headbutted me?!”

“ Mmmnnn… ”

“Hard enough to BLEED?!”

He nodded solemnly.

She stared. Then, quietly: “…Thanks.”

The demon twin sniffled, curling against her like a guilty dog.

Around them, chaos was beginning to ripple. The slayers still slumbered. The train lights flickered overhead. A strange aura, like rust and roses, began to leak from the next car over.

Chapter Text

Chapter 34: Infinity

Nezuko’s eyes narrowed. She turned her attention down to the rope around her wrist, the frayed fragments left behind. She spied the same frayed end on the sickly boy’s wrist, but it appeared that he had not awakened yet.

Zenitsu and the other slayers had the same ropes and interlopers tied to them. Quickly, her mind raced, until she realized that Tanjirou’s blood had burned the curses away.

“Alright, Onii-chan. Let’s get our friends awake too.” She smiled at him, and the demon boy nodded in determination, before pointing up at something strange that somehow neither of them had noticed.

It was Rengoku-san. He was standing bolt upright, his fist clenched tight around an interloper’s neck. The girl was still asleep as well, but unconsciously her primal instincts still worked, hands clenched around Rengoku’s thick fingers to try and lessen the pressure. 

It appeared he was still asleep, forehead bulging with veins of clear effort. Nezuko stared in shock a long moment, before shivering. They would have to be quick and try to free them all.

The train groaned around them, rocking gently, as if unaware of the horrors beneath its roof.

Nezuko stepped carefully through the narrow aisle, Tanjirou closed behind her,, eyes sharp, lips pressed around the bamboo muzzle. They passed unconscious passengers and demon slayers slumped over in their seats, the heavy scent of sleep magic still clinging to the air.

“There,” Nezuko whispered, kneeling beside Zenitsu. He was slumped over awkwardly, one hand gripping his seat. His other wrist was bound with the same glowing ropes.

Tanjirou nodded, raising his hand.

“I’ll hold it,” Nezuko murmured, placing her palm gently on Zenitsu’s wrist where the rope coiled.

The moment her skin made contact, and Tanjirou’s fire sparked—

Her vision blurred—

A bright field stretched out endlessly, golden with blooming chrysanthemums that swayed in a breeze far too gentle to be real.

Zenitsu stood in the middle of it all, arms wide as if ready to embrace the entire dream. His yellow haori fluttered like wings. “Nezuko-chan!! Nezuko-chan, over here!!” he called, spinning in a slow circle with the unsteady joy of a child chasing fireflies. He laughed, twirled again, then fell dramatically onto his back among the flowers. “Ahhh… it smells like you here!”

A dozen Nezukos giggled around him, scattered through the field like petals come to life. They wore different hairstyles—some had her hair in braids, others loose and windblown—and each one had the same gentle smile.

“You’re so brave, Zenitsu!”

“So cool!!”

“You’re the best swordsman ever!”

“Marry me!!”

“No, marry me!!”

He clutched his face and squealed like steam escaping a kettle. “You’re all so cute I’m gonna die!!”

Behind them, more Nezukos appeared, arranging flower crowns, offering plates of golden sweets, and applauding as Zenitsu drew his sword and performed a sloppy, dream-stretched version of Thunderclap and Flash. He tripped halfway through and landed face-first in the petals.

“Wow!! Amazing!!”

“So gallant!!”

“You’re perfect, Zenitsu-kun!”

Nezuko—the true Nezuko—stood stiffly at the edge of the scene. Her mouth twitched. It was absurd. And sweet. And… terribly lonely.

None of the copies had her voice. Not really.

“Zenitsu,” she said softly.

One illusion nearest to him rippled like a pond disturbed by a pebble. Zenitsu blinked, confused, as the copy’s smile dimmed and faded.

She stepped forward, carefully parting the flowers. Her sandals made no sound. The dream tried to ignore her, shifting more copies into her place, but Zenitsu’s gaze snapped to her like a compass needle to the north.

“Ne… Nezuko-chan?” His voice cracked. “Y-you’re the real one, aren’t you?”

She gave him a faint smile and reached out her hand.

The dream began to tremble.

“Come on,” she said. “It’s time to wake up.”

He stared at her hand like it was made of light. Then he grabbed it—and burst into tears.

“I—I’M SORRY I WASN’T BRAVER!!” he wailed, clutching her hand with both of his. “I tried so hard to protect you but I fainted and the train’s haunted and also YOU’RE REALLY HERE AND YOU’RE TOUCHING ME—”

Flames licked the edge of the dream. The fake Nezukos caught fire one by one, their cheerful faces twisting as they dissolved into smoke and ash. The field burned gold and red.

Nezuko pulled him close, shielding him with her arms as the dream came apart around them.

Back on the train, Zenitsu jolted awake with a scream, flailing so hard he cracked his head on the back of the seat.

“WAS THAT A DATE?! AM I DEAD?!”

“Quiet,” Nezuko hissed, shoving him back into place with one hand. “We need to wake the others.”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he whimpered, eyes still wide and teary.

Tanjirou scrambled to the next car. Inosuke was sprawled like roadkill on a nest of pilfered blankets, drooling into his sleeve. A rope wrapped around his wrist, but somehow his sword hilts were still sticking awkwardly out of his pants like forgotten drumsticks.

“Unbelievable,” Nezuko muttered.

She crouched again, touching the thread.

Tanjirou’s fire bloomed—

He was king of a mountain.

No. A train. A mountain on a train?

The dream wasn’t interested in such details.

Inosuke stood on the roof of a roaring steam engine, wind howling around him, a boar-faced figurehead snarling on the front like a warship from another realm. The Dream Beast Train thundered through a canyon of floating tunnel walls and screaming fog. Rivers of meat flowed beside the tracks; sausages, ribs, and mystery roast all steaming with the scent of triumph.

“WHEEEEENNNNK!!” Inosuke howled, legs wide, swords in hand. “I AM THE SLAYER OF TUNNELS! THE GOD-KING OF THE IRON BEAST!! RAAAAARGH!!”

He stabbed wildly at translucent ghosts flapping by the windows. One exploded into feathers. Another squealed and turned into a ham.

Nezuko hovered just behind him in the dream, silent and stunned.

“Oh no,” she muttered. “He’s built himself a feral train cult.”

Then she saw it. Herself.

Nezuko-chan, Dream Queen of Tunnels, rose from the engine’s smokestack like a phoenix in a cape of rabbit pelts. Her eyes gleamed with fiery purpose. She raised a sword of glass noodles and pointed dramatically into the storm. “WE MUST RIDE TO GLORY!!”

“YES, LEAD LACKEY!” Inosuke screamed, prostrating on the roof with no shame. “SHOW ME THE WAY TO VICTORY, TUNNEL-QUEEN!!”

Nezuko recoiled so hard she almost slipped off the dream. “WHAT—excuse me?!”

The dream Inosuke tossed a smoked turkey leg into the sky like an offering. “I HAVE GIVEN MY ALLEGIANCE TO YOU, O’ THUNDEROUS GODDESS OF RAIL!!”

Nezuko’s eye twitched. A long-suffering sigh echoed through the dream; not hers, but Tanjirou’s, distant and psychic, somehow audible despite him being nowhere in sight.

She watched Inosuke headbutt a train spirit out of existence, then ride a flying sausage like a rocket into the clouds. As ridiculous as it all was, there was something oddly pure about it. He believed in his dream without hesitation. He had crowned her his queen.

…He really was like a wild little brother, wasn’t he?

The thought made her chest ache, though not in pain, but in something close to fondness. Protective and sharp.

Then the sky cracked open with fire.

Tanjirou’s flames burst through the dream like a breaking dawn. Smoke spiraled into links of sausage. The mountain crumbled. The train shrieked one last “WHEEEENNNNK!!” before exploding into bacon.

Inosuke woke with a snort, flinging himself into a combat crouch on the seat. “WHO DARES SUMMON ME FROM MY KINGDOM!!?”

“Stop yelling, idiot!” Zenitsu screeched, arms over his head. “Do you even understand what’s going on?!”

“I UNDERSTAND NOTHING AND I’M STILL WINNING!”

“Shh!” Nezuko snapped, cutting through the chaos with a single fierce glare. She didn’t even have to raise her voice. “We have one more. Follow me.”

Zenitsu and Inosuke fell silent. Even Inosuke blinked, something in her tone cutting through his dream-fogged adrenaline.

They crept further down the train until they reached the final demon slayer… Rengoku.

He stood upright in his seat like a monument, sword drawn, his other hand gripped tight around the dream demon’s throat. The rope tied to him pulsed, dim and sickly, like a dying ember.

Nezuko hesitated.

She hadn’t expected him to look so… upset.

“…Ready, Tanjirou?”

Her brother gave a quiet grunt, stepping forward. He touched his flame to her hand as she grasped the rope.

The dream began with warmth.

A golden morning filtered through paper screens, casting long sunlit stripes across polished wood floors. The air smelled faintly of tatami and spring dust. Somewhere beyond the house, birds chirped softly, and the wind stirred the wisteria vines along the veranda with a dry rustle like paper.

Rengoku sat alone on the engawa, legs folded neatly beneath him, flame-patterned haori trailing like an old story told a thousand times. Before him, a kettle steamed on a brazier, its thin hiss the only sound besides the birds. The scent of roasted barley tea rose like a ghost from memory. Warm, comforting, a breath pulled from a childhood that had never felt far enough away.

“Aniue.”

He turned. There stood Senjurou, still small, still soft-voiced, his sleeves too long and his hair still sleep-mussed. He stepped lightly across the floorboards and stopped just beside the threshold.

“You’re home,” the boy whispered, as if saying it aloud might make Kyojuro vanish.

“Yes,” Kyojuro said, his voice thick with warmth. “I’m home.”

Senjurou settled beside him without a word, tucking his feet under. They sat in silence, sipping tea, listening to the wind, letting the quiet stretch.

For a moment—just one—Rengoku let himself believe it. That he had never left. That no trains had vanished. That no demons hunted beneath the floorboards of the world. That his mother still hummed in the kitchen. That his father still trained in the courtyard.

 But the dream’s peace cracked like glass.

The sliding door behind them opened with a snap. A tall shadow filled the frame—Shinjurou Rengoku, the retired Flame Hashira. His hair was unkempt, hanging in greasy curtains. His robe, once proud and crisp, sagged from his shoulders, stained at the collar. He carried with him the sharp, acrid smell of sake soaked into old fabric.

“So,” he muttered, voice rough and slurred, but his gaze was still piercing. “The failure returns.”

Kyojuro’s hands tightened around the teacup. The warmth had already gone cold.

“You’re dreaming again, boy,” Shinjurou said, stepping inside. “Just like always. Clinging to a sword you don’t deserve to wield.”

Senjurou flinched, shrinking against the wooden post like a shadow trying to disappear.

“Father,” Kyojuro said quietly, standing. “Enough.”

“Enough?” Shinjurou spat. “You think you’ve earned the right to say that to me? You! Who plays the hero while leaving your brother behind to rot in my shadow?”

His voice turned cruel. “Your flame was a candle. I was the sun. Don’t speak as if you understand what it means to protect anyone.”

He turned his back, gaze distant and bitter. “You’ll die, Kyojuro. Just like your mother.”

A hush fell over the dream.

And in that hush, memories surged of his mother sitting on this same veranda, combing her fingers through his hair. Her voice, gentle and firm: Kindness is strength too, Kyojuro. Don’t forget that.

She had died coughing into silk cloth, her hands trembling. She had never seen Senjurou’s first kata. Never heard Kyojuro pass the Final Selection.

And his father—once so steady, so sure—had vanished into grief the day she was buried.

Kyojuro’s throat trembled. But his voice did not.

“I know this isn’t real,” he said, stepping forward. “Because once, you taught me to stand tall. And once, you were proud of me.”

His father’s image flickered. His edges blurred, as if the dream itself could no longer hold him in place. Shinjurou turned, but his eyes had gone glassy, dull as ash.

Kyojuro turned instead to Senjurou, kneeling before his little brother. His hand rested firmly on the boy’s shoulder.

“You’re not worthless,” he said. “You’re kind. You’re honest. That’s enough.”

Senjurou blinked, lip trembling. “I’m not strong like you…”

“You don’t have to be,” Kyojuro smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through a cloud. “Live your life without regret. That’s all I ask.”

The air around them shimmered, the walls warping like heat on pavement. The floorboards wavered. Somewhere deep in the distance, something cracked.

Through the haze, a figure emerged.

Nezuko stepped into the dream as if breaking its rules by existing. She was solid where everything else had become vague. Real, raw, wrong against the softened lines of the illusion. Her forehead was bleeding faintly where Tanjirou’s headbutt had left a bruise. Her eyes burned with purpose.

“We need you,” she said. It was not a plea. It was the truth.

Kyojuro stood. The illusion didn’t resist. The house caught fire behind him without sound or smoke.

“Yes,” he said. “I remember now.”

He stepped forward, and the dream shattered into flame.

Rengoku opened his eyes, slow but sure. His vision cleared on the three young slayers crouched before him, concern etched in their faces.

He blinked, then looked down, realizing the girl was still clutched in his grasp. He released her gently, lifting her and setting her down on the seat like something precious. His brow furrowed, troubled. Not angry.

Then his eyes swept over the train car. The ropes. The punched tickets were still glinting like talismans on the seats.

“…Ah,” he said, comprehension settling into his voice like steel drawn from the fire. “So it was the Lower Moon’s doing. The tickets were summoning slips for their magic.”

Nezuko bowed her head. “Forgive the rude awakening.”

He smiled. “On the contrary. Well done.”

“CAN WE STOP THE TRAIN NOW?!” Zenitsu wailed from the background, flailing at the windows. “OR, I DUNNO, GET THE HELL OFF IT?!”

“No,” Rengoku said brightly, as if he hadn’t just crawled out of a memory on fire. “Now the real mission begins.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 35: Lower Moon One

The train groaned.

Steel shrieked along the tracks as the walls pulsed unnaturally, like flesh drawn tight over bone. A low, wet squelching echoed from the corridors. Ceiling panels rippled. Woodgrain blinked with eyes, twitching and rolling in place. Teeth jutted from the walls like jagged stalactites, snapping hungrily at the air.

“The Lower Moon,” Nezuko breathed, stepping back as the train itself seemed to lurch forward with a new hunger.

From the roof of the train, thick pink tendrils burst down through the walls, snatching at sleeping passengers. Nezuko sliced through one with her blade—flame-etched steel glinting—before lunging to shield a child. Blood and sinew spattered across the floor.

Rengoku landed beside her with a roar, his sword cleaving through the writhing limbs like fire through paper. “Protect the passengers!” he called to Tanjirou, who snarled and leapt forward, flames licking up his arms.

In the narrow space between attacks, Rengoku turned to Nezuko.

“You fought the dream,” he said. “Not everyone wakes from those.”

Nezuko didn’t answer at first. Her shoulders heaved with breath, her uniform torn and dusted with ash. Her forehead still bled sluggishly, the wound Tanjirou had unintentionally given her during her nightmare.

“I almost didn’t come back,” she whispered, knuckles tight on the hilt of her sword. “I thought if I just stayed, I could hold them again. Be a good daughter. Pretend the world hadn’t… hadn’t ended.”

Rengoku’s eyes softened.

“It’s tempting,” he said gently. “To lose yourself in the past. Especially when it still hurts so much.”

He gazed down the corridor, where the train groaned again, bones splintering as Enmu’s voice slithered across the walls like a lullaby:

“ Sleep. Sleep and forget... Isn’t it easier…? ”

“I used to dream of my mother,” Rengoku said quietly. “She was full of light. When she died, I wanted to stop moving. Stop thinking. My father—” He hesitated. “He let himself sleep with his eyes open. Never let his flame burn..”

Nezuko looked up at him. “But you did.”

“I had to.” Rengoku smiled faintly. “My little brother needed someone to tell him it wasn’t his fault. That his life could still mean something.”

The floor beneath them jolted. Screams echoed from the passenger cars. They didn’t move.

“Nezuko,” Rengoku said, voice stronger now, burning with warmth. “You’re already strong. Not because you fight. But because you came back. Because you keep choosing to protect others, even when it hurts.”

Her eyes stung. Not from smoke. From something deeper.

“You’ll be a great Flame Hashira one day,” he said.

Nezuko opened her mouth to respond—but the train lurched violently, nearly knocking them from their feet. Enmu’s voice howled from every surface now, crazed and distorted: 

“ You’ll never wake up again!! ”

Rengoku reached down and helped Nezuko to her feet. 

The lights inside the train flickered as something moved between the walls, something frantic, no longer calm like sleep, but desperate and waking.

Footsteps pounded down the corridor. A scream split the air.

Nezuko turned just as the door to their car burst open. A girl—no older than her, with her hair in twin braids—rushed inside, wild-eyed, clutching the broken remains of a glass shard. Her clothes were soaked through, torn at the knees, and her face was streaked with tears.

“You—you ruined it!!” she shrieked, lunging toward the slayers with bloodied hands. “I was so close! I saw it! I felt it!!”

Rengoku stepped forward, intercepting her with ease. His hand gripped her wrist, not roughly, but firmly.

“Enough,” he said, eyes steady.

“You don’t understand!” the girl with the braids sobbed. “He promised we could stay in the dream forever. I saw my sister again! She was alive! She was happy! Why would you take that away from me?! Why—”

From behind her, another figure stumbled into the car that Nezuko recognized; the sick boy, coughing weakly as he dragged his body forward. His pale face was flushed with effort. He looked at Nezuko, panting.

“She… she didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, voice hoarse. “Don’t hurt her.”

Nezuko blinked in shock. “What—?”

“I saw your soul,” the boy said, now on his hands and knees. “I was supposed to destroy it. Just like the others. I didn’t want to. I was scared. I didn’t want to die.”

Nezuko crouched beside him, listening. Her presence was strangely calming, like sitting near a hearth.

“But then…” he said, voice trembling. “I got inside, and—”

He looked up at her, tears forming in his sunken eyes.

“It was warm.”

In that strange in-between place, when he had slipped into Nezuko’s spiritual core, he had found no door to break like Enmu had said there would be. No locks. No endless darkness.

Just light.

A sky the color of sunrise, painted with vivid oranges and gentle pinks. Snow fell like flower petals. Fireflies danced across a field of glowing embers. The air was thick with laughter and memory and longing, and yet there was no pain. Just a yearning to protect. A yearning to love.

At the center, floating like a sunstone: a single, radiant spark of Nezuko’s soul.

It pulsed with warmth. Not flame, but something older, something like the soul of a home. It was full of every kind word she’d spoken, every smile she'd given to her siblings, every time she held back her rage, her grief, her sorrow; for someone else’s sake.

The boy had stood there, weeping, overwhelmed by its honesty.

“I didn’t want to leave,” he whispered now. “But I couldn’t destroy it. I couldn’t. It made me feel like… maybe I could get better.”

Rengoku was quiet, still holding the weeping girl at arm’s length.

Nezuko reached forward slowly, pressing a hand to the boy’s back. “Thank you,” she said.

He stared at her. “Aren’t you… mad at me?”

The Kamado girl shook her head. “You wanted to feel alive again. There’s no shame in that.”

The braided hair girl trembled, still clutched in Rengoku’s grasp. “I just wanted to stay with her… My sister. Please…”

Rengoku’s voice was soft. “You’ll have to live in this world now. But you’re not alone.”

There was a moment of silence. The train groaned. The wall pulsed behind them, eyes blinking furiously. Then came the whisper again:

“ This is your last warning… I’ll turn your hope into a nightmare… ”

The entire train lurched.

Rengoku spoke then, blade drawn and flaming, eyes wild.

“Kamado-shoujo! We have to move—The demon’s heart is somewhere in the engine! He’s turning into the entire train!”

He stepped back, releasing the girl. “Protect the civilians, Yellow Boy! Boar Boy! Kamado-shonen!”

Nezuko glanced down one last time at the boy, who was now staring at her with something like reverence.

She smiled softly. Then turned, and followed her teacher into the fire.

The train howled like a living beast. Screams echoed between the walls, passengers, dreaming, unable to wake. Windows shattered in bursts of steam and glass. Tentacles writhing from the wood, sinew and eyes bulging from the floorboards. The metal underfoot twisted and moaned like ribs being cracked open.

Nezuko dashed forward, blood-soaked sandals pounding the corridor.

Behind her, Inosuke howled with wild glee. “I KNEW THIS TRAIN WAS A MONSTER!! I TOLD YOU ALL!!” He vaulted forward, slicing down a mass of flesh that sprang from the ceiling. His swords lodged into the wriggling meat, and with a tug, he ripped them free—grinning under his boar’s mask.

“Up ahead!” Nezuko shouted, one hand clutching the edge of her ribcage. Her uniform was torn, her side already bruised from taking too many hits. But she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

The air grew heavy. Breathing was like trying to inhale pure smoke.

From the walls came dozens of arms, twisting, groping, covered in eyes and mouths and grinning teeth. Nezuko and Inosuke slashed through them, ducking low and leaping over grasping limbs. They were nearly to the front.

That’s when the conductor appeared. He stumbled out from the engine room, eyes wild, face pale. Blood oozed from wounds along his wrists, but he smiled, a broken, manic smile.

“You’re ruining everything,” he said, voice sharp with devotion. “He gave me peace. Dreams without pain. No more guilt, no more failure.”

He drew something sharp from his belt—a tiny knife.

Before Nezuko could react, he lunged.

Steel pierced her side with a sickening squelch. Her breath hitched. Pain burned up her ribs like liquid fire.

“HEY!!” Inosuke screamed, barreling toward them.

But Nezuko didn’t fall.

She grabbed the conductor’s wrist with trembling fingers and, through gritted teeth, headbutted him square between the eyes. The man collapsed with a stunned gasp, unconscious before he hit the floor.

Nezuko staggered forward, blood soaking her already torn uniform. Her head pounded, screaming at her in pain she had yet to recover from thanks to her brother’s forehead.

Inosuke reached her, hands grabbing her arms to keep her upright, voice shouting above the scream of the train. “YOU OKAY?! YOU’RE BLEEDING A LOT. LIKE. A LOT A LOT.”

“I’m fine,” she rasped, clutching her side. “Keep going.”

Together, they burst into the engine room.

The "neck" was there, gnarled flesh pulsing beneath the control levers and floor panels. It oozed and quivered, and Enmu’s voice echoed from every wall. One eye opened, Blood Demon Art pulsing right into Nezuko’s shocked gaze.

“ You abandoned them, Nezuko-chan .”

Back inside the train, the sound of the wheels squealing was audible, its mechanical body shuddering under Enmu’s overwhelming control. Tentacles swelled from the walls, dripping venomous bile, their tips sharp as razors, each one yearning to swallow the demon slayers whole. 

Tanjirou gritted his teeth around the bamboo, slashing through the closest tendril with his claws, sending it recoiling back into the shadows.

His breath came in sharp gasps. His heart was pounding in his chest—his thoughts were all over the place. Nezuko was still out there, struggling. He couldn’t let her fight alone. Not now.

Zenitsu, barely holding it together beside him, wiped his forehead, his face drenched with sweat. He was shaking, his legs wobbling like they might give out any second.

“I-I’m gonna die here, aren’t I?! I’m not cut out for this!” Zenitsu wailed, his voice high-pitched in panic. “I’m not strong enough—!”

“ MMMM!! ”  Tanjirou hummed, desperate to snap him out of it. He tried to block out his own fear, but the crushing weight of the situation pressed on him from every angle.

Beside them, Rengoku was a whirlwind of fire and steel, cutting through the tentacles with ease, his blade a streak of light in the dark. 

“Hold your ground, boys!” he called, grinning even as his own muscles strained against the overwhelming flood of Enmu’s minions.

Zenitsu yelped, his hands trembling on his sword as another massive tentacle slithered toward him, aiming for his throat. In a blur of movement, the yellow-haired boy screamed, eyes wide with terror.

“NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!!”

His sword shot up, but his stance wavered, and the tentacle slammed into his back, throwing him to the floor with a thud. His head hit the ground with a sickening crack. The scream of horror turned into a pained whimper as Zenitsu went still, eyes half-closed.

But then, something strange happened.

Zenitsu’s body shifted.

Without warning, he sprang up, his eyes closed tight and face perfectly stoic. His hand gripped his sword with a steadiness Tanjirou had never seen before. It was as though his fears had been washed away in an instant.

Tanjirou barely had time to blink before Zenitsu launched himself at the tentacle, his blade flashing through the air like a beam of lightning. 

“I’ll protect you, Tanjirou! I’ll—!”

Zenitsu’s words cut off as a loud snore escaped his lips, his body suddenly falling limp again as he collapsed to the ground with a resounding thud. A deep, rattling snore echoed in the quiet space as Zenitsu, unconscious, continued to lay on the floor.

Tanjirou blinked, staring at Zenitsu’s still form. “MM??”

A tentacle, temporarily stunned by Zenitsu’s sudden outburst and its brethren laying sliced on the floor, slowly began to retract, retreating back into the shadows.

( Looks like Zenitsu’s sleep persona is doing all the work again… ) 

Tanjirou grunted, half in disbelief. 

Before he could dwell on the absurdity of it, another tentacle shot at Tanjirou, aiming for him this time.

In a split second, Rengoku leaped in front of Tanjirou, his katana slashing with a roar of flame. 

“I will protect my disciples! You will not harm a single person on this train!” he bellowed, his fiery passion burning hotter than ever as he cleaved the tentacle in half.

With a mighty grunt, Rengoku spun, patting Tanjirou’s head affectionately, his smile wide and proud. 

“You’re doing well, my boy,” he boomed, the pride in his voice impossible to miss. “But now, you must go protect your sister. She’s your responsibility, your family—don’t let anything keep you from her.”

Tanjirou froze, meeting Rengoku’s fiery gaze, and for a moment, everything around him fell away. He remembered his promise to Nezuko—to never leave her side, to protect her with everything he had.

Rengoku’s voice cut through the storm of his thoughts. “Go now, Kamado-shonen. I will handle this.”

Tanjirou nodded, clenching his fists. He wasn’t about to let Enmu win. Not while Nezuko was still out there.

In the next breath, he was running, his claws cleaving through any tentacles that got in his way. 

Behind him, Rengoku’s laughter filled the air as he continued to fend off the oncoming tentacles with all the might of his flame. Zenitsu snored loudly on the floor.

Nezuko stared at the large, blue eye, frozen. She drifted into trance, the world falling away like it had before.

The lights dimmed. Suddenly, she was back on the mountain.

Snow fell, quiet and slow.

Her mother’s body was there, half-buried in crimson snow. Hanako’s small hand stretched toward her. Takeo's scarf trailed in the wind. Shigeru’s face was pale with blood loss. Rokuta wailed distantly, his tiny body in a heap before the broken doorway.

And there… Tanjirou, eyes wide and lifeless, face ashen, lips parted like he had one final breath to give.

“ You didn’t come back in time ,” Enmu cooed. “ You chose your sword over them. You wanted to be the strong one. So you let them die .”

Nezuko dropped to her knees. Her stomach turned. Her heart split open.

“Stop,” she whispered. “Stop it—!”

“ It’s your fault .” The image flickered. All the dead eyes glared at her in disgust, watching as sludge-like blood and icy snow fell onto Nezuko’s head.

Her hands curled into fists. Her body trembled, flames beginning to burn away the ichor that clung to her face.

A familiar orange light sparked at her fingertips. She remembered her brother. His forehead pressed to hers. His blood on her skin. Her name on his lips.

“No,” she growled.

“ You let your brother become a monster~ ”

“NO!!”

She screamed. The illusion shattered.

Nezuko lunged forward, her eyes blazing, flames erupting across her skin. She drove her blade—flaring with pink-red fire—into the quivering mass of Enmu’s neck. The demon’s face was aghast, staring up at her with primal fear.

“MY FAMILY DIDN’T DIE BECAUSE I FAILED THEM,” she yelled. “THEY DIED BECAUSE YOUR MASTER TOOK THEM FROM ME!”

The flesh writhed and burned, Enmu’s laughter turning to shrieks.

Behind her, Inosuke whooped. “YEAH, KICK HIS WEIRD MEATY ASS!”

The train shuddered. Steam hissed from ruptured pipes. Enmu’s neck was weakening—splitting open under the combined weight of Nezuko’s fury and her fire.

Inosuke barreled toward the front of the train, his boar mask still bloodstained and fierce as ever. He had been fighting with all his might, trying to fend off the endless barrage of tentacles that Enmu had unleashed. But the further he pushed, the more he realized that Nezuko wasn’t going to be able to do this alone.

He spotted her just as a thick, slippery tentacle coiled around her body, dragging her toward the pulsating mass that was Enmu's true form. Her eyes were wide, focused, but with a distant, desperate energy that made Inosuke's heart lurch. She wasn’t going to make it. She was going to be overwhelmed.

“Oi, Nobiko!” Inosuke shouted, charging forward, his dual swords swinging with reckless abandon. “You’re not doing this alone!”

Nezuko’s head snapped around, her gaze locking with Inosuke’s. She nodded briefly, but her lips pressed together in frustration. With the neck so thick and the tendrils pressing in on her from every side, she couldn’t cut through it alone. She needed someone to break it, someone with more power.

Inosuke swung his sword, cutting down one of the tentacles that was holding her. "Let’s get you out of here first. The neck’s too thick to slice alone, huh? You need Boss Inosuke’s help!"

“Yeah…” Nezuko’s voice was strained, but she could see Inosuke’s determination. The air around them shimmered with a sickly sense of victory, and Enmu’s voice hissed from all directions. 

“ You cannot stop me...you cannot defeat me… You’re all mine… ”

Nezuko’s chest tightened as she gritted her teeth. There was no time left. Her eyes darted to the front of the train. Her heart clenched. She had to slice the neck.

But how?

She tightened her grip on her sword, but it was only a matter of seconds before another tentacle would attack. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep going like this, alone in the dark.

Just as the next wave of tentacles began to surge toward her, there was a sudden crash—the train floor shaking beneath her feet. Tanjirou appeared in the doorway, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths..

Tanjirou's eyes were wild, his fists clenched, and his body radiated heat like a furnace. But it wasn’t just his will that burned. His Blood Demon Art, fiery and fierce, danced across his claws like flames licking the air. The tentacles recoiled as his aura flared, and with a loud roar, he charged forward.

Nezuko’s heart skipped a beat. Her brother was here. She didn’t have to carry this weight on her own. Not anymore.

Tanjirou’s claws gleamed with orange flames as he slashed at the mass of flesh that was Enmu’s neck, but the thick tissue was hard and resilient. Even his flames couldn’t break it, not without the right moment.

Nezuko took a step back, standing alongside her twin. She pressed her palm to his shoulder, feeling the heat of his fire infuse with her own, her heart swelling with emotion.

“Let’s do this, Onii-chan. Together.”

Her sword pulsed in her hand as she swung it down with all the strength she could muster, her own flame-laced power surging through the blade. But it wasn’t enough. The neck remained unbroken, the flames sputtering against its surface.

Tanjirou roared in frustration and pain. The flames wrapped tighter around his claws, building into a ferocity that could not be contained. 

With that, the flame-clad claws met Nezuko’s burning sword in perfect unison. A deep, guttural crack echoed through the air as their combined power struck true, tearing through the neck like a dam breaking under the weight of their bond. The train shuddered, Enmu’s form shrieking in agony as the tentacles went wild, all of them flailing as if they were dying creatures writhing for their last breath.

Nezuko and Tanjirou stood side by side, their eyes locked as the train’s body began to crack and split in a final, cataclysmic explosion.

Enmu’s scream echoed through the night as the train lurched forward, tilting dangerously toward the edge of the tracks.

Then, it all came crashing down.

The world outside swirled into a blur as the train’s last shudder sent them tumbling forward, breaking free from the weight of Enmu’s influence. The ground was beneath them, grass and dirt clinging to their bodies as the wrecked train crashed into the grassy fields, the smoke rising in the distance.

Chapter Text

Chapter 36: Upper Moon Three

The wind was eerily still in the aftermath of the train’s destruction. Grass bent low beneath coils of steam. Blood and fire had painted the field—but now, there was only silence, broken only by the groan of twisted metal and the breathless murmurs of the injured.

Nezuko lay still, unconscious, one arm curled protectively over her stomach. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow. She hadn’t moved since the train crashed. Her mind drifted between weightless sleep and primal instinct to get up and move. Her injuries felt too grave.

A soft tap of a bare foot on earth broke the quiet.

Yuki-hime appeared like falling snow, descending from the far end of the wreck. Her kimono shimmered like fresh frost, pale pink and patterned with winter lilies. Her long black hair swayed gently, strands trailing behind her like ghostly silk. Her skin was flawless, a porcelain mask tinged with faint blue.

She glided forward in the hush, her eyes fixed on Nezuko.

“So much fire,” she murmured. “Still burning… even now. It’s wasteful, don’t you think?”

She knelt beside Nezuko, fingers poised like she might stroke her cheek. But she paused, tilting her head—listening.

From within her back, a grotesque bulge began to rise.

The white fabric of her kimono rippled. Her shoulder blades cracked. A deep, pulsing thrum filled the air as the bulge took shape—shoulders, muscle, blue tattoos blazing to life against skin now tearing from within her.

A second torso tore free of her back—Akaza, his eyes blazing with fury, his snarling mouth close behind her ear. Like a monstrous guardian shadowing her every step, he hunched from her spine like a second demon chained to her body.

“Kill her,” Akaza growled. “She’s a threat.”

Koyuki’s lips parted in a soft breath. “She’s just a girl.”

“A girl who fights with the Sun. Like him.” His voice dripped venom, a brief fearful vision of a man with the same sun kissed earrings and red scar flashing over their eyes. “We cannot disobey our Master’s orders.”

A flame exploded between them.

“FLAME BREATHING—SECOND FORM!”

Rengoku landed with a roar of fire, his blade cleaving the ground between Nezuko and the demon. Sparks flew upward, lighting his silhouette in brilliant orange. His cape billowed behind him as he drew himself up, eyes locked on the nightmare before him.

Yuki-hime stood, calm and elegant. But behind her, Akaza flexed, claws twitching like they couldn’t wait to rip something apart.

“Two demons in one,” Rengoku said grimly. “You’ve fallen farther than most.”

“Have we?” Koyuki asked softly. “Or have we simply lived long enough to know the truth of your kind?”

“Who are you?” The Flame Hashira asked, his knelt posture slowly coming to a stand. His foot remained placed before Nezuko’s body, protecting her even now as he gave his attention to the demon.

“I see by your eyes you are Upper Moon Three. What are you doing here?”

The demon smiled, and the feminine form lifted a pale pink-tinged sleeve to her mouth almost shyly. “We are Yuki-hime. You are the Flame Hashira of this generation, are you not?”

The male form smirked. “Rengoku Kyojuro~”

Rengoku squared his stance. “She is injured. Stand down, and I will give you a warrior’s death.”

Akaza laughed, sharp and cruel. “This girl is weak. But you… You have potential to become something more.”

Yuki-hime’s voice was silk. “We came to offer you eternity, Rengoku Kyoujurou. The gift of strength unending. We can preserve you, like a flame sealed inside ice. Beautiful forever. Isn’t that what you want?”

Rengoku’s eyes didn’t waver. “Beauty without warmth is not flame. It’s only ash. Growing old and dying is what gives meaning, and beauty, to the fleeting span of a human life. It’s precisely because we age, and die, that our lives have value and nobility. Strength is not a word meant only to be used with regard to the flesh.”

Something inside Yuki-hime’s chest twisted.

Akaza snorted. Easily, his body rippled amongst Yuki-hime’s. “Pity. This wonderful sword technique of yours will be gone too, Kyojuro! Aren’t you sad? Rengoku – It’s a fact of life. A natural consequence of being human!”

Rengoku said nothing at first, before the grass beneath his feet seemed to crackle. His usual confident smile was replaced by a mask of flames and ash, a samurai’s determination.

“It’s our first meeting, but I already hate you.”

Yuki-hime’s doll-like smile faded. Akaza frowned. The snow turned to knives. The grass split apart.

The battle began.

BOOM!

The field erupted into chaos as Rengoku lunged, fire arcing like a dragon’s tail behind his blade. The ground hissed where his feet touched, flames igniting in his wake.

But Yuki-hime did not recoil. She raised her hand, and a curtain of snowlight shimmered into being, a wall of frost, delicate as a veil, but strong enough to blunt the heat of his strike. The fire roared against the cold, steam gushing in a thick cloud between them.

Rengoku’s blade broke through.

“THIRD FORM: BLAZING UNIVERSE!”

A flaming arc cleaved the mist in half, slamming toward her heart—

But Akaza moved. He erupted from Koyuki’s back like a furious echo, catching the katana with his bare forearm. The strike split skin and muscle, but Akaza grinned through the blood.

“Not too bad, Flame Hashira! You should seriously consider our offer!”

“Never,” Rengoku growled, withdrawing his sword just in time to parry a bone-rattling kick.

The grass exploded. Craters bloomed under Akaza’s feet as he launched forward again and again. Rengoku blocked each strike, his arms screaming with the force, but his blade never faltered.

Behind them, Koyuki raised her arms slowly. Ice laced the air. Her voice hummed a lullaby of sorrow.

“Blood Demon Art, Ice Form: Fractured Reflection.”

Shards of mirrored frost flurried around Rengoku, showing visions of his mother’s face, Senjurou alone, his younger self crying at his father's back. Illusions meant to slow his mind, to crack his purpose.

But his flame held. He roared through them, eyes blazing. “YOU CANNOT BREAK ME!”

A few meters away, half-buried in wildflowers and scorched weeds, Nezuko stirred. Her fingers twitched first, then her rose eyes cracked open.

The sky above her was red. Steam coiled through the shattered air. And in the distance—

She saw her brother. His long hair freed from his ponytail and tangled, claws glowing like dying embers. He had crashed near Zenitsu, whose arms clung to the demon boy in a protective embrace. What’s more, Tanjirou had protected a human passenger, the little girl’s tiny form curled in dreamless sleep against his chest.

Nezuko remembered Rokuta. The blood in the snow. Her heart clenched painfully.

“...Tanjirou…”

She coughed. Her ribs ached. Her wound burned. But the scream in her soul grew louder.

Then she saw him—the demon from before, no—two different demons, fused into one abomination. The feminine ghostlike form, drifting like a snowstorm, and the brute force of the second body rising from her back. Rengoku stood between her and them.

Nezuko’s jaw clenched. Blood trickled from her forehead still.

Slowly, she rolled to her feet. Her legs shook. But she faced the storm.

Smoke curled from the ruined train cars. Glowing embers floated in the air like ash-snow. Screams echoed faintly—passengers still scrambling to escape the wreckage.

Nezuko couldn’t move.

Her uniform was slick with blood, dark and heavy where the conductor’s blade had pierced her stomach. Each breath was shallow. Each movement was agony.

She could hear it in the distance. The fight.

Blades clashing. Ground splitting. A roar like a wild animal. No, Rengoku. Her teacher was fighting a battle to the death with a demon clearly much, much more powerful than the Lower Moon had been.

Nezuko clenched her teeth. She had to help. Tanjirou was unconscious somewhere behind her. Zenitsu too. And Inosuke, loud-mouthed, stubborn Inosuke, was stuck trying to lift debris off crying civilians.

They had no one left but her.

But when she tried to move, her vision blurred with pain. Her muscles spasmed. A fresh wave of blood soaked through her side.

( No. No no no— )

Her hand pressed down on the wound, trembling. And then she remembered.

Rengoku’s silhouette glowed in the firelight. He’d been laughing about something—Tanjirou’s recent antics with the shy Senjuro, probably—and turned to her with a soft, unexpected seriousness.

“Your strength burns bright, Kamado-shoujo. But fire without control consumes itself.”

He leaned closer, tapping two fingers to her core.

“When the wound is deep, breathe like the flame: not fast, not wild. Slow. Steady. Feed the heat. Don’t let it die.”

“What form is that…?” she had whispered.

“Total Concentration can help you stem the bleeding. It is a technique the hashira have mastered in order to continue fighting beyond our means. We must go to the very limits of humanity if we want to ever match up to the demons. This is our fate, as Demon Slayers.”

Nezuko’s eyes snapped open.

Her fingers splayed, pressing into the earth. Slowly, shakily, she drew in a breath.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Her pulse calmed. The bleeding slowed. The pain dulled, not vanished, but narrowed. Controlled. Contained. She could hold on. For now. Her eyes lifted to the hill where the fight was unfolding.

Rengoku stood alone before Yuki-hime, her long pale hair flowing like silk in the moonlight. She hovered above the grass, untouched by the ground, her face porcelain-pale with red eyes that shimmered like garnets trapped under ice. Her ice crystals danced upon the air like broken compass sigils, shooting off to try and attack the hashira when he least expected it.

“Still standing, Flame Hashira?” Yuki-hime’s voice rang out, melodious and brittle.

“That child was barely breathing. You could save her. Let me make you eternal.”

Rengoku’s grip tightened on his sword. “Eternity without honor is a prison.”

His smile burned like a sunrise. “I will protect them with every last breath. Even if mine ends tonight.”

Akaza growled, voice deeper—echoing. “Then die, Kyojuro.”

“RENGOKU-SENSEI!!” Nezuko screamed, voice hoarse still, after so many hours of fighting for their lives.

But her teacher didn’t hear her. He was already in motion—blazing forward, as always.

Rengoku’s crimson blade cleaved through the frozen night like a comet tail, fire arcing behind every swing. He didn’t fight like a man. He fought like a star destined to die—bright, furious, and impossible to look away from.

“Second Form—Rising Scorching Sun!”

He surged upward with a roar, sword swinging in a flaming uppercut. Yuki-hime tilted her head and floated aside, letting the heat pass inches from her throat. Her sleeves didn’t even flutter.

Then Akaza struck from behind, fists flashing forward like cannonballs.

Rengoku twisted midair, catching the blow on his forearm. Bone cracked. His teeth clenched—but he didn’t fall. Instead, he kicked off Akaza’s shoulder, flipping backward and slamming his blade into the ground on landing.

A tidal wave of fire shot forward, the grass beneath it curling into ash. It forced Akaza to retreat and melted the crystalline traps Yuki-hime had begun to summon beneath her feet.

She frowned.

“You’re faster than before,” she said, her voice a distant chime. “But not fast enough.”

Her hands moved. A flurry of snowflakes materialized and spread in the air—each one a perfect, glowing sigil of ice. They hovered, spinning, aligning.

Nezuko’s eyes widened. “It’s the Blood Demon Art—Rengoku-sensei, move—!”

Too late. The sigils locked into place and detonated.

A dome of frozen wind erupted outward, a jagged storm of razor-sharp sleet and ice-shard needles. Rengoku gritted his teeth and drove his sword into the ground, crouching behind it. Flame burst from the blade, forming a circular shield of heat.

Still, the ice tore at his back, slicing through fabric, biting into skin. Blood hit the snow. Nezuko’s breath hitched.

Rengoku rose again, steam pouring off him, eyes blazing.

“You’ll have to try harder than that.”

He rushed forward before they could reset—blindingly fast—closing the gap between him and Yuki-hime. She didn’t expect the directness. He brought his blade down in a brutal overhead slash.

Yuki-hime caught it, barehanded.

The steel hissed against her palm, held in place by a sudden wall of ice that jutted up like a glacier. For a moment, the two forces locked—fire groaning against frost. The air cracked around them, too hot and too cold at once.

Then Akaza came in low, sweeping with a spinning kick aimed at Rengoku’s ribs.

Midair, Rengoku twisted, kicked off Yuki-hime’s frozen platform, and dove toward Akaza instead—bringing the sword down in a spinning arc that scored a gash across the demon’s back. Akaza howled and retaliated with a flurry of punches—one, two, three—each one like a cannonshot.

Rengoku blocked the first. Dodged the second.

The third clipped his jaw, sending sparks flying as he skidded across the ground.

But he landed on his feet, chest heaving. One eye already bruised. And yet, his grip never faltered.

Nezuko trembled, watching from her position in the grass. Her vision blurred at the edges. Her shoulder burned where Yuki-hime’s earlier sigil had torn through her. She couldn’t lift her sword. Could barely keep her head up.

But she saw him. Her beacon of light. A column of flame that had guided her to become a Demon Slayer in the first place.

Rengoku stood between her and death like a living sun.

He faced them both—Akaza circling like a predator, Yuki-hime hovering with regal malice—and raised his blade once more.

“You will not hurt a single soul here.” he said, voice steady. “You’ll have to go through me.”

Akaza snarled and lunged. Yuki-hime raised her hand again, calling forth more sigils.

The battlefield crackled with clashing forces—fire meeting frost, steel meeting flesh.

Rengoku roared, his blade a sun-scorched arc through the moonlight. His movements were flawless: wide sweeps, grounded stances, each motion burning brighter than the last.

He was pushing himself beyond the limits of pain. Beyond fear.

But Yuki-hime moved like a dream, or a memory. Drifting with an elegant cruelty, her voice a breath of winter.

“You're so loud, Flame Hashira. Are you still pretending you're not afraid?”

From her back, Akaza lunged forward, his powerful arms and claws extending like whips. The fusion of their styles was dizzying—Koyuki’s gliding, circular strikes meant to disorient and hypnotize, and Akaza’s brutal, direct fists crashing through stone and steel.

Rengoku barely dodged a strike that shattered a tree behind him. Another grazed his shoulder, tearing flesh. Still, he did not yield.

Nezuko watched, breath trembling. Her body would not move. Her limbs felt far away.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, don’t die.” She had never seen Rengoku falter. Not even once.

But now, he was bleeding. She had never seen him bleed, and the thought of someone so bright and brilliant becoming so mortal terrified her beyond belief.

And still—he rose, like a phoenix. Slowly, steadily. Fire licked up his blade and around his shoulders. The flames weren’t clean anymore. They surged with smoke and gold and something deeper—something ancient.

He took one step forward. Then another. He gripped his katana with both hands and slid into the final stance.

The air changed. The battlefield went deathly still, as if the world was holding its breath.

Nezuko’s eyes widened. She had seen this only once before—when he demonstrated it during their training. The secret passed down from father to son, the flame that never went out.

“Ninth Form…” Rengoku inhaled, body trembling. His voice rang out, louder than a bell. “Esoteric Art—Rengoku!!”

The world exploded again, this time in a way that Nezuko had never seen.

Flame erupted in a pillar, searing into the sky. Firestorm winds rolled outward in a blast of golden heat, turning night into false dawn. Everything else was swallowed in the blaze—Akaza, Yuki-hime, the hillside beneath them, the frost and the sigils and the very air.

“HAH!” Akaza’s voice rang out from within the inferno. “There it is! The flame before the candle dies!”

He met Rengoku’s charge head-on, laughing—not in mockery, but in battle-lust, in awe, in fury.

They collided with a thunderclap, the fire rippling outward in molten waves. Yuki-hime spun alongside him, ice blooming behind their strikes in spiraling, elegant counterattacks. Their combined power crashed against Rengoku’s onslaught—one man against two monsters.

For a moment, it seemed the flames would win. The hillside cracked. Trees withered. Snow turned to steam.

Then—stillness. Smoke curled in lazy tendrils. Cinders floated through the dark like falling stars.

Nezuko held her breath. ( I can’t… I can’t see. Who won? )

The flames parted. And there he stood—Rengoku, sword still raised, singular working eye fierce—

Yuki-hime’s white sleeve fluttered beside him. Akaza’s snarl echoed softly.

Revealed at that moment…  through Rengoku’s midsection, from back to front, the demon’s arm had pierced him clean through.

His mouth opened in a slow gasp, blood trickling down his jaw.

“RENGOKU-SENSEI!!” Nezuko screamed, as her world shattered.

Chapter Text

Chapter 37: Set Your Heart Ablaze

The sky had begun to glow. The sun would rise soon, bringing what should have been hope. That the sun would chase away the demons and allow Rengoku to stand another day.

Faint rays of orange and gold spilled over the ruined train tracks, catching on shattered metal and splintered wood. Smoke curled from the train wreckage, rising like ghosts into the breaking light.

Rengoku trembled, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. He coughed once, blood exploding from his maw and landing on the demon’s chest. His sword still burned. But it flickered, trembling in his grip.

Yuki-hime writhed across the broken earth, struggling to reform in the pain of the sudden fury that Akaza had unleashed. Akaza’s half of their body was panicked, snarling like a beast. But Yuki-hime’s eyes were locked on Rengoku with something close to grief. Or longing.

“You should have turned,” she whispered. “You would’ve been beautiful forever.”

Rengoku did not answer. His breath came ragged, but his back was straight.

In the silence, a memory bloomed behind his weary gaze…

“Kyojuro.” The twinkling of the wind-chime above him was like a funeral bell. He turned his owlish gaze to the beautiful but frail woman in the futon. Mother.

“Do you know why you were born stronger than others?” Ruka Rengoku spoke with quiet conviction. Her pale face was serious, juxtaposed with the gentle stroke of her hand over the sleeping toddler on her lap. Senjuro had been too young to remember her.

Kyojuro thought it over, thick brows furrowed tight on his forehead, before speaking with a loud flame. “I do not know!” 

Ruka looked away for a moment. In the courtyard, Shinjuro, the boys’ father, was practicing his sword strikes. Though his back was turned, Ruka could tell her beloved husband was upset. Crying, shoulders trembling even as he worked. They both knew that the matriarch of the Rengoku household had little time left to live.

“So that you can help those who are weak.” She finally spoke again, ruby eyes drifting back to Kyojuro.

“Those who are born with greater talents than others, must use their power for the sake of the world and its people. To use the power bestowed by the heavens. To hurt others, or for selfish gain, would be unforgivable. Helping the weak is the responsibility of those who are born strong. It is a mission that must be fulfilled responsibly. Don’t forget that.” 

Kyojuro nodded, tiny fists clenching tight on his lap. “Yes!”

It was then that his mother held out her arm, light blue kimono sleeve making a soft shiffff sound. Wordlessly, Kyojuro obeyed, crawling on his knees to his mother’s side.

She hugged him close to her chest, and distinctly, Kyojuro could hear her breath rattling. Her soul, her aura, was trembling with grief and love. The color blinded him, and he froze, staring out into nothingness.

“I will not live for much longer. I am happy to have been the mother of a child as strong, and gentle as you. I leave the rest to you.” Ruka whispered. Tears slid down her face, landing in the boy’s wild blonde hair.

Kyojuro’s breath hitched. His golden eyes ignited.

( Mother! I feel the same. It is an honor for me to have been born by a lady such as yourself. )

A burst of flame exploded in the dawn. The sword struck true. A clean arc slicing through the air, blazing toward Yuki-hime’s neck. 

It buried itself in her throat, the skin immediately freezing into ice to try and protect her from being decapitated. 

Both demons screamed, staring with wide eyes at the hashira. 

“What are you doing?!” Akaza was truly panicking now, and some part of Nezuko was grateful for it, even as she sobbed in fear at the sight of her teacher’s mutilated body. 

She could barely move from her spot, but she still hobbled forward, breath fogging out around her in a halo. She had found her sword not too far away. While it was chipped from slicing through Enmu’s neck, it wasn’t broken. Not yet.

“Become a demon!!” The two demon heads spoke together, their bodies already reforming even as they were held in place by Kyojuro’s blade. “Say you’ll become a demon! You’re going to die here, Kyojuro!!”

A fist was hurled at the hashira’s bloodied face. With his free arm, Kyojuro caught it by the wrist, adding to the ways he had captured the demon. Furthermore, Yuki-hime realized her body had reformed around the human, Akaza’s arm stuck by the brutalized muscles in Rengoku’s abdomen keeping them frozen.

Both heads screamed. The sound was joined by the battle cry of the burning hashira, his blade digging further and further into the thick flesh…

With a vicious, inhuman twist of her torso, Yuki-hime ripped herself free of Akaza’s shoulder, tearing their body apart to escape the fatal blow. Blood—dark as ink—sprayed from the severed fusion, and the demon stumbled into the shadows of the treeline. Rengoku’s sword remained lodged in their throat, bodies trying desperately to melt back together as they ran.

“NO!” Nezuko screamed. She couldn’t let this happen. She couldn’t let Yuki-hime run away. Her hands trembled. She could barely breathe through the pain in her ribs.

But seeing the demon flee like a coward—after all Rengoku had done—

With every ounce of strength left in her battered body, Nezuko flung her sword, pinkish red flames exploding from her jaws in rage.

“I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET!! DON’T RUN AWAY YOU COWAAAAAAARD!!” The blade whistled through the air, streaking past the rising sun—

The blade struck true, right between the demon’s ribs. Their bodies fizzled, nearly splitting again, heads turned with fear and disgust to gawk at Nezuko.

“THE FIGHT IS ALREADY OVER!” Akaza snarled, turning like he was about to force Yuki-hime to run. 

“THE DEMON SLAYERS ARE ALWAYS FIGHTING AT THE DEAD OF NIGHT WHERE YOU HAVE THE ADVANTAGE! BUT WE’RE FLESH AND BLOOD! WE DON’T HEAL AS EASILY!” Nezuko’s fists remained clench, screaming so loud she was certain she was ripping her vocal cords to shreds. But she didn’t care.

“DON’T RUN AWAY YOU BASTARD! YOU’RE A COWARD, A COWARD!! RENGOKU-SAN IS STRONGER THAN YOU’LL EVER HOPE TO BE! MUCH STRONGER! YOU DIDN’T WIN AGAINST HIM! HE KEPT EVERYONE SAFE! HE FOUGHT TO THE END SO NOBODY WOULD DIE! HE KEPT EVERYONE SAFE! YOU LOST!”

Knelt upon the earth, covered in blood, Rengoku stared with one working eye at Nezuko. He seemed conflicted, unsure if this was true. Or maybe it was. 

By now, Yuki-hime had disappeared. The sun had reached the sky, casting the world in its brilliance and warmth. But Nezuko felt none of it. She felt only cold.

With one last, desperate and enraged breath, the girl screamed like a wounded animal and fell to her knees.

Rengoku smiled sadly. His poor, poor tsuguko. He knew this would be a brutal blow for her. They had only really just made up after their quarrel, and now? Now they couldn’t have that mentorship and student bond beyond what little time they had together.

“Don’t work yourself up like that. You’ll only open your wounds. If you were to die, Kamado-shoujo, that would truly mean my defeat.” Just barely, his large hand lifted, then fell to the earth. “Come here, and let us talk for the last time. As sensei and pupil.”

Nezuko sniffled, and carefully, made her way over to Rengoku. The world felt as if it were stuck in slow motion. Zenitsu had awoken, hurriedly shoving the now-small Tanjirou into his box. Inosuke had at some point come to witness the fight, trudging closer to hear what Rengoku had to say.

Nezuko was the first to crawl to his side, dragging herself with shaking limbs.

“Rengoku-sensei,” she whispered, falling to her knees. Her face was smeared with ash and blood. Her wound from the conductor had reopened, soaking her uniform scarlet. “Sensei, please don’t—please, don’t die—”

“Nezuko…” Rengoku’s voice was barely audible. Still warm, still proud. “You protected everyone. I saw you. You did well.”

She sobbed and pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “I didn’t. I couldn’t even move. I couldn’t stop that demon. I couldn’t help!”

“But you did,” he murmured. “You lived. You fought. You stood up… and you reminded me why I carry this sword.”

Nezuko trembled. Kyojuro just smiled, as if he were truly at peace already with his oncoming demise. His wound was starting to bleed freely, since the Upper Moon’s arm had begun to burn away from the sun’s touch.

“I will talk while I still can, so please listen. Please tell my little brother, Senjuro, to follow the path that his heart thinks is right. Tell my father that he should take care of his body.” Kyojuro’s voice was weaker, raspier. 

“Also, Kamado-shoujo, I believe in your twin brother. I recognize him as a member of the Demon Slayers Corps. I saw that young man protecting the humans on the train, covered in his own blood. He fought the demon with his life on the line. He protects humans. No matter what people may say, he is a member of the Demon Slayers Corps. Hold your head high!”

Nezuko trembled, tears falling unbidden now. She could scarcely keep her eyes on her teacher’s failing body.

“When you feel weak or unworthy, set your heart ablaze! Grit your teeth and face forward!!” The hashira smiled, and the girl felt her heart twist. It was the same ideal that he had instilled within her teachings from day one. Now, it hit much harder. 

“If you just curl up in a ball and hide, time will pass you by. It won’t stop for you while you wallow in your grief. Do not fret over my death here. For us, Hashira, being a shield for our juniors is only natural. All of us Hashira would do the same… The young buds must be allowed to bloom.”

Slowly, he turned his head, acknowledging each of the slayer juniors that stood by and watched him fade.

“Nezuko. Boar head boy.. Blond boy… Keep growing, and in the future, you will be the Hashira of the Demon Slayers Corps. Nezuko, I know someday, you will take my place. I truly believe that. I believe in you all.”

The girl couldn’t take it anymore. With a soft sob, she collapsed, dirtied hands covering her face as she wept.

Beyond the distance, Kyojuro gazed upon a flicker of sunlight made pure human form. His single eye widened, and though his jaw no longer moved, he still whispered the words he had always wanted to ask his beloved mother.

“Mother… Have I done well? Did I fulfill my responsibilities?”

Ruka’s sad expression lit up, and she smiled. “My son… You did a wonderful job.”

Kyojuro laughed. A quiet, gentle laugh, smiling like a young boy who had won the praise of his mother at long last. 

Slowly, like a candle extinguishing, his eyes closed, and he slumped into his shattered chest.

Nezuko didn’t make a sound at first.

She just stared, frozen, at the stillness of Rengoku’s body. The warm sun that had crept over the horizon now lit up his face, his skin already beginning to lose color.

His eyes did not open. They never would again. They would never beam at him like the sun, watching her grow with pride. He was gone. What was once an impossibility within the swordswoman's mind had come to pass.

The wind stirred the red hem of his haori where it lay tattered in the grass, seemingly extended by a giant puddle of his blood. The edge of the puddle rippled towards her knees, and she trembled, letting it soak into her skirt hem, onto her bare knees.

A sob tore through Nezuko’s chest like it had been caged for hours. It cracked from her ribs, from the deepest part of her soul, and she pitched forward, clutching his body.

“NO—NO, NO, NO! Please, please, wake up, Rengoku-sensei!! You can’t—you can’t just die!” she wailed, voice hoarse and wild. “You were supposed to teach me! You were supposed to be there—! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE MY BIG BROTHER!!”

Her fists pounded the ground, her wounded stomach pulling with every lurch of grief. “I wasn’t strong enough—I couldn’t help—I just stood there and—!!”

Zenitsu had collapsed beside Tanjirou’s box, tears running down his cheeks as he held the lid open, sunlight starting to creep across the grass. His hands trembled as he carefully lifted Tanjirou inside, whispering, “I’ve got you, don’t worry… You’ll be okay…”

His voice cracked, peering up to his grieving friend. “He fought for us. He really… He really died for us…”

Nezuko’s screams filled the clearing, broken and desperate. In a sense, she was crying not only for Rengoku, but for all of them... For her siblings, for her mother and father. The family she had loved so fiercely and lost.

Inosuke stood a few paces away, trembling with silent sobs, his hands clenched into trembling fists. He bit down on his knuckles, hard enough to bleed, before stumbling toward her.

“STOP CRYING!!” he suddenly shouted, though tears streamed down his own face. “Y-you’re not supposed to cry when someone that strong dies!!”

Nezuko didn’t look up.

Inosuke dropped to his knees and grabbed her shoulders. “All living things return to the earth when they die!!” His voice broke. “You’re supposed to smile because he protected us!! So don’t… don’t cry like that—”

He pulled her into a shaking hug, holding her as she sobbed against his shoulder.

Zenitsu looked over, wiping his face uselessly. The quiet wind rustled through the broken metal and crushed wood of the train.

In the hush, it felt like the world itself was mourning. Like the sun was slower to rise. Like the Flame Hashira had taken its last blaze with him into the sky.

The letter came at dawn.

The crow was trembling when it landed, its wings mottled with soot and blood. The young boy recognized it as Kaname immediately... His big brother's personal Kasugai crow. Senjuro opened the window with nervous hands, the orange sleeve of his kimono brushing the paper as it fell into his palm.

He read the words once. Then again. And then again. His knees hit the floor. The world narrowed into a quiet, endless ringing.

His brother was gone. Kyojuro, his bright, burning brother—the one who told him to live his life with pride, who always smiled no matter what—had fallen in battle. Protecting others. Just as their mother had asked of him.

The letter slipped from Senjuro’s fingers, fluttering to the tatami like an autumn leaf.

Their father didn’t come when Senjuro cried. The door remained closed.

But Senjuro didn’t need him. Not anymore.

He wiped his eyes. He stood, and he picked up his training sword.

At the Ubuyashiki Estate, the Hashira gathered in the early morning mist.

The Master’s Kasugai crow circled once before landing on the stones of the courtyard, its voice somber and scratchy with sorrow.

“ Flame Hashira Kyojuro Rengoku… has perished in battle. He protected over two hundred civilians on the Mugen Train from Lower Moon One. He stood up against the Upper Moon Three when it arrived, up until sunrise. The demon escaped .”

For a long moment, no one breathed.

Giyuu stared at the ground, jaw clenched.

Mitsuri’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes welling.

Sanemi swore under his breath and turned away, fists trembling.

Muichiro blinked—once, twice—as if confused by the news. A young boy watching from the shadows with one arm— strangely similar in appearance— sniffled and grit his teeth.

Kanae trembled, trying to smile, but failing, covering her eyes with one sleeve of her butterfly pattern haori.

Obanai spoke first, voice low. “He died… alone?”

“No,” the crow answered. “He died surrounded by those he protected. The twins Nezuko and Tanjirou Kamado were there. They survived, having defended every single passenger on the train together.”

Ubuyashiki-sama closed his eyes, his smile laced with grief.

“Kyojuro… Your light has not gone out. It burns now in the hearts of those you saved.”

The wind shifted. A crow wept softly in the trees. For the first time in years, all the Hashira bowed their heads.

Chapter Text

Chapter 38: Ashes to Ashes

The estate was quiet. Too quiet.

Sunlight filtered through the wisteria trees, painting dappled gold across the engawa floor. Birds chirped somewhere far away, the only sign that time hadn’t stopped.

Inside one of the recovery rooms, Nezuko lay on a futon, wrapped in light summer blankets, her head bandaged, a fresh dressing across her stomach. Her sword was gone. Her hands rested limply on her lap.

She hadn’t spoken since the funeral pyre.

Tanjirou sat beside her, folded knees tucked to his chest. His hands shook in his lap. He kept trying to smile, to talk to her like always. He would pat her head, smooth her hair from her scarred forehead. 

She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even seem to notice him.

Inosuke paced by the window like a trapped animal. “Tch! Stupid Noriko… you think crying makes you weak?! Hah?! You think Rengoku’d be proud of you sulking like this?!” But his voice cracked at the end. He turned away, wiping his face with the back of his arm.

Zenitsu knelt by the door, clutching a steaming bowl of rice porridge he’d tried to make himself.

“It’s not poisoned, I promise,” he said with a watery smile. “I… I added plums. You like plums, right?”

No reply.

She hadn’t eaten since they returned. Hadn’t looked them in the eye. Her lips moved sometimes, as if whispering something no one could hear.

“I should’ve been stronger,” she’d said once in her sleep. “I should’ve saved him.”

Kanao lingered in the hallway, watching through the sliding screen. She didn’t speak either. She knew what it was like to live with your heart turned off. She knew how it hurt when you finally turned it back on.

Later, when the others had gone—when Inosuke finally stormed out in frustration, and Zenitsu set the untouched bowl down with trembling hands—Tanjirou stayed.

The cicadas had gone quiet. The sun sank low behind the trees, and the wisteria shadows stretched long across the floorboards, casting purple lace across Nezuko’s pale arms. Her face was turned toward the wall. Still. Too still.

Tanjirou shifted closer. His footsteps were soundless. His movements hesitant, slow in a way they never used to be. The bamboo muzzle creaked faintly as he leaned down, brushing her hair aside. One careful claw tucked it behind her ear, her part of their shared hanafuda earrings jingling softly.

Nothing.

So he sat. Cross-legged beside her futon, head bowed, fingers twitching once, then going still. He stared at his calloused hands like he didn’t know what they were for anymore. His mouth opened beneath the muzzle, then shut. Opened again. No words came.They couldn’t anymore.

Only a soft, guttural sound left his maw. A hum. Not quite a growl. Not hunger. A soft whine. Nezuko didn’t move. But her lashes fluttered.

So Tanjirou tried again. He reached forward and, with both hands, gently cupped her face. His touch was warm. Clawed, but gentle. He pressed his forehead to hers—not hard, not desperate, just there. A tether. A quiet offering. His eyes closed.

Nezuko blinked. Once. Then slowly—almost imperceptibly—her fingers curled in the blankets.

The silence stretched. The air was thick with the scent of crushed wisteria, rice gone cold, and the faint smoky tang of a dream half-remembered: flame on a distant horizon. A train. A sword, blazing.

Tanjirou let out another low sound, deeper this time, vibrating in his chest. A rhythm like a lullaby.

Nezuko’s throat moved. She didn’t speak, but her hand rose. Shaking. She touched his wrist. A pause. Her fingers pressed tighter.

She was still crying—but now, her breathing changed. It hitched, broke, came in quiet sobs that shuddered through her frame. She buried her face in his familiar checkered haori and finally let it all fall out—Rengoku’s laughter, his fire, the weight of a name she couldn’t carry alone.

Tanjirou held her, silent, steady. A demon boy with no words, offering the only thing he had left. His presence. His warmth. His mourning, curled around hers like a flame refusing to die.

A month after Rengoku’s death, the sun rose without warmth. Nezuko sat curled in the engawa corridor, her eyes distant, unblinking. Her friends spoke around her. Tanjirou tried to get her to play with an abacus he had stolen from Kanae’s office, Zenitsu brought her sweet buns, and Inosuke shouted that she needed to “snap out of it already!” But it was like shouting into a void.

The grief was a fog she couldn’t claw her way out of. Her limbs wouldn’t move. Her breath came too shallow. Her chest ached like something had shattered inside her, and no Breathing technique could heal it.

The soft crunch of footsteps on gravel went unnoticed until a bright voice carried through the stillness.

"Nezuko-chan!"

Mitsuri Kanroji stood at the gate, hands clasped tightly before her, the sunlight catching on the tears in her lashes. She wore the uniform of a Hashira, but her face was open and gentle. Like spring had come to knock on the door of winter.

Kanae emerged from the garden, a calm smile touching her painted lips. “You’re here. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

Mitsuri bowed low. “I couldn’t stay away. He was my mentor. I loved him. And… he believed in her. In Nezuko-chan.”

She stepped closer, kneeling beside Nezuko on the wooden corridor. She didn’t speak at first, only placing a hand on Nezuko’s, warm and calloused from her own years of sword work. For a long time, nothing happened. Then—

Nezuko’s lip trembled.

“I wasn’t strong enough,” she whispered, the first words she’d spoken in days. “He was right there. And I couldn’t do anything.”

Mitsuri’s tears fell freely. “I know. I couldn’t do anything either. But Rengoku-san wouldn’t want you to stop moving. He saw so much in you, Nezuko-chan. I see it too.”

Nezuko finally looked at her. The dam broke, and she sobbed like a child. 

Mitsuri brought the younger girl into her arms, caressing her head and soothing her with soft hushes. “He was my big brother figure too. So let’s mourn him together. And then… let’s become strong enough that no one else we love has to fall like that again.”

The wind stirred through the courtyard, ruffling the grasses and tugging at the edge of Nezuko’s recovery pajamas like a whisper. She sat still, her shoulders hunched as though the weight of the world pressed down on them. Mitsuri hadn’t let go of her hand.

“I should’ve been the one to die,” Nezuko said quietly, her voice rough and low. “Not him.”

Mitsuri didn’t speak, only waited, heart open.

“I… I wasn’t fast enough. Strong enough. I let myself get stabbed. I couldn’t even stand by the end. I was just lying there while he fought alone. He was smiling, and I—” Her breath hitched. “I needed him to live.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks, hot and fast. “I’ve always needed someone like him. Someone strong. Someone who made me feel like I didn’t have to hold everything together. Like maybe… maybe it was okay to fall apart. Just a little.”

She looked down at her trembling hands.

“I couldn’t save my family... I didn’t even die with them. And after that, I kept thinking that if I just got stronger, if I just kept fighting, maybe I could make up for it. Maybe I’d be worth something.” Her voice cracked. “But I’m not. I wasn’t there when they needed me. Not then. Not now. I’m always too late.”

Mitsuri moved closer and gently pulled Nezuko into a hug.

“You were never too late,” she murmured into Nezuko’s hair. “You were just a girl. And you loved them. That love still lives inside you. That’s enough.”

Nezuko shook her head against Mitsuri’s shoulder. “I wanted Rengoku-san to live. I wanted him to keep laughing and eating and telling me that I was doing okay.”

Mitsuri’s arms tightened around her. “I know. I wanted that too.” 

Distantly, Nezuko felt as if Mitsuri’s heart was on her sleeves. Her hugs always felt incredibly sincere. She didn’t hide any part of herself away. Perhaps, someday, she could be just as authentic with her emotions too.

They sat there for a long time, the sound of cicadas humming in the trees around them.

After a while, Mitsuri pulled back just enough to cup Nezuko’s tear-stained face.

“He wouldn’t want you to carry this pain like it’s a punishment,” she said gently. “Rengoku-san believed in lighting a fire in others. Not guilt. Not shame. But purpose. If you loved him… then live in a way that honors him. Train because you want to protect, not because you hate yourself.”

Nezuko’s throat burned. “But what if I forget him?”

“You won’t,” Mitsuri whispered, smiling gently. “Because you’ll carry him with you. In your sword. In your breath. In your strength. Every time you choose kindness, every time you protect someone weaker—you’ll be keeping him alive. Like he used to say. Set your heart ablaze.”

Nezuko didn’t answer right away. Her body still shook. But she leaned into Mitsuri’s hold just a little more. Her hand traced over her chest, right where her heart was. Where the flame had been lit, and slowly, seemed to re-ignite itself.

“I don’t know if I can forgive myself,” she said.

“Then I’ll forgive you for now,” Mitsuri replied easily, her light voice cheerful and kind. “And one day, maybe you’ll learn to do it too.”

The Love hashira pulled away, raising her fists with an eager grin on her face. “Now, know what always makes me feel better? Food! Let’s go get some sakura mochi from the kitchen! I’m sure Aoi-chan has tea ready!”

The Kamado girl giggled softly, rising up slowly to follow her new mentor into the depths of the Butterfly Estate. 

The mochi they ate that day would be the best she had ever had.

That evening, the sky was dark and dotted silver, clouds stretched thin like memory.

Nezuko sat beneath the veranda, watching a pair of sparrows peck crumbs off the wood. She held her tea with both hands, but it had gone cold long ago.

Footsteps approached, soft at first, then clumsy.

Zenitsu flopped down beside her, holding two steaming sweet buns in one hand. “These are fresh. Thought maybe you’d want one.”

She looked at him. His eyes were puffy, his sleeves stained with tears from the night before. But he smiled anyway, that wobbly kind of smile meant for someone else’s sake.

“Thanks,” Nezuko whispered.

Inosuke crashed down on her other side, muttering about how boring it was when people didn’t scream or spar. But his boar mask was tipped up on his head, and his shoulder rested lightly against hers. He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to.

Tanjirou emerged from the hallway and crouched beside her, his expression soft and unsure. He reached out and rested his forehead against hers, a quiet apology in the gesture.

Nezuko didn’t cry again, not yet. But she let herself breathe, deep and slow.

It was enough, for now.

The next day, Mitsuri led her to the courtyard training grounds. The sun dappled through the trees, and the air smelled of early summer grass.

Nezuko stood in the center of the clearing, practice sword strapped to her back, her hair clean and combed through for the first time in days. She looked small under the weight of her own silence.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” Mitsuri said gently. “We’ll start small. Just breathing.”

Nezuko nodded. Her body was still sore—her stomach wrapped in fresh bandages—but she pressed a hand to her heart and inhaled.

Her breath hitched. Flame Breathing was different from what she’d trained in before. It required something deeper. Bolder. Rengoku had said it came from the soul, not just the lungs.

“Picture him,” Mitsuri said softly. “The way he’d shout encouragement. The way he believed in you.”

Nezuko shut her eyes… And there he was. Rengoku, laughing in the sunlight, haori flapping wildly as he declared she was blazing with potential!

She breathed in again. This time, the air caught fire in her chest. Not painfully. But like the sunrise.

A single motion. One step, one swing. Her blade carved the air with a flicker of heat. Not perfect. But a start.

Mitsuri smiled from the edge of the clearing, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “You’re doing it, Nezuko-chan.”

For the first time since the Mugen Train, Nezuko agreed with that. 

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I think I am.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 38.5: Cinders

The sky was gray when Nezuko arrived at the Rengoku estate.

A winter fog clung to the stone steps like breath that had forgotten how to leave. The iron gates groaned when she pushed them open. Her hand tightened on the silk-wrapped parcel at her side. Inside, nestled in black cloth, was Rengoku’s tsuba: flame-shaped, smoke-scarred, and warm.

She hadn’t come here right away. It had taken her days to find the courage. Even longer to walk the road.

The house loomed silent ahead, the same one where Rengoku had first met her with tea and too many rice balls, his laughter ringing like firelight in a cold room. Her chest ached. Every step closer made the world a little heavier.

She raised a hand to knock. The door was yanked open before her knuckles could land.

Shinjuro Rengoku stood in the frame, unshaven, robe askew. The sharp smell of sake wafted off him like heat. His hair, once as gold as his sons’, was now streaked with ash and unwashed sweat. His eyes were sunken, bloodshot.

“Oh,” he said flatly. “It’s you.”

Nezuko swallowed and bowed stiffly. She had always tiptoed around the man, especially when his grief had filled the house like a fog of poison. “I came to return something. This belongs to—”

“You’ve got nerve, girl.” His voice cracked like a whip. “Marching up here after letting my son die.”

The words hit harder than a fist. Nezuko froze.

“I trained him,” Shinjuro rasped. “I knew what that life would do. I told him to give it up. But he wouldn’t listen. Just like his mother.” His breath hitched. “Always had to be the hero. And now? Now he’s dust.”

“He wasn’t—” she began.

“Don’t,” he snapped, stepping forward. “Don’t you dare speak like you knew him. You’re a child with a sword. And you failed him.”

“I didn’t—”

“You watched him die.”

That made her step back. Something inside her recoiled—something raw and wounded. She had watched. She’d been broken, crushed, helpless on the ground while he held the line.

But—Rengoku-san smiled. He had said it wasn’t her fault. He had said to live.

She looked up, teeth grit. “I came to honor him.”

“Honor,” Shinjuro sneered. “What do you know about that? You and your kind don’t even know what Flame Breathing is. You’re all just copying scraps.”

She stiffened. “Rengoku-sensei didn’t think that.”

“He was naive,” Shinjuro snapped. “Too bright to see the cracks in everything. That sword guard—” He gestured to the bundle in her arms. “You think carrying it makes you worthy? We got his haori back, it was mine first, and now it’ll never rest on another Flame Hashira’s shoulders.”

“I didn’t keep it for me.” Her voice trembled. “I kept it because it was all I had left.”

Shinjuro’s eyes narrowed. Then his gaze snagged on the earring beneath her short cut hair.

He stepped closer, abruptly too close. His hand shot out—faster than expected for a man reeking of sake—and yanked her collar aside.

The hanafuda earring glittered in the foglight. His expression changed.

“Where did you get that?” His voice dropped.

“It was my father’s,” Nezuko said. “And my twin brother’s before—before he—” Her breath caught.

Shinjuro’s face twisted. “Sun Breathing,” he whispered. “So that’s what this is.”

She blinked. “You… Know it?”

“I know of it,” he said bitterly. “The first style. The perfect style. The one we all failed to live up to. Even Flame Breathing is just a poor imitation.”

“I don’t care,” she said, stepping back. “I’m not here for any of that.”

But his eyes were glassy now, and wild. “No wonder you survived when he didn’t. No wonder you shone brighter.”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t lie!” he roared. “He was a second sun. He should’ve been the one chosen. But he wasn’t, was he? Just a shadow next to you.”

Her hands clenched. “Stop it.”

“You carry the original,” Shinjuro spat. “And what did he get? A hero’s death. In a ditch.”

“SHUT UP!” she snapped, stepping forward now, shoulders squared. “He was more than you’ll ever understand. He saved people. He believed in them. In me. Even when I couldn’t believe in myself.”

Her breath shuddered. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see him smile while dying.”

Shinjuro flinched.

Nezuko’s voice dropped. “You’re the one who failed him.”

For a moment, nothing moved. Then Shinjuro lunged.

His fist came fast, but Nezuko blocked it with her forearm, her body instinctively anchoring. She didn’t strike back, not really—but she twisted, used his own weight against him, and kicked him stumbling back into the porch rail, which cracked beneath him.

He sat, stunned. Breathing heavily.

Her voice was quiet now. “I loved him too.”

The silence that followed wasn’t angry. Just hollow.

Then footsteps. Small, careful.

Senjuro stood at the edge of the porch, eyes wide with tears he hadn’t let fall. His arms were wrapped around himself, but he didn’t look away. He stepped past his father without a word.

Nezuko turned toward him, still shaking.

Senjuro bowed deeply. “Nezuko-san… thank you.”

She blinked.

“For returning it.” He reached for the cloth-wrapped tsuba, and she placed it carefully into his hands. “And for standing up for him. For saying what I couldn’t.”

A pause. He gently gestured to the inside, just as Shinjuro disappeared again into the depths of the mansion. Nezuko understood, and quietly followed her friend inside.

The low hum of the kettle’s whistle filled the small room where Nezuko and Senjuro sat across from each other, steam curling from delicate porcelain cups.

Outside, a brittle winter wind rattled the shutters, but inside was calm, a fragile refuge from the battlefield and bitter memories.

Senjuro’s hands trembled slightly as he lifted his cup, eyes distant. His golden hair fell loosely over his forehead, and the weight of his father’s legacy seemed to sit heavily on his shoulders. 

Senjuro had always looked like a Rengoku, with his thick brows and golden hair. But the ruby eyes were too soft, too gentle. They were decidedly not Rengoku's owl eyes. They held such deep anxiety within them.

“I’ve never told anyone this,” he began, voice low, “But my nichirin sword… it never changed color.”

Nezuko tilted her head, a soft crease of concern in her brow.

“When a demon slayer truly overcomes themselves, their blade reflects that,” Senjuro explained, “Usually our bloodline’s blades turn bright red or fiery orange. But mine… it’s stayed dull. Like ash.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “It feels like I failed. Like I’m not worthy to wear the Rengoku name.”

Nezuko set her cup down, reaching across the table to rest her hand lightly near his.

“Senjuro-kun,” she said gently, “Rengoku-sensei would never think that.”

Senjuro’s gaze flicked up, surprise flashing in his eyes.

“Before the fight… before he died,” Nezuko continued, “He told me something. He told me to tell you to be proud. Proud of who you are. Proud of your strength. He believed in you.”

Senjuro’s lips trembled, ruby eyes gleaming. For a moment, he looked like the brother Nezuko had loved like her own—the one who fought not just with fire, but with a heart too big for this world.

“I’m not sure I deserve that,” he whispered.

“You do,” Nezuko assured him.

A silence fell between them, comfortable now. Senjuro hesitated, then carefully lifted from the tatami mat to pull aside a door. Behind it was a haori hanging on a wooden rack, like some ancient relic in a museum.

The sun’s glow revealed the familiar flame-patterned haori—bright yellow and red, flickering like fire caught in cloth. Nezuko recognized it at once, heart pulling painfully.

“I should give this to you,” Senjuro said quietly, eyes on the haori. “You were Aniue’s tsuguko. You’ve carried his spirit and fought with his flame. You have more of a chance to become the next Flame Hashira than I do.”

Nezuko’s heart squeezed at the weight of the gift. She came closer, hesitating. But then she touched the haori’s fabric gently, reverent.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “But I can’t. Not yet.”

Senjuro blinked.

“I’m still learning,” she explained. “Still healing. And… I carry other flames inside me, ones I have to understand first.”

Senjuro nodded slowly, a small, understanding smile tugging at his lips.

“You don’t have to carry it now,” he said, “but someday, when you’re ready… it will be waiting.”

Nezuko smiled back, the warmth between them stronger than any flame. For the first time in a long while, hope flickered in the room, bright and steady as the rising sun.

As they finished the last of their tea, the soft clink of porcelain faded into silence. Senjuro sat across from Nezuko, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve, his expression distant in thought.

“You know,” he said suddenly, voice tinged with fondness, “Aniue didn’t learn all the forms of Flame Breathing from our father. After he became a Kanoe, he taught himself the rest.”

Nezuko perked up, her eyes brightening. “Taught himself? How?”

“There’s an old book,” Senjuro said, already rising to his feet. “Passed down by the previous Flame Hashira. A record of all the known forms, meditations, refinements—Aniue read it so many times, I thought he’d memorize it backwards.”

Nezuko stood as well, heart racing with curiosity. “Can I see it?”

Senjuro gave a small nod, vanishing into the next room. She waited, almost breathless, as the wind whispered against the paper screens.

But when Senjuro returned, his arms were full of… shreds. Loose pages. Torn edges. Scorched corners. What had once been a precious heirloom was now a ruin—only scraps and fragments remained, the spine bent and cover half-charred.

“I—I’m sorry,” Senjuro murmured, ashamed. “Father destroyed it after Aniue left for his final mission. Said it was full of lies. Said… none of it mattered anymore.”

Nezuko stared at the ruined book, devastation creeping across her face. Her hands curled into fists. Not from anger alone—but grief. Grief for what had been lost. For the knowledge Kyojuro had cherished. For the legacy Shinjuro had tried to burn away.

But Senjuro gently placed the broken book down, his voice steadier now. “Even if the pages are gone… I remember some of it. Aniue used to read aloud to me at night.”

Nezuko looked up at him slowly. And that flicker of flame—of hope—returned.

“Then we’ll write it again,” she said, her voice soft but fierce. “We’ll remember it together.”

Senjuro nodded, and for the first time that day, he smiled like his brother. Bright. And unbroken.

The fire had long since dimmed in the hearth. Only the faint orange embers remained, casting soft light across the old floorboards of the Rengoku home. Nezuko stood near the doorway, the ruined book wrapped gently in her arms like something sacred. Senjuro remained kneeling beside the hearth, staring into the glow.

There was a long pause before she spoke again—voice barely above a whisper.

“There’s something else he asked me to say,” Nezuko murmured, as though reciting from memory carved into the core of his being. “He wanted his father… to take care of his body.’”

It was a strange, half hearted voice she used. But her mind wandered. What if her father had been the same? Would he have gotten bitter over his failing body, if his sons became demon slayers despite his warnings of the consequences, the futility? 

She froze. Behind them, the wooden floor creaked.

Shinjuro stood in the shadows of the hallway, silent. His eyes were bloodshot, a bottle half-loosely hanging from one hand, though he hadn’t taken a drink in hours. Maybe longer.

Nezuko’s borrowed words from Kyojuro hung in the air like incense smoke—soft, clinging, holy.

Shinjuro’s breath hitched.

“That damn fool…” he rasped, throat raw. “Even at the end… he still…” He didn’t finish.

The bottle slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor with a hollow clink.

And then, at last, Shinjuro Rengoku sank to his knees.

His large hands came up to his stubbled face as the tears broke free—sudden and shuddering, like something had ruptured deep inside. He sobbed not like a man, but like a father who had forgotten how to grieve—who had buried his son not once, but a hundred times before he ever truly died.

“I was trying to protect him,” he choked. “Ngh... Kyojuro...!!"

Nezuko said nothing. She simply watched. And for once, did not look away.

Senjuro’s eyes welled, but he crawled to his father’s side without a word, pressing against him—not in forgiveness, not yet—but in presence. In the quiet truth that they were still here.

The haori remained displayed by the fire, its flames unmoving.

But something had shifted in the house. Not quite healing, but the possibility of it.

And outside, the snow began to fall. Silent. Steady. Unafraid to touch even the ruins of flame.

The sun was setting by the time Nezuko reached the Butterfly Estate.

The last of the light filtered through the trees in soft amber strands, gilding the rooftops and the plum blossoms that quivered in the evening breeze. Her steps were slow. Her sword weighed her hip, her hands dusty with travel, but her heart was heavier still.

She paused at the gate.

Somewhere beyond it, Kanao would be tending to the garden. Aoi would be nagging someone into taking their medicine. The air would smell of herbs, of healing, of rest.

But before she entered, Nezuko pulled a small book from her satchel. It was worn around the edges—scuffed, slightly singed—but it had survived the fire. A matching one had once belonged to Tanjirou. She hadn’t written in it for weeks.

Now she sat on the wooden step outside the gate, the lantern above her just beginning to flicker alight.

She opened the book, pressed her pencil to the page, and wrote.

Dear Onii-chan,

Today I returned Rengoku-sensei’s tsuba to his family.

I thought it would be simple. Just a promise kept. But it never is, is it?

His father yelled at me. He struck me. Called me a mistake. For a moment I hated him. Truly.

But then Senjuro reminded me Kyojuro’s final words weren’t about battle or glory.

They were about his father. About wanting him to live.

I don’t understand how someone so bright came from a man who was… so broken.

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe Rengoku-san saw the flame even in someone who had forgotten how to burn.

And now I wonder…

If you had been there, would you have forgiven him? Would you have tried to see the pain instead of just the anger?

Sometimes I think your kindness made you braver than me.

I wanted to scream at Shinjuro. Instead, I just watched him cry. And that hurt worse than anything he said.

I miss you. Every day.

But I think I’m starting to understand why you loved people the way you did. Even the ones who hurt you. Even the ones who turned away.

I’m trying. I don’t know if that’s enough. But I’m still trying.

Love,

Nezuko.

The page fluttered slightly as she closed the journal.

Somewhere inside, someone laughed softly. A window slid open. The scent of warm rice drifted toward her.

Nezuko stood, her legs a little steadier now. She stepped through the gate. The fireflies rose with her, blinking softly in the dusk.

Chapter Text

Chapter 39: The Sound of Falling Petals

The wind carried the smell of pine and thawing snow as Zenitsu adjusted the strap of his traveling pack for the fifth time. His kasugai sparrow, Chuntaro, pecked impatiently at his ear, squeaking something about being late again.

“I know, I know!” Zenitsu snapped, more at the ache in his chest than the bird. “But I didn’t get to say a real goodbye…”

“Oi. She’s coming,” Inosuke grunted, crouched on the fence like a gargoyle. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, despite the cold of winter. 

Nezuko stepped onto the path, her pink haori fluttering in the morning wind. Her expression was steady, but her eyes were ringed with the kind of tiredness that doesn’t come from lack of sleep. She had been quieter since the train. Still flame-bright, but flickering low.

Zenitsu immediately burst into tears.

“Nezuko-chaaan! You have to promise not to die while I’m gone! And don’t get kidnapped! And don’t lose your arm or eye or any more blood!”

Inosuke dropped down beside them and crossed his arms. “You’d better keep getting stronger while we’re gone. I don’t want to come back and find you’ve been slacking.”

“I won’t,” Nezuko said, smiling faintly. “You either. Watch each other’s backs.”

Zenitsu hiccupped. “We always do…”

Nezuko reached up and adjusted the folds of Zenitsu’s collar, then turned and did the same for Inosuke’s mask—who let her, even if he grumbled. Faintly, she felt his aura warm, like puffs of clouds dancing in the sky.

“Until next time,” she said.

Zenitsu looked back several times as they walked off toward the east. Inosuke didn’t. But he did pause once, when he thought no one saw, and thumped a closed fist to his chest.

Nezuko stood at the gate long after they’d gone, the wind tugging gently at her sleeves. She wasn’t alone. Kanao stepped beside her, silent.

“You’re ready,” Kanao said, after a while.

Nezuko didn’t answer right away. Her hand drifted up to her hanafuda earring, recalling the dream Tanjirou’s smile– human, warm. What she had to bring back.

“I have to be,” she said.

The Butterfly Estate shimmered with early spring quiet, the garden still dozing beneath stubborn, brittle frost. In the shade of the veranda, Kanao watched the ripples in the koi pond break and reform, a rhythm steady enough to calm her thoughts. Somewhere inside, Aoi’s voice floated faintly through the shoji screen, scolding someone—or maybe humming.

Peace never lasted.

BOOM.

The front gate slammed open like thunder, followed by a voice that didn’t belong anywhere near a place meant for healing.

“Oi, insect girls!! Come out! I’m taking the prettiest girls in this house with me—*this is your lucky day!”

Kanao flinched. Nezuko was already storming down the hall, haori trailing like the tail of a meteor. Her footfalls were heavy, deliberate, an unspoken warning in every step.

Kanao followed silently, wringing her hands.

At the estate’s gate, chaos was already unfolding.

Sumi was clinging to one of Uzui’s enormous arms like a barnacle, kicking her little legs wildly and yelling, “Let her go, muscle-face!!”

Naho had thrown herself in front of Aoi like a tiny bodyguard, arms outstretched, while Kaho stood behind them with a ladle raised like a weapon. The three girls trembled with fury, completely undeterred by the man towering over them.

Aoi, red-faced and stiff as a board, had her wrist half-trapped in Uzui’s grip. She looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

“Come on, now,” Uzui drawled, clearly amused despite the racket. “You’re all just making this more difficult than it needs to be. I need girls for a very important mission. Think of the honor!”

“Let her go!!” Sumi wailed.

“You said you were a festival god, not a kidnapper!” Naho snapped, baring her teeth.

Then— “I knew I heard nonsense.”

The voice cut through the scuffle like a blade.

Uzui turned. The triplets paused. Aoi’s eyes widened with sudden hope.

Nezuko stood on the engawa, arms crossed, eyes storm-dark. Her haori stirred slightly in the breeze, hair loose around her ears, sword at her hip. She stepped down slowly, each footfall deliberate, expression like solar storms barely leashed.

At the gate stood a man dressed like a festival had exploded onto him—gold armbands, gemstones glittering in his headband, and a flamboyant tattoo over one eye. He grinned down at her, cocky as ever.

“You know me!” he boomed. “Uzui Tengen, Sound Hashira and God of Festivals. And you’re about to be honored with a very flashy mission.”

Nezuko didn’t blink. “Try again.”

He paused mid-pose. “…Haw?”

“Try again,” she said, stepping forward, “But without the part where you barge into a private estate and start demanding ‘pretty girls’ while terrifying the local children.”

Uzui clicked his tongue, withdrawing his hand from Aoi’s wrist. “Tch. Alright, alright. No need to be so grouchy about it. There’s a demon—or several—in Yoshiwara. I had three kunoichi planted in the district as spies. They’ve gone dark. I need infiltration, not brute force.”

“And you thought kidnapping little girls was the solution?”

“Hashira privilege,” he said without remorse. “Also, you’re the Flame girl, right? Rengoku’s tsuguko?”

Her mouth twitched. Something sharp and sorrowful flickered behind her eyes. “Yeah. So?”

Uzui’s tone softened slightly. “He was a good man. He’d want his legacy carried on. So—if you’re up for it—come with me.”

Nezuko’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’ll decide who goes with me. Not you.”

He raised a brow. “Bold of you to assume you’re coming.”

“You said it yourself—you need infiltration. Not brute force. And I’m not about to stand here while you drag off some girl who hasn’t picked up a sword since the Selection.”

Aoi yelped mid-escape, only to freeze when Uzui’s gaze flicked to her.

He smiled, a touch too easily. “You’ll do just fine. C’mon, brat–”

“No, she won’t,” said Kanao, stepping forward like a falling blossom—quiet, steady, unshakable. “She’s not going.”

Uzui turned, clearly amused. “You gonna stop me?”

Nezuko stepped beside her.

She said nothing at first. Just let her fingers slide to her sword’s hilt.

“Together,” she said.

A beat passed.

Then Uzui laughed. “You girls have got guts. Good. Fine. You choose. Come to the eastern rendezvous point at dusk—you, and whoever you think is up to it.”

Nezuko nodded. “I’ll bring Kanao. And Aoi-chan, if she agrees.”

His eyes gleamed. “I already have another girl to join us. Don’t be late.”

With a dramatic spin of his large form and a clap of his hands, he turned, walking off with the flash and noise of a parade, then vanished in a flash, leaving behind fragments of confetti.

As the dust settled, Aoi set down the tray on the engawa with trembling hands.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” she whispered. “But I want to help.”

“You’re not a burden,” Kanao said softly. “You’re our friend.”

And Nezuko, who still felt Rengoku’s absence burning in her chest like a hollow flame, only looked at the place where Uzui had stood and said, 

“Then let’s meet whoever he thinks is so useful. If we don’t like her—we can always leave her behind.”

Aoi resisted the urge to snort, covering her mouth with one hand. Nezuko just smiled broadly. 

The Wisteria House perched just off the main road like a quiet ember waiting to be stoked. Its painted shutters were closed against the winter dusk, but the lanterns inside glowed warm, flickering against the paper windows like watching eyes.

Nezuko, Kanao, and Aoi arrived just as the last light left the sky.

Uzui was already there, sprawled on a cushion with the relaxed air of someone who'd never been told “no” in his life. He slurped his tea and made no effort to stand when they entered.

“Took you long enough,” he said, voice smooth. “At least you’re presentable.”

Nezuko gave him a look. “We brought Aoi. She's willing.”

“Only because I made her stay,” Kanao muttered under her breath.

Uzui ignored them both and waved lazily toward the map unfurled on the low table before him. “Yoshiwara. Demon territory after sunset. My three wives—Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru—were embedded there to gather intel. It’s been weeks. Nothing.”

“Your wives?” Aoi echoed. Her hands were still tucked neatly in her lap, but her voice was rising like a brewing storm. “You married three agents and sent them into the district alone?”

“They’re kunoichi,” Uzui replied coolly. “Trained for this. Besides, who better to know what I need in a mission partner than a woman I married?”

“That’s insane,” Aoi snapped. “They’re not tools for your convenience! What if they’re hurt? Or dead?”

“Then I’ll retrieve their bones,” Uzui said, without a hint of irony. “But I don’t believe they’re gone. Not yet.”

Before anyone could respond, the side door slammed open, and a girl strode in with all the grace and fury of a firework mid-burst.

She couldn’t have been much older than Nezuko, but she carried herself like someone who'd already buried a hundred regrets. Her white hair was pinned up with red ribbons, and her haori—lavender, embroidered with sakura petals—was worn half-off her shoulder. A sword gleamed at her hip.

“Oi!” she barked. “Don’t sass my master, okay?! He’s risking his life to save people!”

Everyone stared, dumbfounded by the strange polarity of the girl's beauty and brash attitude.

Uzui gestured to her with a smug little flourish. “This is Ume. One of mine. Been on recon for the past week. Has the attitude of a badger and the bite of one too.”

“I’m a demon slayer, not a mascot!” Ume snapped, storming in and plopping down beside the map with folded arms. “And I told you I don’t need an escort. I was doing just fine.”

“You were nearly discovered last night,” Uzui said smoothly.

Ume flinched. “I wasn’t—! They almost saw me, that’s all.”

Nezuko stepped forward, eyes narrowed, scanning Ume's aura out of instinct. It was a swirl of sharp purple irritation wrapped around something raw and earnest, like a scraped knee covered by a brave face. She was hiding pain—but not lying.

“Then we’ll back you up,” Nezuko announced, calm but firm. “We’re not here to compete.”

Ume blinked at her. “Huh.”

Kanao, quiet beside her, leaned in close and whispered, “I like her. She’s loud like you, Aoi.”

“I heard that,” Ume muttered.

Uzui grinned. “Perfect. Then it’s settled. You infiltrate as workers at three of the highest-ranking Oiran houses. Find out what happened to my wives. Eliminate any demons you find. Don’t die.”

Aoi raised her hand, face pale. “I-I don’t know how to be an Oiran.”

“Just act like you’re the most important person in the room,” Ume said. “It’s not that hard.”

“She’s not wrong,” Uzui added, already gathering his things. “We leave at first light. Sleep while you can. You’re going to need it.”

As he swept out the door with theatrical flare, Ume lingered for a second longer.

Then, a little softer, she looked over her shoulder at Nezuko and said, “…I’m glad you came. Even if you’re the weirdest girl I have ever met.”

Nezuko smiled. “You’ll get used to me.”

Interlude ~ Now It’s Time for a Taisho Era Secret!

Tanjirou Kamado’s Dreams

He didn’t remember falling asleep.

Only the sensation of sinking, slowly, as if the world beneath the futon had gone soft—like ash underfoot—and then he was standing in a field of heat-hazed grass beneath a sun that pulsed red like a wound. The sky was low and humming. The earth trembled with distant footfalls.

Something was coming.

The mist parted. It was Nezuko. But not the one he knew.

She was huge. Towering. Her shoulders broad enough to blot out the moonlight, arms corded with muscle that flexed like living rope. The sleeves of her haori had torn clean off, and her braid whipped behind her like a battle flag. Fire glinted along the edge of her grin.

In one hand, she held a demon by the neck. In the other—his muzzle. His muzzle.

“Onii-chan,” she breathed, with terrifying sweetness, “I will protect you~!”

Then, with a casual toss, she flung Muzan—Muzan, the beginning of all their suffering—into the heart of an erupting volcano. The sky bled flame.

Tanjirou screamed.

He awoke with a strangled noise, clawed fingers digging deep into the tatami, eyes wide and wild. His own muzzle had slipped crooked against his face, and breath came too fast to control.

He turned. Nezuko slept beside him, curled on her side like a cat, cheek soft against the blanket.

Small. Warm. Normal-sized. Not lifting anyone into the sky. Her arms, slender. No sudden muscles. No glowing volcanoes.

She blinked awake, confused. “Tanjirou?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. He only reached out and gently, solemnly, stroked her chin. Once. Twice. Just to be sure.

She stared at him.

“…Are you okay?” she asked, slowly.

He gave her a look of wonder. Then tucked the blanket up around her shoulders like she might dissolve if left unattended.

She sighed, baffled, and closed her eyes again.

He lay back down, gaze on the ceiling, heart pounding. And somewhere in the cavern of his mind, a volcano still smoked.

Chapter Text

Chapter 40: Red Light

The red lights of Yoshiwara bloomed against the night like fireflies trapped in glass.

Nezuko stepped into the pleasure district and felt her breath catch. It wasn’t just the color—the lanterns swaying on every corner, the flutter of silken sleeves, the powdered faces and painted smiles—but the energy. Music spilled from behind closed doors. Perfumed smoke curled through the air like beckoning fingers. Every inch of the city pulsed with life so vibrant it nearly drowned out everything else.

Kanao drifted beside her, eyes wide, lips parted in silent awe. Aoi was even worse, pulled one way by the music, the other by the food stalls.

“This place is a sensory nightmare,” Aoi muttered, staring at a candy sculptor twisting molten sugar into a butterfly. “I think I hate it.”

“You look like you’re going to pass out,” Nezuko whispered.

“I just might.”

Uzui’s voice boomed behind them. “Focus, girls!”

They turned in unison—well, wobbled in unison. All three of them had been shoved into the most obscene disguises imaginable: thick white makeup, lips painted like red flower petals, exaggerated eyebrows, enough blush to smother a boar. Ribbons trailed from their hair like parade streamers.

“I look like a festival float,” Aoi hissed.

“You look fine,” Uzui said, waving off their distress. “Besides, you’re supposed to stand out. That’s the point.”

“We’re infiltrating a demon’s den, not hosting a parade,” Kanao muttered under her breath.

Nezuko barely heard her. She was too busy fighting to keep her balance in the high sandals.

The crowd parted just ahead of them, and Nezuko saw her.

Warabehime-oiran.

She moved like water made of silk—hair piled high, kimono so rich it could’ve bought a city, makeup flawless and terrifying. Her eyes—rimmed in kohl and narrowed like a cat’s—scanned the street with slow, deliberate disinterest…until they landed on them.

Her mouth twitched. She broke character just enough to smirk, hidden behind a raised sleeve.

“You’re late,” she purred, her voice higher, practiced, almost mocking. “And gaudy. Good gods, Uzui-san, what did you do to them?”

“You should’ve seen what I did to myself,” Uzui quipped. “But I didn’t want to outshine them.”

Ume—no, Warabehime—stepped close to Nezuko, lifting a pale hand to inspect the obscene bow hanging from the front of her wig.

“You look like a cursed doll,” she whispered with a snort.

Nezuko, blushing furiously beneath the makeup, muttered, “I feel like one.”

Aoi, behind her, groaned. “Can we please go home now?”

“No time,” Warabehime said. “I’ve pulled some strings. Nezuko comes with me to Tokime House. The other two go to House Kyogoku and House Kiyohime. Don’t worry. They’re all crawling with secrets. You’ll have plenty to do.”

“And if we get caught?” Kanao asked, ever practical.

“Smile. Bow. Act stupid. It’s what men expect,” Ume said flatly.

She turned back toward the glowing mouth of her oiran house, lifting her chin as she slid back into character.

“Come, Nezuko-chan. Let’s paint your name in red across this city.”

Nezuko followed, the scent of incense thick in her throat, ribbons swaying behind her like she belonged here. Like a moth walking straight into the flame.

Nezuko stumbled through the back hall of Tokime House, her hands gripping the long sleeve of her kimono. The soft rustle of fabric echoed as the walls seemed to close in on her. Despite Ume’s efforts to help her blend in, it didn’t stop the uncomfortable twinge at the back of her neck.

( The city is full of so many colors. I can barely seek out the demon’s energy like this .)

The overpowering scent of perfumes and incense mixed with something sharper—a faint, almost metallic tang that made her stomach churn. 

But her thoughts were abruptly cut off when she was pulled sharply backward by her hair.

“Aren’t you a sight,” the woman behind her hissed, her grip tight in Nezuko's dark strands. The woman had a sharp, angular face and eyes that seemed to pierce straight through Nezuko’s makeup.

“Don’t touch it.” Nezuko bit back the words, though she felt the familiar, burning sting of her scarred forehead. Her left hand—calloused from years of hard work—stuck awkwardly at her side. She couldn’t hide the roughness. 

( Why couldn’t they just let me be? )

“You think you’re going to hide your scars from the clients?” The woman mocked, pulling Nezuko’s hair a little more, forcing her to face the mirrors that lined the room. “Your forehead looks like a demon’s mark. And your hands are so thick, like a boy’s hands—from what—chopping wood?” She sneered.

Nezuko forced herself to meet the woman’s gaze, refusing to flinch. “It’s none of your business.”

The woman tutted. “That’s what I thought. Pretty face or not, you’ve got a lot to learn before you become something worth showing off. If I catch you trying to show that scar again, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

Nezuko didn’t say another word. She knew there was no use in arguing, not here, not now. Instead, she let the woman push her back into place, adjusting her hair and kimono with a rough hand.

Nezuko’s gaze flickered to her reflection in the mirror. Her forehead—her scar—stood out against the thick layers of white powder. She could see the faint outline of the vine-like pattern on her skin just beneath the makeup, and the calluses on her hands seemed like glaring imperfections.

But she didn’t belong here. Not yet.

Meanwhile, in House Kyogoku...

Aoi’s eyes narrowed as she carefully adjusted the thin layer of makeup on her face, trying to ignore the feeling of complete discomfort. The owners were all too eager to make her “presentable”—but none of them seemed to understand how wrong it all felt.

Her kimono was too tight, her body stiff with the unfamiliarity of the fabric. The painted layers of makeup left a strange weight on her skin, one she wasn’t accustomed to. The whole house was decorated lavishly, with lacquered walls and the distant hum of conversation. But her head spun as she tried to force herself to fit into this strange world.

“Make sure you smile, Aoi-chan. The customers love a sweet girl who doesn’t seem like she’s trying too hard,” One of the older women instructed, sweeping Aoi’s bangs back with a skilled hand.

Aoi gave a tight, practiced smile. She was never good at smiling under pressure. Her instinct was always to snarl—to bite before anyone could get too close. That was her shield. Smiling in the face of adversity? That was Kanae’s thing. Kanao’s, too.

The quick temper, the loud voice, the refusal to yield—that belonged to her. And to Shinobu.

The thought struck hard, and grief settled in her stomach like a stone.

She glanced at the mirror. The makeup, thick and artificial like Nezuko’s, clung to her face like a second skin. A mask. Her reflection stared back, eyes too wide, too bright with nerves. She didn’t look like herself.

She wasn’t a courtesan. She wasn’t a toy to be paraded or dressed up. But here, she had to pretend. Pretend she belonged in this world of silks and secrets. Pretend she wasn’t afraid.

Back to Tokime House...

Nezuko paced the small room, fists clenched at her sides.

( They want me to be someone else .)

The air was heavy with incense, thick and cloying, curling through her lungs like smoke. Laughter and shamisen music drifted in from beyond the sliding doors—too bright, too loud. Too false.

Her bare feet padded against the floorboards as she moved. Everything in this house was beautiful and wrong. Layers of silk and sweetness laid over something rotting.

This place was full of secrets. Full of people pretending to be something they weren’t. She’d done that once.

Growing up, she had to wear softness like armor—bow quietly, speak gently, smile just enough to make up for her brother’s mischief. Her brothers got scraped knees and shouted with the wind; while she got ribbons in her hair and praise when she held back her frustrated tears. The world had made it clear: there was one right way to be a girl. And Nezuko had learned to swallow herself to survive it.

Now, all these years later, she was back in that skin. Painted lips. Painted eyes. A courtesan’s illusion draped over her like a costume that didn’t fit. Only now, it was worse. Because this time, she knew who she was beneath it.

Her hand trembled, fingers brushing the faint ridge of her scar beneath the makeup. The mark was still there, hidden under powder and color—but real. Earned. Unlike this.

Nezuko stared at her reflection, jaw tight. She had no desire to be something she wasn’t.

“Nezuko-chan,” a voice broke through the thick silence, and Nezuko turned to see Ume standing at the door, her gaze soft but still carrying that playful edge. She stepped into the room, her kimono swaying with each movement, her eyes catching the faintest trace of sympathy.

“You look lost,” Ume said quietly, her voice softer than it had been before.

Nezuko looked down, feeling the weight of the makeup press down on her. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Then don’t,” Ume replied, grinning. “You don’t have to be perfect here. In fact, it’s better if you’re not perfect.” She walked toward Nezuko, offering a hand. 

“You’ll find your rhythm. In your own way.”

Nezuko’s heart lightened, just a little. Maybe it wasn’t all about fitting in...

Ume pulled her toward the door, the sounds of the district growing louder as they entered the bustling halls of Tokime House.

“There’s a time and place for everything,” Ume said. “For now, just keep your head low. The job is simple—observe, listen. Don’t let the makeup fool you. People here aren’t who they seem to be either.”

Nezuko nodded, her face still burning from the weight of the makeup. But Ume was right. She didn’t have to fit in to survive. Not here.

Meanwhile, in House Kiyohime...

Kanao’s fingers brushed the strings of the shamisen, the sharp, sweet melody filling the air. She played effortlessly, the practiced motions smooth and natural, and the younger assistants at the house gathered around her, wide-eyed in admiration.

They hadn’t expected her to play so beautifully. She was the quiet one, the girl who seemed to never utter a word, who had always kept to herself. But when her fingers danced over the shamisen’s strings, it was as if the world paused to listen. They sat in reverence, the notes of the music ringing in their ears as if they were waiting for the sound to wash away their worries.

Kanao allowed herself a rare, fleeting smile, watching their reactions. 

( They don’t know who I really am ,) she thought, her hands still moving gracefully over the instrument, producing sounds that seemed to echo through her very bones.

But as the song finished, the feeling of accomplishment began to fade. She set the shamisen down with a soft thud, the smile on her face slipping into something more neutral, controlled. The assistants were already talking among themselves, chattering about her talent, but Kanao was no longer paying attention.

She turned away from them, retreating to the corner of the room. The walls felt too close, too suffocating. Kanao's mask was slipping. She could feel the part of her that had been trained to be a doll, incapable of decision, incapable of standing out. The girl who was too quiet, too gentle, too much like the others.

Her hands folded into her lap, and she felt her heart beating faster, as if it were trying to remind her that she was still alive beneath the surface. Don’t forget to be brave , Nezuko’s voice echoed in her mind, like a quiet flame, urging her to hold onto something that wasn’t simply obedient, something that wasn’t just useful.

Follow your heart, Kanao-chan!

Kanao closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. For just a moment, she let herself imagine what it might feel like to break free. To make a choice, to do something without thinking. She had spent so many years buried under the expectations of others, playing the role of the dutiful, silent girl. But Nezuko had asked her to be more. To be braver.

She clenched her hands into fists.

( I’ll find my way. I will. )

She stood up, her movements slow and deliberate as she readied herself to step out into the house once more, this time with her resolve firm. Even here, in this gilded cage, she could still make a choice.

Meanwhile, in House Kyogoku...

Aoi’s heart pounded in her chest as she moved through the house, her fingers fumbling with the layers of her kimono. The air felt too thick here, suffocating her with every breath. She had barely adjusted to the unbearable weight of her disguise when an unsettling feeling crawled up her spine.

It started as a faint whisper in the back of her mind. A prickling sensation. A sense of wrongness.

Aoi’s hands froze, the sensation intensifying as she slowly, cautiously, moved through the corridor. Her eyes darted over her surroundings, and the familiar faces of the other girls seemed distant, their conversations lost in a haze of muffled sounds. But she felt it—something lurking just beyond her vision, something unnatural, something that didn’t belong in the warmth of the house.

( I’ve felt this before ,) she thought. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. It was a presence she couldn’t quite place, but it was unmistakable. 

A demon.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her pulse thundered in her ears. The instinct to run, to escape, surged in her chest. But she was trapped, and the fear that gripped her made her feel like a coward. I’m supposed to be brave. I’m supposed to protect them.

But all Aoi could feel was terror, the sense of the demon's eyes boring into her, watching from the shadows. Her legs felt weak, her mind clouded with a paralyzing fear that gnawed at her insides. 

( I’m not strong enough .)

And then she heard it. The faintest rustle in the walls, a scraping sound, followed by an eerie silence. The demon was close—too close.

Aoi’s heart pounded louder, but she didn’t move. Her hands trembled at her sides. ( I have to act. I have to do something. )

But all she could do was freeze. The terror had taken hold, suffocating her. ( I can’t. I’m not ready for this .)

The rustling continued, the demon moving swiftly through the walls, evading her grasp. Aoi’s eyes burned with unshed tears as she clutched the edges of her kimono, rooted to the spot.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the sensation faded. The demon was gone. But Aoi stood there, unmoving, her heart still racing in her chest.

She had done nothing. She had let it slip away.

( I’m weak, ) she thought, her stomach turning with the weight of her own fear. ( I failed .)

Chapter Text

Chapter 41: Butterfly in a Cage

Nezuko moved fluidly through the house, her body falling naturally into the rhythm of the tasks. She swept and dusted with ease, carrying the heavy packages from the storeroom, sweeping the floors as if it were second nature. It was as though she had returned to a simpler time in her life, when all she needed to focus on was the well-being of the house, the meals prepared, the cleanliness that filled the air.

She wiped down the ornate vases, their glossy surfaces reflecting the dim light of the room, and she marveled at how the same tactile tasks that once comforted her had returned here, in this unfamiliar setting. The delicate artwork hung on the walls, priceless paintings of landscape and lore, their colors bold and vibrant. Nezuko couldn’t help but smile as she dusted around them carefully, knowing she wasn’t to disturb them in any way. It felt almost like being back home, where she worked tirelessly to keep their small hut organized, the weight of responsibility heavy but grounding.

She paused in the middle of cleaning, staring out of the window. The daylight had shifted, casting shadows that seemed far too distant for comfort. The faint breeze rustled through the curtains, bringing the soft scent of tea from the next room.

After a few more moments, Nezuko finished her work and made her way to the sitting area, where Ume, or Warabehime-oiran, was already sitting gracefully, the vibrant colors of her oiran kimono almost as blinding as the beauty of her refined movements. She looked every bit the part of the extravagant, yet distant, elite, but there was something behind her eyes—something deeper, more searching.

Nezuko felt it as soon as she stepped into the room, but she didn't say anything. Ume's posture was impeccable, but Nezuko noticed the subtle tightness in her shoulders, the way her gaze flickered to the door before returning to her.

Nezuko sat down beside her, folding her legs beneath her as she carefully poured tea into both of their cups. There was a silence between them, thick with unspoken understanding.

Ume took a delicate sip, her eyes downcast as the steam curled upward. Then, after a long pause, her voice was soft but filled with a weight that Nezuko could feel in her chest.

“You know... my brother, Gyutaro,” Ume began, her fingers tracing the edge of her cup. “He disappeared from this very district when we were small. We were just children, barely able to fend for ourselves. One day, he was just... gone.”

Nezuko’s brow furrowed, the gentle warmth of the tea in her hands grounding her, though the words lingered in the air like a storm. She wasn’t sure how to respond. 

There was something raw about the way Ume spoke—something that made Nezuko instinctively lean in closer, wanting to offer her comfort, though she knew she had no words that could alleviate the hurt.

Ume continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been searching for him ever since, trying to understand what happened to him... trying to find him, even though... even though I know he’s no longer the same.”

Nezuko’s gaze softened, and she set her cup down. So much loss, she thought. So much searching. She wondered how many people walked through this district, carrying the ghosts of loved ones they could never find. 

But the truth was, Ume’s brother hadn’t simply disappeared. He’d become something else—something terrible, something Nezuko could only understand through her own experience with demons.

“Gyutaro was everything to me,” Ume continued, her eyes distant now, lost in the depths of a memory that was not easily forgotten. “But the Yoshiwara is dangerous, Nezuko. Not just for you or for me... for anyone who comes here, looking for someone or something they’ve lost.”

Nezuko nodded slowly, understanding more than Ume could know. The weight of being lost, of trying to find something in the dark... She knew it too well.

“Do you want help finding him?” Nezuko asked, her voice steady, though her heart clenched with empathy.

Ume paused, as though the question had caught her off guard, but then she gave a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "I don't know if help can find him. But... if you're willing, we can search together. It’s always easier to search with others. Even when we’re not sure if there’s anything left to find.”

Nezuko didn’t hesitate. “We’ll find him. I promise you.”

There was a quiet moment, a promise that neither of them had fully made yet, but one that seemed to hang in the air between them, like the soft fragrance of the tea.

Aoi had not expected kindness here.

She had braced herself for cold indifference, harsh words, and the biting loneliness of pretending to be someone she wasn’t. But amid the dizzying perfume, echoing laughter, and paper-thin walls of her assigned house, there was one place she could breathe.

Koinatsu-oiran.

The oiran of the house was breathtaking in the way a summer wind through tall grass was—elegant without effort, soft-spoken but unwavering. She had taken notice of Aoi almost immediately—not just her beauty or the way she flinched when people shouted, but the discipline in her hands, the way she kept moving even when she was clearly exhausted.

"You work hard," Koinatsu had said one evening, pausing on her way back from the evening procession. Her painted lips curled into a gentle smile. "But you don't seem to know how to rest."

Aoi had blinked, too startled to respond. No one ever said things like that to her. Not since… not since those old days with her family.

It wasn’t just the softness of her voice, or the way Koinatsu tilted her head when she spoke—it was her eyes. Warm and sorrowful. Full of something that had endured loss and chose gentleness anyway. For the first time in weeks, Aoi allowed herself to let her guard down, just a little.

They had tea together after that, sometimes in the early mornings before the house stirred to life. Other times, in the quiet lull between chores and dinner. Koinatsu would hum old songs, her voice like smoke drifting over hot coals, and Aoi would just listen, drawn to the quiet comfort she offered so easily.

One day, after a particularly exhausting afternoon of carrying trays, dodging catcalls, and biting back the thrum of fear that still lingered in her gut, Aoi found a small wrapped bundle waiting for her in the corner of the kitchen.

Inside were five pastel-colored hard candies, glittering faintly like marbles kissed by starlight. Koinatsu appeared in the doorway a moment later, her smile playful.

“For you,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. “Magical courage-inducing candies. Very rare. Very expensive.”

Aoi looked down at them, then up at her, skeptical. “…Are they really magical?”

“Of course,” Koinatsu replied smoothly, sweeping into the room with the grace of a cat. “You’ll find that courage doesn’t always come from swords or shouting. Sometimes, it’s just a sweet thing melting on your tongue. And knowing someone believes in you.”

Aoi clutched the candies to her chest, trying to hide the way her eyes burned. Koinatsu reached out and smoothed a lock of her hair back, the gesture motherly in a way that cracked something open in Aoi’s chest.

“You remind me of someone I used to know,” Koinatsu said softly. “Brave girl. Quiet fire. Don’t let the fear swallow that flame, alright?”

Aoi nodded. She didn’t trust her voice.

Later that night, with the sounds of the city muffled by the paper walls, Aoi unwrapped one of the candies and let it rest on her tongue. It was sweet and tart—plum, maybe—with a warmth that unfurled slowly in her chest.

( I’ll be brave ,) she promised. ( Even if I’m scared .)

The hallway was dim, lantern light flickering along the shoji like ghost-fire. Aoi moved barefoot, silent as she could manage, every step straining to catch the faintest noise—the scrape, the rasp, the presence that had chilled her to the bone earlier that day.

She’d felt it again. Stronger this time. Close.

She turned the corner of the servant hall, only to find nothing. Just bare floorboards, still-warm air, the faint scent of incense clinging to her sleeves.

Aoi knelt, pressing a palm against the floor. Her fingers brushed something—dust displaced in a line, as though something had dragged across it and vanished. She followed it with her eyes until it stopped abruptly against the wall.

Her breath hitched.

There was nothing there. No door. No secret panel. Just wood and silence. As if the demon had melted into the walls again.

Her heart pounded, bitter with frustration. She had tried. She wanted to be brave. But the enemy was wily, and she was still just a girl who barely made it through Final Selection, who’d only picked up a sword because no one else had come back from that mountain alive.

The tears burned at the corners of her eyes again. But this time, she didn’t let them fall.

Instead, she slipped away, taking to the rooftop in search of something steadier.

The night air was cooler up here. The tiled roof beneath her sandals hummed with heat leftover from the day. The lights of Yoshiwara stretched on and on—golden and pink and flickering like stars made of fire instead of sky.

Nezuko was already waiting, legs crossed, arms resting on her knees as she stared up at the full moon.

She looked calm, but Aoi could tell her mind was moving. Always alert. Always watching.

Aoi sat down beside her without a word.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Just the low thrum of the pleasure district below them, and the way their shadows looked too long in the moonlight.

“I tried to follow it,” Aoi whispered at last. “The demon. I felt it. I know it was there.”

Nezuko turned to her, silently asking her to continue.

“But it disappeared into the walls again. I—I couldn’t keep up.” Her voice cracked. “I thought I could do it this time. I thought I could be brave.”

“You were brave,” Nezuko said, gently but firmly. “You went after it. Even when you were scared.”

Aoi swallowed hard. That tightness in her chest unraveled the moment Nezuko looked at her like that—like she believed her. Like she wasn’t a coward, wasn’t just a support girl who didn’t belong in the field. She wiped at her face quickly.

“I was useless today,” she muttered, trying to sound annoyed instead of ashamed. “Koinatsu-sama gave me these silly candies, said they’d give me courage.”

She dug into her sleeve and pulled one out, the wrapper crinkling softly in her palm. A warm plum-colored one.

Nezuko smiled as Aoi held it out. “You want me to have it?”

Aoi nodded, blinking fast. “Yeah. I mean… we’re all just scared kids with swords, right? Maybe we could both use some magical help.”

Nezuko laughed, the sound quiet and hoarse with affection. She took the candy, her fingers brushing Aoi’s.

“Thanks,” she said. “But I think you’re already stronger than you know.”

That was all it took. Aoi broke, just a little. Not sobbing, not unraveling—but her shoulders trembled, and a few tears slid down her cheeks before she could stop them.

Nezuko didn’t say anything. Just scooted closer, leaned against her, and together they sat in silence, two girls on a rooftop—trying to be brave, trying to be strong, trying to find something solid to stand on in a world full of shifting shadows.

Chapter Text

Chapter 42: Spirited Away

The house was too quiet.

A stillness clung to the air like fog, heavy and suffocating. Aoi felt it first, the eerie absence of laughter echoing down the halls, the muted shuffle of footsteps that normally brought life to the oiran quarters. The other girls huddled in pairs and trios, their whispers hushed, darting glances toward the upper floors where shadows pooled deeper than they should. By midday, the rumors began to ripple, dark and unkind.

“She must’ve run off with some rich man,” a girl whispered, her hands tightening around her sash like a talisman.

“No,” another countered, voice trembling. “I heard she drowned herself in the canal. Her poems always spoke of longing.”

“Don’t say that! She was so kind.” A pause, shivering with dread. “Maybe it’s the curse. The ghosts. That house isn’t normal.”

Aoi scrubbed at a teacup that was already clean, her fingers red and raw, trembling as her thoughts spiraled. She didn’t join the whispers, but inside, her heart screamed what her lips couldn’t.

Koinatsu hadn’t run. She’d been taken.

That night, Aoi perched on the roof with Nezuko and Kanao, her shoulders slumped beneath the weight of grief. The moonlight cast her features in stark relief, her eyes shadowed, her voice soft and uneven as she shared her story.

“She was kind,” Aoi murmured, clutching her knees to her chest. “Like a big sister. Like Shinobu. She sang to me when I couldn’t sleep. Brought me candies. She didn’t deserve to disappear.”

Nezuko’s fists clenched at her sides. Kanao said nothing, her head bowed, her lips a thin, bloodless line.

Then the rooftop door slammed open, and they all turned. Uzui stepped into the moonlight, his tall frame cutting a striking silhouette. The jewels that adorned him shimmered faintly, but the usual gleam in his eyes was gone.

“You’re all leaving,” he said, his voice low and cold.

The girls stared, uncomprehending.

“This mission was never meant for you,” Uzui continued, his jaw tight. “You’ve done enough. Risked enough. I’ll handle it from here.”

“No.” Nezuko’s defiance came swift and sharp.

“This isn’t up for debate,” Uzui snapped, but Aoi rose to her feet, her composure fraying.

“You brought us here,” she said, voice trembling. “We’re staying. You owe it to Koinatsu. To all the women here.”

Kanao stood too, her silence speaking louder than words.

Uzui looked at them—three girls who stood like soldiers, their knees shaking but unyielding. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, his gaze hardened.

“There’s something wrong with that house,” he admitted at last, his voice rough. “And I’ve started to wonder... What if the demon isn’t just hiding in the house? What if it’s one of the oiran?”

Aoi froze. “No,” she said too quickly, her voice cracking. “It wasn’t Koinatsu. She was—she was too kind!”

Uzui didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The silence weighed heavier than any accusation.

“Unless,” Kanao murmured, her voice soft and chilling, “that’s how it hides. By pretending to be kind.”

Nezuko’s eyes narrowed, her gaze flicking toward the quarters below, where golden light bled through the cracks in the shutters.

“Then it’s still here,” she said. “Watching.”

The oiran quarters glowed with soft lamplight, the air thick with incense and the scent of powdered skin. Ume stood on the veranda, her arms folded loosely, her gaze fixed on the rippling reflection of the moon in a stone basin below. Her makeup was still pristine—rouged cheeks, painted lips—but the mask she wore in the presence of others had slipped in the stillness.

Tonight, she had liked her customer.

He’d been kind, his hands rough with calluses but trembling as he cradled the tea she’d poured. He hadn’t leered or pulled at her sleeves. He’d asked for poetry, not her company.

“Thank you,” he had said, bowing low as he left. “You have a kind soul, Warabehime-sama.”

Her breath had caught, just for a moment.

Now, the veranda was quiet, too quiet. Ume frowned, turning toward the sliding screen. Where were his footsteps? The creak of floorboards came too quickly, not under the weight of a man but something else entirely.

“…Sir?” she called, sliding the screen open.

The walkway was empty. The lanterns swayed softly.

Then, from beneath her feet, a sound—a wet, rattling giggle, hoarse and childlike.

“He smelled too sweet,” the voice said. “You liked him, didn’t you?”

Ume’s blood turned to ice. She stared down at the polished boards, her chest tightening as the voice seeped through the cracks.

“No,” she whispered, barely audible.

The laughter came again, low and chilling. “Don’t worry. I didn’t break him. Yet.”

Her knees buckled. She caught herself on the doorframe, her breath shallow and uneven. ( That voice—it couldn’t be. Not here. Not now. )

But she already knew. He hadn’t disappeared.

He’d come home.

Chapter Text

Chapter 43: Moth to the Flame

Kanao walked the brothel’s upper halls alone, her thoughts tangled like silk threads snagged on a needle.

Ume’s laugh had lingered too long that morning. Light, gentle—like Koinatsu’s. Like Shinobu.

Too easy to trust. Too familiar. And yet…

( She wouldn’t betray us ,) Kanao thought. ( She’s one of us. )

( But her brother—if Nezuko was right—What if he’s a demon now? What if she’s protecting him? )

The thought twisted in her chest. Kanao clenched her fists, her sandals whispering along the floorboards. A draft touched her cheek. The scent of powder and wilted flowers drifted on the air. She didn’t like this hall. Too quiet. Too empty. Her nerves prickled.

No sound. No laughter from the girls. No pattering footsteps. No creak of doors.

Drip . She paused. Her head turned.

Drip. Drip .

She looked up. Something long and black-red clung to the ceiling beams, quivering like a leech. Kanao blinked—

It dropped.

A clawed hand shot through the floor in front of her, splintering wood like paper. She gasped, stumbling back. Another hand erupted from the wall behind—then a head.

A face of rot and madness. Eyes sunken, skin ashen and marred by disease, mouth split in a yellow grin.

“Pretty little flower,” Gyutaro rasped, emerging in halves, his spine coiling with the floor like a serpent. “You’re too soft to kill me.”

Kanao’s breath caught. Her hand hovered near her blade—but she didn’t draw.

( Ume’s brother. Gyutaro. This is her brother. He was human once. He was— )

A needle shot from his palm. She ducked—but not fast enough. It grazed her wrist, leaving a searing gash. Her legs faltered. The hallway swam.

Gyutaro slithered forward, grin widening. “That hurt?” he whispered, inches from her. “You’re slower than you look. I could eat you in one bite.”

Kanao swayed.

Shing .

Her sword was in her hand. She hadn’t thought—hadn’t moved. It had drawn itself. The blue and orange hilt glimmered in the lamplight. The blade shimmered faintly purple—etched with wisteria oil and Shinobu’s hand.

Gyutaro shrieked. The sound was inhuman, scraping the air like metal on glass. Smoke hissed from his skin where the blade had nicked him. He recoiled, slamming backward into the wall, eyes bulging with sudden panic.

“You—poison,” he spat, voice warbling. “You wretch—!”

Kanao raised the blade again, blood running down her arm.

“Go,” she whispered, not sure if she meant it as a warning or a plea.

Gyutaro didn’t wait. His body shattered into ribbons of shadow, vanishing through the floor like a curse sinking back to the underworld.

Kanao collapsed against the wall, shaking. Her wrist burned, and her breath came in gasps.

She looked down at the sword. Shinobu’s sword. The edge still gleamed faintly, slick with demonic blood. Kanao’s vision blurred. ( She saved me again .)

That was when she heard the scream. Not far—down the hall.

( Ume! ) She bolted upright, heart surging—and began to run.

The scream split the stillness. Not a performance, not flirtation—not a sound meant for attention. It was raw, cracked, tearing through the brothel like a blade through silk.

Nezuko dropped the lacquer tray she was carrying. Cups shattered at her feet.

She was already sprinting.

The hallway twisted in flickers of red lamplight, shadows too long, the walls too tight. That scream had come from Ume’s floor. Nezuko’s feet skidded on polished wood as she vaulted the stairs, heart hammering like a war drum.

The room was empty. The screen was torn from its tracks. The veranda was open. One geta sandal left behind. There was a smear of something red along the edge of the floorboards—but it wasn’t blood. It was black-red. Viscous. Wrong.

Nezuko’s stomach turned. Her eyes darted, searching. Her hands curled tight. That was when she heard it—another noise.

Not a scream. A gasp.

She turned, bolted down the corridor—and slammed into Kanao.

The girl stumbled, nearly falling, eyes wide with dazed panic. She clutched her left arm to her side, and sweat poured down her pale face in sheets. Her breathing was ragged.

“Kanao-chan!” Nezuko grabbed her by the shoulders. “What happened?!”

“I—he—” Kanao’s voice cracked, her pupils shrinking. “It—the demon—it tried to pull me down—through the floor—”

Nezuko’s eyes flared. “Gyutaro.”

Kanao nodded jerkily. “The floor moved like water. Needles. I saw them. I couldn’t breathe.”

Nezuko’s gaze darted to the dark wound trailing Kanao’s wrist—a burn-like cut, bleeding sluggishly. But clutched in her other hand was something far more important: a worn, butterfly-design-hilted blade. Shinobu’s.

There was blood smeared along its edge, hissing faintly where it touched the floor.

“I—I didn’t mean to draw it,” Kanao mumbled. “It just—it came out. I think it burned him. I think it scared him.”

Nezuko caught her breath. ( So that was it. That was why Ume-chan screamed and vanished. Gyutaro had struck once, failed—and tried again. And next time, he’ll succeed .)

Not unless they stopped him now.

“Kanao-chan,” Nezuko hissed, voice iron-hot and shaking, “I need you to get to Uzui-san. Now. Tell him everything.”

Kanao blinked, her breath evening out with Nezuko’s steadiness. She nodded, already turning.

Nezuko looked back at the shredded screen. Her pulse pounded. “I’m coming, Ume-chan.”

Uzui heard Kanao’s footsteps before her voice—ragged, frantic, too fast for a girl who always moved like falling snow.

“Uzui-san—!”

He turned, already halfway through binding his hair tighter, his massive swords slung over one shoulder. “What happened?” he barked.

“Warabehime—she screamed—there’s a demon—in the floors—he tried to pull me down—” Her words spilled out, jumbled, but clear enough for Uzui’s gut to go cold.

No hesitation. He moved. They followed the scent of poison first—Kanao’s trained senses picking it up faintly in the wisteria house floorboards, and Uzui tracing it with his instincts, honed like a predator’s.

A small wooden door, lacquered and forgotten, sat hidden beneath the tatami of a servant's storage room.

Uzui kicked it open. The air turned fetid. A tunnel sloped downward—steep and pulsing with sickly warmth. They descended fast, blades drawn, eyes burning in the dark.

And then—

“Hinatsuru!” Uzui’s voice broke.

The cavern burst open like a wound, lit by flickering blood-flames. His wives were there—bound in silk-vein tendrils, hung like dolls from the stone ceiling. Their faces were pale, their lips tinged blue. Poison bloomed under their skin like ink dropped in milk. Makio. Suma. Hinatsuru.

Uzui was moving before thinking. Slashing down the threads, catching them one by one. Kanao rushed to check pulses, breath, and eye movements. They were alive—but barely.

Nearby, Koinatsu-oiran also hung suspended. Kanao’s thoughts trailed to Aoi, to the pain in her face. Without hesitation, the half-demon girl cut the threads, laying the unconscious oiran down gently on the cave floor.

Uzui fumbled with his pack, hands slick with sweat, pulling out tiny glass bottles. Antidotes. Always on him. Always ready.

He worked fast, injecting each wife with shaking hands and murmuring between clenched teeth, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Makio stirred first, her brow furrowing. “You… idiot…” she rasped. “Took you long enough.”

Uzui let out a broken, strangled laugh. “Flashy as ever, my love.”

Just then, a squeak echoed from the shadows.

Two small, absurdly muscular mice darted in, each one dragging wrapped bundles taller than their bodies. Their arms quivered under the weight, but their resolve burned bright.

“Mission complete!” they squeaked. “Recovered Nezuko-sama, Aoi-sama, and Kanao-sama’s gear!”

Uzui took the swords and uniforms with a grateful nod, passing Kanao her blade with care.

His eyes darkened. The time for guilt was over. He stood tall, slipping on his headband, voice like thunder.

“Get them out of here,” he ordered the mice, nodding to the wives. “Guard them with your lives.”

Then, to Kanao, “Let’s finish this.”

And with a final glance toward the mouth of the tunnel, he dashed into the dark. The beat of war echoed in the cave walls, and Flame and Flower followed it into hell.

Nezuko burst through the paper door, blade drawn, breath sharp in her lungs. The scent of rot was thick now—no longer hidden. It oozed from the walls, from the seams between boards, from the blood-soaked corners where silence had once slept.

She kicked open the trapdoor beneath the floor. He was there. Gyutaro.

A crooked thing in the dark, all ribs and leer, hunched like a spider in the heart of his web. His eyes glinted—one lazy, one sharp—and his smile curled too far, like it had been carved into his face with something jagged.

“Ahaaaa,” he rasped, gurgling laughter echoing around them. “You’re prettier up close, even with that nasty scar. Kinda reminds me of her. My sister. Y’know, when she still had that baby face.”

Nezuko didn’t answer. She lunged. Their blades met in a screech of metal and flesh. Hers struck flame and steel. His—a blood sickle, curved and dripping with venom—clanged hard and fast.

The cavern walls collapsed in the chaos of their clash.

And Gyutaro—

—ran.

“Coward!” she spat, chasing him as he skittered up the shaft of the brothel’s spine, his body coiling like a serpent, dragging scraps of blood along with him.

He burst through the roof—and Nezuko followed.

And in the next instant—they were in the streets.

Yoshiwara glowed below them, loud and alive, its lanterns swaying over men with coin and women with painted eyes. Laughter spilled from tea houses, drunkards stumbled home, children lit sparklers in back alleys.

And Gyutaro laughed. “Oops,” he crooned. “Guess we’re out in public now, huh?”

Nezuko’s blood went cold.

He spun, flinging a sickle wide. It sang through the air—arcing down. A tile exploded. Screams rang out below.

Civilians fled as blood splashed across cobblestones—someone was hit, she couldn’t see who. Nezuko dove, intercepting the next blade with her own, fire clashing against poison. The buildings shuddered beneath them.

“Stop it!” she shouted. “Coward! Fight me—not them!”

But Gyutaro only cackled, licking blood from his fingers. “Why would I do that, huh? You chased me out here, not the other way around. You brought the war to them.”

His words hit like a gut punch.

Nezuko’s hands trembled. Not from fear—but rage. Shame. She’d flushed him out. She’d thought she was cornering him—but she’d opened the gates. Her scar pulsed beneath her skin.

The people below were running. Crying. Bleeding. And Gyutaro just kept laughing.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he hissed, twirling his sickles, “Let’s paint this district red together.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 44: Pitiful Humans

Nezuko stood still. Her chest rose and fell, slow and measured, as screams echoed from the streets below and blood steamed on the shattered roof tiles.

Gyutaro twirled his sickles, that crooked grin splitting his face again—but his eyes narrowed. Something was wrong.

The girl was no longer trembling.

“You’re not very flashy for someone who plays with fire,” he sneered, circling slowly. “Gonna cry again, little slayer? Boo-hoo, you failed to protect ’em. Wanna burn that grief away too?”

Nezuko didn’t answer. She took one step forward. Then another. Her hand clenched around the hilt of her blade, knuckles white with pressure.

“I didn’t fail them,” she whispered.

Gyutaro blinked.

Tears traced down her face—but they weren’t soft. They scorched. They glowed. They hissed against her skin like blood dripped on iron. Her breath shook once—then stilled.

And she disappeared. The tiles behind him cracked.

Gyutaro wheeled around just in time to parry her blade. The strike shrieked like metal splitting bone. Sparks burst from their weapons as they clashed again, and again, Nezuko hammering him with blow after blow.

She was relentless. Her form was feral, all tight turns and snapping movements, like a tiger dragging flame behind her claws. Every breath she denied herself made her faster—every heartbeat sharper. Her eyes glowed like lanterns in a burning fog.

The third strike nearly shattered his guard. The fourth grazed his pronounced ribs, searing a line through his flesh.

“You little—!” Gyutaro snarled, leaping backward, dragging a trail of blood across the rooftop.

He looked up just in time to see her leap. She came down like lightning, a blur of blade and fire. Her sword carved a glowing arc through the night, her feet crashing down to meet his. Gyutaro blocked with both sickles, his arms screaming with the force of it, knees buckling against the stone tiles.

“The hell are you?” he hissed.

That stance. That speed. That heat…

A memory not his own flared in the back of his skull: red hair like wildfire, sun-drenched skin, eyes like molten sorrow. The man Muzan could never kill. Yoriichi Tsugikuni, the breath of the sun turned to flesh. He saw him—not as himself, but overlaid across the girl’s form like a phantom shadow.

And in that moment, Gyutaro felt it. Raw, primal fear. He recoiled with a hiss, snarling, shaking the image out of his mind.

“Ohhh, I get it now,” he spat, blood dripping from his chin. “That’s why Lord Muzan wants your head so bad. You’re a little echo of that other pretty freak.”

He lunged. Fast and low, like a centipede snapping out of a corpse’s mouth, sickles gleaming in a wide arc. 

Nezuko blocked one—barely—but the second caught her shoulder, slicing deep, spraying blood in a blistered arc. She gasped but didn’t falter.

She twisted, hooked her leg around his, and slammed him into the tiles. They rolled. He kicked her off—she caught herself midair, rebounded off a crumbling beam, and launched again.

Their weapons clashed—over and over—the sound of war, steel, and burning breath ringing out across the night.

Nezuko wasn’t trying to be a hero. She wasn’t trying to prove anything. She was just trying to end it—fast. Before anyone else got hurt. Before her brother lost more of himself. Before another child bled out in the streets.

Gyutaro rose, wheezing now, and lashed out with a spinning sickle. It missed. She ducked under it, blade dragging across the rooftop in a sizzling trail of flame—and she drove forward with a scream-less fury.

The flames around her howled, where her voice could not.

Nezuko didn’t hear the city anymore.

Only the rush of blood pounding behind her eyes—louder than any scream. Her vision pulsed at the edges, a burning crimson tunnel. Every step, every strike, was a reflex now. She moved like fire on instinct, like a blade unsheathed too long to remember gentleness.

Her limbs were screaming. Her lungs were shriveling. But she refused to hear them. She would not breathe. She would finish this.

The flames around her flared too high, out of rhythm with her fading pulse. Heat blistered her skin. The cloth of her uniform began to burn at the edges, sparks crackling as if her body rejected its human shell.

Her arm—already torn at the shoulder—shuddered violently with each movement. The bone ground against itself with sickening friction.

But she gripped the sword tighter. ( One more strike. Just one. )

She lunged. But her blade caught only air.

And the world tilted. Her knees buckled. Her sword clattered against the rooftop. Pain surged up her spine like a whip-crack.

( No—! )

And then, through the static— She saw her.

“ Nezuko! ONEE-CHAN!! NEE-CHAN!! ” A voice—tiny and high and breaking.

Hanako. Her little sister’s face, full of terror, mouth trembling around the word like it physically hurt her to shout.

“ PLEASE, BREATHE!! BREATHE!!! ”

And Nezuko gasped. The air hit her like firewater down the throat—harsh and unrelenting. Her chest convulsed. Her hands curled like claws against the tiles. The heat that had kept her standing now backfired, erupting from her lungs in a wet, ragged cough.

Blood sprayed from her mouth. Blackened with soot. Choking her. Her whole body crumpled, too heavy, too raw. She couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe right.

And above her, something cast a shadow. A shape.

A voice, slick and mocking. “Awww, too bad, pretty girl—guess you’re not so scary after all—”

CRACK . A whip-crack—thicker, wetter, deeper.

Gyutaro’s head jerked sideways with a sound like a boulder splitting bone. Then—pop—his skull detached completely from his shoulders, spinning in midair. His body spasmed.

Something hit the tiles with a thundering boom.

Tanjirou.

He stood there, panting, smoke curling from his forehead like steam off a blood-hot forge. His face was wild—wrong. The muzzle hung broken around his throat, blackened by soot and flame. His eyes blazed like coals left too long in the pit—red, wide, and empty.

He was no longer a boy. He was something else.

His hair spilled loose, singed at the ends, whipping behind him in the wind. His jaw flexed—once, twice—but no words came. Only the sound of his breath, animal and hoarse. His feet touched the tiles beside Nezuko like thunder softened into grief.

He looked down at her—eyes flickering with something almost human. Something broken. And then turned back to Gyutaro’s twitching remains.

A sound tore from his throat—a deep, guttural scream. One not made for words. A cry from some old, unhealed wound. A howl of grief, of rage, of hunger.

The blood around him responded. It didn’t drip. It burned. The ground blackened beneath his feet. Fire curled from the tips of his fingers, licking his arms, his chest, his throat. His veins pulsed visibly beneath his skin, flaring with markings like molten chains.

But the fire wasn’t his alone.

It curled with Gyutaro’s poison. Muzan’s blood still laced his cells. And now, in the thick reek of Gyutaro’s presence, it twisted—contorted—amplified.

Tanjirou’s vision went scarlet. Everything bled into itself—rooftops, sky, faces, screams. He couldn’t tell friend from foe. The girl who’d cried for him was gone. The scent in his nose was meat. Blood. Rot.

And in front of him, Gyutaro’s body reformed—his severed head glistening, bubbling back together with obscene speed.

A second later, Tanjirou moved. It was like a thunderclap—his legs exploding beneath him, launching him forward with terrifying force. His claws wrapped around Gyutaro’s throat before the demon could blink.

“ Ghhkk— ” Gyutaro gagged, gurgling, sickles twitching in hand.

“Heh… So you’re the one our Lord told me about… The little traitor,” he coughed. “Lord Muzan’s gonna love—”

CRUNCH .

Tanjirou twisted. Gyutaro’s neck snapped like dry wood, his words cut off in a choking gargle.

The shriek Tanjirou let out in return wasn’t human. It was fire finding air. It was a soul cracking open.

His limbs were a blur, pounding Gyutaro into the rooftop, again, and again. Sparks flew with every strike. The demon thrashed, hissing, but Tanjirou didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His body had gone far past the line. Past thought. Past restraint. He was pain and fire and vengeance.

Gyutaro’s grin faltered—just for a second.

That face. That fury. He had seen it before. A memory—not Muzan’s—flashed behind his eyes.

Then it was gone. Because the boy he mocked was no longer a boy, and the fire that burned through him had only just begun to roar.

Tanjirou stood amid the wreckage, chest heaving, limbs twitching with barely-leashed power.

The flames licking his shoulders cast him in silhouette—no longer a boy, not quite a monster. His skin gleamed with blood and soot, muscles coiled so tightly he shook. The demon markings along his face glowed red-hot, pulsing in time with some inner rhythm too fast to be human.

Gyutaro’s body lay in ruin somewhere in the smoke, reduced to ash and memory—but the battle wasn’t over. Because Tanjirou was still burning. He had stopped knowing why.

Nezuko lunged at him, sword jammed between his fanged jaws, breath hitching with every second she kept him down.

“Onii-chan—Tanjirou, stop!” she sobbed, voice hoarse from smoke and fear. “Please! You’re scaring me, Tanjirou-onii-chan—you’re scaring me!”

But he didn’t stop. He thrashed like a wild beast, his body arching under hers, claws digging deep grooves into the stone. Veins webbed black with fire beneath his skin. His mouth gnashed against the blade, fangs scraping steel. The sound made her flinch—but she didn’t let go.

Because some part of her still believed he was in there. Still fighting.

“Oi. Kamado.” The voice cut through the chaos like a blade of its own.

Uzui landed on the broken rooftop in a burst of dust and cracked tile, blades drawn but lowered, his headband streaked with grime, expression carved from stone.

“You promised,” he growled, gesturing toward the girl crouched beneath the cart, tears streaking her cheeks. “Didn’t you say this demon twin of yours wouldn’t hurt a human? You guaranteed it.”

Nezuko’s head jerked toward him. “I—he’s not—he doesn’t want to—!”

“Then rein him in,” Uzui said sharply. “Before his flashy little meltdown ends with half the district dead. Sing him a lullaby or knock him out—I don’t care which. But do it now, Kamado.”

Nezuko froze. Her fingers trembled around the hilt of her sword. Her body screamed to move, to fight, to run. But instead… she sang. A whisper at first. Thin and raw and shaking like frostbitten wind—but real.

“ Knock knock, little baby bunny on the mountain… ”

The words tasted like ash in her mouth.

“ Tell me, why are your eyes are so red? ”

She’d learned it beside the fire, in winters so cold the wood cracked in the hearth. Their mother’s voice had always been warm, even in grief.

“ Before I was born, my mama ate red berries from a tree… ”

Nezuko’s tears hit Tanjirou’s chest, hissing where they met the fire scarring his skin.

“ And that is why my eyes are so red…”

He twitched. The red in his eyes flickered. Just once. Just enough.

She leaned closer, cradling his face, forehead pressed to his.

“You’re still in there, Onii-chan,” she whispered. “Come back to me.”

A whimper.

Tanjirou’s head snapped toward the edge of the smoke.

The girl—the one bleeding beneath the cart. Her lips trembled. She didn’t scream, too afraid to make a sound. But her blood was thick in the air—ripe, hot, alive. It called to him. And something inside him answered.

Tanjirou’s stomach snarled. The fire surged.

Nezuko felt the shift in him—the hunger returning.

“No—” she whispered, tightening her grip. But it was too late.

He moved. In a blink, he was on all fours, dragging himself toward the girl. His claws tore into the tiles. His body twisted low, too fast, too close.

The girl shrank back, sobbing.

And Tanjirou’s mouth opened. The scent of her blood filled his lungs like incense—sweet, wet, red. His eyes locked on hers.

She was prey. And he was starving.

CLANG!

Steel jammed between his jaws again—slamming his teeth wide. His head jerked back from the impact. Nezuko’s foot braces on his shoulder as she wrestled him down, pinning his arms with her knees, blade wedged between his fangs.

“Tanjirou!” she screamed. “Breathe! You’re not a monster—you’re my brother!”

He snarled, writhing beneath her, smoke pouring from his mouth. His claws thrashed—one grazing her arm, tearing through fabric. But she didn’t flinch.

She pressed her forehead to his, voice shaking.

“You are not what Muzan made you,” she hissed. “You’re mine.”

Blood from her wound ran down the blade, sizzling as it hit his forehead. And that— That broke something.

Tanjirou jerked once. Twice. And stopped. His eyes, still wild and gleaming, flickered—and softened. Just a little. Just enough. Enough to show the terror underneath the hunger. Enough to remember who she was.

He whimpered. A child’s sound, desperate and small.

A wail broke from Tanjirou’s mouth, muffled and helpless. The heat around his body snapped, and his form began to shrink—muscles softening, claws retracting, horns vanishing into flame. The monstrous demon shrank into a small, thin boy with tear-streaked cheeks and long, tangled hair.

He clung to Nezuko’s haori with shaking hands and sobbed like a child.

In his mind— He saw her. Their mother’s hands, warm and calloused, stroked his hair. Her voice, low and gentle, humming the same lullaby while she looked down at her twins by the firelight. Her eyes were tired, but soft. Always soft.

(You’re a good boy,) her memory said, brushing the wet hair from his forehead. (It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re home.)

And he believed her.

Nezuko dropped the sword. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder as his fire finally began to dim. His body shook against hers, a slow collapse—like a building too long burning.

She held him anyway. Because she had to. Because no one else would.

From the shattered rooftop, Uzui stood over them, silent. His shoulders lowered slightly—though his grip on his blades remained tight.

A rustle of cloth behind him.

Kanao emerged from the smoke, sword lowered, eyes wide and wet. Her lips parted in a silent gasp as she saw the siblings curled together, Nezuko’s back streaked with soot, her face bloodied, her arms wrapped tight around her demon brother’s scorched frame. None of them spoke.

There was only the sound of fire dying, and wind through the ruins.

The girl beneath the cart finally began to cry.