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When the battle ended and the dust settled, Kamado Tanjiro was dead.
He sat motionless with grace and dignity– one arm missing, the other still holding a sword, as if even after death he would stand up and fight against the dangers that plague humanity. The hope he brought to this hopeless world as he fought the Demon King fiery blow by fiery blow was not unlike the sun which was now dancing along the edges of his still form. Each and every one of the survivors' hearts wept in agony– for the life cut short, way too young.
Kamado Tanjiro had so much potential. Kamado Tanjiro was their sun, who rose in battle only to set once again. Why, oh why, did fate take him? Why did the gods bereft the world of this warrior, this protector, this blazing flame who had delivered them all from certain peril, who had purified the world of the Demon King's cruelty?
Every heart wished for his return. Decades later, the survivors would tell their children: Once, a Sun God in human flesh lived and loved. The Sun God will protect you, just as he has protected me. Remember the Sun God. Remember the Hinokami.
Gods were born from a wish.
The Hinokami opened his eyes one snowy day, and wondered why he wasn't cold.
He shouldn't have. The warmth of his fiery heart was enough to sustain the war-torn world.
The Hinokami knew three things.
One: His human name was Kamado Tanjiro. Two: his followers were very generous with their offerings and gifts. Three: Nezuko died from a broken heart.
He knew because Nezuko's uncorrupted soul following him around like a lost puppy, ever since he woke up.
Everything he died for was useless in the end, for Nezuko did not manage to live as long as he wanted, even after having turned back into a human. He despaired from that for a few decades. But every prayer of the gratitude to the Hinokami gave him strength. Each and every one reminded him that his death was not useless. The sad remains of the Demon Slayer Corps prayed to him, even as the years went by. Their ancestors paid respect to him every New Year. They danced a pale imitation of the Sun Breathing Form, and whenever he saw these families who were born from his sacrifice, he felt a little better.
What didn't make him feel better was his insistent tail.
Please go away, he told her. No, he begged . Move on, Nezuko. Leave me be, Nezuko. Wasn't the rest of our family waiting for you, on the other side? I have a duty to fulfill. I must protect these people as their god. You must go to the other side and be reincarnated. You must live as a human, Nezuko.
Nezuko didn't leave. She kept following him around. That little speck of light, floating in the air. Wanting to stay by his side. Forever. The two of them against the world. As it had always been.
And Tanjiro was weak.
"Thou, who have nowhere to go and nowhere to return, I shall grant you a place to belong. My name is Hinokami Tanjiro. Bearing a posthumous name, you shall remain here.
With this name, I make thee my servant.
( 月 )
With this name and its alternate, I use my life to make thee a Divine Instrument.
Thou art Tsuki. As a Divine Instrument, Getsu. Come, Getsuki!"
She was a beautiful blade. Red as the blade he held during his mortal life. Her hilt was adorned with a checkered pattern with beautiful vines.
Tsuki. The Moon. She would be the moon to his sun, quiet and serene, reflecting his light. With this decision, Nezuko was no more. Only Tsuki remained. Divine Instruments must never remember their human lives, after all. Nezuko had ceased to exist. She will never call Tanjiro 'Onii-chan' again.
He released her form and she materialized into a human. Beautiful as he had last seen her, wearing a plain thin yukata. Pink eyes opened in wonder. She looked down at her hands, fascinated. And then she met his eyes and smiled. "Hello, sir. Are you my Master?"
Tanjiro opened his mouth, and closed it. It was certainly playing with fire, but he couldn't bring himself to abandon everything that Nezuko was. He didn't intend to make any more divine instruments, but most gods add a last syllable to denote belonging to the god's clan. Perhaps in this way, he can keep this little sliver of her name alive.
He smiled. "That's right. Welcome, Tsukine."
"Tanjiro-sama, Tanjiro-sama!" Tsukine said, waving excitedly. "I found more blue spider lilies over here!"
"Good job!" Tanjiro said as he walked over and gave her lots of head pats. She giggled, and it made the ache in his heart lighter. She had kept the age she had died at: barely sixteen, such tragedy. Tanjiro, on the other hand, decided that it would simply not do to look younger than his little sister, even though she could not remember it– so he had been using a form that looks about twenty. He looked down at the field of grass in front of him, more like weeds really– and among all the green, the delicate petals of the blue spider lily bloomed, glinting under the sun. He counted three among them, which was rare enough. Tsukine had a knack for finding them.
The blue flower looked so innocent. So pure. Tanjiro reached a hand out to touch it gently with his fingers, and then he crushed it with his fist.
"W-What have you done?! I needed that for my research!" A man called out behind him. He turned, and found a beautiful person with Aoi's blue eyes and Inosuke's blue hair, distressed. The descendant of his friends. It made him smile. But even if this man cried and despaired, Tanjiro had to kill these lovely flowers. Innocent as they may look, they brought immeasurable cruelty. This was the reason Hinokami Tanjiro existed, the reason he continued to walk the earth.
Kibutsuji Muzan must never happen again.
"I apologize," Tanjiro said kindly. " Getsuki ."
Tsukine bowed and transformed into his katana. He gripped her firmly, and without missing a beat, he sliced the tall grass in front of him, setting it all aflame. The whole meadow was ablaze, making his friends' descendant shriek in panic, but the fire did not hurt humans, so it was okay. The whole meadow was littered with the flowers; it was better to burn it all to the ground anyway.
As soon as the roots of each flower was burned, the fire would die by itself. This, Tanjiro knew.
"Despicable!" the man moaned. "You're despicable! Burning the whole meadow!"
You wouldn't understand, Tanjiro thought as he started walking away.
In a way, not understanding was a victory.
After that, Tanjiro had started a habit. When it was not summer, when the blue spider lily bloomed, he found himself following people. Old friends with unfamiliar faces. Complete strangers with familiar ones. Descendants and reincarnations alike, he sought them– the ghosts of his old comrades. Some days he would follow them around. Some days he would even strike a conversation. It was both like ripping open an old wound and healing it, all at the same time.
He was glad that Mitsuri and Obanai finally had the wedding they wanted. That Makomo, Sabito, and Giyuu were thick as thieves once more. He never expected that the Ubuyashiki clan would go on to be known as the family with the longest lifespan all over Japan, didn't expect that Shinazugawa would become brothers with Genya once again, if not by blood, then by the bond of the rigorous police academy. It was all so fascinating, so beautiful and tender. Tsukine didn't understand, but she always hugged him when he found himself getting too emotional.
But one person thought this habit was not quite so healthy.
"You're getting senile in your old age," Yushiro told him as he settled his easel under the bright sunlight, having conquered the sun with Tanjiro's help long ago. "I know what you're doing. You're living vicariously from these people, but you're not really living, are you? Cut it out. Your little sister would be sad."
Tanjiro glanced at Tsukine, who was playing with Chachamaru in the grass. Yushiro had a point. Aside from doing his duties as the Hinokami, he didn't do anything else. That was bad, wasn't it? But… He turned to look at the slowly forming image on Yushiro's canvas, so quick after he had literal centuries of practice.
If Tanjiro was living in the past, wasn't Yushiro too?
"Don't look at me like that. I know what's on your mind," Yushiro said. "Tamayo-sama will come back. I know she will. She is not my past; she is my future. She's just taking a long time. She had done a lot of bad things, after all. She must still be working on being forgiven."
Gone was the Yushiro who insisted Tamayo had never done anything wrong in her life. He had matured, in a way. They both knew she was in hell right now, paying her penance. But Yushiro would wait. Tanjiro had a feeling he'd wait for an eternity, painting pictures to not forget her face, until she made it back home.
How lucky, Tanjiro thought, to still have a home to come back to.
"Stop being glum," Yushiro said. "You have plenty of time right? Why don't you go interact more with people in the Near Shore? Take odd jobs or something. It would at least get you to socialize."
A long time ago, when Tanjiro was human, he did odd jobs around his village. That didn't sound too bad.
Tanjjro started advertising himself as Delivery God Tanjiro, available for hire for five yen. Tsukine found it amusing and was happy to help out. By day they did odd jobs around Japan, by night they settled in the shrine that the Ubuyashiki family created for him, made by Kagaya's grandchild. Every few days they would get an alarming prayer, and they would do whatever they could. In the summer they roamed the countryside, looking for the elusive blue flower.
While teaching a distressed pre-teen how to clean his room, Tanjiro found his eyes straying to his stack of books. There, he found a light novel, called The Thunderclap and the Dragon's Flame. It was Volume 45, which was incredibly impressive for story with a book that was quite thick. The title made nostalgia niggle inside him, but before he could think more of it, the child was crying again.
Tsukine was a godsend, as always. "Don't cry," she told the little boy, who had never been taught how to properly clean his room, and was overwhelmed by it. "We'll take it one step at a time, okay? You already paid your five yen, so I promise: by the end of this day, you will have a sparkling room!"
That was when Tanjiro's phone rang. Knowing it was another customer, he lifted it to his ear and said brightly, "Delivery God Tanjiro at your service! How can I help you?"
There was a young boy crying on the other line. For some reason, he got a lot of calls from kids.
"Milord is missing," he sobbed. "Please help me, Tanjiro-san!"
"Milooooord," Tanjiro called out. This was an urgent matter, so he left Tsukine with their first customer and set off to find the cat. As he walked by the side of the road, he passed by three college-aged men, laughing and ribbing at each other.
"How dare you leave us in that cliffhanger for Volume 45?! You have no heart! No heart at all! Damn you!"
"Argh! Don't hit me! Yuuuuuuuki, Hinata is hitting me! Aren't you my best friend?! Help meeeeee!"
"You brought this on yourself. Hurry on editing your shitty self-insert book already. God, I can't believe I even like it!"
"My editor is already kicking my ass trying to make it readable. It's insane! Cruel! Demon-like! Who even gets the idea to publish a ten year old's rambling dreams anyway?! Why did I agree to this?! WHY DID YOU GUYS LET ME AGREE TO THIS?!"
Tanjiro was distracted when he turned his head to the road. There he was! Milord! Thrilled, he grinned as he jumped over the guard railing and hurried to catch him.
But then there was the sound of a bus horn, the sensation of someone pushing him out the way. Tanjiro's eyes widened.
The smell of rubber. A screech of the brakes. The next thing Tanjiro knew he was on the other side of the road, safe. There was a boy in front of him, gasping in pure terror before he glared at him with familiar amber eyes. He pointed a finger at Tanjiro, seething. "You…! You should be more careful! What are you doing just jumping in front of a freaking bus! My heart is about to burst! REPENT! REPENT FOR SCARING ME!"
Tanjiro was stunned. He turned his head to look, and saw that the man had a bright yellow, fluffy spiritual tail.
Oh no.
"Yoshiteru!" One of the man's friends yelled as he shook the shoulder of his unconscious body. The unconscious body… which was lying in front of the bus.
The man– Yoshiteru– turned his head to look at his body, and gaped.
"Yoshiteru, wake up! Yoshiteru, this isn't funny! Yoshiteru!"
"I'm sorry but you… you left your body…?" Tanjiro said, dumbfounded.
Yoshiteru– the spirit– fainted.