Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was carnage.

Tanjiro Kamado had come across a scene such as this many times in his few years as a demon slayer: drying blood, mutilated corpses, destroyed homes, abandoned lives…

While it had been years since he had returned home to find almost his entire family slaughtered, it never helped to sooth the memory when he kept finding himself coming across a scene of such devastation. Even watching the kakushi clean up the scene after he had killed the demon that had done this, the sun breather couldn’t help but fall into his own memories.

His mother and his siblings, murdered ruthlessly. All except Nezuko.

Somehow, she had gone outside to check if Tanjiro had come home when the thing that murdered them had attacked. She had been far away enough that when she heard her mother scream for her to run, she had bolted as fast as her legs could carry her down the mountain. She had cried out helplessly when she caught sight of the wooden hut where Tanjiro had been staying.

Sensing his sister’s fear in her scent, the eldest Kamado son had burst through the door with such a level of force that Saburou had thought that the door had been torn off from its hinges.

When Nezuko had explained what had taken place, he had to convince Tanjiro to stay with his sister until daybreak rose so they could get to the home in sunlight. It was snowing that sad morning, when Tanjiro found himself having to help clean and prepare the bodies of his family for burial. The two siblings wept openly when they had come to clean their younger siblings.

That was when Giyu Tomioka and Kyojuro Rengoku had appeared.

The two had been taken in by both hashira respectively: Tanjiro by Giyu and Nezuko by Kyojuro with the help of his family. The hashira took care of both siblings and when the two completed the Hinokami Kagura as a new year dawned, neither of the hashira could ignore the dance which appeared to be a sword form.

Then, things had really kicked up when Tanjiro, cornered by the lower moon five Rui, proceeded to use the Kagura as a breathing technique. While he had not killed the upper moon, it had been close enough that he had spooked the demon into going all out to kill both him and Nezuko; something that Giyu had put a swift end to.

It had been a few years since then, they had just recovered from the events on the Mugen Train. Kyojuro had barely survived, only to the fact that Nezuko was able to slice through his arm when he had attempted to use a blood demon art on the flame hashira. Losing his left eye and sacrificing one of his arms to protect the siblings.

His right arm was so badly damaged that an amputation was the only way to stop him from bleeding out.

Thus, he had been forced to retire.

Tanjiro had recovered, along with his friends Zenitsu and Inosuke while Nezuko needed a bit longer to properly ground her again. That night, she had created what the older brother could only describe as an offshoot of the Hinokami Kagura. She had started to call it the Benzaiten Kagura, which Mitsuri could help but giggle at when she overheard Nezuko practising her forms.

Inosuke was off on another mission while he had been paired up with the thunder breather.

Right now though, he couldn’t help but notice Zenitsu looking over at the corpses of what appeared to be a young family; a couple with two small children and a baby. It appeared that the father had tried to hold the creature off but had been slaughtered alongside the rest of the family. He approached tenderly and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “The demon that killed them is gone. They can pass on peacefully to the afterlife together...”

“They’re so little...” The boy with sunshine hued hair spoke quietly, gesturing to the three smaller bodies. He sniffled, fighting back the tears. “They had barely gotten to live...”

Tanjiro too found himself holding back, fighting the image of a bloodied Rokuta in his mind.

He had gone to make again before a muffled cry could be heard from a destroyed building. Rushing over along with his friend, Tanjiro couldn’t help but notice how the three kakushi flocked to this sound.

“Thank the gods, he’s alive!”

“How did he even survive? The collapse should have killed him”

“That doesn’t matter! Help us move this beam”

The slayer in his chequered haori ran over before grabbing a part of the wooden beam. “I’m ready, let me help!” Zenitsu ran to the other side and grabbed the beam before the five of them moved it carefully. With the wooden beam tossed aside, Tanjiro rushed to the wounded figure.

The slayer stopped as his heart froze.

He swore that he had seen this man before.

The young man they had just saved was thin but not skinny, he had a decent build to him though he could see that a rib had been broken. He guessed that the debris around him had stopped the beam from landing on him in full force. His long reddish hair was fanned out, cascading over the broken bits of furniture around him. A bright red mark was hidden under a streak of his own blood, it curled around his left eye.

Wearing a yellow kimono which was now soiled with dirt and blood, the young man cried out as he was placed onto a stretcher. Tanjiro rushed over to the man, taking his hand as though he had known this person since youth. “It’s alright sir, you’ll be alright! We will help you”

The stretcher was lifted and two kakushi began to walk. When Tanjiro had gone to let go, the young man gripped onto his hand for dear life. “Please...” He pleaded tearfully, clearly in great pain “Please stay. I don’t want to be alone”

‘He thinks he’s going to die!’ The scent of fear invaded Tanjiro’s mind. Walking with the group, he soothed the wounded young man. “I can stay if you wish me to do so, sir”

A pair of wine-hued irises stared back at him as the figure opened his eyes properly. “That horrid thing, is it dead?”

“Yes sir” Zenitsu perked up “Tanjiro here killed the demon”

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t do anything. I heard the… commotion outside. When I tried to leave the building, it fell apart. I...” Those eyes welled up with tears as the memory came flooding back to him. “I heard them die, I thought that...”

“You will be alright. We will get your wounds treated.” Tanjiro gripped tightly, comfortingly “Please don’t blame yourself. It’s not like you ran away and refused to help. You were trapped. That’s something different entirely.”

The three had talked, with the Kakushi chiming in now and again before Tanjiro could make out the butterfly estate in the background. “We’re nearly there sir. I’m so sorry but I forgot to ask for your name”

The young man smiled softly for the first time since the two had met.

“Yoriichi Tamura”

Chapter Text

Akaza hated the compulsion to return to the infinity castle, he had been cleaning up after himself when the call forced its way into his mind.

It meant one of two things: Either an upper moon had been slaughtered, or tribute was being demanded. Akaza sighed with frustration when he leapt into the endless stream of rooms and buildings. The gold-ish-coloured lights flew by until he landed on the familiar tatami flooring.

He looked out, noting every upper moon present.

There were Daki and Gyutaro, the siblings who shared the upper rank six titles. He wasn’t particularly keen on either of them but they knew where respect was due, Daki always seemed interested in him for some reason. Gyokko was the upper rank five, not a favourite of Muzan’s but his vases often fetched a pretty penny from what he heard.

Hentengu was snivelling like he usually did. The upper rank four was someone he could not bring himself to respect with that pathetic attitude he always held, constantly mumbling about people being out to get him. Akaza himself was upper rank three and then there was Douma, the upper rank two.

He despised the blonde demon for snatching his rightful spot, the repulsive habit of eating women was one that made his stomach churn with disgust. It was even just that, he had come across Douma arranging the skulls of those followers of him like a decorative piece.

Nakime was the demon who controlled the castle, she sat high above them with Muzan Kibutsuji next to her. He was relaxing in a favourite leather chair, his expression domineering yet aloof. He did not appear angry, a breath escaped him that he did not realise he was holding in.

No upper moon had been killed in that case.

The upper-rank one was always an allusive figure, rarely being present at these meetings but his presence was a constant source of anxiety amongst the other demons. A lump formed in his throat when the all too familiar scent of peonies crept into his nose, the other upper ranks also sensed it and bowed reverently.

Muzan clicked his fingers, bringing their attention to him.

“Upper-rank one wants his tribute. He has asked for one man from each one of you. Now remember, no sickly humans, no elderly...” He turned his gaze down to the upper rank two. “...and no women. He was not impressed with that woman’s corpse you brought last time. I will not have a repeat of last year”

Douma almost seemed to huff with sadness.

Almost.

“You have five days before tribute is to be presented to the upper rank one. All men are to be alive. You may go apart from Akaza”. Every upper moon vanished with the pluck of Nakime’s beloved biwa. A second note brought the upper rank three before Muzan. “You may have failed in killing the flame hashira and that boy with the earrings but I wish to task you with a special mission”

“My lord?”

A third twang sent the two demons to a darkened corner of the infinity castle, The floral stench was now overpowering, making Akaza choke from the shock.

If there was an area within this space that the pink-haired demon could not stand to be in for very long, it was this very location. The shadow of a grand castle leered over him, draped in shadow with the odd blood-red lighting flickering now and again. Akaza swallowed nervously as his eyes fell upon a long claw mark that dug into one of the floor panels.

Blood was smeared across the floor, all trailing towards the gate of the castle which appeared as if it had been left often for any unfortunate demon to wander in, like an ant scurrying unknowingly into a spider’s web.

Speaking of other demons, he could make out one desperately trying to claw away from the building.

A second glance revealed where this poor creature had been bisected at the waist, its entrails pouring out from behind it. The male demon spluttered as it saw the demon king and the upper rank. “H-Help me...”

The thing squealed as it appeared to be snatched from behind and dragged back into the shadows. A bone-chilling crunch was all it took for the noise to stop before a figure walked towards the pair. Akaza’s heart beat feverishly, it was a known fact amongst the upper ranks that the upper rank one, Kokushibo, was insane.

The samurai warrior of old was known to flip between a terrifying coldness, deep depression, murderous rage and crazed rambling of his precious one. He had initially assumed that it was a lost wife, a beloved friend perhaps until he had overheard something that had made him sick to his stomach.

A brother.

The beloved one that tormented this man’s memory was his younger twin brother; worse yet, he lusted for this man to return to him so he could protect him, spoil him, and show him how much love he could give him. Even then, he had wondered if it was protective instinct until he had witnessed the upper rank ‘adjust’ himself after speaking of his twin.

It was blasphemous.

An older brother longing to drown his young twin in the sickening affections he held for him.

The upper rank three had wanted to sick, even now the sensation tingled and prickled at his body at the reminder. Kokushibo was coherent enough to acknowledge Muzan before noting Akaza’s presence.

“I have some news for you. A demon was recently killed by the demon slayers but before he died, there was a young man he saw who, from what you have kind enough to disclose, resembles your dearly departed brother.” Akaza turned to the demon king and a feeling of impending doom flooded his being at the realisation of what the mission was going to be.

The six-eyed figure focused in on Akaza.

“You will bring my brother here. I know your… views of my love for him but you are not to let him escape. I pray only that it is true that Yoriichi has returned. I would go to him myself but I do not want the demon slayers to realise that I am searching for him once again. You will bring him to me, I’ll be the judge of if he is truly my twin returned...”

Chapter Text

It had been three days since Yoriichi Tamura arrived.

The butterfly mansion was quiet enough for the mind to recover after an intense mission; while Tanjiro was lucky enough to avoid being wounded, the same could not be said for the young man who was currently resting and recovering from a bruised rib. He was honestly thankful that it had not turned out to be broken like was feared but that didn’t stop the nightmares that Yoriichi would awake in sweats from.

For the moment, sleep proved peaceful.

Tanjiro threw a glance over to where Shinobu was making a note of his condition, something in the air spoke to the sun breather of anger but not one directed at the new guest.

He was well aware of the inner rage that the insect hashira always wanted to keep under wraps, it was her sister’s dying wish to see a world where humans and demons could get on. He sighed and mused to himself ‘If only her sister had met Tamayo...’

Shinobu placed her palm onto Yoriichi’s head and nodded to herself.

“Tanjiro. Could you do me a favour?”

He sat up straight, as if his spine had turned to steel “Of course”

“Tamura-san seems to be a bit warm, I’m concerned that he may have developed a temperature. I’ll get the girls to prepare fresh water for him to drink and a bucket of tepid water so any cloth can be placed onto exposed skin...” She opened the window closest to the bed before continuing “I would monitor him myself but I’ve been made aware that several critically wounded slayers are arriving at the estate shortly Tamura-san is at ease with you, so I would like to ask if you can look after him for me please?”

The crimson haired boy nodded “Yes, I’ll watch over him”

With a gentle smile and a scent suggesting gratitude, Shinobu left the room. It wasn’t long before the three butterfly girls dashed in quietly with water and bucket in tow. Tanjiro took the time to carefully nudge the older occupant awake.

“Yoriichi-san, I’ve been told to make sure you drink water regularly” He lowered his voice to a whisper.

The taller man winced as he tried to move, only for Tanjiro to bring the cup over. “You shouldn’t move. A bruised rib is not an injury that goes away overnight.”

Taking the cup gently, Yoriichi let the cool liquid slide down his throat before passing it back over to the sun breather. Dark circles spoke of how little decent sleep had had been able to get since the attack on the village, a scent that came off him told the younger man of great sorrow, heartbreak and pain.

“Look at you, watching over me. How old are you?”

“I am fifteen years old Yoriichi-san”

His maroon irises centred on the sun breather, his eyes flickering to the hanafuda earrings before returning their attention to the boy before him. “You’re still young, you shouldn’t have to be watching over someone like me. It should be the other way around, someone my age keeping an eye on you and not chasing after too many girls...”

Tanjiro chuckled at the last part, he supposed he was approaching that age when boys became men and girls became women. He had already noticed some changes though he longed to be a little taller.

“Do you have a lady waiting for you?”

“No. I… don’t really have anyone waiting for me I suppose”

Tanjiro blinked in surprise “Truly?”

“My earliest memories are of hunting for food through bins or scraps that people threw out, cold or rotten...” Yoriichi started “I didn’t have parents or a family as such, even the other children kept their distance from me. I guess my birthmark must have frightened them in some way. When I was old enough, I started to work so I could earn enough money to travel; I hid my birthmark under some bandages and claimed it was burn. I came to that village in hopes of finally settling down...”

He sighed mournfully as he reached up to the deep red mark that curled around his eye. Tanjiro couldn’t help but wonder how a special mark like that came to be. “I guess you and I have a similar mark” He spoke, gesturing to where the burn was deeper in colour than it had been once before.

Yoriichi tiled his head slightly “I hadn’t noticed it before...”

-

Dreams were said to be messages from the gods, manifestations of a person’s life or their hopes and wishes. This was what Yoriichi remembered hearing early on in his youth, though he was unsure as to how the visions that would plague his sleep were anything more than twisted nightmares.

He recalled a beautiful lady with long, deep red hair so dark in colour it was nearly black. This woman always wore a magenta kimono with a long yellow overcoat of some kind, but mostly he dreamt of how sick she was. His sleep painted an image of a stern, uncaring father who regularly beat him. That blue haori of his seems to create a sensation of feeling unnerved.

Then, there was another little boy much like himself.

This boy had a ponytail even in his young body, dark purple in colour. Those lavender eyes of his were always friendly, caring and protective on occasions. Often going out of his way to bring Yoriichi food, fly kites or play games. He wept often of a family that he was never granted, always forced to wonder if this was something that he was supposed to have been granted only to be discarded by the side of a road.

He was well aware of how people would normally treat him when his birthmark was on show; chasing him away with a broom, hitting him, throwing their waste in his direction like a curse yet by the side of the demon slayers he couldn’t help but feel cared for.

It was the first time in a long time he had felt this way.

He had seen the lady with her black and purple hair, no doubt she would have been shooed away with colours like that in the town he grew up in. He was surprised that Tanjiro never got any weird looks from some of the other occupants, then again he was always taken aback by how he had been so readily accepted despite the birthmark on his forehead.

The dreams were becoming more clearer as of late, another lady with a beautiful smile had begun to enter the dreamscape. Donning a yellow kimono with pink flowers on it and a snow white head wrap, her black hair and eyes helped her stand out against the forest background. He couldn’t make out the words she was speaking but he guessed it had something to do with the way she was holding her belly like she was expecting.

His eyes glanced over at the katana currently in its sheath.

For some reason, looking at it made him uneasy….

Chapter Text

Kyojuro Rengoku visited with his father the following day. Shinjuro had been the previous flame hashira until his wife passed away when his sons were still young, he had given his way to drink until Kyojuro’s close call at the hands of the Upper-Rank Three.

Realizing what his drunkenness had nearly cost him, Shinjuro destroyed any alcohol left in the Flame Hashira’s mansion before going completely cold turkey in a locked room. He had it locked from the outside and pressed the key into the hands of his younger son Senjuro. “I know I have not been the best father to you or your older brother but I now have a chance to fix things. I know I can’t change the past but I can do this much; whatever you do, even if I ask for it, do not give me alcohol. I need to do this...”

It had been two months since then.

The newly retired flame hashira was chatting with the still recovering Nezuko along with Muichiro Tokito, who seemed to have taken a liking to her despite his own issues with his memory.

Shinjuro had wandered out into the outer gardens where the still recovering were training their strength back up. He eyed Tanjiro Kamado in the distance with a stranger who was sat down beside him. He could see that the young man with the hanafuda earrings was fretting over the injured red-haired man.

“You should return to bed Yoriichi-san! You have still not yet recovered!”

“I do not like sitting around for too long, I apologize. I just need some fresh air...”

He was about to return inside when something seemed to click in the older Rengoku’s mind. He had known about the Kamados, the books that were passed down to him from his own family had highlighted who seemed to be flexible in their breathing techniques but were often killed quickly with no mercy. Then, he swallowed as a memory crawled out from the depths of his mind.

-

Upon returning home, he had rushed to the family study with Kyojuro following behind him.

“Father, you must slow down. What’s wrong?”

Bursting into the aged room, he scanned each and every shelf until his eye fell upon a book bound in red leather. It was old, probably the oldest book in the family home. With a gentle grasp, he opened the yellowed pages, the scent of ancient ink lingered in the air as he tried to find the page.

He knew it was this book, for certain!

Then, he found it...

‘The original breath style is known as sun breathing, variations of this style are how the other breathing techniques were shaped into what is known today. What isn’t so widely known is that there were two known users of the sun breathing technique in my time as the flame hashira.

The first was a man who I had found while hunting a demon. Unfortunately, this demon had gotten to this man’s pregnant wife and unborn child before I could get the chance to kill it. The widowed husband was silent initially before he asked for my help to bury the deceased. I was surprised when he requested to become a demon slayer, but I accepted.

Little had I known at the time just the level of impact his work would have on the endless fight against the evil creatures.

When this particular person was on a mission in the mountains, he encountered a demon planning to attack a husband with an expectant wife. He cut down the demon before the husband requested that he be taught how to protect his family in case such a situation arose ever again.

Knowing the cost of ignorance, this man agreed to teach the husband.

Sadly, the original sun breath user passed away from illness not long after he returned to the demon slayers. The husband arrived to give his condolences as the original sun breath user had grown close with his family.

While returning home, we found the Demon King.

He mocked us, gladly telling us about how one of our own had turned their back on the demon slayers and how we could do the same. Then, the husband had proceeded to cut down the demon king and nearly killed him, he would have if Muzan Kibutsuji had not split himself into countless pieces.

I cut down about two to three hundred from what I could count, yet this husband of unknown origin and little training cut around seven hundred parts of the foul creature. So deep was I in shock that I had not noticed this man was weeping, over the recent death of his friend before rushing home to be with his loving family.

Perhaps, that is what the sun breath user would have truly wanted for himself.

“The husband, I’m guessing that this must be a Kamado ancestor of sorts...” Kyojuro voiced, and the older man agreed.

“Father!” Senjuro spoke up from the side, he was holding a folder of sorts with a red tag on it. “I think this is supposed to go with the journal”

He blinked as he took the old folder off his son before brushing away the layer of dust that had built over the years. Then, he noticed that it did not appear to have been opened. ‘How odd, I’ve never seen this here before...’ he thought to himself before opening it and pulling out what looked like several paintings.

The first one was a bust image of a swordsman who Shinjuro couldn’t help but note that his expression was similar to that of his youngest son. Just like all the Rengokus, his yellow and red hair was as bright as always. His hair was longer though and held up in a ponytail that rested on his shoulder, he was wearing an orange kimono.

‘Tatsumi Rengoku – The first flame hashira’

“Bloody hell, they’re still bright as ever” Shinjuro stammered as he picked up a second image. This young man was wearing a pair of hanafuda earrings and looked remarkably like Tanjiro Kamado though his face was slimmer and he held an innocent smile, the demon slayer mark was not present on this man’s face. Like Tatsumi, he also had his hair tied back though a fair bit shorter. Even this man’s haori was the same as Tanjiro’s.

‘Sumiyoshi Kamado – The man who nearly killed the demon king’

“I think it's fair to say that Tanjiro and Nezuko must be this man’s descendants” Kyojuro spoke before he seemed to put something together in his mind. “This… would explain why these demons are trying to kill the two. I’ve never heard of the twelve kizuki being as active as they are presently. Was his family purposely targeted by Muzan himself?”

“I wouldn’t act surprised Kyojuro, if Sumiyoshi is Tanjiro’s ancestor then would make too much sense to be anything otherwise...”

They combed through the various images, scenes of training, meetings, and even a painting of a Ubuyashiki ancestor. Then, one fell from his hand and Shinjuro felt his mind go blank with shock. Another painting of a young man who just happened to look exactly like the wounded young man who Tanjiro was looking after earlier that day.

Like the visitor, this man had vivid red hair with a maroon gaze that told of deep sadness. Dressed in a red haori with a yellow kimono. It was as if the young man from earlier was this swordsman born again.

“Dear god...” Were the words that fell from his lips as his eyes fell to the writing below.

‘Yoriichi Tsugikuni – The first sun hashira’

Chapter Text

Yoriichi couldn’t help but smile as the sun beamed down on him, he was laying down in a grassy field with wild flowers around him. The air was crisp yet held a warmth that only came with the first days of spring. Up ahead was a young woman in a yellow day kimono, her obsidian black hair was tied back with a white head cloth; her smile was as bright as the sun above them, those dark eyes glittered like the stars.

Uta was her name.

He had encountered her when he had left the place known to him as his ancestral home. It was not his home however, not when the price of being there meant his brother would be forcefully sent to the temple as a kind of tribute all because of the circumstances around their birth.

The young man could recall the shock of his brother’s instruction when Yoriichi had taken him down effortlessly, despite the lack of training. He had caught his father’s eye that day, a terrible gaze that filled with pride at what his son could do. Lastly, he recalled both the devastation and admiration in Michikatsu’s eyes.

His older brother had been quiet after that.

Then, their mother had died and Yoriichi knew that he needed to take quick action to protect his brother. So, he had left a letter to Michikatsu along with their mother’s diary before vanishing into the dark of night. He knew now just how risky this move had been, what if he had been taken and killed that night or worse?

Demons prowled these lands in search of their next meal like a starving dog digging through a burial ground for bones to chew on.

It was on this journey that he had met Uta. A sweet, pleasant and kind lady who always smiled even when reminding Yoriichi that he had to eat or drink. She was beautiful, a part of him ached knowing that his mother would have adored the young lady that he now called his wife. Their marriage was a simple one, but that was exactly how Yoriichi liked it.

There was no need for endless amounts of money, warriors or luxuries when he had her.

His beloved Uta.

Cradling her as she too leaned back against the bed of wild flowers, something struck him as his mind raced through something he had noticed. Though she loved fish, she found that she could no longer be in their home if he were cooking. The smell would prove to be too much yet she would eat the food as if nothing had happened.

While he had questioned it for several days, he couldn’t help but wonder if his suspicions were correct.

He had overheard from his mother’s handmaidens about the symptoms that related to expecting a baby, there had once been the scandal over one of the kitchen maid becoming pregnant from an encounter with a respected warrior under their father’s command. The warrior came forward and married the girl, citing that he was only granting the respect due to the mother of his future child.

While honourable in their actions, his father had no choice but to send them away.

He blinked.

Instead of his smiling wife, he found himself facing a bloodied cadaver that resembled Uta. Her eyes appeared glazed over by death as her skin paled, blotchy with black, blue and green colouring. She was cold to the touch, clammy even as a small stream of rotting blood pour from her mouth which hung open lopsided. Her face appeared tear streaked and Yoriichi couldn’t help but notice the torn nails on her fingers.

They too were bloody, as if she had fought desperately against whatever it was that killed her.

The white headwrap had been torn off in the struggle, taking some of her fine hair with it. He had returned to his shack after helping an older man get to his dying son, just how long had she been dead for before he found her?

Yoriichi blinked again.

Instead of the cosy field that they had just been lounging in, they were inside the shack that they called home. But it wasn’t home, how could it be when the walls were streaked with Uta’s drying lifeblood? When the empty belly and lack of a newborn corpse alluded to one thing and one thing only.

He wanted to scream, cry his heart out at the sheer cruelty of it all.

Uta and their baby didn’t deserve this. Every time he went to speak, the voice would catch in his throat like clinging mucus. Tears poured down his facing as it felt as if his own emotions were being smothered.

Nothing left his mouth not matter how hard he tried.

-

Yoriichi Tamura shot up in bed once again in a panic.

It had been a while since his dreams had been so awful in nature, He wanted to curl up in his bed and just forget everything but the nightmares that plagues him always seemed to stick in his mind the longest. He wept silently as he prayed that he did not awake any of the sleeping slayers beside him.

He burrowed himself in the covers as a sense of dread and shame washed over him like fresh ice water. Why was he having to deal with this horrific visions? Twisted mockeries of the things he had always wanted in his life; A loving family that he could reach out and touch at any given moment, snatched away from him by a single moment of needless brutality.

He tried to calm his breathing.

The gentle lady who watched over him (Shinobu Kocho he recalled) had taken him through some breathing exercises when he had the nightmares in order to help calm himself down. He breathed deeply, thinking of a happy memory.

He exhaled as the image of flying kites with the little boy with purple hair and eyes in his dream came forth. He had indeed been happy in that fleeting moment, He could help but wonder what kind of man the young child would have grown into if he had indeed been his twin…

Chapter Text

The great hall was vast, wooden beams stretched across the ceiling with candelabras dangling. The ceiling itself was painted to resemble the stars in the night sky, in the centre was the sun and moon. The two celestial objects paired together as they always had been, the creature that the demon king had taken to calling Kokushibo had always found this place to be one of comfort.

The tatami flooring was still immaculate after all these years. The scent of roses floated in from the garden. With their bright colours and array of scents, roses had always been Yoriichi's favourite.

Upper rank one was kneeling, his body aching with the pain of little movement in the past several hours or days. Now, he could not recall which it was. All six eyes focused on the image of a solar eclipse that the grandest candelabra was hanging from.

That simple reminder that no matter what happens, the sun and moon will always be together.

As far as the six-eyed man could recall, he had always been Michikatsu. Even when he was married with children, he had asked his then ‘wife’ to refer to him as Katsu. His two sons always mumbled the words papa or chichi. The word ‘Otousan’, even now, was one he shivered at.

The image of his own father was one he had sought to rid himself of, yet he supposed that he had also been the very man to create the love of his life. One he knew that neither parent nor god would approve of in any way. He loved this special person like he would die if he did not, every breath since becoming a demon was dedicated to this one remarkable person.

His darling brother, his precious otouto.

Yoriichi.

Born on the same day, to the same mother and father yet they were as different as night and day.

From the moment the two had met as young children, he had been drawn to his younger twin. The red-haired boy had initially scurried away from him in fear until Michikatsu had approached with some plain dango that was coated in a sweet soy sauce. “I got something for you” The then nine-year-old had whispered “You can take it”

The frail boy had taken the food before running off to the woodshed that functioned as his ‘room’ if someone could call it as such. It was spare with only the walls and a single futon to call his own.

It had not surprised him when his twin fled into the night after their mother had died.

Even now, he couldn’t help but wonder what had made the late lady Akeno so weak. He had his theories but ultimately settled on the idea that his mother must have always been sickly in nature, worsening after the birth of her twin children. He suspected that it was consumption that ultimately killed her, now the humans called it tuberculosis.

Not long before her passing, he had been training with his instructor when he couldn’t help but notice Yoriichi watching intently. The instructor had called over his younger brother, only to find himself on the ground when Yoriichi beat him down. The silence had been deafening, the only thing he had been able to hear in that moment was his heart thundering in his tiny chest.

His dream of becoming the greatest samurai had died at that moment, envy filled his heart only to be beaten back by something even more sinister years later.

Now, it had been over four hundred and fifty years since that moment. The demon sat in his special place, the castle that he had specifically asked Nakime to create in preparation for Yoriichi would return to him. It was vast, larger, and grander than any castle their father could have owned in his lifetime.

Upper-rank one had always preferred the quiet.

Despite this, he felt a familiar presence enter the great hall.

Akaza was one of the few demons he could respect due to his unyielding loyalty, such a thing was rare to come by as the years passed. His aim to become strong enough to challenge the ancient swordsman a second time was admirable, being the only reason he had spared the upper rank three rather than consuming him like the others who dared to challenge his position before.

He sensed the fear that came off Akaza, it was always the same whenever he was in this part of the infinity castle.

Kokushibo huffed at the intrusion, but he guessed that Muzan had permitted him to enter his domain. “Why are you here?”

Akaza had the sense to kneel and bow respectfully. It wasn’t too long ago that he had shredded a different part with his blade after they showed open contempt towards him. “I have some information about your brother that I think you should know”

“Speak”

“I have seen that he is journeying with a couple of demon slayers to a town in the countryside, I believe they are moving him to one of the estates owned by a hashira.” He started “I also overheard that he was injured in the scuffle that Lord Muzan mentioned to you, a rib has been bruised. I want your advice as I can have him brought here, though I think it would wise to follow the group until they had settled at the hashira’s estate before returning him to you”

The older demon considered the information. His poor twin was in the hands of the Demon Slayers, that would not stand. When he had Yoriichi once more, he would see to it that the endless stream of pests would be eradicated.

Every last one.

There was also the question of the injury, would snatching him away irritate the bruised bone further? A bruised rib was bad enough, Kokushibo could still recall the pain of broken ribs from when he had been so ruthlessly trained at a tender age. Before his transformation, his body had been littered with scars.

“...It would indeed be wise to wait. Continue trailing the group and give me information when you can. Though the nature of the injury could pose a problem regarding just taking him. I may have a solution...”

Chapter Text

Nezuko was not used to the constant moving around that the life of a demon slayer required but she was more than willing to adapt to it, especially if it meant that she would be able to put down the monster that killed her family. It had been snowing that night when she had peaked out towards the path down the mountain, she had wandered outside after believing she had seen her brother in the shadows.

Now, she couldn’t help but question if something had intervened that night.

She had been just about to return to the warmth of her home when something instantly felt wrong, a shiver rose up her spine as all the hairs of on her tiny body stood of their ends.

Then she heard it

“NEZUKO! If you are outside, RUN!”

She didn’t think twice, not even as her legs started to move on their own while the carnage could be heard from behind her. She ran even when her feet had become numb to the snow, when the stones on the path began to cut into her skin, leaving crimson droplets and smears on each footprint. She was wailing by the time she caught sight of Saburou’s hut.

Tanjiro was immediately alerted to her cries, nearly destroying the door in a desperate bid to get to her.

Her feet had healed but there were scars on her soles that reminded the young demon slayer of the price she had to pay. She had to take regular breaks from walking, which was how she found herself sitting down in a wooden cart that also held a second occupant.

Yoriichi Tamura was a young man who had been rescued by Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and the kakushi on their most recent mission. The insect hashira said that Nezuko was nearly ready to go back onto duty but needed one more week to be certain. The nineteen-year-old was extremely wary of his surroundings but he, somehow, had found comfort with her older brother and Nezuko herself. “You remind me of someone...” He had confessed to her in private “Both you and your brother. I can’t explain it, but I know that I am safe around you...”

They had been called to visit the flame hashira’s estate in a nearby town, she and Tanjiro both loved Kyojuro Rengoku as an older brother. He had been the one to train her while the water hashira had taken on Tanjiro.

She still wasn’t sure about Giyu Tomioka.

Nezuko was still looking to perfect the breathing technique that she was developing: The Benzaiten Kagura. A version of the Hinokami Kagura that featured some changes inspired by watching the love hashira Mitsuri Kanroji practice. Nezuko had a katana, just like her brother, but she could also make the switch to her war fans or her throwing knives if the situation called for it.

They had started the journey in the early hours of the morning, now the sky reminded her of a painting she had seen on display once when visiting a traveling art show in her local village. She believed it was called a watercolour or something along those lines. The crisp blue was smudged with streaks of orange and pink, it was starting to darken.

She saw the lights of the town and breathed a sigh of relief.

Yoriichi too was starting to perk up. “Have we arrived?”

“Yes, we’re just pulling in now” She confirmed as the doors to the courtyard of the Rengoku estate opened. She breathed in, taking in the pleasant scents of Senjuro’s herb garden. They had barely gotten the chance to hop out of the cart when the older Rengoku son came rushing up, hugging her tightly with his left arm.

“So glad to see you all again! I hope your journey was swift and pleasant!” He took the time to greet everyone before finally coming to Yoriichi. “Ah, you must be the young man I’ve heard about. Thank you for being able to join us at such short notice. My younger brother will sort out some refreshments shortly”

Yoriichi’s eyes adverted to the ground, not through rudeness but what she interpreted as genuine shyness. “You are most kind, you do not need to worry about me...”

“Good, you’re all safe” The patriarch of the family spoke up. Though she was not overly keen on the father, Shinjuro had made the effort to remain sober after her mentor had nearly died at the hands of upper rank three. He gestured to the tatami room “There’s something I would like to check with you all...”

The group followed, entering the grand room where a single katana was laid out. It looked brand new as if it had been recently forged, she saw the way that Yoriichi appeared to seize up upon so much as looking at it. She flicked her gaze to Tanjiro, who also seemed to notice this.

“We have recently received this sword as a gift. It appears to be well made but something doesn’t seem right about it, I know that it is an odd request but I’d appreciate it if everyone could hold it just to make sure its been balanced right...” Kyojuro was lying. Something in her perked up at that and, again, Tanjiro looked at her as if he had noticed it too.

Curious, she would need to ask about that later.

Each person in the room took turns holding the freshly made blade, Tanjiro didn’t seem to have any issue with it and even Nezuko had to admit that it was finely crafted. Then, came Yoriichi who looked at it as if it would bite him.

Still, he swallowed and picked it up. He observed it intently, then the younger slayer couldn’t help but noticed how the young man before her had begun to sweat almost feverishly. The skin on his face appeared to be washed out. It was only seconds but it felt like hours had passed before Tanjiro grabbed something from a cabinet, just in time to prevent Yoriichi from vomiting onto the floor.

“Take it away!” The sun breather shouted before Nezuko snatched the katana from where it had been dropped to the floor.

In the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but notice father and son mumbling about something as Senjuro rushed over with medicine.

-

It was now deep into the night, she had snuck out of her bedchambers when she bumped into Tanjiro, who seemed to have the same idea.

“Did you not think that what Kyojuro and Shinjuro did earlier was odd?” She spoke in a hushed yet concerned voice. “If the sword was made wrong, they would have picked up on it straight away”

“I agree” Tanjiro confirmed. “Which is why we need to discuss this with them directly. I’ve seen people become ill regarding certain things but that’s only after witnessing or surviving something horrific. Yoriichi didn’t have an easy childhood from what he had told me but he’s never mentioned being attacked with a sword”

The two snuck around the estate until they came across the hashira’s study. Nezuko had never been inside but she had observed Kyojuro going in and out with reading material to help train her mentally as well as physically.

The voices were quiet, barely able to be heard but the two knew that it was the father and older son discussing something. Nezuko leaned in, hoping to hear better only for the doors to be opened and the two to be discovered.

Shinjuro sighed.

“I told you that they would be listening in.” He huffed yet did not seem to be annoyed. “I’m guessing you wanted to know about earlier...”

“The sword was fine, why did you make us hold it?” Tanjiro was uncharacteristically blunt; something that caught her attention but Yoriichi had become something of a friend to him, so she guessed that his reaction must have shaken something inside her brother.

Kyojuro passed around what seemed to be a painting, the man looked almost exactly like Yoriichi Tamura though the clothing, from what she could make of it, was very old-fashioned. Extremely so. “We believe that this was painted by my ancestor, the first flame hashira. Judging by the records we have, Father and I believe that the Hinokami Kagura is the original breath style: Sun breathing.”

“We also gather from the records that the original sun-breathing user was this man, he who was responsible for the breathing styles we have today...” Shinjuro tapped the image.

“This painting has to be nearly five hundred years old, there’s no way that Tamura-san created the first breathing style. Even then, how would someone like this teach a breathing style, a combat form, to our family?” Nezuko questioned.

Shinjuro opened his mouth to answer before an ear-piercing crash could be heard. Tanjiro shot up and dashed towards the sound, followed by Nezuko and the Rengokus. Something was deeply wrong and it had come from the direction of Yoriichi’s chambers. Tanjiro gasped in horror as whatever he was looking at.

Somehow, someway, Upper rank three had destroyed the wall facing out to the courtyard. He was holding Yoriichi as if he were made from glass and would awake at any moment. “I had a feeling that I would be seeing you again, Kyojuro”

“Put him down! Bastard!” An unnatural fury seeped from her brother as he drew his sword. The upper rank three smirked, only incensing her brother further.

“Get off him at once!” He roared, in a voice that did not entirely seem his own. “Tanjiro!” She screamed as he lunged at the demon only to be kicked away effortlessly.

“Have no fear” The foul creature that was cradling Yoriichi spoke “He is sleeping, such a very deep sleep. The herbs I added to his tea were very helpful in that regard. I’ll be sure to give the upper rank one your regards” He mocked before something seemed to open under the demon and the pair had vanished...

Chapter Text

The sensation of falling was not unfamiliar for the demon that was carrying a certain young man, he rather enjoyed the feeling of the wind rushing through his blush coloured hair. Yet his blue and yellow eyes remained on the person in his arms, watching for any sign at all that this man would awake.

That would not be good.

Akaza needed to make sure that his special package had been given over to the upper rank one before the young man awoke. For now however, he remained soundly asleep as if he were still in his bed. The ‘additive’ that Kokushibo had suggested indeed worked its magic.

He had succeeded in his mission.

So why did he feel so awful about it?

Upper rank three could not help but wonder if he were truly doing the right thing. On one hand, he was reuniting his superior with a long lost sibling who he loved dearly; on the other hand though, there was the deep rooted nausea that came with the knowledge of just how much the upper rank one loved his brother…

Was he really going to subject this innocent young man to a ghastly fate as this?

Akaza swallowed as he hit the ground, feeling the roughness of the tatami floor under his feet, before shaking the thoughts away from his mind. He had a job to do and he could not afford to disappoint the demon king again.

The figure in his arms began to stir ever so slightly; it was the tiniest movement of his hand, the twitch in his soft facial features but it was enough to make the tattooed demon wary.

‘Shit! He’s waking up!’ Upper rank three thought as he placed the man down onto the floor, his crimson hued hair fanning out in a way that reminded him of a trail of blood. Akaza grabbed the rope that he had been granted by Muzan for good measure, tying the resting figure’s hands together along with his feet.

He even blindfolded him and tied a cloth around his mouth.

The demon picked up the young man once again, gently throwing him over his broad shoulders before making his way over to the dreadful place that Kokushibo had taken to calling his personal domain. Watching the silhouette tower above him as he approached, Akaza entered the hellish castle and made his way to the great hall.

Kokushibo was facing away from him, looking up at the centrepiece of the ceiling. Beside him, his corrupted sword was plunged into the stomach of a tribute that was still squirming as the blade digested the victim alive.

Akaza couldn’t help but wince at the cruelty.

Walking past, he allowed the figure to slip down from his shoulder and knelt, presenting the sleeping young man to the upper rank one. “I have your brother, Lord Kokushibo” He spoke respectfully as the older demon turned and froze in place for just a moment.

The disgraced former hashira took his brother into his arms, like a groom carrying his new bride.
The young man stirred slightly again, the movement in his hands was more obvious this time. The upper rank one growled protectively as he swayed slightly “All these years you made me wait...” He spoke gently, tenderly, lovingly. “Nearly five hundred years, but I have been patient like you would always tell me to be. I have you now. This time, you will not run from me…”

Akaza bowed respectfully before he was given a nod, granting him permission to leave the castle.

Though he knew that the old warrior would not seek to kill him, he started running when he felt the drop in his stomach that told him to get out of there. He ran and jumped with neck breaking speed until he finally hit an area of the infinity castle where he knew that he would not be disturbed.

He settled down, kneeling in a corner and started to breathe deeply. He let an image of a pink and blue kimono float into his mind, he could not recall why but there was something about this kimono that normally brought comfort to him.

It was no use however.

Upper rank three began to tremble uncontrollably, his breath becoming shakier as he fought to control it. His could not help but cover his mouth as he tried to stop himself from hyperventilating, a sign of weakness in his eyes.

‘What have I done?’ his mind raced, like he was running after it to stop the horrific images that were entering his mind. He had heard of women being pinned to the ground and violated even when he was human, was that what he had just subjected this innocent young man to?!

His imagination painted an image of those tearful eyes staring into his soul, silent and shaking as a large monstrous shadow leered over him.

Something in him broke “I’m s-sorry...” He squeaked pathetically “I’m so sorry...”

-

He did not dream this time but he did not have to, not when his mind was fully awake and conscious even when his body was not.

Yoriichi had tasted the tea that the younger Rengoku son had given him before he decided to sit out in the gardens while waiting for it to cool down, he loved the crisp air that came with the calm of night. When he returned, it had tasted a bit different but he figured that the temperature had affected the taste before downing it, hoping it would send him into dreamless sleep.

He should have known that something was wrong then, but he only caught on when he felt himself slump to the floor as each limb refused to obey him.

Then, came the stench that came when only a demon could be present. Stale blood, though there was another scent mixed with it. He recalled an old dojo, the smell making him think of the leather and fabric that was used to create the dummies to fight. He tried to yell, kick and scream as he was picked up by this foul creature.

It chuffed, almost arrogantly.

“He was right, you are very peaceful looking...”

While he couldn’t exactly recall what had happened afterwards, he did hear shouting that came from none other than Tanjiro. The boy in his green and black haori had become something of a genuine friend to him in the days that had passed since the attack he survived on that humble village.

Then, he felt the fall and heard the voices of those he had grown to love fade until all he could make out was the sound of wind whistling by his ears until they landed on something. He attempted to move but found himself quickly tied up, blindfolded and gagged.

Lastly, he had been passed over to a second demon.

He felt movement as the second creature walked, he walked for a while before he could make out the sound of a door opening and closing. He could at least open his eyes now, though he could barely make out anything when the blindfold came off. He turned away from the sudden light, only to find himself pulled into what he could only guess was the demon’s muscular bare chest where he had opened his kimono slightly.

“You’re so pretty when you sleep, you should rest a bit more...” A deep, velvety voice spoke, almost sounding like a purr. Yoriichi made the mistake of looking up, finding himself staring into six red and gold eyes. His whole body seized, he thought that his heart was going to give out in the moment.

The younger man felt a clawed hand snake behind his head, coaxing him to burrow into the thing’s neck where he could make out a reddish mark similar to his own. He tried to speak, only to find his body giving way to sleep deprivation.

“Sleep now, Yoriichi” If it weren’t for whatever the hell was in his drink, he could have jumped up at the mention of his name. The demon brought him in closer, placing a kiss on his forehead what his birthmark was. “Go to sleep. You don’t need to worry any more.”

He was on the verge of passing out when the thing holding him close leaned in a whispered in his ear.

“Your Aniue is here”

Chapter Text

The meeting was chaos.

After the abduction of Yoriichi Tamura, an urgent assembly was held at the Rengoku estate while an investigation took place as to how the demon got in. If they could take a civilian, what were the chances they would try their luck with a sleeping hashira or the master himself?

Senjuro cried openly; the thought of a guest being snatched from their own home was inconceivable. Shinjuro tried to comfort his youngest son as much as he could, but even he was shocked at the turn of events. Kyojuro insisted on helping with the investigation while the other hashira found themselves at a loss.

Obanai Iguro, the serpent hashira, smelt the cup that was used to hold the tea, before shoving it away with such force that the kakushi holding the cup to have nearly fallen over.

Sanemi Shinazugawa was quick to notice this strange response from his friend.

“What is it?” The wind hashira asked quietly.

“This tea. I think it was used to...” He cut himself off, not wanting to remind himself of the reason he had ended up becoming a demon slayer in the first place. All the infant and young boys had been sacrificed to that snake demon before he had finally escaped. He recalled how he could still smell it from time to time.

He sighed as Mitsuri Kanroji came up to him. The love hashira looked tearful, she had just been talking to Kyojuro about what happened before approaching “Obanai. Is there something you know of in this tea?”

“I do” He nodded “Normally, the plant that has been added to this is dangerous. Poisonous even, but in the smallest doses it can help people sleep. It’s called Belladonna Nightshade.”

“It comes from the west, the European area to be exact.” Shinobu added. Her face turned into concern as she too took a sniff from the cup. “There’s something else as well. I’m unsure as to what it is but this is a very real concern. The master will likely need to hire a food taster for himself, as well as his wife and children”

The stone hashira Gyomei Himejima prayed as the tears kept coming.

Muichiro Tokito had been quiet but had effectively latched onto Nezuko the moment he saw her.

He had bolted to the flame hashira’s historic estate the moment he had heard about the attack, something about the event had made him feel uneasy, frightened even. He feared that the Kamado daughter had been harmed during the attack and had been most relieved.

Something about the older Kamado concerned him however, he had been quiet, too quiet. He only reacted when Giyu Tomioka arrived, looking almost dishevelled. “Tanjiro! Were you harmed?!” He yelled out, ignoring everyone turning to stare in pure disbelief at the emotional outburst.

“No...” The water breather turned sun breather muttered quietly.

The silver-haired boy snarled “When do we get started?! We need to avenge this man as we would any other loss!”. Kyojuro stepped in “Sanemi. I have reason to believe that Tamura-san is not yet dead. The demon would have killed him otherwise, why would he just drop into some kind of space?”

“You must admit, the chances of him being still alive are unlikely” The hulking giant of a man noted before praying once again. “It's more than that! A hashira could have been attacked in his own home! We must do something and quickly” The serpent hashira vented before the group descended into an argument over what they needed to do…

Muichiro stiffened as something in the air grew cold, unnaturally so. Nezuko had also perked up, focusing her attention on her older brother who had closed his eyes. She reached out to him, only for his eyes to suddenly snap open.

Nezuko stepped back, feeling her heart pound harshly in her throat.

Tanjiro’s eyes were pure black, but it was impossible for him to be a demon. It was the middle of the day with a clear sky, the sun would surely burn him if that had been the case as she had seen too many times to keep count. Mitsuri gasped in pure horror, bringing the attention to the grotesque display.

The red-haired boy opened his mouth, letting his jaw hang loosely.

“Why do you argue like this?” A voice, not belonging to the gentle soul they had come to know, scolded harshly. The mouth did not move, remaining open as the unknown voice spoke again “You already know what to do. You must rescue Yoriichi! He is indeed alive and unharmed for now, but I do not know if this will always be the case.”

Sanemi drew his blade “Blood demon art!” He lashed out, only to find himself physically grabbed and held up in the air by his throat before being thrown aside. Sword clattering to the ground.

“I am no demon. Listen closely, all of you! I have already lost my friend once, I will not allow him to be lost once again. You must not only find him, you must find the truth of why he was taken in the first place! Only then will both our souls know peace” The body belonging to Tanjiro trembled as blood began to pour from his eyes “If you fail, I’ll make sure that you regret it. The first piece is in the Rengoku study. Find the black archives!”

Tanjiro collapsed, coughing as he did before finding himself surrounded by his most important loved ones who were now weeping. “W-What? What happened?” He wiped his eyes, jumping at the sight of red smears on his sleeves and hands. “What is this? I… I was talking to Giyu-san! What happened to me?!”

No one spoke until the stone hashira finally stood, his hands still in a praying moment as he stepped forward. He knelt before the young slayer, before pulling out a bottom of water and cloth he used to wash the sun breather’s face. “It seems that something or, more likely, someone used your body to provide us with a message. Do you have anyone who was a demon slayer within your family?”

He was about to say no until he recalled the night before.

“Actually. I think I know exactly who was speaking through Tanjiro just then” Shinjuro Rengoku stood, determined and fierce. “I only recently discovered Tanjiro and Nezuko Kamado indeed hold demon slayer heritage. I thought it was some stray slayers who were quickly killed at first, then I found this”

He passed the red folder and painting to the hashira.

“The reason why Muzan himself attacked the Kamado household is because a Kamado nearly killed him during the Sengoku era. For this reason, I believe that it was none other than that very man who was speaking to us. Sumiyoshi Kamado has spoken for the first time in nearly four hundred years, we should listen to what he had to say!”

Chapter Text

Looking through a window in one of the highest rooms in the castle, he watched the endless array of building shift and reorganise themselves according to the whims and wishes of the one who controlled it. It was a vast space, one that made him feel sick to the stomach but he guessed that he would have to get used to this.

Yoriichi was restricted to one small room for now, the creature that kept him under lock and key stated that he needed to complete some ‘finishing touches’ to the bedchambers that were going to be for his use when it was done. The six-eyed monster insisted on being called ‘Aniue’, though he had heard the name Kokushibo spoken by the demon that took him from where he had been staying with his newfound friends.

The room was luxurious, especially when compared to the kinds of places he would have to sleep as a child. If this wasn’t even supposed to be his bedchambers then he couldn’t help but wonder just how much more ostentatious a room could possibly get.

Despite the lack of cold, Yoriichi shivered.

It didn’t matter how pretty a room looked or how grand it felt, he was a prisoner being held here by something that probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if it didn’t get its way. A bird locked away in a gold cage was still locked up and forced to sing.

The creature had left the room for something he was unsure of, but not before placing a manacle and chain on his neck. The freezing metal bit at him as tears welled in his eyes, his captor hushed softly as he wiped away the unshed tears. “It's only for now until you get a bit more used to me. I promise, my Otouto. Don’t cry, it will not be long”

He had curled up into a corner and sobbed silently, as he often did when he had his nightmares. At least those twisted versions of what he longed for would remain in the realm that did not impede on his life.

Tears had stopped coming, now he just sniffled as the realisation dawned on him that he may not ever be found. Even if his friends were to go looking for him, what was to say that those demons wouldn’t just kill them?

He took a deep breath.

The door creaked open, revealing the demon dressed down to only his purple and black kimono and white tabi socks. He had been wearing a pair of hakama pants, coal-like in colour, prior but seemed to discard them in favour of a less stern appearance. In his hand was a wooden comb, much like what people tended to use day to day yet he spotted a glint that suggested some kind of decoration.

Upper rank one approached like Yoriichi was a wounded doe, untying what held his crimson ponytail up before combing through the locks with the utmost care. The human man had been made to face the wall and kneel. The demon huffed contently as he took his time going through all of the younger man’s hair.

When he was done, the demon leaned in close and ran its talons through the silken locks.

“You’ve always been beautiful, like a painted masterpiece come alive”

Before he could answer, he found the side of his face pinned to the wall; not harshly but held in place enough to know that he would struggle to get out of the grasp. He felt his dull yellow kimono side away, exposing his shoulders.

Yoriichi’s breath hitched as the hand that was on his head, moved down to his neck, firmly keeping him in place as the demon placed its legs between his. The other clawed hand pulled the kimono down further, allowing the elder’s lips to grace the skin on the younger’s back. He bit his tongue, desperate to not allow a sound to escape that would give this thing the wrong idea.

The upper rank’s tongue ran across a sensitive spot on his shoulder, forcing a sigh from Yoriichi’s mouth. He was truly shaking now, he was terrified of what was going to happen.

He felt the demon open his own kimono, allowing the two bodies to touch with nothing between them in a salacious embrace. Both of the pale hands belonging to the demon ran down to the tender meat of Yoriichi’s thighs, caressing them and the area around his lower pelvis, the ancient creature was breathing fitfully like a panting dog.

The younger man felt something twitch and found himself looking at his own hardened cock. ‘Fuck’s sake’ He cursed to himself as the thing he had been dreading started to settle in: Sexual arousal.

He was fearful that his captor would sense it and forcefully take him.

Yet, it seemed that the demon almost seemed to be aware of this fear of his. He felt his newly combed hair being pulled slightly as the thing whispered erotically in his ear. “I will not force you to take all of me if you are not ready. I’m guessing that you must be still a virgin to be acting like this?”

Shame filled his body as Yoriichi nodded.

“Good” His captor grumbled as he pinned Yoriichi to the floor on his front. “I’m already doing much better this time...”

Before he could ask what the thing meant by ‘this time’, he felt the tip of what he could only assume was the creature's own length prodding at his completely unprepared entrance. He felt it twitch against him before figuring out that the demon was stroking himself yet did not intend on ravaging him.

Not yet anyway.

Yoriichi raised his ass a bit, making it easier for the demon to buck against the hole gently. It wasn’t much but it was enough to tempt the younger man, to make his mouth water, to wonder how big the creature above him truly was. Would that twitching member reach as far as his guts? Gods, the fog of lust was a thick one.

The human reached down and felt his hand nurse his length.

He blushed madly, granting his cheeks the shade of a deep red rose. Each prod against his ass was electrifying, disgusting, and tantalising. He wanted to scream, beg this creature to stop, to pull this thing close enough that it would penetrate him properly. A tear poured from one of his eyes as his lean yet strong body, which was dwarfed by the demon’s muscular frame, was washed over by the feeling of pure euphoria.
Yoriichi hid his utter shame.

The warmth of his seed burst onto the floor, grabbing the demon’s attention as he stroked himself at a much faster pace.

“Yes…” It moaned in a hushed tone, bucking with more intensity against the vulnerable flesh “Yes, yes! Gods. Mine, you are mine. You belong to me. I’m… I’m going to…”

The demon held his cock so that it touched the twitching hold, letting his spend coat the pinkish flesh. He panted as he looked upon his work, Yoriichi would be more prepared for when he decided that his precious one was ready to take the full length of his cock.

Hell, a part of him hoped that with that pretty fucked out face of his, Yoriichi would be the one to start pleading for his Aniue.

As it should have been nearly five hundred years ago!

Chapter Text

The night Michikatsu’s path had twisted into a darker version of itself had started as any night would for the then seventeen-year-old samurai lord in training. His father and the men under him would drink themselves stupid before having singers and courtesans entertain them, he found the whole display grotesque.

Fighting the urge to be sick, he had fled into the night to get away from everything. His father had forced him into an arranged marriage with a slim yet pretty lady. Ayumi was the ideal wife for any samurai lord, but it was not the life he wanted.

Gods, he longed for freedom.

He couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if he had dared to run away with Yoriichi that night. He cared for his wife and newborn son, but he couldn’t bring himself to love them, as for why he had been unsure; a part of him hoped that the darkness of night and some fresh air would perhaps clear his mind enough to answer that question.

He clambered over the walls where the plants had overgrown, wandering into the woods until he heard a gentle humming on the wind. The soothing sound coaxed the young man to a clearing where a small hot spring sat. Relaxing in the water, stark naked, was none other than the twin brother he had lost.

Beautiful.

Yoriichi had grown up, still wearing those earrings their mother had made for him. He was so perfect to look at that it made Michikatsu’s heart both stir with joy and pain. His own body was greatly scarred, each mark made during training or battle.

Droplets of water ran down the flawless pale skin like crystals glittering in a mine, thick curly red hair ran down to his hips like a luscious mane. Though lean, his features were chiselled enough, yet his face held a gentle expression that made the elder twin swoon like he had become intoxicated just by drinking in the younger’s appearance.

Was he alone?

The elder’s mind raced wildly, weaving a story of the two returning home together and living out the rest of their lives with one another as it should have been. But the images that were being painted in his imagination grew increasingly sexual. what if he went to touch Yoriichi now? Would he be scared away, or would he invite Michikatsu to join him?

He could feel his mouth water as he wondered how soft Yoriichi’s lips would be on his own, would his mouth taste like the salt of the hot springs, or sweet like the plum wine Michikatsu liked? He had heard somewhere that women enjoyed having their breasts fondled, their nipples pinched or caressed.

Yoriichi was a man but even a man still had nipples like women, would he moan like a whore if the purple haired twin took one of them in his mouth?

His mind buzzed with the endless possibilities and further question: What position would Yoriichi favour? Would he want to ride Michikatsu? Making enough noise to avert the gaze of the gods. Maybe he would prefer to be fucked into the ground, pleading for his dear twin to fill him up with everything he had.

Michikatsu knew the gods would damn him for these perverted thoughts, yet he cared not. Unless they were willing to intervene themselves, he was going to drag Yoriichi back to his bedchambers by that radiant hair of his and have his way with him.

That was until a young woman popped out from the side of a bush.

She was small, heavily pregnant. She looked like she would be needing a midwife soon enough. how bold of this stranger to come near his Yoriichi just when he had made up his mind! “Dinner is ready, my love.” She giggled, it would have been a sweet sound if it had not sounded so grating.

Yoriichi stood up and exited the spring, steam pooling from his perfect body onto the ground like he was a god himself.

“I’ll be home very soon, Uta. Just make sure that our baby will be healthy,” He kissed her tenderly before watching the lady in her yellow and pink kimono waddle back home. It had been a cute scene between husband and wife under the stars.

A red haze fell onto Michikatsu.

Yoriichi had not waited for him. No, how could he have expected his twin to wait if he had not even written to him all these years? His hands trembled as tears filled his eyes, his darkening heart aching with the agony of heartbreak. He had run home, nearly throwing himself back over the wall before snatching several bottles of sake from his father’s storage.

Not like he would miss them.

He barricaded himself in his bedchambers and wept. He loved Yoriichi, he always had done, even when it was just an innocent kind of admiration. The night had guided him to the springs, why else would he have fallen so hard for his darling twin?

Now what was he supposed to do?

The young boy he knew would not have grown into the kind of man who would fuck a woman then leave her to it, this Uta woman must have been his wife. He was married with a bloody child on the way! No, No! This could not do!

He would not stand for this!

Kidnapping his twin would only make him resentful, especially if the bitch was killed on sight along with the thing growing inside her. Hell, was it even Yoriichi’s baby to begin with or had he been kind enough to marry a ruined woman just to offer her and the child protection?

Or had she been unfaithful?

He hissed as the tears faded, he opened a bottle of colourless rice wine and took several mouthfuls as if he were trying to drown the image of that nasty looking woman in it. This spiteful, hateful creature had trapped his sweet, innocent, gentle twin and he had to set Yoriichi free from its clutches.

A plan began to grow in his mind, Yoriichi could not find out about this though. His twin would never forgive him...

-

The following day, he had taken a few of his father’s more unethical men up to a wooden hut which he saw Yoriichi dash out from, presumably to search for a midwife. It was getting dark already and it was known that demons as well as wild animals prowled the mountain openly at night.

Of course she would make his twin risk his life.

When he was certain that Yoriichi was out of sight, he sent the men in. They dragged out the woman as she pleaded for the life of the thing growing inside her. Drawing his sword, he placed the tip by her neck. She froze in horror, probably at the idea of being slaughtered by someone who deeply resembled her husband.

He wondered for a moment if he had told her about growing up with Michikatsu.

“I never expected my brother to pick damaged goods...” The older twin sneered as he flicked his blade, letting it cut the woman’s cheek enough for blood pour slowly down her face. “Then again, he always needed a guiding hand for someone who loved him. First, it was our mother. Now, that person is me.”

He went to swing for her neck when a smell entered his nose that made him turn around.

Michikatsu had heard stories about demons, told what to do should he ever encounter one while on his journeys to battle. The thing that stood behind him was ugly to look at, with spikes protruding out for its skin. Yet, a part of him remained calm.

If a demon killed this woman, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about washing the dirty blood from his fine blade.

“Are you here for the men or the woman?” He questioned bluntly.

The demon staggered closer before speaking “Expecting women have lots of nutrition to their flesh, comes with the extra life they carry. I want her, not you skinny men with no meat on your bones”

Satisfied with the outcome, he nodded to his men so they would let go. Uta was frozen in horror at what her fate was going to be, a tear rolled down her face as Michikatsu smiled savagely.

“She’s all yours...”

Chapter Text

All of the hashira had taken their turns scrambling through the Rengoku estate, desperately trying to find any hint or sign of this ‘Black Archive’ that Tanjiro, or more accurately the person controlling Tanjiro at the time, had spoken of.

Shinjuro had nearly ripped apart the old study in a desperate frenzy to find something, anything!

The incident during the meeting had shaken everyone, slayer and civilian, who had watched Tanjiro become a puppet at the whim of something from the other side. The older retired flame hashira did not wish to face the wrath of Sumiyoshi Kamado if the episode in the gardens had told him anything about angering the dead.

The black pits that had replaced the friendly doe like eyes belonging to Tanjiro would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Speaking of the sun breather, Tanjiro had become violently ill after the interaction between ancestor and descendant. Nezuko and Muichiro were busy looking after him while the thunder breather Zenitsu and that strange boar boy Inosuke had arrived to help with the search. Even with their help, however, it would seem that their search was in vain the first day…

The older Kamado had gone to bed early, the stresses of the day having worked him into a frenzy before his body gave out…

-

Sleep had never come easy to Tanjiro Kamado, even more so after his father died in the middle of the night. He had awoken in the early hours of the morning to the smell of blood from outside, he dragged himself out from the comfort of his bed only to be faced with his father face down in the snow.

He didn’t hesitate before throwing off his haori to cover his father’s head before rushing to his mother.

“Okan!” He cried as he tried to stir his mother awake “Okan! Okaasan!”

Kie had shot up in bed then, She was fully aware of her husbands illness and to find him not beside her, with their sweet Tanjiro weeping as quietly as he could meant only one thing. Tears poured from her eyes as she barely registered the snow outside when she rushed to the side of her husband.

She grabbed his figure, dismayed at how light he had become after death.

“T-Tanjiro...” She sobbed, calling out the name of her son. Her long black hair hung down like the branches of a weeping willow tree. “Keep your brothers and sisters inside, they s-shouldn’t see your father like this...”

He didn’t think, only followed what his mother had suggested. When each of them awoke, he found himself having to break the news of their father’s passing.

In the years that had followed, he now realised why Tanjuro had gone outside to die in the cold. He coudln’t bear the thought of his sister Nezuko watching him die, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine the guilt that their beloved father had kept to himself regarding his illness and impending demise.

He had dreamt of this more times than he could count, yet this time it felt like he was a bystander within his own story.

The scene before him had cleared then, before settling down into a snowy forest, simular to the one on the mountain he grew up on. He could make out the shadow of a the local town he would visit but it seemed different.

Smaller.

Built from wood rather than stone or brick.

There was a grand looking estate that Tanjiro could not remember ever seeing, had it fallen into ruin by the time his family came about? Did the tiny village engulf it completely? The stream of questions ran like a river until everything stopped except the falling of the gentle snows he was used to. He blinked and a figure, much like himself, was sat down on a fallen log.

He was skinnier than Tanjiro, maybe about the same height. He too wore a green and black haori though his looked a bit rougher in shape like he had worn it for years. In this figure’s hand was a smallish axe, made from stone rather than metal.

The other man turned towards Tanjiro and smiled sweetly.

“You’re here at last.” The figure’s voice was soft, like a gentle summer breeze. Tanjiro knew that this was no other than Sumiyoshi Kamado speaking to him, yet a part of him had not expected someone so soft to be the one who nearly destroyed Muzan directly. “I’m most glad that I get to speak to you...”

The young slayer went to speak, but found that nothing would leave his mouth. He fretted for a moment, believing the silence would offend his ancestor somehow. Instead, Sumiyoshi looked sad before he got off from the log and knelt into a bow that told Tanjiro of sincere apology. “I am sorry, Tanjiro. I did not mean to distress you earlier, I did not want to threaten anyone but my closest friend needed my help...”

“Your friend?”

“Yoriichi Tsugikuni...” His ancestor explained “...He saved my wife when she was pregnant with our daughter. I was helpless and yet he stepped in to save us though it was not his obligation to do so. He stayed for a few days to recover, in that time we struck up an unlikely friendship. He made sure my wife recovered from childbirth before going back to the demon slayers.”

Understanding blossomed in Tanjiro’s mind as he recalled the book that had been passed around the other hashira before he got a chance to read it for himself.

“Tsugikuni-san lost his wife and child. He did not want anyone else to suffer like he had...”

Sumiyoshi nodded slowly. “I felt shame rise over me, but he insisted that it was through my refusal to run away from my wife that they were safe. I begged him to teach me how to do the sword forms he used to protect us, Yoriichi was kind enough to show me how each move was designed to kill any demon who crossed his path. I did not wish to become a demon slayer, but I gained the knowledge needed to protect my family”

The descendant nodded, then a question arose in his mind.

“Tamura-san...”

“...Is my best friend come again. It seems that his soul had returned into another body, though this life has clearly been no easier than his first.” He bowed in his kneeling position again, this time more deeply with his forehead touching the ground. “I should not be asking this of you, I know. But please! Help him! Help Yoriichi gain peace...”

Chapter Text

Yoriichi slept a lot.

It was quite a difference from his first life, where, if anything, he had been more like a night owl compared to most people. He supposed that it must have come from the way he had been inducted or pressured to join the demon slayers after the ‘unfortunate’ death of his wife.

Kokushibo watched, all six eyes focused on the young man who slept with his head on the demon’s lap.

The dark circles around his eyes had not been lost on the demon, the way he would flinch when something or someone moved. He was growing more used to the demon as days passed since their brush with what they should have been for so long. That night had the upper rank craving for more, wanting to feel how tight Yoriichi would be since he was a virgin in this life.

Just thinking about it for too long would present him with a problem that he did not want to force his returned twin to sort out so soon. He wanted to possess Yoriichi completely but did not want to force himself on him.

What he wanted was for his darling Otouto to make the first move.

As of now, his twin was comfortable resting his head on the demon’s kneeling form. Each breath brought ease to the old samurai; the rise and falling of the younger man’s chest helped to soothe the nearly five hundred years of loneliness. To have Yoriichi here with him once again, this time unspoilt, it was all worth it.

He would send out lower-ranked demons to bring back human food and drink, he learnt quickly that Yoriichi’s stomach could not handle notably rich or fatty foods. He spent a night soothing his poor twin as the human vomited into a chamberpot after he had consumed some tempura. For now, meats had to be somewhat plain, but fish was always the better choice.

It had also occurred to him that his twin did not seem to remember the life they had shared; he supposed that having a clean slate might be been for the better. At least he would not remember that nasty bitch Uta, even if his purity was intact this time.

Or the others that came and went…

-

Michikatsu was inducted into the demon slayers after he had survived an attack that had slaughtered most of his men. In a twist of fate, it had been none other than Yoriichi who had killed the demon that aimed to take his life. His plan had worked as far as removing his wife was concerned, but everything after that had backfired.

He had taken too long removing the others who would have threatened his union with his dear twin, Ayumi, and their child was sent to live with a relative. He was able to make out that he was concerned for their safety with the demon attacks and warring clans in the area, but it was really just to get her out of the way.

Killing her would have been too noticeable, and, for all her faults, she was a good mother to their son.

As for his father, the elder twin knew that his father would not be as easy to remove; he had to plan it carefully. It was easy to go out foraging for poisonous plants that could be accidentally confused for herbs to put with his food and then blame the chief. The issue was that it had taken him more than fifteen days to do just that; Yoriichi had vanished in that time.

He later discovered that his twin was a demon slayer, which had prompted him to take his army out to kill these pretenders, these people who would likely claim that they loved Yoriichi.

Despite his original plan failing, he had been pleased with the result.

No one would question why he was so desperate to join the slayers, Yoriichi had welcomed him with open arms and a teary reunion. But as time passed and he became a hashira within his own right, not everything was going as he had planned.

It had become apparent that with the lack of a wife and not wanting to start a new family, he had taken to having more sensual relations with some of the other swordsmen. He had thought it was harmless friendships at first, a minor issue that could be removed with not much fuss, until he had witnessed Yoriichi pull someone in for a passionate kiss.

Had Michikatsu not fled from the scene, he would have killed that fucking swordsman who dared to let his twin touch him in such a way. His hands trembled wildly, and his normally calm facade was crumbling into an unbelievable level of rage. He gritted his teeth, refusing to allow such an awful sight to destroy the carefully painted mask he had created for himself.

He was to appear distant, melancholy, and reserved.

Still fighting the urge to cut down the person who had dared his wrath, he swallowed and began to think to himself. This swordsman was not a hashira, but what if there were others? What if the hashira were in on this? He needed to remain coherent to protect his twin from these advances that these wolves were making.

Of course, Yoriichi wouldn’t understand what they were planning; he was too soft and kind to see the truth that was rotting under their skins. They were pretending to love him, they probably wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were killed by a demon one day.

He couldn’t let that happen.

That was how he had begun to stalk Yoriichi, making notes of where he would go, who he would meet with, who were merely friends, and who he would take to bed by candlelight. He couldn’t help but notice that Yoriichi never did seem properly satisfied by any sexual partner. Did they really chase after their own highs?

Quietly, each and every pest was removed.

The swordsman who had kissed his otouto that fateful night was the first to go; a quick check had confirmed that this man had a wife and children of his own. Michikatsu simply left a note with this fact, Yoriichi had discovered this, and the findings resulted in a screaming match between his twin and the ‘companion’.

The moon hashira had watched from afar as the insignificant swordsman was tossed from Yoriichi’s estate and told not to bother coming back.

No one ever found the body after Michikatsu stuck a pin into the back of this man’s neck and then buried him alive.

Yet it seemed with each bit of vermin that was removed, another would come to take its place, and the moon hashira was having to get more and more creative to make sure that no one discovered what he was doing. Of course, with each disappearance, he would be there to console his precious one as he wept into the elder’s shoulder.

Yoriichi never did see the smile that would grow increasingly menacing as the weeks flew by...

Chapter Text

Yoriichi Tamura was unsure as to how long he had been here for. He believed that it was perhaps a few days, but it could have been weeks for all he knew, this strange space operated differently, and the castle he found himself in was shrouded in constant darkness.

He was shut away in the most luxurious room he had ever stayed in. It was still dark, but he could see where the buildings moved around to the wishes of the demon kind or the demon that controlled this odd space. He did not have to wear that cursed manacle around his neck anymore to his relief, that did not stop the anxiety that came with the demon’s presence however; especially when he could sense those hauntingly beautiful eyes of his undress Yoriichi whenever his gaze was on him.

His aged yellow kimono had been replaced with a fine array of silken kimonos, each one looking like they had been created especially for him. For the moment, he was wearing a deep purple susohiki kimono with a gold peony pattern on it, this was paired with a black and gold obi belt and several hair pins made to resemble wisteria flowers. His hair was still worn in a ponytail, though some of it was braided.

The irony of the wisteria was not lost on him, as he had heard that demons could not go near them.

When he was alone, he began to actively long for his demon captor to give him some company or talk to him. He couldn’t believe the ridiculousness of it all, wanting to escape this space and yet being on the verge of throwing himself at the demon that was keeping him here.

That night.

That cursed night when Yoriichi had allowed himself to be degraded by being used as a way for the creature to satisfy himself without going as far as to actually fuck him. It had driven him mad like a stray dog in heat. Now his body was begging endlessly to be pinned down, his mind was crying out to be grabbed and taken from all angles.

At long last, the upper rank one entered as he would after consuming human flesh. He was always so very clean, making sure his appearance would not scare Yoriichi.

Something in his mind sparked, and the younger man couldn’t help but try and adjust the obi belt wrapped around his waist. “Aniue, can you undo this belt for me, please? It feels so tight...” He pleaded softly, breathlessly, erotically. He turned round to grant the demon access to where the belt needed to be undone.

It slipped off effortlessly, then he turned back to Kokushibo and allowed one side of his kimono to fall from his shoulder.

The demon stepped back slightly as he approached, letting the kimono fall from his body entirely to reveal the lean frame under the expensive silks. His thick, radiant hair only served to highlight the pale skin. He went to reach for the demon’s face, blinking when the old warrior grabbed his wrist and brought Yoriichi’s hand to his lips.

“If you do this, I won’t be able to stop myself...”

Instead of responding, Yoriichi knelt and untied the sash that was holding up the demon’s hakama. It dropped to the floor, revealing a black fundoshi. The length hidden away was large, even when soft. He let his lips brush against the material, watching intently as the creature closed its eyes and shuddered lustfully when he began to palm it.

He found that the demon hardened quickly, and found himself in both shock and awe at the size of the erection; the fundoshi came faster than the hakama did, Yoriichi could feel his own arousal creeping between his legs as his mouth watered at the size belonging to the demon. The younger man licked his lips, staring down the rose dust coloured tip that twitched with each breath.

The red haired man squeezed it with one hand as he sucked it sloppily, using his other hand to touch himself. His face flushed red with lust, his mind clouded with everything he wanted to do. The creature growled above him, clearly lost in the sensation of having his cock sucked on. The noises that came from his darling with too intoxicating to ignore, and he started to buck into the warmth as he ran his taloned hand through Yoriichi’s hair.

“Yes...” The creature moaned, eyes squinting as he watched his dear otouto take his cock in his pretty mouth. He felt his length twitch when he looked down further to find that his precious one was stroking his own cock, lost in the pleasure of their salacious act.

Kokushibo knew it was blasphemous to enjoy Yoriichi like this, but all thoughts regarding that had been destroyed centuries ago.

The human separated himself from the demon’s twitching cock, several strings of his own saliva still connecting the two before he broke them to sit down on the soft futon. He blushed feverishly as he opened his legs and let his back hit the covers. He bit his lip, watching his captor approach as his purple and black kimono hit the floor, leaving the demon bare in the darkness of the room.

“Give it to me, please!”

Allowing the upper rank to settle between his legs as the demon loomed over him, Yoriichi’s heart pounded like it was trying to escape from his chest. He trembled in anticipation, watching the demon coat some of his fingers in saliva as the talons vanished. The younger man felt the first digit sink inside him, forcing a gasp from his throat.

Yoriichi’s breathing was becoming shaky, he swallowed nervously as the second digit entered, only to be followed shortly by the third. He threw his arms around the demon’s neck, bringing him closer and allowing the fingers to push deeper. So deep that the young man felt tears fill his eyes as he hungered for more.

The movements were good, but he wanted everything.

He sat up slightly, shoving his lips onto the creature’s. “Take me...” Yoriichi whined, removing the demon’s digits from his entrance. “Gods, just fuck me. I want everything, I’ll do anything. Please just do it. I want you so badly-”

While he had been prepared, it was nothing when he felt the entirety of Kokushibo’s length penetrate him all at once. The younger man thought he was going to choke, the stretch was both agonizing and heavenly.

The tears fell as he moaned loudly.

As far as the old samurai was concerned, this was perfect. He could feel every quiver, every movement from the walls of Yoriichi’s entrance. When he moved, his darling almost screamed in pure rapture. The sounds coming from the smaller human under him were obscene even before he had taken to ravaging him.

The slap of skin to skin echoed through the room, each time sounding wetter than the last.

Kokushibo couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to last long at all; he could already feel the impending edge of orgasm approaching rapidly. His own breathing was fitful, he just couldn’t help himself when Yoriichi was squeezing his cock in that way that made him think that his otouto wanted everything that the demon could give.

Good, his darling deserved his special affection.

He was well-behaved, like a good younger twin would be.

It wasn’t long before he found what he was looking for and pounded it ruthlessly, the roughness of his pace forcing Yoriichi to stutter before he found himself covered in his own seed. The younger’s maroon eyes rolled back as his head hit the pillow, the demon continued his rough pace until it crashed into its high. The length that was burrowed so deeply inside him erupted with a slick warmth that made him groan softly.

The demon slumped beside him, detaching from his ass and allowing the plentiful spend to seep out of him.

Exhausted, Yoriichi drifted to sleep in the comfort of the creature’s strong arms.

Chapter Text

It had been two days with no further luck.

Tanjiro could not help but become increasingly frustrated with the lack of progress, though Nezuko helped to soothe her brother’s deepening resentment at the helplessness of the demon slayers, even the hashira were genuinely struggling.

Kanao had approached upon her arrival at the estate, her usually blank face showing concern for Tanjiro’s well-being after hearing about the incident that had occurred. Not wanting his anger to scare away the flower breather, he took several deep breaths before burying his wrath in the back of his mind.

She was a lovely girl, quiet yet kind in her own way.

They had met when Nezuko ended up developing a close friendship with her and another butterfly girl called Aoi. His sister had introduced them, and there was just something about the girl with those curious mauve eyes of hers that seemed to just draw him in, she was calm and collected, which often reminded him of the mother he missed dearly.

“Tanjiro, I… I heard about what happened...” She started before her voice quieted down. She went to speak again, but something stopped her; there was that coin she always carried in her hand. He could see that she longed to speak, yet could not find the words she wanted to use.

Instead, she teared up and hugged him tightly.

The eldest Kamado had to lean back slightly to catch her weight, the tears in his eyes fell freely as the two held each other. Muichiro Tokito watched the scene unfold before him and couldn’t help but ask himself if he would be able to share such a bond with Nezuko. From the moment the two had met, she had been someone who lingered in his memory even if it tired to erase her.

He could not help but feel bewitched when he saw those pretty rose like eyes of hers.

They had first met when the two had been brought to Kagaya Ubuyashiki himself with their story, the tale the pair had spoken was enough to drive several of the hashira to tears. Mitsuri had wept openly when Nezuko described being forced to run as her family were slaughtered, Gyomei had shed his own tears as well.

Giyu Tomioka and Kyojuro Rengoku had both spoken up on behalf of the Kamado siblings, citing their devotion and their resilience despite the odds placed against them.

The master was moved to tears himself upon hearing their story.

That had been several months ago now.

Nezuko was currently fretting over her big brother whenever the two were alone, Tanjiro would always insist that he was alright but he knew that Nezuko would not be convinced until she believed otherwise. This situation involved a ‘Tamura-san’ was pushing both siblings to the edge but it was particularly heavy on Tanjiro for some reason.

Though he was not close to the older Kamado, he did feel that he needed to do something about this awful situation.

The strange event in the main garden only served to push him further to this conclusion further. He could not explain it but there was something in the way that the voice spoke from Tanjiro’s mouth that made him shiver even now.

Darkness had begun to fall across the land when he made his way to one of the many guest rooms on the estate., he had undressed and nestled himself into his bed like a baby bird under its mother’s wing when his mind began to wander into its own imagination. It seemed that whenever hetried to sleep restfully, a mirror image of himself attempted to reach out to him. Most nights it would try before weeping as it always did…

This time, it succeeded.

“Muichiro!” An exact copy of himself screamed out desperately, seizing his demon slayer uniform which suddenly changed to a short cut white and turquoise kimono. He could recall a small hut but not what was inside it“You must remember! For fucks sake, please remember! Muichiro!”

The figure before him wailed before he faded into two adults that he seemed to recognise, he could not fully place them but he knew that they were important to him. That he had been devastated when they had vanished from his life, only to lose the copy of himself that he could not fully recall; It frustrated him to no end, until tonight when their faces appeared to be clearer than they had been before…

“Okansan! Otousan!” He shouted at the top of his voice before the figured seemed to vanish into the fog. He recalled the figure who resembled him so closely and wailed for him “Yuichirio! YUICHIRO!”

He reached out only for his grasp to fall short of his family, sucked into the endless mist like they had never existed in the first place.

He could feel the tears falling from his eyes, even before he could feel someone approach. Something in the way that they presented themselves told him that they were no threat to his life. No, they seemed to want to help him in some way that he did not yet fully understand. He felt the gentle touch on his shoulder first, before he turned to find himself facinga regal looking lady with a kind expression.

She held the same turquoise eyes that his mother had, though her smile seemed to be sadder. Before he knew it, tears were falling from her eyes rapidly as he went to calm her but no words left his throat.

“My poor child...” She sniffled sadly, “My darling Muichiro. I wish you did not have to do this for our family...”

He had awoken them, with something itching at the back of his mind.

The young man had rushed into the garden until he stumbled upon an old willow tree; whatever had burrowed itself into his head told him to claw at the ground until he found something. Dirt piled up on both sides of him, even as the teen felt a fingernail be bent in a way that it should not have. He could not stop.

Then, his hands hit something hard in the dirt, and he found himself with no choice but to tear it from the roots of the willow tree.

“Muichiro!” He heard the kamado siblings shout out as the last of his energy left him. The sunrise in the distance felt cosy, he saw how Nezuko brought him onto her shoulder before he gave himself to the darkness of rest.

That lady from his dream appeared once more.

“You have done well, my child” She applauded him, coaxing him to sleep “Your precious one will grant you rest and love in equal measure”

Chapter Text

Everyone’s attention was centred on the filthy box that was currently sitting on one of the many tables in the study. Its form looked rough yet appeared to have once been a fine piece of work, likely made at the hands of a master carpenter or an artisan. It was square in shape though the edges were rounded slightly.

The box itself appeared to have been crafted from a kind of dark oak, though Obanai couldn’t help but notice how some areas of the box appeared to be different in colour compared to the main bulk of it. All could not help but feel somewhat intimidated by the box, as if it were a reminder of the foreboding events that had taken place in the days coming up to this moment.

It was unassuming yet eerie.

The aroma of clay and soil mixed with wood filled the air. The Hashira wrinkled their noses at the stench but Senjuro couldn’t help but feel that the scent was actually rather pleasant, not too pungent but somewhat refreshing.

Muichiro, the mist hashira, was still resting from the events of the night before where he was found clawing at the ground like a wild animal until he had unearthed this box from under an ancient willow tree. “That tree had been there since before the estate was built, I suppose its no surprise that something could be buried beside it” Shinjuro had commented but even he couldn’t but ask himself what was inside that had to be hidden.

The older retired flame hashira hated allegory.

Myths and legends made for great entertainment around a fire on a cold, moonless night. They weren’t to be blindly followed in the day to day, lest a person end up becoming so lost in a world of their own fantasy that they would not be able to see where they were supposed to go or what they should be doing.

Stories had been passed around the demon slayer corps for years of strange things happening to those who came even remotely close to developing something akin to sun breathing, or if they approached certain locations. If he had been asked about this event a year ago, he would have dismissed it as fallacy or dangerous fairy tales.

But there was just no denying what happened to Tanjiro in the garden that day…

The way that the air had grown almost ice cold in the presence of the dead, the sound that came from Tanjiro’s open mouth without even having to move his jaw or tongue yet sounding as clear as a bell. Those pitch black eyes that had begun to bleed when the ghost became angry would haunt Shinjuro until his dying day.

It did not appear that there would be any permanent side effects from whatever had happened according to the insect hashira, but even she had been deeply shaken. Shinobu Kocho was a lady of medicine, of science yet even she trembled at the sight of could only be assumed was Sumiyoshi taking brief control of Tanjiro’s body.

At least that was something.

Finally, Shinjuro decided to inspect the box more closely as he grabbed a wet cloth and began to wash away the slick grime. The nut brown water seeped off the table, splattering into a bucket or towels that had been placed around it. Senjuro and Kyojuro watched closely as their father worked his magic, revealing an intricate pattern of flowers, samurai and swords.

Quietly stepping away, they marvelled at the pattern before noting that an arm of one of the warriors appeared to be slightly out of place. Kyojuro approached and pressed the arm into where it should have been, hearing a click before the mechanical parts of the pattern and the box itself could be heard ticking.

Then, it swung open with splutter and a hiss.

“Wow...” Mitsuri couldn’t help but gawk at what she was seeing. “Its so beautiful!”

Sanemi couldn’t help but wonder what he was looking at for a moment or two until Gyomei picked up the item in question. An exquisite looking key with the kanji for ‘Destroy’ moulded into the design that was wrapped with golden fire.

The wind hashira swallowed, almost nervously.

“Is… That…?”

The stone hashira nodded solemnly “Indeed. My theory has been proven correct” He took out a letter that looked like it had only been opened that morning, the crow was still poking around by the window, likely looking for some kind of food.

“Theory?” Kyojuro questioned “Forgive me, but why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Uzui Tengen huffed with faux arrogance “Because he wanted to keep it for himself in case he was wrong, I don’t blame him. It would have been most unflashy!” He chuckled, trying to hide the questions that had dug into his mind. Witnessing the spectacle in the gardens had been an eye opening experience, it both horrified and fascinated him.

“I was waiting for confirmation from the Master. I recalled him once telling me about the ‘Black archives’ but I was unsure as to whether they still exist. When someone turned against the demon slayer corps, they would file away any deeds or misdeeds that the person may have done in these archives. Master has not only confirmed they exist but has also granted us written permission to access them in order to help our investigation...”

He showed the paper, written in what the hashira guessed was Ubuyashiki’s finest ink judging by the wisteria scent coming from the pages. It even featured a wax seal of his clan symbol.

Gyomei continued “According to the letter, we need to present this to the specialist Kakushi who guard the old castle. Most of it has fallen into ruin, but the archives are kept deep in the ground where no one can enter without permission. Considering the situation at hand, believe it would be best if the Kamado’s come with myself and Muichiro Tokito. I will also take Genya with me...”

Everyone saw the way the wind hashira flinched but the giant placed a hand on his shoulder.

“He will be safe with me, I promise”

Sanemi sighed was frustration but seemed to accept this, something was bugging him though, like he had the feeling of constantly needing to watch over his shoulder...

Chapter Text

Since the night he had taken that first step, the six eyed demon just could not seem to keep his clawed hands off Yoriichi for very long.

The young man was not allowed to leave his own bedchambers unless granted permission from the upper moon one, he had expressed his frustrations at this only to pressed against the wall and kissed erotically until he simply gave in an accepted the answer. There was always his wandering hands, grasping at every part of the warm blooded human.

Kokushibo seemed to crave human touch, any skin to skin contact could be enough to drive the demon into a feral craze that would result in their clothes being on the floor and Yoriichi being ravaged until both parties were panting with their seed on the ground or across their bodies.

If it wasn’t any kind of sexual contact, there would always his fingertips running through the human’s luscious red hair.

Upper rank one, who always mumbled under his breath about how perfect and beautiful Yoriichi always had been, was also prone to violent rages if another demon dared to get too close to the castle. He had witnessed one occasion when Yoriichi had been in the great hall, combing the demon’s hair as he did his usual babbling.

It was as if the air had gone freezing cold before the demon launched himself in the direction of the entrance.

He had not witnessed the attack as such, but Yoriichi knew the sounds that came with bones snapping or skin tearing apart, the grotesque shrieking of the doomed intruder echoed through the endless space before a final crack brought about a sickening silence.

Kokushibo growled loudly as he re-entered the castle, blood splattered across his kimono like an ink spillage. He clicked his neck before bringing his red and gold gaze back down to the young man who was currently dressed in a red and pink yutaka with daisy patterns. While he wanted to question the demon about the clearly feminine kimonos, he chosen to keep his mouth shut.

Right now, he was preparing to sleep.

Making his bed proved to not be an easy task when Yoriichi knew that the demon that had, in effect, become his lover would like come seeking to claim him once again. He curled up in his futon just as the door opened and closed, he had the shuffling and the familiar sound of clothes being undone and hitting the floor.

The young man would be lying if he didn’t admit that the sounds alone were enough to make his mouth start watering.

The strong creature laid down next to him, gently pulling him into its embrace. A sound resembling a purr echoed from the demon’s throat, pulling him in closer. His possessive hands felt around Yoriichi’s body: squeezing him, grazing the skin on his neck with those fangs of his, wanting every piece of him.

Even still, Yoriichi would gasp softly when the demon would start bucking in the direction of his entrance.

He felt the upper moon’s tongue lick along that spot that would drive Yoriichi mad with want, with a need to have the creature’s cock buried inside him. He shuddered, his voice quivering with lust as he reached down and began to stoke himself. It seemed that it was going to be a long night of making nose that the demon would call his ‘sweet music’.

Kokushibo’s mind, however, was elsewhere.

-

It had been some time since he had started to remove and erase any presence of a troublesome lover who would try and tempt his dear Yoriichi away from him. They were not easy to deal with, especially when they seemed to get smarter with each one he got rid of, if he could not kill them then he sought to sabotage their weapons or destroy their reputations.

Yoriichi found himself without any company soon enough.

The whispers around the mysterious bad luck that followed any lover he had (including his own wife) followed him like a lingering storm cloud, he saw the loneliness that was building in his poor twin and wondered if his sun breathing sibling would finally accept him as his destined one, his soulmate, his one and only.

Yoriichi would still cry on his shoulder when he had his sad nightmares about the death of his ‘wife’. He supposed that the demon must have been violent with her, he had to act sad around him but when the sun hashira was not around, Michikatsu would find himself chuckling evilly at the thought.

Then, as if the cruel gods just had to constantly put something between him and Yoriichi, his twin found another bastard lover.

Bright orange hair and a fearsome personality to boot yet he treated Yoriichi like he were made of glass, always checking in on him and insisting on making sure that he got home safely after a mission. Zenri was the name of this particularly revolting pest, a swordsman that was proficient in thunder breathing.

Michikatsu was starting to lose what little patience he had in his body, trembling at the sight of Yoriichi giggling at some kind of joke the young man made.

He had heard that a solar eclipse was coming, a fascinating time yet dangerous for any unsuspecting human. He could pay Yoriichi a special visit on that day without telling him. His gorgeous otouto would not refuse his presence, that would be when he would finally show him just how much he adored his twin.

Zenri would be no match for someone Yoriichi already loved.

This disgusting piece of shit would find himself cleaned away and replaced with Michikatsu’s loving, tender embrace.

For now, the moon hashira was content to watch the sun hashira bath in his personal onsen. It always brought him back to that night under the stars when he encountered Yoriichi for the first time since they had been children, wanting to touch this masterpiece that was crafted by none other than his own parents.

“I’ll pleasure you all through the night my love, I’ll show you how much I love you...” He whispered ominously, allowing his fingers to drop into his hakama. He could already feel his cock hardening as he took it in hand and began to pump. Watching the steam and hot water roll off from Yoriichi’s body only served to arouse him further, it wasn’t long before he felt himself tensing up before cleaning off and walking away.

A sacrilegious plan had started to form in his deranged mind...

Chapter Text

The wind had a gentle breeze to it, yet the howl it gave was an ominous one. The leaves under his feet crunched quietly as the sun set from behind him, his lilac blade shorn in the orange and gold rays. It was still bright, yet the lights had vanished from Michikatsu’s eyes.

The forest that surrounded the sun hashira’s estate cast a great shadow that leered over him.

He was hunting, not for food but for what he desired most, and today, he was going to finally stake his claim to what was rightfully his. His mouth watered at the very prospect. Both hands trembled as he wielded his blade unsheathed in his left hand. A terrifying darkness was starting to invade his mind, but he had grown comfortable with that villainous part of him long ago.

The moon hashira was wearing a silver and blue kimono with camellias dotted around the sleeves. It was a departure from his usual purple kimono, but he wanted to make sure his favourite clothing would not be sullied if he needed a story to tell. A hairpin with a moon crescent was planted neatly in his ponytail as it swayed in the wind.

Creeping up to the estate, he could make out a faint yellow hue that belonged to a lamp. Yoriichi was likely waiting for his false lover to arrive. He gritted his teeth as he shoved the thought of the swordsman going by the name Zenri.

A snap of a twig made him stop before he hid behind a cherry tree.

Speaking of the devil, that very thunder breather was approaching in a dressed-down kimono.

Michikatsu’s eye twitched violently as he made a wild dash towards the swordsman. He had always been the fastest of the hashira, so the orange-haired man stood no chance. Before he could register what was happening, the hairpin had been planted into his neck and ripped back out. The bastard staggered before pressing down on his wound.

Zenri winced, “I had a feeling it was you.”

“Oh?” The deranged hashira questioned.

“It was obvious: every man who disappeared was found dead or had their reputation ruined, just happened to be the lover of your twin brother. I’m more shocked that you didn’t act sooner, but I should have known you would act when Yoriichi finally called me to his bed. He’s a very good lover, you know. Not that you would understand, you never felt anything other than envy at his skills with a sword.”

It was a giggle at first, but something had begun to crack, and he found himself laughing manically.

Zenri swayed slightly as his face grew pale, Michikatsu calmed himself, and wiped the tears that had formed. “I did not realise that I had acted the part of the jealous brother so well. I guess my time as a samurai lord taught me more than just what a person would expect.” He chuckled again as he noted the way his rival had begun to froth at the mouth. The needle inside his hairpin had done its work.

“I love my brother more than anyone would know...” He stepped forward as Zenri began to cough and noticed his predicament. “I loved him before anyone else could. I am the one he is meant for. Why else would he have been born on the same day, under the same moon phase, to the same mother and father?”

The thunder breather had gone to retort, only for thick chunks of blood to splatter out of his mouth onto the grass. His face had begun to turn a nasty pink and red colour, with his lips turning a shocking blue as his body could no longer handle the simple task of breathing.

Michikatsu knelt, watching the young man struggle for his life.

“No, you will not be having him. I’m going to have a taste for myself and nothing will go to waste...” He sneered, Zenri’s face slackened as it hit the soil, and barely a gurgle could leave his swollen throat.

Satisfied with his work, he dragged the body into the nearby bush before he walked to the door where his twin would be waiting. He entered to find Yoriichi in a state of undress, and in the candlelight, his beauty seemed to be even more ethereal. He was kneeling, facing away from the door on his futon, his yellow kimono was lingering around his elbows like a pool of gold. That exquisite crimson hair of his was let down, curling around his shoulders.

He turned, then blinked in horror when Michikatsu locked the door.

“Aniue! Y-you’re not supposed to be here, I’m waiting for someone...” He rushed over, then stopped when he saw the way his twin looked at him.

“You would dishonour me in this way again…” He ground out angrily.

Yoriichi was starting to become very afraid, he stepped back only for Michikatsu to smack him with the back of his hand so hard that he fell backwards to the floor. He clutched his tender cheek as he tried to shuffle away. “W-what are you doing? Why are you acting like this?”

“You think I don’t know what you were doing? Whoring yourself out to anyone who did as much as look at you” He grabbed the hair at the back of the younger twins neck like the scruff on a dog, a cruel smile growing when Yoriichi yelped at the pain “I have been waiting for you for so long, yet you have done nothing but discard me. That ends now.”

The sun hashira felt the remainder of his clothes being ripped away before he heard it, the room darkened as the eclipse began to take hold. Forced onto his back, Yoriichi fought as he noticed his twin was undressing before him.

“Wait! Stop! Are you drunk? I’m not your fucking wife, stop!” He thrashed wildly, seizing in abject horror when he realised that Michikatsu was not only fully coherent, but was actively enjoying watching him struggle if the feeling of something poking at him was anything related to that.

Yoriichi’s blood ran cold as he shook his head.

“Please, don’t make me do this...” He whimpered tearfully. The moon hashira’s weight on him made him want to vomit, especially when he was kissing his neck and biting at the soft, pale skin lustfully.

“Be a good otouto. I’ll be nice if you behave.”

Yoriichi had taken another person’s cock in his entrance before, but he had not anticipated the sheer size of Michikatsu. He was very underprepared, letting out a mangled cry as his older twin forced his way inside. His whole body was quivering as the moon hashira bore down and sought to take everything Yoriichi had to give.

He had made love before, but this was a twisted form of it.

The sun hashira was used to not being able to fully pleasure himself, but gods-be-damned, he wasn’t going to allow himself to be taken this way. Just when Michikatsu looked as though he was going to release, Yoriichi grabbed him by the neck and straddled around his hips, holding him down.

“If you want me so badly, you’re not going to be the only one to have fun,” He spat as he squeezed the moon hashira’s neck, moving his hips and taking something deeper that simply shouldn’t be there. He sped up his pace quickly, chasing after a high that he had not get to reached when he had another lover.

The gods would damn him to the deepest levels of hell for this, he knew that much.

Yoriichi was panting, fucking himself wildly on Michikatsu’s hardened cock. His breathing was quick, a sure sign he was approaching his impending high. It was sickening what he was doing, but by the gods, Michikatsu was larger than any man he had before, and he wanted to relish in the feeling.

“Shit!” He cursed loudly, feeling that familiar heat build up in his body. “Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder you bastard! Go on! Fuck me!”

Something in his mind cracked as he reached his orgasm, squealing wantonly as he felt the seed shoot out of his own length. A feeling of warmth burst from inside him, and he knew at once that Michikatsu had climaxed as well.

He was smiling as he trembled.

Then it hit Yoriichi.

‘What the fuck have I done?!’ He shuddered in the darkness as Michikatsu slipped away into the dark of night. It had begun to rain heavily as he looked outside. ‘I… enjoyed it...’ He swallowed guiltily.

The horror of the act fully dawning on him.

‘Michikatsu and I had sexual relations, and I enjoyed it...’

Yoriichi vomited as he rushed out into the rain. He must have been mad as he knelt down on the grass, allowing the ice-cold water to coat him as the shame crept in...

Chapter Text

The woodland surrounded them as the group of demon slayers journeyed to an area that had long been deemed cursed by the rest of the organisation. They had been walking for nearly two days when the sun had began to set once more.

Tanjiro was carrying Nezuko on his back, her feet needing a rest after trying to keep the pain to herself like she always did. Though she did not like the constant need for additional help, the Kamado sister knew that the nerves in her feet had been damaged irreparably that night. She was currently chattering away with Muichiro Tokito, who had brightened up over the past couple of days.

After that incident in the garden, something had changed in him.

The mist hashira was talkative, almost child-like in his nature, Tanjiro could not help but wonder just how long that side of Muichiro had been hidden under the mask of being the passive, forgetful hashira. He had brought over a light pink camellia earlier when they had made a quick stop to eat, the elder Kamado had noticed the mist breather fretting slightly before approaching Nezuko with the blush coloured bloom.

“It made me think of your eyes...” He had spoken quietly.

His sister had planted it in her hair just above her left ear, blushing slighted as she did so. He supposed it would be around that time when she would start to think about boys more often, perhaps he needed to speak with her regarding this crush of theirs?

“The castle is up ahead” Gyomei announced, grabbing their attention. Genya was stood beside the stone hashira when they all stopped to marvel at the grand building that was being slowly reclaimed by the forest.. The roof had collapsed inward though the rest of the structure remained strong, ivy clung to the brickwork like a growing rash.

Stood at the gates were a pair of the advanced kakushi that Gyomei had mentioned, dressed in a blood red version of the normal uniform. They were armed with both swords and firearms of some kind, they were fearsome to look at let alone speak to.

The giant of a man stood before them and handed over the letter that the master had written, the pair nodded before they opened a door that led underground. The hallways were brilliantly preserved and well looked after in comparison to the rest of the castle, burning torches lit their way to a pair of dark oak doors with black chains holding them closed. The key that had been found was prompted pushed into the lock, it made several clicking noises before the chains slithered away and the doors opened with an ominous creek.

The black archives were opened.

He placed Nezuko back on her feet before they entered apprehensively.

It wasn’t a large room but there were enough records that made his stomach churn, were there really so many people that turned against the demon slayers after working for them? Tanjiro shuddered to think as he scanned each shelf, he opened a book to see if he could find the information they needed only to find himself reading of an incident when one swordsman had been caught mistreating the women he saved from a demon.

He shoved the book back onto the shelf as if it had bit him.

The gentle giant walked over and placed a hand onto his shoulder, tears falling from his face. “This place is called the black archives for good reason. We will need to comb through this place, so be prepared to read something that you would rather not. You must lock away any emotion for now, we have a job to do”

The sun breather swallowed and nodded.

He wasn’t sure just how long they had been in this godforsaken place when he stumbled slightly and caused something to fall beside him. It was long and wrapped in a cloth, tied together with red ribbon. Curiosity filling his mind, he untied the ribbon, allowing the cloth to peel around from when was wrapped up.

An ink black blade, similar to Tanjiro’s own, glinted in the torch light.

It was forged beautifully, with ripples that curved through the metal like smoke. The hilt was finely crafted, the pattern resembling the mountain that he had once called home. His mouth began to dry up like a desert as an urge filled his body to touch the blade.

It was smooth, then darkness clouded his vision. The screams of his group fading into the black.

-

Tanjiro shot up onto his feet, it seemed he was back out in the middle of the woods.

“Was I… dreaming?” He questioned before he made out the sounds of footsteps racing in his direction. The scent was not one belonging to a demon, no it was the scent of fear, of horror, of…

He didn’t have time to think before he found himself running towards a pair of figures who had charged passed him. He saw the familiar chequered haori and shuddered as he realised that he was running alongside an ancestor who had been dead for well over four hundred years.

“Sumiyoshi!” The second figured cried out, there was no doubt in Tanjiro’s mind that this must have been a Rengoku ancestor. Would he have been the first flame hashira? Thoughts came in and out of his head as he watched the scene “You can’t run off, you’ll get yourself killed!”

Sumiyoshi Kamado did not respond, instead he hastened his pace even as the pain in his legs stretched into the meat of his thighs.

He could not stop.

Yoriichi needed him.

Finally, an old estate of some kind grew into his view. Tanjiro hurried alongside his ancestor, stopping only when the charcoal seller nearly collapsed upon entering the estate. The stench of sickness hit him in full force, not even when his own father had been on the brink of death had it ever smelt so awful,

Beside him, Sumiyoshi had started to weep as he entered a room tenderly, carefully, quietly.

Tanjiro could not hold back the tears.

The sun hashira, Yoriichi Tsugikuni, was laid out in bed. He was alive, but barely if the slow breathing was anything to suggest. His was pale, slightly gaunt looking with lips that held a terrifying shade of blue. He was shivering, yet would push anyone away weakly if they tried to touch him.

As the charcoal approached, the other hashira in the room were beginning to panic. One of them with green hair and deep blue eyes was becoming increasingly frantic, he couldn’t help but guess that this was the wind hashira judging by the way Tanjiro was reminded of Sanemi.

Beside him was a man draped in blue, with azure hair and eyes that matched, he was sobbing loudly to Tanjiro’s horror. He supposed this must have been the water hashira.

“Yuto! Kaito! We must leave them be...” The flame hashira spoke up.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Tatsumi, he may have been your friend before ours but we need to stay!”

Yuto replied harshly “What point is there? We can’t treat him, you won’t be able to treat him. Hell, he won’t let us anywhere near him...”

Tanjiro turned his attention back onto his own ancestor as the others argued, who was trying to sooth the dying sun hashira despite his own tears falling uncontrollably. The pale man swallowed tickly and mumbled something that only Sumiyoshi could hear. “l...loud...too… loud...”

The young sun breather could not help but notice how everything seemed to slow for just a second as his ancestor turned his head and stared at the other swordsmen. All three of them focused on him as the kind lights in Sumiyoshi’s eyes faded, replaced with a devastating level of wrath that would burn anything it wanted to a crisp.

His voice was smooth, still gentle but they held power like he had never heard before.

“Get out, all of you”

All three scattered and left, not wanting to find themselves facing the wrath of a gentle man. Quiet fell and Sumiyoshi took a deep breath. Both men in their black and green haori’s froze as a tear ran down the sun hashira’s face, he shifted slightly revealed several harsh bite marks that lined his shoulders and neck.

“W-what happened? Yoriichi, I was told you sat out in the rain for nearly six hours before you became sick. Why did you do it?”

The breathing was raspy, like the sun hashira was trying to gather the words to explain. He coughed, letting another tear fall. “I… did something. I did… something… unforgivable...”

“Yoriichi, you don’t need to talk if its too much for you, let me help you-” He was stopped by Yoriichi’s cold hand holding onto his own. “I… must confess...” He spoke as though his strength was fading quickly, Sumiyoshi sniffled as he leaned in to listen.

“I… did something. I have… taken lovers but… I did not think… that I would… take someone…who would harm me. They...” He swallowed, the tears flowing more now. “They…”

“Tsugikuni-san...” Tanjiro choked on his own breath, forcing himself to hold back the tears. The bite marks and bruises coupled with what the sun hashira could not bring himself to say was more than enough to paint a horrific picture in his mind.

“Who did this to you?” Sumiyoshi growled.

“If I… say. Please do not… confront them. They… will kill you.”

His ancestor went through the motions, thinking, considering, planning before finally relenting.

“Michikatsu...”

A silence fell over the room. “w-what...”

“The worst...thing. I wanted… I to be in… control. I… enjoyed it. I’ve sinned… in the worst way...possible.”

“You wanted to be in control because he was forcing himself on you! Yoriichi, its not that unforgivable! I can’t believe this, your own twin would force himself on you...”

Tanjiro thought he was going to be sick with how violently his stomach jolted. His own brother?

His own twin had, more or less, raped him?!

“I stayed… in the rain… to cleanse… myself...” He continued speaking until he suddenly stopped. “Have… the torches gone out?”

Sumiyoshi whimpered at the meaning of his words, and nodded. “Yes, they went out. Someone will light them up again shortly” He clung on as the breathing slowed still. He went to let go until Yoriichi seized onto his hands tightly. “Please...” The sun hashira pleaded tearfully, lights fading from his eyes “Please stay… I don’t want to be alone. Remember… your promise...”

A single tear fell as the his chest stopped moving.

Chapter Text

Akaza was not normally one to stalk and watch another person go about their day-to-day life, but the young man that he had dragged here seemed to stir something deep within his mind that just refused to disappear. From where he sat in the monstrosity that was the Infinity Castle, he watched as the young man with his radiant red hair moved gracefully along the rows of roses and gardenias.

Yoriichi was an enigma to the upper rank three, quiet and tender yet completely untouchable.

Muzan had made something very clear to the other upper moons after he had brought this strange creature of a man to the upper rank one. No other demon was allowed to touch him. Hell, no other demon was allowed anywhere near that damned castle; Kokushibo had been possessive over his personal space before, but now even a flicker of another demon’s presence was enough to send the old warrior into a terrifying fit of rage.

Speaking of which, he could make out the dark shape that indicated where the upper rank one was in the space of the vast gardens that he had cultivated specially for his beloved brother.

He could see the powerful demon standing off to the side, his gaze seeming to follow where the younger man walked in the pastel blue and yellow kimono he donned so effortlessly.

His stomach churned slightly, but he knew better than to say anything.

That was when he felt the temperature in his immediate vicinity plummet, his throat closed up involuntarily as he slowly turned to glance behind him. There, the old samurai stood silent, imposing as ever, yet the glint in his eyes told of a bright and fearsome fury. ‘No...’ the upper rank three felt his mind race, ‘I was spotted!’

“Why do you insist on watching my brother?” The demonic lord before him growled as he narrowed those six haunting eyes of his, “Are you… Interested in him? In that way?”

“Absolutely not!” Akaza shook his head, yet the upper rank one did not relent. “Oh. So you think he is repulsive, then?”

He was stuttering now, reduced to a horrified whimper.

“No. Please, Lord Kokushibo. I wouldn’t dare think anything so insulting to your brother. I only wanted to be sure that he was safe-” He gasped and threw his hands to his mouth as the realisation of what he had just said dawned on him. He threw himself down into a dogeza bow and swallowed nervously as he could feel beads of sweat running down his head.

Before he could speak, however, a clawed hand seized his throat, and he found himself thrown down next to the entrance of the castle, the impact of his landing buckling the wood and forcing a coughing fit out of the pink-haired demon. He could make out the older demon approaching him, yet his body refused to run.

Helpless on the floor, he was forced to watch as Kokushibo drew that vile blade of his and sliced it across Akaza’s torso, watching intently as the upper rank three fought desperately to put his intestines back into his body. The older demon chuffed with twisted amusement.

“I care not for what you think of Yoriichi and me; it is not for you to judge us. In the grand scheme of things, you just don’t matter. No one else matters, no one will separate my dear brother from me ever again, I’ll deny the afterlife of their claim to his soul if I must. Now, run along before I decide to simply kill you for your wretched insolence.”
It didn’t take much for the demon to flee back into the shadows of the infinity castle.

Kokushibo snarled as he watched the younger demon flee, before returning to the gardens where his most precious one was waiting for him. Yoriichi was as beautiful as ever, draped in the gentle azure-hued kimono with pink clouds embroidered onto the fine silk. Those Merlot coloured eyes focused in on him and blinked when the demon cupped his face gently, his eyes closing when the old samurai lord pressed a kiss onto his forehead.

“You’re so delicate looking when you dress like this...” He glanced at the outfit he had personally designed years ago, “Like a gust of wind could snatch you away.”

The older man ran a finger across those soft lips, his other hand wandering down and pulling up the fabric of the kimono to caress the smooth, warm skin of Yoriichi’s hips. The younger man gasped quietly, pressing his body into the demon before him. A faint blush rose in his cheeks as those eyes looked away shyly.

He felt Yoriichi’s leg wrap around his own, and he brought his arms up to the demon’s neck. “Aniue, take me back inside.”

He whispered into the creature’s ear, so hushed yet laced with lust.

Kokushibo groaned as he grabbed both legs and wrapped them around his waist, holding Yoriichi in place as he walked back inside the grand castle and made a turn to one of many rooms where they would not be disturbed. Lowering Yoriichi’s legs back down so he could stand, he promptly turned him around and planted him face down onto the table.

The length of the kimono was pulled up slowly, allowing the demon to nip and kiss at the sensitive skin as the lifted fabric revealed more of the young man’s needy body, until his ass was uncovered and was vulnerable to whatever Kokushibo longed to do.

Yoriichi went to try and turn on his back, only to be forced down. “Stay like this,” The demon grumbled erotically into his ear as the tie that was keeping his hakama up with swiftly untied, allowing the dark article of clothing to drop to the floor. His charcoal coloured fundoshi did nothing to hide the growing erection as he allowed his covered appendage to rub against Yoriichi’s entrance.

“A-Ah! Yes...” The younger man turned to face his lover, his pretty face fully flushed red with excitement. His mouth watered wildly. “Please give it to me. I… I want you so b-badly. Please fuck me...”

The upper rank demon tilted his head as he leaned over the willing human under his muscular frame. “I was going to be slow with you tonight, but I suppose I can’t resist it when you beg for me...”

Hastily, the fundoshi came away, revealing his hardened cock.

“...But that doesn’t mean that I’ll just give it to you.” He guided the erection to where Yoriichi’s entrance was twitching with fervour, licking his fingers and spreading the wetness over the fleshy hole. He held down Yoriichi’s hips as he bucked gently into the hole, allowing his tip inside to help the younger man open up before sliding it back out and repeating the movement until it was driving the red-haired man insane.

“Stop the teasing! Please!”

“Oh? Do you want me to stop this?” He spoke in that tone that told Yoriichi he was being played with like a toy, pulling out his cock to make his point.

“NO!” The Younger man wailed loudly, unshed tears making those beautiful eyes of his glitter innocently despite the filthy stare he was giving him. “Stop it, just give it all to me, please! Aniue!”

Kokushibo leaned over the table again, taking in the natural musk that his twin seemed to exude in both lives. “If you want my cock so badly, beg for it. I’m not going to fuck you until I’m fully satisfied that you want me for yourself”

Yoriichi cried out, as if in genuine pain.

“I want you so badly, Aniue, please! I need you to fuck me, please just take me. Take me all night if you must, I want you so much. No one else will do. You’re so magnificent to look at. Please! Please Aniue! Take me, I beg of you!” The words had fallen from his mouth so quickly, he hadn’t had time to think through them properly, but it seemed to do the trick nonetheless, as a familiar rumble from the demon’s throat told him that he was happy with the answer.

“That’s the right answer.”

With no more words, his member was shoved into Yoriichi in its entirety. The human man was so overwhelmed by the sensation all at once that, allowed his head to hit the table and his eyes to roll back as the upper rank’s hips began to drive that ruthlessly large appendage into him with blistering speed.

It silenced the needy young man, allowing only pants and soft moans to leave his throat.

The slap of skin to skin echoed through the room, allowing the demon to fully take in the heat of the moment. Yoriichi under him, lust-filled tears running down his face as he tried to meet the unforgiving strength of his thrusts.

Feeling himself get closer to his edge, he whispered again into the younger man’s ear.

“I want you to speak my name from when I was human. My name then was Michikatsu, I want you to scream it in the throes of your passion.” He started driving his cock harder, hitting that special region that always made Yoriichi louder.

Speaking of Yoriichi, he was gritting his teeth in a way that told the demon that he was on the verge of building an orgasm. Grabbing the thick locks of his hair, he found the strength to fuck deeper than before. This sent the human over the edge.

“AH! Michikatsu!” Yoriichi trembled wildly as he came hard, trying to grip the table to maintain his sense of sanity. Hearing his name from all those years ago broke something in the demon, making his body spasm harshly as he filled the younger man with everything he had to give.

Pulling out, he couldn’t help but feel mesmerised by the flow of his seed seeping out from the abused entrance. Looking at Yoriichi’s fucked out face was enough to make him harden all over again...

Chapter Text

Tanjiro Kamado had forced himself to walk outside into the moonlight within Sumiyoshi’s memories when Yoriichi Tsugikuni had died with a heavy heart and a plea on his blue-tinged lips. He was silent at first, then he felt his chest quiver with great sorrow as tears poured down his face. The sun breather could not help but sob.

“Why are y-you showing me this?” The young man cried out, “Why did you make me watch him die?”

He blinked, and a faint visage of Sumiyoshi appeared to him, though he was also still inside the estate. He, too, looked grief-stricken. “I am sorry, Tanjiro. I would have kept this moment to myself, but you needed to know the reason why I cannot rest. It’s always been easier to show you, there is a reason why you adapted sun breathing from the Hinokami Kagura easier than Nezuko did. My friend was born again, I was not, but you were granted a small part of my soul when you were born.”

Just as he was about to speak, he saw the memory continue to move like a twisted theatre production. Sumiyoshi exited the estate, his quiet and dignified sniffles highlighting to the other hashira what had just happened. Tatsumi Rengoku looked around hastily with worry.

“Yuto, do you know if Michikatsu has completed his recent mission?”

The wind hashira thought about it, and then his face turned the same colour as curdled milk. “Yes, he did. The master received his notice two days ago. Fuck, that must mean he is nearby!”

“Fuck him!” The water hashira yelled, “All he ever did was berate Yoriichi for having any kind of company other than him, he even criticised the reason why he became a demon slayer in the first place. I know the two are twins, but he doesn’t deserve any last words with him!”

Kaito and Yuto both argued loudly while the flame hashira approached the coal seller carefully as if trying not to make too much sound.

“Sumiyoshi, I need you to listen to me. Yoriichi’s brother is not the kindest person in this land; he is probably the most vindictive bastard I’ve ever known. We’ve heard stories of other swordsmen disappearing after getting close to the sun hashira, so I need you to do something for me. I need you to hide. If Michikatsu sees you, then he will likely try and blame you for his brother’s death. Do you see the pantry shed that you can look into the main building from?”

The young man nodded.

“Good, go and hide in there.”

He ran and slammed the door shut. Just as he did so, rapid footsteps could be heard as a swordsman who looked remarkably like Yoriichi approached the group with a ferocious expression woven into his other elegant features.

Michikatsu looked like a harsher version of Yoriichi, with a spikier dark purple mane that ran down to his hips and lilac eyes. He was dressed well in his black hakama, which was paired with a black and purple kimono. Tanjiro also couldn’t help but notice that he was a little taller than his twin. He looked regal, imposing, and brash.

Just like his ancestor, Tanjiro wanted nothing more in that moment than to take the bastard’s head.

“Get out of my way!” He snarled as he pushed Kaito to the ground before entering the sun hashira’s estate.

With that, Sumiyoshi exited the pantry shed and dashed over to where Kaito had landed before helping him up. Everything seemed to slow down and go silent. “T-Tatsumi… I want to go home to family-”

An ear-piercing screech echoed through the area, sending terrified birds into the sky and any nearby animal scurrying away into the safety of the forest. The noise was one that Tanjiro swore would haunt him until the day he died. An excruciating scream brought on by the deepest pit of grief from a man who was on the verge of breaking apart.

“Come on, let's go.” The flame hashira grabbed Sumiyoshi’s wrist and dragged him along the path that led away from the estate. The screaming continued, though he could hear it was getting quieter as the pair and Tanjiro put distance between them and Michikatsu.

Then, it became silent once again without warning.

Even then, they did not stop until Tatsumi himself became out of breath and nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

“There’s… T-There’s something I need to… give you...” He coughed as he reached into his kimono and pulled out a small red bag with a golden sun embroidered onto it. The sun-breather gasped as he realised what it was. “Yoriichi asked me to give this to you, should anything happen to him. He knew Michikatsu would never let this go...”

He took the bag with great reverence and emptied its contents into his hand.

The earrings.

“I pierced my ears recently because I was looking to get earrings like his. I guess I don’t need to worry about buying any.” His heart broke in the moment before he turned to the flame hashira as he put them in. “Did he tell you that his mother made them for him? Because she thought he had been born deaf when he didn’t speak as a child?”

The flame hashira went to speak again when he suddenly seized up and turned in the direction of the mountain where the coal seller lived. They were close to his home, but something stirred a terrifying pit in the hashira’s soul. Tanjiro picked it up with no doubts.

Muzan Kibutsuji.

Tanjiro gritted his teeth, knowing that this was purely a memory and that he couldn’t do anything.

The demon king was walking up a path, a path Tanjiro knew all too well.

“Show your face, demon filth!” The Rengoku ancestor shoved the coal seller behind him as the demon king turned his cold yet amused gaze to the pair. By his side, a lady who seemed familiar to him walked by with a look of resignation across her face. She looked down towards her feet helplessly.

“Demon slayers?” The horrid creature mused. “I was looking for someone who knew a breathing tenchinque...”

“Whatever you want, we will not hand it over willingly!” Tatsumi drew his sword, noting that it looked similar to Kyojuro’s blade, though slightly different in the intensity of its colour. Behind him, Sumiyoshi drew his blade that Tanjiro could not believe he hadn’t spotted previously. If his blade was ink colour in colour, Sumiyoshi’s was so dark that he was sure that even a well-trained eye could lose it in the pitch black of night.

Though he was quick, Tatsumi was slammed aside into a tree.

Tanjiro blinked, then he saw it.

Sumiyoshi took a breath, thought about it, and then slashed with such precision that Muzan tried to back away in fright, but it was too late. The bits and pieces of the demon king’s body hit the floor with a sickening splatter.

“Tell me something.” Sumiyoshi started quietly. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve been alive for around five hundred years. You were born in the Heian era, were you not? A time of peace and prosperity, unlike our Sengoku era so far. So why is it that you must insist on ruining innocent lives? To show cruelty when it is so unnecessary? To create evil from that twisted blackened heart of yours?”

Muzan shifted, blood red eyes fixed on the earrings.

“When you have allowed your mind to become diseased like it is, what is the value of a life to you?”