Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sumire giggled as the boy she snagged for the night clumsily hit his forehead on the wall in his haste to kiss her. He whispered a curse right next to her ear, causing her to shiver despite the heat their closeness provided. Still, she liked to blame her reaction on the nonexistent cold weather other than admitting outright he had an effect on her.

She and Kiko went to the bar to celebrate the end of their finals and unwind before the new semester. She could deal with the loud noises, but Kiko was definitely in her element as she chatted up the bartender and made small talk with other girls. Sumire was content to nurse her glass of whiskey, the air sticky and humid with dancing bodies and vibrating with deafening bass.

Amid drinks and chatter, Sumire kept locking eyes with a guy with cat-like ocean eyes and a brooding demeanor. Kiko herself had been shyly approached by a young man with different colored eyes, Kiko blushing and looking to Sumire for guidance. Sumire, in turn, pushed her toward the guy (he seemed nice), which left her to go ahead and approach the cat-eyed boy, poking him incessantly until he talked. She couldn’t understand this pull to him but maybe it was because he looked so mysterious and alone. And she wanted to worm herself into his life, if only for a short while.

As the night wore on, Sumire found she enjoyed his snarky mouth and barely-there smiles. He wasn’t a talker but every sentence he spoke held weight and thought. Alcohol really did wonders because it gave her the courage to take his hand and drag him outside, leaning her back on a secluded wall and pulling him to her. Which led to now.

“You okay?” she whispered, because it was polite to check on him, despite not even knowing the guy. All she knew was he had big hands and deep blue eyes she could drown in forever.

He grunted but wasted no time trying to kiss her, their noses bumping before their lips met in a fiery kiss. Her hand found its way on his broad shoulder, holding him closer and mewling at how his large hands seemed to encircle the whole circumference of her waist. Was she that tiny or was he just big? It turned her on anyway, so she didn’t care much, exhaling into his mouth and twining their tongues together before she parted from him to catch her breath.

The boy took his time to pepper kisses on her neck, a laugh bubbling out of Sumire as she pushed his chin whining, “Stop, it tickles.”

He did, pulling away from her to see her face yet keeping their bodies close together. She could feel the heat from his hands bracketing her waist (she hoped the heat imprinted itself on her skin.) His lips were moist and kiss-bitten and all she could register was the wanton desire for those lips to ravish her until her mind blanked. So why wasn’t he doing all those and more? She blinked at him, wondering why he stopped.

“You’re beautiful.”

Sumire rolled her eyes but couldn’t deny the warmth that spread from her cheeks to her ears at the praise. Her heart definitely didn’t skip a beat.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, you know,” she teased, trailing a finger from his chest upwards and flicking his chin. He pouted and grumbled, his eyes avoiding hers. She took the lead this time, caressing the back of his head and pulling him to her, their lips slotting together once again.

Images of a similar-looking man in a black uniform and mismatched haori floated in her mind. She couldn’t help the uncanny feeling that man looked just like the boy she’s currently making out with. She pushed those images aside but another fuzzy image appeared, and this time it was a woman who shared Sumire’s face, placid smile on her pale lips as she drank a liquid as violet as her eyes. Sumire gasped, breaking the kiss. Who was that? And why did she look so much like her?

The boy looked at her quizzically, backing off after sensing a change in mood.

“Still okay?” he asked.

It warmed her heart he was checking with her, but the images conjured by her mind couldn’t keep still. She smiled wryly at him, remembering how she saw in her mind’s eye a man that looked just like him. But the man looked so much older and haunted by a million ghosts, not like the boy who stood before her who was so inexperienced yet willing to please. No, this wouldn’t do. Not when she was so preoccupied with whoever those people were. They couldn’t be conjured from her imagination, and something in her gut told her they lived different lives in another time.

She pushed him gently by the shoulder, and he took it as a sign to step away. She gave him a wan smile of thanks.

“Just… something on my mind. But it’s not you, it’s me.” She mentally slapped herself for saying such a cliché line. She hurried to add, “Believe me when I say that. Listen, you’re cute and interesting but something just came up and I wouldn’t want to impose on you when I can’t one hundred percent fully focus on the now.”

He blinked slowly, as if processing her words. She looked at him, nervously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. He met her eyes. She could practically see the gears turning in his mind.

“So, you want to do this again sometime?”

Her jaw dropped. That was not the point! But she… well, she certainly wouldn’t mind doing it again some other time. If they actually saw each other again. She didn’t know where he lived or if he was already working, but if they ended up at the same bar, he may live nearby. No, Sumire. Focus.

“That’s not the point. The point is I have to go.” She slipped away from him, goosebumps rising along her arms in the chill of the night and the loss of body heat from him. She turned back to him. “Thank you for…”

What did she call it?

“The make-out session?”

Sumire flinched at his forthrightness. She could only laugh awkwardly, tucking wayward hair behind her ear.

“Ara ara aren’t you tactless?”

He merely shrugged, and something about the gesture made Sumire zone in on the movement of his shoulders, something resigned and weighty in it.

She settled on saying, “Tonight. Thank you for tonight. I wish you well.” She bowed and ran away from the place, silently apologizing to Kiko for leaving her in the dust like that.

Sumire wondered why the places he touched had her skin tingling, but supposed it was just from the cold.

~Butterfly Estate, interior~

“Ne, Tomioka?” Hmm, he should talk more. Yes, she should tell him.

Her mind blanked for a second when his large hand ran down the smooth expanse of her thigh, his touch almost worshipping and sending sparks of pleasure along her skin, his eyes locked on hers and gauging for her reactions. She exhaled shakily when he rubbed the bone jutting out by her ankle, feeling almost every rough pad of his fingers.

“Quiet,” he commanded in an even tone as he parted her thighs to give his head space.

Shinobu quietly laughed. “So demanding.” Yet she allowed herself to be maneuvered every which way, all for him.

Chapter Text

Yuto watched despondently as the pretty lady practically ran from him. He sighed, intending to lean his forehead on the wall yet stumbling on the way and smooshing his nose against it instead.

“Ow fuck,” he muttered, rubbing the spot where it hurt the most.

Guess it was time to go home. He fished out his phone from his pocket, seeing eight messages from his older sister, all of them asking where he was and what time he’d get home. His gaze went to the inky black sky, wondering if he should have walked the lady home due to the late hour but reminding himself it was none of his business and she was the one who wanted to leave.

But it didn’t quell his curiosity as to why she suddenly wanted to stop. Not that Yuto was bragging, but she seemed pretty into him and the make-out session. Her lovely cheeks tinted so red reminded him of apples. The piercing violet of her eyes made him want to get closer and know her more, if she’d let him. Like a moth drawn to flame, something about her pulled him into her orbit, gravitating near her until she was the one who approached him in the bar poking him. He found it annoying at first but then came to miss it. Odd. But he couldn’t help the nagging feeling which told him his body was very much familiar with a finger prodding at him, and he couldn’t understand why.

The ghost of her touch lingered on his lips, electric and warm and pliant upon his. She was so enthusiastic responding to him. He sighed through his nose. No use standing around gaping uselessly, so he made the decision to walk home. Along the way, he avoided a barking stray dog and shivered in repulsion. He didn’t like those furry creatures.

Walking along the streets and nearing his house, his footsteps slowed before coming to a stop. He forgot one crucial thing: her name. How were they going to contact each other now?

What an idiot. He mentally berated himself and labelled the whole thing a missed opportunity.

Shaking his head, he slipped in his house key and opened the door announcing, “I’m home!”

From the kitchen doorway, Kuzuha’s dark hair, blue eyes, and wide grin appeared. She greeted back, “Ah welcome back Yuto!”

Yuto smiled slightly. Slipping off his shoes, he looked around the dim surroundings. “Mom’s already asleep?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Figures. Almost all the lights are out, and we know Mom wants the house to be full of light.”

Kuzuha chuckled as she approached him. “That she does. But anyway, let’s talk about you. Took you quite a while. Did you have fun?”

He smiled at the memory of the pretty girl’s hot wandering hands and heated kisses. He thought of how she allowed him to kiss her chin and neck, baring her throat to him. But then a misty fog swirled in his mind and took on a different turn.

Now it showed two people sitting by the engawa, their backs to him. On the left sat a petite woman with a purple butterfly clip holding her hair securely and a haori that looked too big on her. On the right was a lean man with his mop of black hair tied; he wore a haori with two distinctly different patterns. Between them were two steaming cups.

Yuto stumbled, body freezing up as it yearned for… something that wasn’t his. What was that? Who were they? And the surroundings didn’t look like modern Japan; it had traditional tatami mats with the buildings constructed differently from today’s era.

“Yuto? Are you sick?”

He blinked to find his sister in front of him, holding her palm to his forehead and worry creasing her eyebrows. He smiled and shook his head, taking her wrist and gently setting it down.

“No, nee-san, I’m okay.” He wanted to explain more but didn’t know how to word what he saw so decided to stay silent, hoping she wouldn’t pry. Gods, he was already a twenty-three-year-old university student under the program hydrology, studying the properties of water (boring stuff, he knew.) Under Kuzuha’s scrutinizing stare, he felt eight years old again.

She looked at him a second longer before dropping the topic. “All right then. Well, you seemed to enjoy yourself. Any pretty lady or lad? You know I’m not picky.” She winked.

Yuto rolled his eyes at her teasing and stepped past her, shedding his jacket. He hummed thoughtfully, wondering whether he should tell her. He could tell her about the pungent gin he’d ordered and never try again, but the girl’s soft features and sharp edges were too visceral in his mind to be ignored. So he decided to share about her, compelling as she was.

“I met a pretty girl.”

“Oh? Who is she?”

Yuto’s tongue stilled. He honestly didn’t know. It must have shown on his face because Kuzuha was already clicking her tongue saying, “Oh, Yuto. Now how are you going to get in contact with her?”

“I know,” he whined quietly. “Lost opportunity and all that.”

Yuto pursed his lips and huffed.

Kuzuha blinked sympathetically at him and she sighed. “Oh, never mind. At least you got to know each other in this lifetime.”

His eyebrows furrowed at her last sentence. Yes, he was sure he only met her now yet why did it feel like they had met before in another lifetime? She felt familiar, in a way, but it was no use pondering over spilt milk.

“Yeah. Good night, nee-san.”

“Good night. See you in the morning.”

That night, Yuto dreamt of a blue blade with the words ‘Destroyer of Demons’ glinting in the early morning sunlight before swinging in a downward slash. In the morning when he woke up to a rain shower, he didn’t remember it.

Snowy Mountain, exterior

The snow fell in waves too slow for him to pay attention to.

In front of him knelt a young boy with glassy and desperate eyes, whole body limp and numb to the cold.

His right hand held tight to his katana and his left easily bound a newly turned demon’s wrists as she thrashed and growled. Little did he know encountering them and ultimately letting the demon girl live would change the trajectory of their organization.

Chapter Text

Clink. Clink, clink. Clinkclinkclinkcli—

“Su-chan, what are you thinking about?”

Sumire snapped out of her thoughts to see Kiko looking at her with wide, green eyes. They were in a popular coffee shop two bus stops away from their homes and had decided to spend some time together before they were too busy with academics. What with Sumire in her second year in a six-year pharmacy program and Kiko enrolled in a Fine and Applied Arts program, their schedules didn’t usually align. Sumire was grateful for forming such a strong bond with Kiko, whom she’d met when they entered high school together, scrawny and so clueless about life yet eager to soak up knowledge and experience.

Funny. She thought being twenty years old had its perks and she’d be an adult, but even then, she felt no different than a child. It was an uncanny experience, teetering ceaselessly between childhood and adulthood.

She smiled guiltily for allowing her mind to wander when this day was supposed to be about them.

She lifted the teaspoon from the cup—the cause of all the clinking.

“Sorry, Ki-chan. It’s nothing.” She took a sip of her coffee.

Kiko narrowed her eyes. “It’s not nothing if you’re staring into space thinking about it, ‘no?” Silence. Kiko sighed. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Sumire shook her head. “No. Not this time. Let’s talk about you.”

Kiko blinked. She gestured to herself. “Me? What about me?”

“Oh c’mon, what happened with the guy we saw at the bar? You were so shy and flustered.”

As if on cue, Kiko’s cheeks steadily turned red. She used her braids to cover her blushing cheeks, crossing them over each other. Sumire giggled at her cuteness.

“Kyaaahh no fair! We were supposed to talk about you then you turn it on me like that.” Sumire merely offered an encouraging smile, waiting for her to speak. Kiko seemed to understand her friend would be waiting so she sighed and looked sideways. “Eto…”

“Wait tell me his name first! You can’t go on or else I’ll just name him in my head Snake Boy. He reminds me of a snake.”

“Ack Su-chan, not nice! Okay, his name is Iguro Kohaku and he was so sweet and considerate. I always insisted I didn’t want more food, but he was so persistent in buying me everything I wanted I couldn’t help myself. When the night ended, I wanted to pay him back, but he said it’s fine and drove me home.” Kiko steadily looked Sumire in the eye and grabbed her hands on the table. “Did you hear me, Sumire-chan? He drove me home. And the distance from my house to his isn’t exactly near, you know?”

Sumire smiled, genuinely happy for her friend. “That’s wonderful, Ki-chan. Seems like you found a guy who’ll treat you right. Are you going to start seeing each other?”

Kiko hummed. “Well, nothing explicit yet. And calm down, we’ve only just met. What if he’s actually someone cold on the outside and has a sharp tongue? Ooooh, you know I’m never good with such biting words.” She twirled her braids apprehensively while biting her bottom lip.

Sumire chuckled at her.

“Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

Kiko beamed. “Awww, that’s so super duper sweet of you!”

They both laughed. Ah, Kiko was really a fun and light presence to be around.

“Now then, since you’ve pried information out of me,” Kiko began, sipping her tea. Sumire internally groaned; of course she’d find a way to turn the conversation around, “who was the guy you kept teasing?”

Sumire tried to play it cool by shrugging but knew Kiko wouldn’t fall for such a lousy gesture like that. At her friend’s deadpan stare, Sumire couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.

“All right, for starters: I don’t know his name.” She said this in case Kiko turned the name question on her in retaliation, and by the way she slumped in her seat, Sumire had been right.

“Awwh no fair!” Kiko huffed. “After you pestered me for Kohaku-san’s name!”

Sumire snickered.

“Anyway, he was cute and just so fun to tease. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t show much emotion so of course I took it as a personal challenge to get him to make any kind of facial expression. Those are more rewarding.” Kiko hummed and nodded. Sumire continued. “He also didn’t talk much but that’s okay. What with the alcohol I consumed, it made me bold enough to grab him and…” she could feel heat steadily creeping up her face at the feel of his lips and hands; gosh it was so embarrassing. Her heartbeat sped up to the memory of that night. Goosebumps rose along her arms at the sensations of his warm breath on hers, those mysterious eyes, and the way he pressed himself closer to her.

“Yes?” Kiko blinked innocent eyes at her.

Sumire swallowed around a dry mouth and drank from her cup. Kiko giggled.

“Su-chan, you’re so red. Are you sure I’m the only one who enjoyed themselves that night?”

“Oh shut up. Do you want the story or not?” At Kiko’s mimic of zipping her lips, Sumire licked her lips. Shit, it was better to get this over with. “We made out.” She tried to sound nonchalant but failed as the words rushed out in a tumbled exhale, as if expelling a force inside her. Her blush intensified yet Kiko made no comment. “And then… something—something weird happened.”

Kiko frowned and leaned forward in her seat. “Bad weird or good weird?”

“Bad weird. Like, so bad weird I got out of the mood.” Sumire met her eyes. “And of course I apologized, said it was a me thing…” At Kiko’s deadpan stare, she hurried, “I know it’s such a bad excuse but what could I say? It didn’t feel fair to him to just… keep going while I was having a mental dilemma.”

Kiko exhaled slowly as if to try to recollect her thoughts. “Okay, so what bad weird happened you couldn’t continue? A total loss, by the way. He seemed like a cutie too.”

Sumire slumped in her seat.

“Uggh I know. But in my mind’s eye I saw a… flash of memory definitely not mine and… and she had my face! Or I had her face… we shared the same face.” Talking about it now unburdened the tight knot of worry and bewilderment in her chest. Even though she knew it might sound crazy or a hallucination, Sumire couldn’t help but feel this strong connection. “This woman was in a dark room all by herself and she was looking at a cup filled with some awful-smelling purple liquid. And I was seeing this whole thing as if I was the woman, through her point of view. I know it’s crazy, but I felt for a second like I was in a different body in a different period.”

Instead of dismissing her or reassuring her it was nothing, Kiko herself looked deep in thought, her eyebrows furrowed and her pursed lips nearly turning downward at the concentration.

“Kiko? You still with me?”

The light returned in Kiko’s eyes as she lifted her head to meet her gaze.

“Yes, I’m okay. In fact, I am so happy you shared this with me because I too experience it.”

Sumire blinked. “You experience it? How so?”

Kiko folded her hands on the table, setting aside her fifty-seventh slice of cake for the day and clearing her throat.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with reincarnation, yes?”

Sumire nodded. “What about it?”

It was a taboo topic in Japan because a good percentage believed, and another didn’t. She herself didn’t know what to think but didn’t worry much on whether it was real or not; she was someone who loved science and logic to seek the truth and draw conclusions. At least she could base some real things from past research and findings to build upon newer knowledge. Kiko was the dreamer and idealist between the two of them, so it made much more sense for her to believe in reincarnation.

“I’m taking a wild guess here, but I think the woman you saw in that flashback, dream, whatever it was, was your past self.”

Sumire’s nose wrinkled. “My past self? Why would my mind go back to a ‘past self,’ as you put it?”

Kiko tilted her head and hummed. “I’m not sure why because in your case, it’s just starting to manifest, and you can expect more bits and pieces to come in random moments. But I myself don’t know why I started receiving memories of my past life.”

Sumire’s eyebrows jumped. She leaned forward.

“You do too?” Kiko nodded solemnly. “What did it show you?”

“In my case, it started around a couple months ago and I’ve come to learn my past self’s name was Kanroji Mitsuri in the Taisho era.”

Sumire’s jaw dropped. “The Taisho era?! That’s so long ago.”

“Yup.”

Sumire itched to ask her more, but reason was stopping her; how could Kiko be so sure of these things? What if she just read it in a book and was embodying a character from an old tale? What if there really was no ‘why’ other than the universe wanting to mess with timelines?

“What else do you know besides your name?” As they say, curiosity killed the cat.

“I had a really cool and long katana like a ribbon.”

Sumire gaped. Katana?

“What on earth would you need that for?”

“I had it because I was part of this group called the Demon Slayer Corps, slaying demons at night.”

Sumire laughed at the absurdity of it all. She shouldn’t have let herself divulge in such nonsense. She waved a hand to signal she wanted to hear no more, and Kiko chuckled.

“That’s preposterous! You, living in the Taisho era, wielding a funny-looking sword, and being part of a secret organization?”

Kiko laughed. “Yes, I know it’s like out of a children’s storybook but it’s what I’ve been able to piece together so far. And the night after I met Kohaku-san from the bar, I had a dream we were in another timeline, this time modern, where we were married and owned a restaurant.”

Sumire smiled, more to herself in amusement if anything. She patted Kiko’s hand. “Sounds nice.”

“And who knows? Maybe the guy you kissed holds some importance to your past self as well.” Kiko wagged a playful finger, which Sumire smacked away with a snort.

Yeah, right. Reincarnation, huh?

Butterfly Estate, clinic

In the small space as Shinobu worked to set Mitsuri’s broken right arm back in place, the Love Hashira’s normally excited voice was absent. Shinobu found this concerning but didn’t want to press the matter, especially if it didn’t concern her. So she kept at her work, finding comfort in the familiar, almost mechanical motion of re-setting bones.

“Ne, Shinobu-chan?” Mitsuri’s voice was quieter than what Shinobu was used to. Still, she hummed to signal she was listening. “Anou… do you—do you think in another life, we’ll still be friends?”

Shinobu paused for a millisecond before continuing her work, not wanting to falter. Her heart beat faster at the hope of another life, at the notion Mitsuri, bubbly and kind Mitsuri, would still be a presence in her life; the thought seemed nice. She hid a softer smile at the sentiment before facing Mitsuri with a large grin for both their sakes.

“I have no doubt about it.”

“Yay!” In her excitement, Mitsuri raised both her arms, momentarily forgetting her injured right one, and whimpered in pain. “Aouch.”

Shinobu couldn’t help but giggle. “Careful there. You still have to live so we can see each other in our next lives.”

Mitsuri smiled brightly, teeth on display. Shinobu hoped her smile would never falter.

Chapter Text

“Reincarnation?” Yuto asked around a mouthful of salmon ramen. Beside him, Hayato slammed a pack of napkins on his side before nodding sagely. Getting the hint, Yuto pulled two squares of napkins and wiped his mouth. “You think she matters to me?”

“Hmmm… your past self certainly thinks so.” Hayato continued digging in his own ramen bowl. “But reincarnation’s a fickle topic not everyone’s passionate about, so I wouldn’t take to face value what’s happening in your past self’s memories.”

They were in Yuto’s favorite ramen shop, both of them seated near the counter where they watched the chefs prepare dishes. Delicious smells of noodles, broth, and pork wafted through the air, cocooning the patrons in a cheerful mood amidst laughter, shared drinks, and lively conversations. The noise around them served to ground Yuto to the present, finding the chatter and the constant clink of utensils comforting. The salmon ramen was heaven, almost enough to make him forget about the broken broom which had snapped out of nowhere and made Mom yap his ear off.

Sabitani Hayato, his best friend with kind, gray eyes and a natural talent at kendo, was sharing his thoughts after Yuto told him of flashbacks that didn’t belong to him after meeting the pretty lady. (He’s still salty he didn’t get her contact information.) Now he was spouting stuff like reincarnation? How absurd.

“But it’s not real.”

Hayato shrugged. “Who’s to say if it is or isn’t? It’s just a wild guess, Yuto. But if you can find some other logical explanation for this, then why not? I’m just a simple person sharing his expert opinion. And unfortunately, tied to you.”

Yuto grinned and playfully pushed Hayato’s shoulder. They both chuckled.

Reincarnation, huh? Yuto didn’t solidly believe in that stuff, but he liked to believe it was real and happened on a case-to-case basis. Was this what was happening to him? It could somewhat explain the magnetic pull he felt for the girl when they’d only just met. And how he seemed to pinpoint her despite the crowd back in the bar.

He caught a whiff of meat burning on the stove from what the chefs were making, then a certain imagery floated in his mind: of deep green stalks swaying in the winds, its scent earthy and smokey in the distance. His vision adjusted to a setting sun, the creeping dread of the night heavy in his bones. It was here he unsheathed his blade, long and sturdy and familiar, as if readying for battle. From his left, tinkling laughter reached his ears, followed by the whoosh of a butterfly-patterned haori, and then her eyes.

Purple.

Yuto squeezed his eyes shut, spoon clattering back to his bowl and heartbeat ringing in his ears. Distantly, he registered panicked arms around his shoulders trying to ground him.

“Yuto? What’s wrong? What happened?”

Then Yuto opened his eyes, breathing labored and sweat on his temple. His unfocused eyes sought Hayato, his face screwed in concern and barely disguised panic. Yuto swallowed and gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white.

“I saw it again. Another flashback from… that other time. And…” he licked his lips, “her.”

Hayato, pupils shaking, gave him a once over to ensure he wouldn’t keel over. Once they both confirmed Yuto wouldn’t pass out, Hayato let out a slow exhale as he settled again in his seat.

“Gosh, this seems serious. Your past self must be trying to tell you something, or that girl’s the trigger and you both need to talk.”

Yuto couldn’t unglue his tongue from his mouth, so he nodded. He stared at the wood of the table in front of him, mind reeling from the onslaught of sensations and memories. It wasn’t his per se, but an older, quieter version of him who had seen so many and had lost countless others. That version of him lived in a time of unimaginable war. Yuto wasn’t sure why they were all coming together, but one thing was certain: he had to find that girl. How was she connected to him?

His phone beeped. Both men groaned.

“Ahh, duty calls. My shift at the coffee shop starts in thirty minutes.”

Hayato clicked his tongue. “Life always has to butt in at the most inconvenient times, eh?”

Yuto chuckled as he patted Hayato’s shoulder.

“Truly. If I could, I’d swap with someone else, but I need to catch up.” His eyes narrowed accusingly at Hayato. “Your fault for making me obsessed over that limited edition cat figurine.”

He remembered faking illness and other lame-ass excuses just to hop from store to store searching high and low for the calico cat figurine. It wasn’t anything special, but the boys thought it had a hilarious ‘mlep’ face and an askew paw like it wanted to pounce. It didn’t help how Hayato had encouraged him to keep going, deeming the figurine an ornament any man would want to have.

Hayato grinned. “But it was so worth it, right?”

Yuto wouldn’t admit it to his face. But yes, it was. He had the calico figurine proudly on display on his bedside table to attest to his efforts. Kuzuha thought it was a waste of time and effort, but Yuto wasn’t having any of her negative energy. She was just jealous he had a cat figurine and she did not.

The tired eyes of his reflection stared back at him as he went through the comforting motions of brushing his teeth. Yuto was ready for bed, sleep calling to him at an ungodly hour past twelve in the morning. Mom and Kuzuha will certainly scold him once they find out. (If they do.)

After spitting out the paste, he looked at his toothbrush. A sudden pull to his chest made Yuto gasp sharply and clutch at the area, toothbrush replaced by a gleaming katana, long and blue and deadly, heavy in his hand. In that brief moment, he heard the clanging of blades and the slice of steel against flesh, particularly something’s neck. It smelled awful, like rotting flesh, and when Yuto blinked he was back in his bathroom, leaning bodily against the cool tiles, almost breathless and shivering, scared to his wits’ end.

Even if something does happen, my heart will never waver.

Like water on a scorching day, like rain blessing the grounds once more, a name from a past life floated into Yuto’s mind.

Tomioka Giyuu

His chest expanded, and he could breathe again. He blinked rapidly; the lights were too bright. Only option would be to switch it off—

A series of knocks on the door made him bang the back of his head on the tiles, biting out a curse.

“Yuto?” their mother called out, voice frantic. “Are you okay in there?”

“Yeah!” he called out, clearing his throat to sound more natural. “Just—just stubbed my toe! Ow!”

Silence then, “All right then. Don’t be an idiot and get to bed. It’s already morning.”

“Yes, mom.”

Oh, he’d definitely stay up watching nature documentaries, just to get the image out his mind.

Yuto smirked as he found an opening.

He moved his piece and steadily eyed Makomo as the furrow in her brow deepened. Her eyes found his and she frowned deeply. Yuto kept the smirk off his face to blink innocently at his friend.

“I don’t know why I even try,” she sighed as she admitted defeat.

Yuto huffed a laugh as he claimed victory once again in Arimaa. He stretched his arms upward, looking around the open grassy field they sat upon.

Makomo stood up, dusting her skirt. “I’m gonna go buy refreshments. You want some?”

“Just water, please. Thanks!”

Yuto went about re-setting the board, humming quietly to himself. Arimaa was a fun game. He liked how it encouraged strategy and quick thinking, with moves similar to chess and equally exciting. Makomo was a frequent friend he played against and honestly, he was starting to feel bad for her because he almost always came on top and she wasn’t one to openly show how affected she was of losing. He should build her confidence up. He should teach her properly so they could play on even grounds.

A group of kids passed by him playing frisbee.

“Wait, you bastard!” he heard one of them call out, cheer in his voice. He discreetly turned to see four younger boys, rowdy and energetic.

But those words sounded awfully familiar from a distant time, said to him in anger and exasperation when self-doubt and imposter syndrome crept in his mind and made him stand, decline to be part of something bigger because he felt it wasn’t his place.

“Wait, you bastard!”

“Explain yourself, Tomioka. You didn’t explain enough.”

Those words were said to him by two individuals. He had his back turned, but he could only imagine the expressions they were making. One full of anger and hatred, veins bulging from his scarred skin; the other contemplative and quiet, but voice just as hard and demanding. He didn’t want to look in her eyes.

“I’m different from you all.”

That was the only response he provided. He wasn’t good with words, and he didn’t know how to string together all his incoherent thoughts into a sentence which would, as she put it, “explain himself.” He knew what he said wasn’t enough to properly convey his feelings, but inexperience hindered him.

Ah.

He remembered now.

He was a Hashira, the highest rank in their secret organization of the Demon Slayer Corps. Back in the Taisho era. And he declined to participate in the Hashira Training to strengthen the other members of the Corps.

Yuto blinked back to the present, chatter of families and friends and noises of the modern world grounding him to where he was. He looked at the board, suddenly wary of it. Giyuu liked shogi… and checkmating his opponents. Now, Yuto liked Arimaa. Just how much of it was him—Tomioka Yuto—and how much of his past self was bleeding into today?

He fiddled with his sweater, taking comfort at the rough texture. It was something he knitted back when it was an obsessive hobby of his. He smiled to himself, remembering the sense of accomplishment he felt his heart almost burst, and how supportive his friends and family had been. Those were good times, and he knew he could pick up the hobby again but buying yarn and even finding good quality was just so troublesome.

Hmm… what was taking Makomo so long?

Exams were coming up and the stress was piling up on Yuto’s shoulders. He’d been sleep-deprived, sluggish, and more irritable these days from studying and catching up with backlogs. He owed Hayato and Makomo large dinners (and apologies) for putting up with his grumpiness.

Walking through the science labs with a few of his classmates, he discreetly rolled his shoulder backwards to ease the knot. He heard a pop, a quiet, satisfied sigh escaping his lips. He was at the back of the group, so he had a moment to himself.

By the corner of his eye, he saw purple and it looked so much like the shade in his past memories he turned on instinct and saw the tip of a butterfly-shaped clip disappear inside a classroom.

His eyes roved up to see it was for the pharmacy students.

Huh. Now why did that sound so familiar? He didn’t personally know anyone taking up pharmacy.

He thought of wisteria plants when flowers of those weren’t even near his vicinity. He heard a giggle, high and teasing, in his mind even when he hadn’t heard anyone laugh like that. His nose remembered the sharp, sterile scent of clinics and medicine even when he hadn’t been in contact with those for a while now.

Like an arrow never missing its mark, a name popped in his head.

Kochou Shinobu

His temples pounded, loud and demanding, rhythmic with each pulse of pain. His teeth gnashed together uncomfortably as he made up his mind.

Hours later, staring at the dark sky from his window, Yuto pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hayato.”

“Mm?”

“I’ve decided not to look for her.”

“Eh? Why?” From the surprise coloring his voice, Hayato didn’t see this coming.

“Even without her around, these flashbacks are giving me tons of headaches and medicine’s not enough to combat it. How much worse would it be when we actually see each other again? If fate wanted us to cross paths, it would’ve made a way by now, but I don’t feel that happening soon. I’m…” what’s the word? “content living where I am now. And I’m sure she has her own life separate from mine. I don’t want to crash into what’s already working and set in motion.”

“Uh-huh. And I could definitely replace a lot of those ‘we’ into ‘I’, right?”

Yuto didn’t speak. It was answer enough.

Hayato coughed. “Well, to each his own. I’m not judging you, but letting this go does seem to be a smart choice. If that’s what you want, I totally support you.”

Internally, Yuto knew from Hayato’s voice he wasn’t being totally honest, either. His tone was detached and despondent, which was not like him. And Yuto chose not to point that out, merely humming as response and ending the phone call.

Mt. Sagiri, early morning

A young Giyuu watched the sunrise, contentedly munching on an ohagi Urokodaki-sensei prepared for the morning before training started. He sensed a second person take his place on his right, grunting and dusting off his pants at the log they sat upon.

“You’re catching up to me, Giyuu,” Sabito said with a smile.

Giyuu returned it, giggling. “Fufufu guess Urokodaki-sensei’s extra exercises for me are paying off now.”

“I’m glad.” Sabito’s smile was genuine. “When we pass Final Selection together, we’ll slay demons side by side.” Sabito was so passionate and lively. Giyuu wanted to squint but knew he wouldn’t be appreciating Sabito’s full brightness that way.

So he nodded, a determined glint in his eye.

“Right. But until now—” he offered his ohagi— “have some.”

Sabito’s stomach grumbled as if on cue, and they both laughed.

Chapter Text

@everyone

Please remember to bring 

your assigned materials

for tomorrow

Good morning :) 

and see you all later! 

All right, sending a 1am reminder to the group chat? Check!

Sumire giddily made her way to her study table—messily organized in exactly the way she liked it. A stack of books and notebooks were on the left corner of the table she labeled mentally as things she’d get back to in an undetermined date. The small cabinets above were filled with sticky notes for important reminders such as her schedule and upcoming deadlines for projects. (Among the rest stood out a sticky note with a happy face from her younger cousin Aoi.)

The middle of the table was arguably the cleanest part reserved for actual studying. Sumire found it funny how it seemed only one-third of the study table was used for its intended purpose.

Meanwhile, the far right of her table told another story consisted of other junk she didn’t know what to do with yet: brown envelopes with papers from years before, a chew toy for a dog she didn’t have, and other scraps of papers she deemed important with vital information and had her older sister Ayame gasping and begging her to clean, calling it an atrocity. And Sumire strongly disagreed with that.

But she digressed.

Now, she needed to continue her research on plant physiology!

She took out the borrowed tomes from the school library, her magnifying glass, and the notebook she had for her notes when studying. With her trusty clicky pen in hand, she went to work, jotting down notes and further things to research, the window behind her showcasing the gradual change of a starry night to an inky black sky.

The last thing Sumire remembered was folding her arms to take a quick nap, the pull in her eyelids too heavy to ignore.

She startled awake to a frantic Ayame shaking her shoulder telling her it was almost time for school.

“Sumire, wake up! You’re going to be late!”

Sumire jolted up and out of her chair, mouth dry and hair up in odd angles. Gosh, it was like she just slept three centuries.

“I’m up I’m up!” Once she saw the time, her eyes widened and she rushed toward the bathroom, floor slippery against her socks. “Nee-san, please wake me up earlier next time!”

She nearly missed Ayame’s heated reply of, “I did! But you responded to my calls just now so who’s at fault, huh?!”

A face eerily similar to Ayame’s flitted through her mind, prone on the ground with blood trickling by the corner of her lips and the light in her eyes dimming by the second.

Sumire stumbled and hit her shin on a decorative object by the hall, muttering a curse and brushing off the tight feeling in her chest as well as the phantom sensation of that girl in a dark uniform in her arms. She didn’t know her. That wasn’t her nee-san Ayame. But why did they look the same? It felt like that other girl was just as important. And she felt like they were related.

Sumire shook her head. No, just a dream. Just her imagination.

With the last letter of the last word done, Sumire gleefully held up her report to her fellow Council member.

“Here’s the financial statements covering the expenses from our latest two school events: the welcoming orientation and the sports fest.”

Rin, the Student Council Treasurer, smiled wide as she took the paper from Sumire and did a once-over. She turned excitedly to Sumire.

“Waah your handwriting is so neat and pretty! And the report is organized and flawless.”

Sumire blushed and chuckled. “Rin-chan, don’t go saying stuff like that without first verifying! Check it over first before giving it to the Prez. But if you guys find some discrepancies, don’t hesitate to reach out to me again!”

Rin nodded. She made her way to the classroom door. “Thank you for your work as Auditor.” She bowed. “It is very much appreciated.”

Sumire bowed gracefully, accepting the praise. “Thank you too Rin-chan for guiding me as the Treasurer.”

They exchanged smiles.

“You still have club, right?”

“Yes. I’m heading there now.”

Rin’s smile widened, admiration in her eyes. “You’re so hardworking, Sumire-chan. Good luck and see you around! I’ll give this to Prez now.”

“All right take care!”

Once Sumire had finished packing her things and doing seventy percent of the homework, she dashed out the classroom toward the lab where the Pharmacy Club held their meetings and activities.

Yes, aside from being the Student Council Auditor, she was an active member of the Pharmacy Club. Despite being younger than most of her second-year peers, her sharp analytical mind coupled with talent and extensive knowledge of medical skills earned her reputation on campus. Upperclassmen and lowerclassmen alike regarded her with a mix of fear and respect. She aspired to have a career in the medical field like her sister Ayame, who was a university lecturer in Medicine in a sister school. On the side, Ayame did her own research while teaching medical students. Sumire wanted to embody that same grace and discipline she saw in her older sister despite busy schedules.

She knocked on the door before opening it, receiving warm welcomes from the members and the moderator as they invited her to take a seat.

“Hey, Sumire, good to see you again!”

“Sumire, I encountered an interesting article; sent the link to you for your perusal later. Let me know what you think!”

She settled in her seat and animatedly conversed with the members, all of them sharing research, discussing various drugs as well as what amount is enough to administer, and learning about interesting cases from their moderator.

When club time was over with students leaving campus, Sumire crossed the halls reading the article link Izumi-senpai sent to her when she passed by two third-year students talking quietly between themselves.

“You think he fell asleep again? Man, that Tomioka really is weird.”

“Oh, as if you’re in any place to complain, Hayato. Didn’t you sleep like the dead after that time?”

“Tch. Makomo, you always use that against me. It was one time!”

Sumire paused in her tracks and glanced over her shoulder to see the older students walking along, still engrossed in their conversation. The boy was tall, with peach hair and unkempt uniform. The girl was giggling, stature short and petite. Her black hair was held secure by a headband, hands behind her back.

“To-mi-o-ka?” she tested out the name in her mouth.

Despite hearing it for the first time and uttering it to herself, she felt an inexplicable connection to that name. Heck, she didn’t even know who that person was! Yet why was she here, standing around the halls like a fool and whispering to herself a name she had nothing to do with?

And then…

She gasped, and it felt like she was underwater for a time, the world warping among ripples and waves. She wasn’t in the school hallway anymore, she was somewhere, somewhen (was that even a word?!) different.

She saw her lookalike again! As cute as her, as dainty as her, but she knew it wasn’t Sumire. Her eyes, while mirthful, held a deep-seated anger restrained and kept hidden through deceitful pleasant smiles. Sumire wondered why she knew that.

She looked to the left and saw the identical copy of the guy she’d made out with. Sigh… he was still so cute even when frowning. But that wasn’t really him, right? This guy in her vision felt older and sadder. Like before, his haori had two distinct patterns perfectly halved, like he couldn’t decide which one to wear, which one to be for the day.

“To-mi-o-ka-san~”

They were seated below a cherry blossom tree, the pink petals softly falling and framing the scene of their counterparts from another world into a romancey vibe, a scene from a shoujo manga she’d definitely gush over. But Sumire somehow felt an undercurrent of sadness present between them even with the pretty view. Like, something bad was gonna happen and this calmness wouldn’t last.

The guy’s eyebrows wrinkled.

“Stop it, Kochou. That’s distracting.”

Sumire blinked and she was back in the hallway again, her shoes encased in a rectangular orange glow from the sunset through the windows.

Gosh, she really needed to sleep earlier and better. Where were all these hallucinations coming from?

Unless…

No, she didn’t want to think of the implications.

As she hurried along the halls, the guy’s words and voice echoed in her mind.

“Stop it, Kochou. That’s distracting.”

And oh, it felt like something in her soul was clicking back into place, like a puzzle piece finding where it belonged.

Her lips twitched into a sad smile.

Like fluttering butterfly wings, the name she called herself in the past flitted in her mind.

Kochou Shinobu

The Insect Hashira, resident doctor, adept with medical and pharmaceutical knowledge of poisons. To others, known to be someone with a bright disposition. But to Sumire and possibly to a few others who were close to Shinobu, she was constantly angry. Sumire’s heart hurt for her. Why did Shinobu feel the need to hide such volatile emotions through a smile? Human nature really was resilient.

Ahh, she needed to go home now. She had to study and rewrite her notes before her favorite anime aired. A familiar sense of dread crept up her chest at the notion she was falling behind. All these existential questions can wait.

She hurried to the school gates, eager to be on her way. Seeing the sun steadily sink down the horizon made Sumire’s muscles tense and her senses become keener, like she was preparing for danger when night came.

But what kind of danger?

She shook the thought away, yet the physical ways her body reacted agitated her, cold sweat on her temple. Her stomach dropped, fingertips coming away shaky and clammy as she put on her outdoor shoes.

This was getting out of hand.

She’d better call Kiko soon.

As she sewed a clumsy pattern in her cloth (gosh, it looked like jagged lines haplessly thrown together instead of the duck she’d been going for), she looked across to see Ayame and their mother seated beside each other, each with their own pristine works, both of them ethereal and magnificent in the light of this warm Saturday morning.

Sumire rolled the needle along her thumb and index finger, wondering whether to speak to her female family members about the whole… reincarnation thing. Everything happening to her seemed deliberate, like the universe wanted her first to experience these things before going on with the inevitable reveal or confrontation. What a joke. On the other hand, Kiko might find this whole situation romantic and spout stuff like ‘it was destiny.’ She could hear her best friend’s dreamy voice in her head and snorted to herself.

“Sumire dear, I can hear you thinking,” sing-songed their mother. Ayame laughed quietly. Sumire and her mom locked eyes. A twinkle of something was in her mother’s gaze. “Care to share?”

“Do you guys believe in reincarnation?” she all but blurted out, mind a clutter and seeking clarity.

The two older women shared glances before their mother spoke again, gentle smile on her face.

“That depends. Do you?”

Sumire frowned. “Mom, I’m asking you.”

“It looks to me you want to believe but something’s stopping you.”

Sumire bit her lip. “I’m a science girl at heart, Mom, so I don’t indulge in those stuff unless it’s for research purposes.”

“But?” prompted Ayame playfully. Sumire shot her older sister a mock glare but the mirth in her pink eyes was still there.

“I was getting there, nee-san.” After an exhale, she said, “But after meeting this guy—” no need for them to know she met him at a bar and made out with him— “my body seems to recognize him from another time, a past life as Kiko-chan calls it, and I don’t know whether to believe my body or my mind. I mean, there should be an underlying reason as to why these things happen, right?” Her gaze went to the needle she held, somehow the only thing interesting in her muddled mind.

After listening intently, their mother chuckled and continued sewing. Sumire’s eyes followed the motion of the needle and thread passing through the fabric, steady and hypnotic. Her mother was the epitome of elegance.

“Oh, my dear scientist.” Fondness was unmistakable in her voice. “I know you crave knowledge and reasoning because that’s how you make sense of the world but sometimes, things with a dash of magic happen.” She met her eyes, something secretive and knowing in her smile. “And they don’t always have a reason, you know? Or need to come with one. It just does. It just… is.”

Ayame nodded like their mother had just told her the secrets of the universe. Like that was sufficient. Sumire found her mother’s response to be cryptic and needed to be dissected to fully understand the meaning. Or maybe she was just overthinking this.

Still, Sumire copied her older sister and nodded slowly, like wisdom was granted to her (even though it felt like that same wisdom was held tightly away from her, just out of reach.)

Ah, the downward facing dog position was one of Sumire’s favorites because it was a simple position she could hold while stretching her back muscles, legs, and arms. This way, she could clear her mind and separate herself from the duties of being a student and a daughter. (She still had to work on a paper due in four days. She needed to get ahead.)

No, that can wait. Now, yoga.

She went to lift her right leg, exhaling slowly all the while.

Through her closed eyes, she heard blades clashing against each other and the stench of something decaying and bloody. Her eyebrow wrinkled. This was it. Another moment from the past.

“Just what are your intentions here? Don’t you have anything to say? This is your final warning. Give me a reason at least.”

She was bent forward, his arm around her neck to restrain her. But what she lacked in physical strength, she made up in words, biting and sharp you didn’t know it hit you. Silence. And she thought he wouldn’t grace her with a reply. Then he spoke in his monotone voice.

“If I’m remembering this right, it was two years ago.”

“Please don’t start some long, rambling story from that far back in time. Are you just being spiteful? Are you perhaps still angry I pointed out how people don’t like you?”

From his chokehold, she felt him flinch, likely affected. Boy, did she enjoy riling him up just to get a reaction from him, because those are few and far between.

Then Sumire once again felt the worn and soft yoga mat underneath her palms and fingertips, and she fell on it in an ungraceful heap, winded and disoriented.

As she picked up herself, she muttered, “He never could get to his point fast enough, that’s why he’s always misunderstood.”

The furrow in her brows unfurled as she openly acknowledged those past memories to herself. Warmth trickled down from the back of her head down to her spine, light and feathery, as if a dormant being in her was roused and unlocked.

Coincidentally, his name followed.

Tomioka Giyuu

The Water Hashira—calm, cool, almost emotionless. But Sumire knew he suffered loss as well, otherwise he wouldn’t be where he was that time. But Giyuu was different from today’s version… she couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Maybe it was something about their vibes?

Sumire figured it was high time she let the memories flow without hindering them from her mind, so she let them come as she went through the familiar, calming motions of yoga. More and more of her memories were presenting itself to her, marking her connection to a past life. But she also lived and breathed in this life, so here came the part where she had to find a way to move in both, jarring as it was.

Modern World, different timeline

Shinobu checked her watch as she waited for her classmate Kanae to show up to the school gates so they could walk to class together.

When she looked up, the frown marring her features lit up into a bright smile as Kanae appeared in all her prim and proper glory, waving to Shinobu.

“Took you long enough,” joked Shinobu as Kanae stepped to her side.

“Sorry, I stopped to help a child.” Shinobu’s smile softened at Kanae’s kind nature. “Shall we?”

Shinobu nodded and linked her arm with her best friend’s. “Yep. Let’s go.”

Together, the two of them walked into campus.

Chapter Text

Yuto’s fingers rubbed his temples absentmindedly to dull the pain. He wasn’t sure if the action was working.

“How well do you know this guy?” he muttered, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he let Hayato lead him along the park. “You said you met him at a baseball game, right?”

Hayato nodded excitedly. “Yeah, Iguro-kun’s a chill guy. Some people think he’s scary because he has different colored eyes, but I think it’s cool. We bonded a few weeks ago and exchanged contact numbers. He’s seeing this girl Kanroji-san, who has a friend I personally think would get you to think about someone else rather than the girl your past self has been pining for.”

Yuto grunted but said no more. He looked around the park, uneasiness creeping in his throat, thick and jagged like a rock with no signs of budging. He took it as a bad sign, even with clear, cirrus clouds curling lazily in the sky.

“Yuto? You good?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s just…” He gulped. It was getting harder to breathe but he tamped down the uneasiness and chalked it up to initial nerves of meeting a new person. “Just nerves.” His fingers subconsciously curled, as if seeking something familiar to hold. (A blade, his mind supplied unhelpfully.)

Hayato clapped his shoulder with a loud laugh. “Hang in there, bud, we’re almost there. Iguro-kun, Kanroji-san, and the other girl, sorry I also don’t know her name, are in front of the gaming center.”

They spotted three people up ahead—two girls and one boy. The boy must be Iguro Kohaku, short with black hair and interesting eyes: yellow right eye and teal left eye. He got what Hayato meant when he said other people would be scared (possibly because it was not considered ‘normal’) but Yuto found himself admiring the colors. He did briefly wonder if Iguro was still able to see. But that might be a conversation for next time. Hopefully they will become closer.

Then Kanroji Kiko was the girl with brightly colored hair resembling mochi. She waved and beckoned them over, happy sounds leaving her mouth. When she spoke, she had a high and cheerful voice. Yuto still didn’t know what to feel about that, but he found her to be warm and inviting.

Then…

He inhaled sharply.

It was the girl he kissed from the bar.

Kochou Shinobu.

No, that wasn’t her. This was the Kochou of this world, not the Taisho era.

His heart squeezed painfully and leapt in joy at the same time—the mix of two polar opposites left him dizzy and breathless. He tripped on his feet. Kochou’s eyes flicked downward, catching the movement. Hayato looked at him, worry in his eyes.

Yuto didn’t say anything and just pushed forward, discreetly tugging at his best friend’s elbow so introductions would be over with. No matter… he’d pretend this was nothing, even though in this life, a kiss was their greeting and they’d parted ways without knowing each other’s names. Yuto forced a friendly smile on his face, Hayato in front and thankfully collecting his bearings as he was the one who first spoke.

“Iguro-kun! So nice to see you again!”

Kohaku tipped his head in greeting, smile easy and fond.

“Sabitani-kun, so glad you two could make it. Now, I believe introductions are in order…”

And time bent and snapped, leaving Yuto in a floaty daze. He was hyperaware of only Kochou, everything blurring in a background, trying to piece her to his past self’s memories and ultimately getting more headaches the longer he stared at her.

He stood up (when did they sit down?) and excused himself, trying to walk away casually but the energy in his body demanded to be released, and he ended up sprinting from the table, from her, because having her near just made everything warp and wobble, like the past and present were blending together unpleasantly and he couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.

He heard softer footsteps and rhythmic pants behind him. Dread pooled in his stomach.

Was she following me? Why?!

He turned right and skidded to a halt because it was a dead end. Shit.

“Wait! Tomioka-san!”

That damned name she called him…

His teeth gritted together.

“No, don’t!” He whirled around to face her, and realized it was a mistake.

His eyelids blinked rapidly as his mind struggled to separate the Kochou here in the present and the Kochou in his memory. They both looked eerily similar from the stature, the hairstyle, the eyes (oh, the eyes), and the voice. That same soft lilt. She was panting lightly, her eyebrows wrinkled. It resembled the way Kochou Shinobu would examine reports when she got stumped. Why did he know that?

“What’s happening? Should I call for help?”

“It—it’s you…” he whispered, mouth dry and insides churning and head ringing. He swallowed. How did he make all these sensations stop?

Her eyebrows furrowed. She made to approach. His body reacted in a violent shiver, instinct screaming at him to get away from her. He thought he saw her gaze falter, but her eyes were steely purple when he blinked, so he couldn’t be too sure.

She stayed a safe distance from him, hands outstretched as if to communicate she meant no harm. One of his hands pulled at his hair, the other rubbing vigorously at his eyes. He wanted to just close his eyes and sleep forever. All this mind work was making his head throb unpleasantly.

“Wh—what do you mean it’s me? Tomioka-san, talk to me.”

A flash of her in her Demon Slayer uniform.

Her thin blade reflecting off the moonlight as her dainty hands spun it.

Her empty smile coupled with an unreadable gaze even when she spoke too much and prodded too deeply.

His head hurt. His heart hurt. He couldn’t breathe, even when he gasped for air.

“Just… stop, don’t move. I can’t take it anymore.” He clutched his head and tried to lessen the images, but another one popped up, and this time, it was her poking his cheek, eyes brimming with unconcealed mirth and mouth in an amused smile. “I don’t know you.”

Her eye twitched. “Of course you don’t know me, dumbass. We’ve only just met, what are you talking about?”

Why didn’t she get it? Why was he the only one reacting?

“I mean your face is blending with another face from a memory not mine!” His outburst was enough to melt the rage off her expression, her features loosening into wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“Wha—”

“I mean sometimes, I feel like I know you from somewhere but that’s impossible because we don’t know each other so how can it be? Why are you in my head, haunting my dreams and invading my waking hours with your infuriatingly empty smile? Why do I get flashes of you and me in another darker time when so much was at stake? Why am I so affected when our lives aren’t even connected? And why are you so nonchalant about all this?!”

Silence. Heavy breathing. Oh, that came from him.

He looked at Sumire to find her blinking fast and exhaling occasionally. She didn’t seem keen on approaching him any longer, which was fine by him. Something flickered in her eyes. Pain, regret, he couldn’t be too sure but he didn’t have the energy to name them and he wished she’d maintain the distance because the sight of her is making the one in his mind’s eye appear again and he couldn’t tell them apart.

“You… do you get flashbacks of your past life?” she asked in a soft voice, and thankfully she didn’t attempt to close the distance between them. Too much electricity and tension in the air crackled between them for Yuto to sit still. If she came any closer, he’d just widen the distance. He’d run again, even if he wasn’t physically fit.

He nodded. The words came out easier now.

“It’s painful and comes at random times. I’d like to believe it’s trying to tell me something, but the erratic ways it pops up makes me think it’s intentionally messing with me.”

Sumire pursed her lips. A half-smile pulled the corner of her lips upward. She resembled her past self so much in his visions. He didn’t know if they had differences. Yuto feared he wouldn’t be able to decipher them from each other.

“I—me too,” she said in a near whisper. She didn’t meet his eye. She raised her gaze to him. “It started when we were m—” she blushed a fierce red and fidgeted with her skirt, too flustered to continue eye contact with him.

It took a moment for Yuto to understand, but when he did, a light pink washed over his ears. Oh yeah, they made out. So he nodded. Because that night was the same for him. And that was the first time they met in this life.

“Yeah, I get it.” He cleared his throat. “So that’s why you um… left.”

“Yeah, yeah. Went ahead.” She coughed, vibrant red on her cheeks. “I couldn’t just… tell you I stopped because I saw someone with your face in my mind. That time, we’d just met. I would’ve ruined the moment, so to say.”

Okay, good. They were acknowledging their first meeting at the bar. His lips tingled with the sensation of her lips on his. He remembered finding her so attractive. It was still the same now.

“You left,” he reminded her. Not to be mean or anything, but to point out that either way, the moment had been ruined.

She only widened her eyes at him, and he took it as cue to shut up.

“Not the time, don’t cha think?”

Yuto clamped his mouth shut, nape burning with shame. “Yes, ma’am.”

Soft exhales. Wisps of hair in a near identical hairstyle. Eyes he’d known to be calculating and sharp, never truly expressing emotion. But those eyes in this life are different; Sumire is looking at him like she wanted to commit this interaction to memory, to this moment. Like he too was a puzzle she wanted to decipher. It made Yuto’s chest ache, out of longing or affection, he wasn’t sure.

When she regarded him again, resolve was steady in her features. Her eyes were steely and determined. Yuto found he liked it.

“Then I kept seeing more flashbacks and callbacks from Shinobu and yeah, I’m conflicted about you too, buddy. You’re not the only one internally breaking down from all this weird spiritual déjà vu crap.” Yuto felt himself go hot in the cheeks and neck at her call-out. “I see Shinobu and I freak the hell out. See? Same boat.”

“Sorry.” But even then, he knew it wasn’t enough. Judging by how Sumire snorted, she knew that much too.

“Yeah, you don’t mean it.”

Okay, Yuto could make out a distinct difference: Where Shinobu would hide within smiles and simmer in anger quietly, Sumire was unafraid to voice her opinions and show it when something (or someone) displeased her.

Her gaze was fire and venom as she regarded him.

“But I wanna believe I’m not a watered-down carbon copy of my past self,” Sumire continued, earnestness in her gaze and voice. “Sure, we share some similarities because however much we turn the world upside down, Shinobu is me from the past and I am her now. But we have differences, too. If you can’t separate me from the one in your memories, then that’s on you.”

Yuto’s eyebrows drew together in annoyance (with her, with him, he didn’t know.) Sumire didn’t break eye contact.

“But Tomioka Yuto, I want to get to know you.” Her voice was earnest, like she was trying to get through to his thick skull. “As you, not just as the Giyuu in my memories. Because I know for a fact there’s a lot more to you than just your past self. Right?”

Silence. Pressuring, uncomfortable silence.

Yuto took a chance to look at her—waiting, anxious, hopeful. Still so vibrant.

“I’m scared.” He saw her falter. “Of what it means for me, for us. Right now, I’m more familiar with Kochou Shinobu than you, Kochou Sumire. It’s a disservice to you, I know, and I wish I—”

Loud, boisterous laughter from children cut him short, both of them turning to see three kids running past them playing with a ball. He turned back to Sumire and found he couldn’t remember what he was saying, or what point he wanted to drive home. Ashamed and embarrassed, he looked to the ground, wringing his fingers together.

Please, why couldn’t things go right?

Neither of them was able to say anything more as they heard running footsteps. They both turned to see Kiko, Hayato, and Kohaku appear from the corner, breathless and red-faced. Kiko was the first to spot them, squealing in surprise and halting so fast Kohaku stumbled into her and held her shoulders to keep them both steady.

“Eep!” Kiko blinked owlishly. “We’re so sorry, you both had gone and we were getting worried—”

“This place is pretty big and there’s no immediate security to—”

“Do you have any idea where you guys were headed when you ran off? Didn’t think so because—”

“That’s enough, people!” exclaimed Sumire, causing all three newcomers to shut their mouths and regard her with a mix of fear and awe. Honestly, Yuto was doing the same. How did she bounce back after such a shared moment of vulnerability? He didn’t feel her being nervous; right now, she exuded calm and command.

Hayato scratched his head. “We’re the ones concerned and you brush us off? You’re so cold. Why drag Yuto all the way here anyway? What’s there to see?”

“Oh shush now, at least they’re okay,” Kiko reminded.

Sumire walked toward them and briefly glanced at Yuto. Their shared eye contact made zaps of lightning run down his spine. Sumire wasn’t looking at him anymore. “We just wanted to play fetch with the kids and now they’re done. So, anyone know a good spot for matcha?”

“Ahhm, there’s this place I saw…” Kohaku listed off.

“Yuto, close your mouth and keep up!” she barked.

Yuto snapped himself from his thoughts and hurried to catch up with the group, filing the interesting way he reacted to her for later.

Abandoned shed, nighttime

Giyuu awoke to a stabbing pain in his ribs, ragged breath drawn from his lungs.

He and his partner were still in the abandoned shed where they had fought a demon with a cumbersome Blood Demon Art of disappearing and appearing whenever it clapped its four hands. It was powerful, its swings packed with such strength to uproot tree trunks and knock them off-balance. But it was gone now, and he couldn’t remember who had dealt the finishing blow.

Yet they sustained injuries, and it made his stomach drop to see Shinobu pale and unconscious when he had turned her over. Blood trickled over her left temple, her breathing shaky and wheezy.

“Kochou… Kochou wake up.” He gently shook her shoulder but received no response. After more calls with a vigor he refused to call desperation, at last her eyelids fluttered open and her mouth opened to let out a low groan of pain. He sympathized with her. She sat up slowly, bracing herself on her elbows. He hovered, arms ready to catch her if she wavered. “Take it easy.”

Her hair had loosened from its pin.

Realizing this, Giyuu turned away politely, eyes scanning their dark surroundings to look for where it had fallen. It didn’t feel right to see her with her hair down, as if he was intruding on a private sight not meant for a mere colleague like him.

He spotted it and crawled to retrieve it, a few meters away from them. He offered it to Shinobu, who took a glance at it and was about to take it from him when she hissed through clenched teeth. Giyuu’s eyes went to her face. He couldn’t stop the stray thought—pretty. Everything about her was violet, gentle and poisonous.

“I can’t… my arms…” she exhaled, energy sapped.

“May I?” his mouth asked before he could stop it.

Shinobu’s eyes widened, mouth dropping into a small ‘o’ before she nodded and slowly turned her back to him. Giyuu gulped, adamantly staring at her butterfly pin. When she settled, he made quick work of twisting her hair into a clumsy bun before securing it with her pin and backing off, nape heating like he’d been burned. If he stayed a second longer…

Silence settled—so thick one of them could cut it with a blade.

Then…

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” A cough. Silence again.

Chapter Text

A shuddering exhale left Sumire’s mouth as she stared at her green tea.

The heat from it was not enough to scald her palms and Sumire wished for any sensation—even pain—to be bestowed upon her so she wouldn’t feel this numbness blanketing her entire being.

A gentle touch of pink manicured hands to her knuckle made Sumire look from across her, uncharacteristic gentle and worried smile on Kiko’s usually upbeat face.

Sumire could at least grin back and return the gesture with a poke to Kiko’s own knuckle. They both giggled.

“I remember you,” she admitted in a low voice.

She watched Kiko’s face morph from surprise to recognition to happiness, with her beaming so bright Sumire thought she resembled the sun.

Kiko squealed and took her hands in a firm grip.

“I was waiting for you to say that! I remember you too!”

And Sumire was so happy to have some parts of her past life trickle into this life. This explained why she felt in her bones she knew Kiko longer than high school, and why she was drawn to her when at first glance, their personalities didn’t seem to mesh well together.

The flashback happened during their last hangout, when they were in a garden and Sumire saw Kiko twirl elegantly at a long stick, fingers deft and arms arcing in a graceful manner. Visions of Kiko’s lookalike blurred through Sumire’s mind and the name Kanroji Mitsuri with the long, ribbon-like katana and insane flexibility floated through her mind and Sumire knew deep within herself she’d been friends with her too back then.

Now Kiko confirmed it, and Sumire was grateful.

“Told you we’d still be friends in the next life,” she teased, winking as Kiko laughed and clapped her hands in joy.

“Oh and I’m so glad! It also turns out Koharu was the Serpent Hashira named Iguro Obanai. Isn’t this amazing?”

Ahh, so they did know each other too. Wait, Koharu? They already had nicknames for each other? Welp, not her business. She had bigger things to worry about but she internally congratulated Kiko and her beloved “Koharu.”

Sumire’s smile came out strained, looking more like a grimace as Kiko quieted down and asked if she was okay.

The grip Sumire had on her cup tightened to the point it started to rattle, catching Kiko’s attention.

“Su-chan, breathe,” she reminded with a calm voice.

The breath caught in Sumire’s throat and she coughed violently. Please, she wanted to curl in her bed and sleep for eternity. She didn’t want this onslaught of emotions rendering her near paranoid.

“He knew me too,” she whispered, so soft Kiko nearly missed it. Sumire raised her head, eyes filling with anguished tears. “I thought if I played it safe, acted like we were nothing, he wouldn’t notice. How the hell was I supposed to know he knew too? Ki-chan, did you see how he practically vibrated in his seat, like he didn’t wanna be there? Then he just ran from us, and something in me just told me to chase, and now we’re stuck, and I don’t know whether to fix it or leave it. What does that make us?” She huffed out a humorless laugh. “Fools, that’s what.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. A hand came up to pass through her bangs, subsequently messing up her hairstyle.

Kiko remained silent, but Sumire knew she had her attention.

She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to say it.

(She had to.)

“Tomioka Yuto…” she blinked rapidly, trying to wrap her head around it, “is Tomioka Giyuu. Remember? He was the Water Hashira.”

Kiko gasped sharply, covering her mouth.

“Oh my, what a coincidence!” She inhaled and leaned forward. “That explains why Tomioka-san had such a reaction to you. He remembered.” At Sumire’s despairing groan, Kiko tilted her head. “But that’s not good news to you, huh? Why? Aren’t you happy you both remember? You could talk about all sorts of things from the past.”

Sumire sniffed and took a sip of her tea. She looked out the window to see bustling city life—wholly different from the one in the Taisho era. She met Kiko’s curious gaze. For some reason, her curiosity made Sumire want to bolt out her seat and just… run away.

Sumire swallowed.

Gosh, she was stalling. Why couldn’t she let it out? The pressure was too heavy in her chest she might combust if she didn’t speak soon.

She took a deep breath.

“Yeah but… what if that’s all we bond over? The shared trauma?” Sumire tapped against the table with her nails. “What if we don’t have any more to talk about aside from that? Then what? It would feel like a remake of our past lives, something superficial between us because we feel like we have to reconnect, not because we ourselves want to talk. And what if… when I ask, he agrees out of obligation, not because he wants to get to know me as Kochou Sumire? It would be humiliating for us both. Like we’re characters in a rerun nobody asked for! What even becomes our purpose to each other?” She slumped over the table with a pitiful whine. “I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know how to act around him when we do bump into each other.”

Silence. Kiko took a bite of her chiffon cake and placed down her fork with a grace Sumire knew she can’t copy. Kiko’s gaze on her was hard and determined, like she was readying for a long speech.

“You’re not trusting what you and Tomioka-san of today have to offer.”

Sumire straightened. “Huh?”

“I know you’re worried you’ll both run out of topics, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that’s all you have to talk about. This is another chance in life. I thought you said you wanted to get to know him as Tomioka Yuto, not Giyuu? It’s already a big step to acknowledge him as his own person. Why don’t you give him faith he wants to see you as Sumire, too? You do want that, right?”

“By all means, yes,” Sumire all but groaned.

“Then let him. If you keep going down this path, you’re robbing him of a chance to prove yourselves wrong. And that’s not fair to either of you.”

Quiet. Only the chatter of customers and the hum of the air conditioning was what she could hear. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans wafted through the air. Kiko was still staring at her, waiting, watching. In her chest, Sumire’s heart trembled with affection for this girl who only wanted the best for her.

Her eyes zeroed in on her green tea, watching the liquid swirl. It wasn’t hot anymore.

“I don’t know if I want the rest of my memories back,” she admitted softly. She chanced a glance at Kiko to see her lips upturned into a small smile, soft and sympathetic.

“Just take it at your own pace. No one’s forcing you to remember everything at once.”

“What if Tomioka Yuto wants Kochou Shinobu?”

“Then you’re wasting your time and he’s not worth it.” Kiko huffed. “But honestly, you’re amazing as you are, Sumire. No one can procrastinate an experiment in two hours like you do.”

They both giggled. It was, technically, one of Sumire’s strong suits. She liked racing against the clock; it gave her a thrill and tested her limits.

Sumire bit her lip. She looked at her best friend with an uncharacteristic shyness as another question plagued her mind.

“I don’t… owe him anything, right?”

What if all this time, he’d been expecting and she couldn’t give him what he wanted?

Kiko shook her head. “Nonsense, dear girl. None of that. You didn’t ask him to remember you, right?” Sumire shook her head. “The same way he didn’t ask you of the same thing. I don’t think he’s mad or expecting, just confused and probably wondering what to do next. Like what you’re trying to do.”

Sumire smiled at the light jab, heart eased.

“So, are you done trying to reason your way out of this mess?” Kiko asked, though a sharp edge was laced in it which told Sumire her dear friend only wanted one answer.

Sumire grinned and inhaled, regaining her composure. The heaviness in her chest had subsided some.

“Yes. You’ve eased my worries, and for that, I’m forever grateful.”

“Good.” The clipped tone was gone in her next sentence. But the smirk threatening to burst her lips should have been telling enough to Sumire. “So tell me, Su-chan, is Tomioka Yuto-san the guy you made out with the night Koharu and I met?”

She couldn’t stop the blush spreading across her nose and cheeks, and that was telling enough as Kiko began to laugh, high and loud.

“Kiko!”

“Oh so it’s him!” Kiko continued to laugh, banging the table as she chortled. She squealed. “Oh my gosh, even in this life, you still like him!”

Sumire glared at her, but Kiko wasn’t fazed.

“Kiko,” she hissed, although her cheeks were hot like a sizzling oven and other customers were looking at them.

She tried to hide her embarrassment by drinking her tea (now cold but what choice did she have) but then a barista came over to them holding a flyer and asking if they wanted a sample. Sumire made the mistake of looking up at the guy’s face. Her heart leapt to her throat. And she promptly spat out the tea in her shock, littering all over the table and causing Kiko to scream and guffaw some more.

Tomioka Yuto—the very guy they’d been talking about—stared in bewilderment at her, the tea-spitting girl. When they locked eyes, Sumire released a muffled, banshee-like shriek and screwed her eyes tight, face exploding in heat. She slumped over her seat, burying her face in her hands that did nothing to hide the redness. Gods above, she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears!

He blinked. Squinted. “Are you…”

Sumire’s face burned so bad it was like someone could cook an egg over it! She hunched forward so her head was under the table. She’d made a fool of herself so no need to embarrass herself further.

“Oh my gosh please no why is he here…” she muttered to herself, wanting the ground to open and swallow her in all its misery. What was he doing here?!

She heard Kiko speak.

“Oh hi Tomioka-san! So good to see you! We didn’t know you work here!” Her sentences were still punctuated with little giggles and please, she sounded so high on happy pills.

“Um… yes. This is where I work part-time.” Sumire could hear his confusion. “Anou… Kanroji-san, is she okay? Does she—Kochou, do you need more tea?”

Oh he was addressing her! No wait, the redness hadn’t subsided! She still felt like a frying pan! Kiko, please—!

“Ahh, more tea would be nice,” she heard Kiko reply pleasantly. “Oh and I’d like to try that special of yours. Thanks!”

She heard him hum.

“All right, noted.” He didn’t sound so confused anymore. “And Kochou,” my gosh would he stop calling her name now? What did he want? Make her faint?! “I’ll bring you a slice of mocha cake. On the house. If you’ll excuse me.”

And she saw his shoes walk away. She could still hear Kiko above her snickering, definitely having the time of her life.

When the redness had finally subsided and Sumire could now present herself like the calm and composed girl she was, she brought her head up from the table and straightened her shirt. She sniffed and glanced at the counter. Okay, no sign of him.

“Kiko.”

“Hmm?”

“Hurry, pay the bill so we can leave.”

“What no way! Did you hear the part where he was gonna bring you cake? So we’ll wait for it. And awfully sweet of him, like he’s trying to earn brownie points from you.” She sniggered.

Sumire exhaled slowly. Gosh, Kiko was torturing her so bad! Why were they best friends again?

Being with Ayame made her feel younger. To Sumire, it was a nice feeling where she could enjoy being a kid, conversing with her older sister on nonsensical topics, secured she wouldn’t be made fun of.

“Why do you think humans need to feel pain? Will the absence of it dramatically affect how we view our world today?”

“If I got my license to practice pharmacy and I become a drug dealer, that’s technically allowed because I’m licensed, right?”

“Nee-san, don’t you feel like you wanna rip your hair off when you’re dealing with twenty or so kids yapping your ear about the day’s discussions?”

And Ayame had been patient all throughout, humming in thought before giving her opinion. It was fun, and Sumire wished they’d just stay like this.

After all, time always seemed to slow in a museum, and this time was no different.

They passed through a painting of one of their national artists, Sumire’s eyes going over the colors and textures, appreciating the finer details.

“Ara look Sumire-chan.”

And she did, going to Ayame’s side. They cooed at a sculpture of a mother cradling her child, serene smiles on their bronze faces. How artists managed to breathe such life in their creations, she’d never know.

They passed the morning like so, switching up between animated discussions of different topics and admiring art pieces in awed silence.

By the corner of the room she was in, Sumire caught sight of a katana encased in glass.

Behind her eyelids flashed an image of colliding blades, as if she was seeing through Shinobu’s point of view. The smell of metal and blood was in the air. Across from her was the irritating Tomioka Giyuu, his mismatched haori fluttering in the night wind, some hint of emotion behind the passive gaze.

“I see you’re dead serious, Tomioka-san.”

Sumire blinked again. The lightness in her chest steadily balled into a stone in her stomach, the memory of Tomioka Yuto’s distraught face after that fateful park meeting floating at the forefront of her mind.

She had the inexplicable urge to cry, but the reason why eluded her like these glimpses of memories.

She nearly bumped into Ayame if it weren’t for her sister to hold her steady by the shoulders, Sumire snapping back to reality and giggling nervously. Ayame only chuckled, but Sumire could tell she was patiently waiting… maybe for Sumire to broach a topic.

Ayame’s lookalike once again passed through her mind. Her heart told her they went beyond just this life.

“Nee-san?”

“Yes?”

Sumire cleared her throat. Okay, how did she open such a topic? Maybe she could start small.

“Remember the guy I told you and Mom about?”

“Ooh interesting you brought him up. I was wondering how you two were.”

It made a laugh bubble out of Sumire’s chest, and she felt better, gaining confidence at Ayame’s light jab.

“And yeah, I’m confused. Because I feel like I met him from somewhere a long, long time ago. And just recently, well… I’ve found out he’s also felt the same but now I don’t know whether to test the waters between us because fear, irrationality, and illogicality are hindrances, or to just let everything be and potentially just…” she sucked in a breath, “let him go.”

Honestly, the second option was excruciating. But if Yuto didn’t want her in his life, she couldn’t possibly push herself in the picture. Did she want to strive for it? She didn’t know. But the thought of it made a lump form in her throat. It felt so… wrong to slink away in cowardice. That wasn’t her.

Ayame smiled one of those smiles when Sumire knew she wouldn’t wholly understand what she would impart.

“Sounds like he’s an important person in your life,” she noted with a finger raised in the air. “And from your expressions, the idea of letting him go without ‘testing the waters’ as you said crushes you.” Her smile took on a teasing curl. “I don’t know why you ask me questions where you’ve made up your mind.”

“No I haven’t.”

“Well, then it’s a decision from your heart.” Ayame drew closer to hold her hand. “There’s a reason why the head is above the heart: to ensure one is led by thought and rationale. But sometimes, the heart knows best even when your mind hasn’t quite caught up yet. Ultimately, it’s your decision.”

“But how will I know what’s the right one? Either choice is so… daunting.”

For once, she wished someone else would make the choice for her.

The warmth of Ayame’s hand transferred to her shoulder assured Sumire more than words could. She gazed in her sister’s eyes and took comfort in her quiet confidence.

“You know, they say reincarnation is another experience for the soul to learn and grow spiritually. Perhaps you couldn’t do something from long, long ago where a chance is presented now?” Ayame smiled and shrugged, backing away and taking with her the warmth from Sumire’s shoulder.

Sumire’s heart beat faster. This time, it was another person (aside from Kiko) who opened the topic of reincarnation. Did she… believe? Or was Ayame a product of reincarnation? Her sister could be secretive even when one thought she was laying out all her cards.

“Do you—” she blinked and swallowed around a dry throat— “Are we somehow related from a past life? You seem to know an awful lot about reincarnation.”

Ayame only laughed and walked away. With a secret smile thrown her way, she called, “Mahiro will pick us up to send us home. I suggest you sight-see everything you want before he arrives in twenty minutes.”

Left standing, Sumire calmed herself by taking a slow inhale, holding it, and exhaling it through her mouth. She repeated this exercise two more times before deeming her nerves less frazzled and in good condition to go around.

As she took another glance at the katana, Sumire found her decision clear as still water in her mind.

She wanted to try with him.

Butterfly Estate, daytime

“Nee-san, we’re out of banda—oh!”

Young Shinobu shut the wooden door to the clinic, splinters crackling at her force at seeing Kanae tend to a topless Water Hashira. Shinobu cursed herself at overreacting, realizing she still needed to build her immunity towards nude bodies.

She took slow breaths to calm down, a vein throbbing in her temple at how she reacted so poorly. She should be used to this by now! She needed to get used to this fast, otherwise how could she stand by Kanae’s side as a doctor and healer to the Corps when just the sight of the injured topless Water Hashira was enough to send her into a stuttering, spiralling mess?

Ridiculous. So pathetic.

She felt someone from inside push against the door, Shinobu realizing she was holding it close with her weight. She jumped away, muffling the surprised shriek fighting its way out of her mouth.

Kanae’s amused eyes and smile appeared before her, Shinobu huffing and stepping back to give way to her sister.

“Yes Shinobu-chan, what did you say?”

“Um… bandages,” she fought out her dry mouth. “We’re running low. Also, some medicinal herbs, so I believe a trip to the market is in order.”

Kanae hummed as she fully went out, Tomioka Giyuu behind her fully clothed, face as impassive as still waters. His whole aura seemed off to Shinobu, but she had to be cordial. After all, he was a Hashira with lots of experience and her senior.

“You remember the Water Hashira Tomioka Giyuu, yes?” Shinobu nodded at Kanae. “Well, I was tending to his injuries by a demon’s claws which managed to tear into parts of his shoulder and chest. Luckily, they are only skin deep, but treatment, recovery, and check-ups are still to be observed.” She turned to him now. “Are we clear, Tomioka-san? We don’t want to lose our numbers to the demons now, do we?”

A moment of silence. After much has passed, Shinobu opened her mouth to speak to remind him they still expected an answer when he beat her to it with a monotone, “Yes, Kochou.”

Shinobu raised an eyebrow at his slow response. Kanae found his lag to be endearing, as she only giggled.

“Ara ara so polite. Well, I’ll be expecting you back after four days for a change in dressing. You may go on your merry way, Tomioka-san. Till next time!”

Giyuu bowed to Kanae with a murmured, “Thank you for your work.”

He glanced at Shinobu. For some reason, the hair at her nape stood at attention. Then he bowed to her as well before he was on his way.

Shinobu couldn’t help the involuntary nose wrinkle and eye twitch.

“What is up with that guy, nee-san? He always looks so gloomy, like he’d come from a funeral.”

“Oh hush, we don’t particularly know his life story so we can’t really judge, can we? Kindly check for other ingredients and materials we might be running low on and take note of it. We’ll leave in thirty minutes to go to the market.”

“Understood, nee-san.”

Chapter Text

“You didn’t tell me Sumire was Shinobu!”

Yuto fidgeted with his fingers and avoided eye contact. He decided to look out the window, listening to the birds chirping. Makomo’s apartment really offered a good view of the sky. He wished he lived somewhere high too but knew he wouldn’t always look out the window. Maybe… just sometimes was enough.

After counting 1, 001, 1, 002, 1, 003 in his head, he graced his friend with a reply, gaze still locked outside.

“You didn’t ask.”

He finally looked at Hayato in front of him, his eye twitching.

He made to smack Yuto with a pillow but luckily Makomo came in between them to intercept the pillow and hold Hayato’s arms above his head. Yuto discreetly glanced at them, lips curling up in an amused smirk. Makomo was the smallest in their group of three yet she seemed to have no trouble restraining the taller Hayato, who struggled in her grasp.

“Boy, I will smack you so hard you go back to the Taisho era and stay there!”

“Hayato!” scolded Makomo as she slapped him upside the head. Hayato yelped in pain. “Don’t go about wishing tragedies to people, especially your best friends. That’s very mean.”

Hayato grumbled at Makomo as he stood to full height, arms ready to protect himself if (when) she deemed it necessary to hit him again.

“You didn’t even ask for her name!” Yuto retorted, gesturing to Hayato who blanched. “You were the one chatting with Iguro-kun. I was just the guy going with the flow. Unwillingly, might I add.” Bitterness seeped in his tone. “Remember how you yanked me out of bed and said you had the perfect idea for that day? Yeah, I went along with it.”

Hayato looked ready to say something else but caught himself and blew out an exhale, the fire in his eyes dimming. He raised his arms as he looked at Yuto.

“Okay fine, I didn’t really check with Iguro-kun who Kanroji-san’s friend was. My fault.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But you could’ve tapped out. I wouldn’t have blamed you.” At Yuto’s confused stare, he added, “I mean, the second you saw her, you knew. So why put yourself through all those?”

Makomo and Hayato had their attention on him. Yuto wanted to disappear but sighed and straightened his position from the couch. He twiddled with his fingers.

“I don’t know.”

His friends deflated. Yuto smiled nervously.

“No but seriously, I wanted to see where it went, despite the pounding in my head. Maybe… some part of me was hoping she remembered.” He bit his lip. “That I—I wasn’t alone in having all these flashbacks. Because it would suck.” He stared at a fixed point beyond their heads, watching the paint crack. “It meant she didn’t regard Giyuu the same way he did her.” He chuckled humorlessly, leaning his back on the couch again and fingers coming up to rub his forehead. “I just didn’t expect the headaches to get worse. I told you before, right Hayato?”

Hayato hummed an affirmative.

Makomo sighed and sat next to him, rubbing his arm sympathetically.

“You held out hope. And that’s okay. It’s human to want something so bad, to see if you both really shared a connection.” After a while, she asked, “So… how did it go?”

A smile tugged Yuto’s lips up. His friends stared, dumbfounded.

“Bro, you good? What got you smiling like that?” Hayato shivered. “Creepy.”

Yuto ignored him.

“It was… eye-opening. I wanted to get away from it all because everything became too much too fast, but Sumire forced me to see her, really see her. Which helped, because she was telling me to see her separate from Shinobu. While they were fundamentally the same person from different times, Sumire still had her own identity.”

Makomo nodded, light smile on her features. Yuto took it as encouragement to continue.

“And she told me she wanted to get to know me, Yuto, because she knew I had more to offer than just Giyuu.” He fiddled with his fingers and the sleeves of his sweater—another creation of his from a recent time.

“And she’s right,” Makomo chirped. “Wow, she’s mentally strong and resolute. Good on her. And you for thinking over what she said.”

Yuto smiled slightly.

“She did most of the talking, and honestly that’s okay. I think if I spoke any more, I’d have ruined things for us before we really started.”

Makomo beamed even more, if that was possible. “So considerate of you, Yuto.”

Hayato nodded, satisfied smirk on his lips.

“Yeah bro, you do tend to have a smart mouth. Wise decision to keep it shut.”

Both Yuto and Makomo fixed him with a deadpan expression.

Hayato cleared his throat.

“Kidding aside, you’re a crazy dude, Yuto, pushing through pain to get to something sweeter and more rewarding you believe matters.” He shot a thumbs up. “That takes serious guts. Very becoming for a man!”

Yuto beamed at his best friend’s words, spirit lifted at his support.

Hayato’s grin softened, a flicker of something old, something familiar there. When he spoke, reverence and pride shone through his tone.

“You used to run away when things got tough. Look at you now, facing it head-on.”

A flash of the same face in a different universe passed through Yuto’s eyes, of that boy younger and tougher, and he smiled, ducking his head, warmth in his heart.

Somehow, ‘best friend’ wasn’t enough to describe the bond he and Hayato shared.

He read over his notes as he untied the apron strings from his back.

It had slipped his mind he had an upcoming exam in two days and was now cramming some study sessions while he also had work today.

The door to the break room opened to Shinazugawa Mahiro, his white-haired, hot-headed co-worker who made the meanest lattes.

“You brought an umbrella?”

Yuto paused. Tilted his head. “What would I need that for?”

A vein throbbed across Mahiro’s jaw.

“Dumbass. Didn’t you hear the news? Seventy percent chance of rain today.”

Yuto hummed. “And thirty percent of it not.” The clock struck six, signalling the end of his shift. He swiftly changed into his casual clothes, carefully putting his uniform back in his locker. “I’m heading home now.”

Mahiro merely grunted in reply, and with another wave, Yuto was out the break room.

The owner, a kind old man with white hair, stopped him and wished him well on his journey home, reminding him of the impending rain to come. Yuto nodded and thanked him for his concern before going out, handwritten notes about the impact of climate change on water resources in hand.

He was near his neighborhood when droplets of water appeared on his paper, and he could feel them dripping on his face. He looked up to see the clouds, gray and swirling, and knew he only had a few seconds to take cover.

He ran around trying to find the nearest shelter, the rainwater uncomfortable across his back; in a while, his shirt would stick to his skin. He dug his phone out his pocket and dialled his sister.

“Hello?”

“Kuzuha-nee-san, I got caught in the rain. I’m trying to find shelter; looks like I’ll be home later than I thought.”

“Ohh, I knew my neck was aching for a reason.”

“What?” He blinked, pulling the phone away from his ear to look at it like he could see his sister. Droplets appeared on the screen; he pressed it back to his ear. “What do you mean?”

“Mmm… call it a premonition of sorts. But yeah, and you forgot your umbrella?”

“Unfortunately so.”

“Well, sucks to be you.”

“Nee-san…” Why couldn’t she be a good sister and cheer him up?

“All right, no need to worry. Tell Mom as well, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re still as clumsy and lacking foresight as before. You’d think you’d have learned from the past.” Her voice was teasing yet carried some semblance of light scolding as well. Yuto’s eyebrows crinkled. Why did she seem to be referencing another… time?

“Nee-san, I think you need more rest than me. Lie down now.”

She laughed, bright and carefree.

“Thanks for the concern. Take care over there! Update me when you’re on your way again.”

His eyes found a temple, old and fading red yet still magnificent. Overgrown plants jutted from every corner, which meant it had been a while since its last maintenance. The grounds were made of some stone, red bricks leading the way toward the entrance.

A sudden tug in his chest made him trip, and remembered temples were sacred even in his past life.

“I will. Bye now.” And the call ended. His attention was on the temple as he mindlessly slipped his phone back in his pocket. His hair was starting to cling to his head now.

As he neared the temple, his steps slowed.

Someone was already there taking cover from the rain.

Something in his heart stirred—familiar, but new all the same. When he looked closer, it was to see Kochou Sumire wringing her hair. She had most likely gotten caught in the rain as well. She was always immaculate when they saw each other. Even with a scowl on her face, she was still pretty.

His fingers nervously threaded through his hair to try and make it presentable. He failed.

His mouth opened then closed—a glimmer of hesitance. He pushed through the awkwardness to greet her.

“Kochou.”

The name left his lips in a whoosh of air, achingly familiar yet still hauntingly beautiful.

But he didn’t see Shinobu this time.

He saw Sumire and the momentary way her eyebrows furrowed before the shock was replaced with a hard gaze and lifted chin.

“Tomioka-san.”

She may have meant to say it with firmness and authority, but it came out soft and affectionate. Sumire must have realized that too because she blinked and turned away, an interesting shade of red on her cheeks.

“You’re blushing a lot when we see each other,” he observed as he neared her. Sumire shifted but didn’t move away.

“Because we always see each other at a bad time.”

She had a point. He remembered the last time they saw each other. Her red face popped in his mind. The way she spat out her drink made her so frazzled and flustered he wondered if he was the cause of it.

“Are you… okay now?” At her confused glance, he elaborated, “I mean, you nearly couldn’t breathe when we saw each other during my shift that day. I didn’t expect to see you either, but it was a nice surprise.” His lips quirked up momentarily in a small grin.

Her face took on a shade of pink as she said slowly, “Uhm… yeah I’m okay now. Didn’t expect to see you there, as my tea-spilling skill so humbly revealed.” She smoothed down her hair. Glanced at him. “The cake was yummy, by the way. I liked it.”

Yuto’s lips curled into a satisfied grin, almost pleased with himself. He should get her more food sometimes, if she’d let him.

He cleared his throat. He gestured lamely to the space beside her. She said nothing; only gave him a raised brow of confusion.

“Do you… mind if I stay here?”

Sumire chuckled. “It’s not my property, you know. You’re standing here anyway so what’m I supposed to do, kick you out?”

Yuto exhaled in quiet frustration. There he was again, struggling to string his thoughts into sentences the other person would understand. He had to be clear with her.

“No I mean… can I stand beside you? Is it all right?”

He watched Sumire realize what he meant. Gosh, she was so pretty when she blushed. She nodded mutely, and Yuto silently took his place beside her, careful to give her own space. It was like he could breathe easier with her by his side. Cheesy, but it was what his body was telling him, like it knew exactly where it was and it reveled in the closeness.

This was nice.

By now, the rain had grown stronger, pouring steadily and drenching everything in its midst.

Butterfly Estate engawa, nighttime

“The moon sure is beautiful tonight,” remarked Shinobu from his left.

Giyuu was immersed in his thoughts, content for the silence to envelop them.

When she spoke, his gaze went to the sky above, seeing the full moon glowing in its entirety. He hummed in appreciation. Shinobu took it as cue to continue.

“Oh so you agree? How odd; we agree on a matter once in a blue moon.” He sighed through his mouth. She giggled. “I count this as a win, don’t you?”

He only blinked slowly. He was not one to use words, but over time, Shinobu had come to crack him open bit by bit, understanding the meaning of small actions that may go unnoticed by others. And he’s come to like this understanding they share, where she knows just how much to push for him to respond and he knows just how much to pull so as not to entirely close her off. He wouldn’t say they became perfect at the start—because that was unreasonable—but through constant trial and error, they learned and adapted.

“It was like that back in Natagumo,” he noted softly.

When he glanced at her, he saw her gaze soften before her eyes shut as she grinned widely, plastering that fake smile on her lips so smoothly he nearly missed it. If he hadn’t known her fiery spirit before Kanae’s passing, he would have been fooled to think it was her real smile.

“Right. So how is the tea, Tomioka-san? You can’t possibly leave it untouched after I’ve gone through the trouble of preparing you some.”

His gaze went to the cups of tea between them, steam rising and warming the otherwise chilly air. He could already taste in his mind the blend she usually mixed: chamomile with a hint of honey.

“Give it time to cool down. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Ah ah, not like that. You’re not supposed to apologize. Try again.”

Giyuu’s mouth remained shut as he tried to think of another way, gazing ahead of him.

Tentatively, hesitantly, he said, “Thank you for your efforts.”

Shinobu’s eyebrow raised but then she laughed, some semblance of her old self present. He wished she showed that side more.

“Rough around the edges, but a good start.” After a beat, she added, “You’re welcome.”

And to him, her last sentence was the realest she’d ever spoken to him tonight. That was good.

Chapter Text

The heavy downpour caused Sumire to sigh dejectedly, wondering what time she’d be able to get home. From the temple she took shade under, she estimated it would take her about twenty minutes before arriving at her house. But that still depended on when the rain would let up. What bad luck she left her umbrella at home today, thinking it wouldn’t rain.

Her companion seemed to enjoy himself though, if the calm expression in his eyes and the slight quirk of his lips were any indication.

“Ah, Tomioka-san, you seem to be unbothered by the chaos around us.”

It didn’t escape her how his surname rolling off her tongue was effortless… so natural, and—dare she say it—affectionate.

Previously gazing upward, he lowered his head and turned to her to be at her eye level. It unnerved her how the light in his eyes from the simple activity seemed to dim when he faced her. Was she that unpleasant to look at? Sumire believed herself to have good looks. If he could not appreciate her beauty, then it was his loss.

“Watching the rain is soothing.” He looked back at the gray sky and smiled. “I like it.”

“Well, I don’t like the chill it emanates, especially when we’re both cold, stranded, and without umbrellas.” At his widened eyes at her outburst, she bit her bottom lip and faced away from him. Her eyebrow ticked at the immature way she answered him when technically she was the one who spoke first. When he finally gave a reply, she lashed out like an angry puppy. How uncouth. Ayame would be so disappointed.

A warm weight settling on her shoulders brought her back to the present, Sumire looking behind her to see Yuto had draped a large blue coat over her. She began to take it off, insisting she was fine.

“Wear it, it’s yours—”

But his hands on her shoulders were so warm and firm, unrelenting in the best possible way. In the end, she clutched the coat to herself, embarrassed yet thankful.

“Keep it. You were shivering like a drowned rat earlier.”

Sumire huffed at him. Yuto only half-grinned.

Then she swallowed and cleared her throat. “Thank you.” After a moment’s silence she spoke again. “I’m sorry for earlier. It’s just…” her cheeks were blushing now, “well, I have no excuse since I was the one who decided to open my mouth then I snark back when you do grace me with a reply.” She pressed a hand to her nose and mouth, mindful she was rambling. “Absolutely insane, really, the nerve I got.”

He merely shrugged but a hint of an amused smile danced on his lips. It was gone before she could take a second look.

“Apology accepted, Kochou. You did seem really irritated at the circumstances.” After a beat, he chuckled. “I’m starting to wonder if my presence here exacerbated your bad mood.”

“No, don’t go there,” she cut through sharply. In a firmer tone she asserted, “You’re not the problem.” She eyed him to ensure he wouldn’t go thinking he was in the wrong. He’d been nothing short of confused and scared; it was natural he’d want to run from it all. She wouldn’t fault him for such a human reaction. She was the stubborn one who wanted to talk it out.

She felt her cheeks heat up in shame and embarrassment. Her fingers curled tighter around his coat. She didn’t notice his eyes following the movement before focusing on his shoes.

He cleared his throat. For a while, neither of them said anything, merely standing beside each other and watching the rain and the leaves. Sumire closed her eyes and inhaled the wet scent of the air around her. So much between them was still unspoken. If they didn’t talk now, when? If neither of them initiated the conversation, who would?

When her eyelids fluttered open, she decided to ask.

“How much?”

He blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She met his eyes. “I mean, how much do you remember from your past life? From us?”

The ‘us’ escaped her mouth before she could fully think it. But it would be lame if she tried to take it back; best to wait for what he had to say. She was curious, too.

Yuto turned away from her and licked his lips. His gaze fixated on the ground in front of him, pondering deeply. Sumire remained silent, knowing he would speak when he wanted to. In the back of her mind, she admired his beautiful side profile and the slope of his nose. He still looked so damn good.

“A lot to know we were both active in the Demon Slayer Corps as Hashira. I barely spoke, weighed down by my feelings of guilt and inadequacy, never feeling I deserved the title of the Water Hashira. You were almost a constant presence since you were the Insect Hashira, the doctor, the healer. You liked to tease and poke me, saying I should talk more, or I was disliked by everyone.” Here they shared a wry chuckle.

“Maybe you could remedy that in this life,” she teased. He chuckled. (Oh, a good reaction.)

“We were often partners in missions where it required a Hashira to deal with the matter. Our teamwork was, to my understanding, almost flawless.” His lips quirked up in a grin. “We complemented each other well.”

Sumire smiled, tilting her head. The action caught Yuto’s attention because his eyes roved to hers. He blushed and averted his gaze. She blinked, heart stuttering in her chest at the way his eyes locked onto hers.

He cleared his throat. She looked at him again; this time he was looking pensively at the stone grounds, raindrops dripping from a hole in the roof.

His eyes took on this melancholic look and Sumire felt like she couldn’t breathe until he said what was on his mind.

“When you died,” her breath hitched and tears brimmed under her eyes, “I was affected and mourned you and all the others who lost their lives at the last battle. The years after are blurry, but I think I died before age thirty.”

Sumire’s bottom lip wobbled. Her chest felt tight with the tears she wanted to release but she wanted to hold onto those. She couldn’t cry in front of him when he was the one sharing his painful past. Cupping a hand over her mouth, she struggled to retain some sense of control over her breathing and briefly remembered the technique Shinobu used called Total Concentration Breathing. How did that go again?

“What’s wrong, Kochou?”

She swallowed around a dry throat; she pondered sticking her tongue out in the rain and lubricating her throat under it. When she blinked, tears escaped her eyes, which she wiped at with her palms. Her chest still felt too tight. She wanted to release everything but knew it was not the time.

She took a moment to herself, raising a hand to Yuto to signal him to wait while she gathered her bearings. More tears slipped out and she feared if she tried speaking, it would come out like a croak. So she silently sniffled and let her tears fall.

Upon feeling she had gathered some semblance of self-control, she spoke. And she was correct: her throat was parched her voice came out scratchy.

“I—I don’t understand why I’m crying but I’m so sad. For you, for me, the comrades we lost, f—for what could have been…” A wail tore through her throat unexpectedly and she clamped a hand over her mouth to try and muffle the sounds. Oh gods, why was she being dramatic? She wasn’t the one who lived at that time. But why was it so painful? “Do you remember Oyakata-sama? So loving, so good for this world, then he…”

A large hand rubbed the spot between her shoulder blades, trying to comfort her.

“I do,” he whispered, voice soft in reverence. She could smell a hint of his cologne now. “Though it wasn’t us who lived during those times, we still feel a connection from our past lives. Shinobu must have bottled everything up and only now are you allowed to process and feel those things. I’m sorry it hurts, but I think it’s necessary and inevitable.”

She tried to glare at him but her tears made it look like a pout, which was not what she was going for.

“Agh, when did you get so eloquent?” She sniffed loudly.

He only smiled as he offered a pull-out box of tissues, his teeth showing. Sumire took the whole box and petulantly shooed away his hand patting her head. Ugh, she hated the significant height difference between them.

“This life,” he said lightheartedly.

Sumire released a wet chuckle. “So fucking unfair.”

She sniffled and hiccupped. She looked at her hands and imagined Shinobu wielding a blade suited to her fighting style and small stature.

“Shinobu was so full of rage after Kanae died.” She swallowed again. Ayame’s lookalike flashed through her mind and now understood better the pain in her heart. “I… can’t imagine living day to day masking that hatred with a fake smile.”

Yuto offered her a sympathetic smile. “It was likely her way of grieving and moving forward in a world where we couldn’t afford to rest.”

“Yeah but still…” Her heart ached for Shinobu. It was unfair. And to think they were around the same ages as their counterparts…

“Hmm, come to think of it, weren’t our past selves around the same age as us right now?” he asked.

Sumire halted. Wow, the same thought going through their heads? This must be some mind crap logic could not explain. She blinked and coughed.

“Yeah. Which makes it hurt even more.” Her fist clenched. “I think I died when I was eighteen.” She looked at Yuto, heaviness in his gaze. “Younger.”

Just saying it made everything feel more real, more devastating.

Silence, to mourn for their past lives, to mourn for the loved ones they lost during that tumultuous time.

She looked at the sky and realized the rain was slowing and letting up.

“The rain has slowed.” Gosh, was he reading her mind or what? Did they have a mind link too?! What if he could read her thoughts on wanting to re-watch that one embarrassing anime with the magical boys?

“Kochou?”

“Huh?” Wiping at the bottom of her left eye, she turned to him. Thoughts like those are to be overthought later. “Yes, yes. Time to go home.”

Yuto nodded and collected both his bag and hers. “Where to?”

She took a swipe at her bag to retrieve it, but he held it away from her. She scowled.

“What’s this mental game you’re playing with me after I just cried, huh Tomioka-san? Not very gentlemanly of you.”

He merely smiled and bent lower so they could be eye level. Her breath hitched upon seeing the blue of his eyes. Still similar to Giyuu. But Yuto’s eyes held so much unbridled emotion she could almost see ease in his gaze, like he was comfortable with her.

“I’m walking you home.”

“No.” She lunged again, more for theatrics than actual effort, and Yuto side-stepped her easily with a cheeky grin. Sumire hated she liked that expression on him so much.

“It wasn’t a question. Why do you think I’m holding your bag? This is gentlemanly of me.”

Sumire attempted to frown but knew she couldn’t do it because of the giddy smile threatening to split her lips. To save face, she sniffed haughtily and crossed her arms, bringing Yuto’s coat closer to her body. She caught the same whiff of cologne, fingers tightening on the fabric.

“Fine. Since you insisted, let’s go, Tomioka-san.”

“Yuto. Call me Yuto.”

Sumire paused but tried to downplay it by continuing to walk. First name basis already? Hmm… she supposed with their long, shared history, they could go through with it. She knew what her reciprocating would mean, and honestly, she was excited to see where this would go.

She called over her shoulder (embarrassing croak in her voice), “If we’re going by first name, call me Sumire from now on.”

She heard him gasp, and it emboldened her to know she also had (still) an effect on him.

Butterfly Estate, clinic

“What is this tension?” laughed Shinobu, dainty hand landing softly on Giyuu’s shoulder.

By instinct, relief, or some other thing Shinobu couldn’t name, his shoulder dropped when she made contact. She hid an amused giggle behind her hand, running along the cloth of his uniform as she decided to play with him a while longer.

“Kochou…” He said her name with a smidge of restraint, from what, she couldn’t be too sure.

She hummed as she continued to look at Giyuu’s nest of a hair, imagining his pinched face to show the slightest bit of annoyance. “If you had any sense of decorum, you’d realize we’re awake in the middle of the night and alone in my office.”

“I had a broken shoulder…” he said with as much conviction as a puppy, which was admittedly not very much; truly, it was pitiful. It was like he wasn’t even sure of his injury. She tutted as she rounded the bed to fully see his face, devoid of any emotion yet unjustly handsome.

“And yes, I shall tend to it as well, as is my duty.” She went to work gathering her supplies, humming as she did so. “Even in late hours such as this.”

“Sorry.”

“Hmm? What did we say about ungratefulness?”

He blinked slowly. She sighed—in fondness, exasperation, or both, she wouldn’t dwell on it.

“No need, Tomioka-san.” And she meant it.

When she went to him holding a silver tray with the needed supplies rattling occasionally, she made a discovery: he wouldn’t look her in the eye. It wasn’t anything concerning but the tinge of red on his cheeks proved it was not an occurrence he was used to seeing.

She couldn’t tell what he was reacting to… until she reached for a roll of bandages and the flaps of her night yukata dangled some. Giyuu’s gaze widened then quickly rose to the ceiling, almost baring his neck. She saw the bulge in his neck bob, and then it hit her.

Shinobu could laugh all day at this revelation.

“Like what you see?” she said in a sing-song manner as she started to tend to his wound.

Giyuu only had his lips painfully sealed, as if a word or sound escaped from him would mean doom.

Shinobu decided not to push further and went to work in the dark of the night.

She’d be content with this simmering something for now.

Chapter Text

Ironically enough, they both studied at the same university.

How did they miss that?

It just so happened they didn’t cross paths, what with Sumire taking up pharmacy and him studying hydrology. Their buildings were far, and campus was always hustling and bustling with all sorts of students ranging from the artsy type, the athletic type, the smart ones, and the in-betweens. Their schedules weren’t aligned in any way, and the end of their classes varied from day to day.

Except Tuesday, where they coincidentally had the same dismissal: half past four.

After much conversation and planning, today was finally their first official date with the agenda of getting to know each other beyond their lives as Demon Slayers. They’ve talked about who was to plan first, and after an exciting and high-stakes game of Rock, Paper, Scissors best two out of three (as Sumire protested), Yuto was the winner.

He had spent almost a week planning, getting the insights and opinions of Hayato, Makomo, and Kuzuha, all of them with differing views in romancing and wooing. Luckily, his mother stepped in to give a short answer: make the day about her. Simple enough. And Yuto liked to think he knew a little bit of Sumire and wanted to incorporate some references to their past lives. It wouldn’t be the highlight, but the acknowledgement of their shared past might be a nice touch she’d also appreciate.

Yuto involuntarily kept clicking his pen, right leg shaking in a mix of anticipation and excitement. His seatmate gave him a concerned look, which he brushed off as nothing important. He was just… really nervous and waiting for the clock to strike.

Once their professor had dismissed them, Yuto quickly snapped two photos of the board before hastily packing his things and bidding bye to his classmates. They watched in confusion at seeing him move like a blur when he usually took his time in… well, everything.

They agreed to meet by the school gates.

With each step, Yuto told himself to calm down and take his time. Sumire would also be coming from her lab work (today, she’d give a presentation) and would still pack her things.

His fist clenched as he forced himself to slow and walk a normal pace like any other person. He walked the halls and passed by Hayato and Makomo, who shot him a thumbs up and encouraging smile respectively. Yuto acknowledged both with a nod of thanks, heart pounding so hard and fingers shaking so bad.

He was out the school now.

He only needed to go a few more steps.

He could see her now, on the phone and looking pissed. He wondered who she was talking to.

“Nee-san, come on, it’s not like that.” Her eyes found him. A smile split her face and Yuto waved back, walking faster to be by her side. “He’s here now. Yes, we’ll be good. Oh cut me some slack. Yeah yeah please tell Mom I’ll be home by nine. Ja ne!”

“Ayame-nee-san?” he asked.

She nodded as she pocketed her phone. “Yep. She was teasing me. Oh, and she and Mom send their regards.”

He bowed. “I appreciate it and wish them good health forevermore.”

Sumire giggled. “All right Romeo, where to?” Her finger came up to poke his cheek. It was so familiar, so them. He’d honestly missed this so badly a few giggles escaped his lips before he could register it. Sumire’s already bright eyes twinkled further at the positive reaction and she laughed lightly. “What’s this? Why do you look like that?”

Yuto hummed as they walked out the university, shoulders aligned in just the right way.

“You poking me. Feels… right.” His smile came out easier. “Feels like home.”

The raptness in Sumire’s eyes eased into something soft as she went closer, nudging his shoulder with hers in a playful manner that had them both giggling again like toddlers even when they both lost footing.

“Dork.” But no real bite was present in her voice.

He cleared his throat as he slowed his pace. Naturally, she did too. Sumire leaned over as he took out a piece of paper from his pocket.

“I have an itinerary planned for the rest of the evening, if you don’t mind.”

Sumire hummed as she shook her head. “I don’t mind. Go ahead, what’s first on the agenda?”

He showed the paper to her as he listed off, “First up is an artistic aquarium. It’s gonna be great, I swear. Next is dinner by the cliff overlooking the sunset. Nothing too expensive, and I’ve got you covered. We take a long walk by the sakura—oh I heard they have wisteria flowers too; a trip in memory lane, so to say.” He looked at her. “I’ve also figured out a route winding toward your neighborhood so you’ll be home a few minutes before curfew.” He puffed his chest in pride as he tucked the paper back in his pocket. Sumire’s mouth hung open and it was like she couldn’t breathe anymore. Yuto could feel his cheeks heating up. “Um… I’ve got other ideas in mind, but as agreed, we each take a turn planning a date, so the second one will go your way.”

Sumire blinked and cleared her throat.

“Wow, you’ve really thought of everything, huh?”

He shrugged, though the action was anything but casual. “I want to be prepared. I want you to have a good time.”

Her smile came out dopey and playful.

“Ara ara so what I’m hearing is I’ll have to top this next time.”

Yuto only raised a brow—a silent challenge. He chuckled and reminded gently, “You’ve got the whole of this life to compete with me, don’t worry.”

And that was a promise they both intended to keep.

Sumire linked her arm through his. Startled, Yuto stumbled and nearly sent them both toppling to the ground. She managed to balance herself, keeping them upright. After the mishap, he nervously smiled, which she returned with a fond head shake. Her arm tightened against his as she said, “I’ll hold you to that, Tomioka-san.”

“Yuto,” he automatically corrected.

Her face took on a pout. Adorable, but he won’t tell her that. Not yet.

“Ohh but my mouth feels more familiar with your surname. What ever will you do?”

Yuto directed a deadpan stare at her, recognizing her teasing tone, all high-pitched and dripping with fake sweetness. Compelled to tease her back, he poked her cheek. It was enough to make Sumire drop the act and laugh.

“I’ll just have to poke you till you remember to say my given name.”

“Nah… I think I’ll just train my mouth to like it better.”

Yuto again felt himself go hot at the suggestive innuendo. When he looked at Sumire, her eyes were bright and knowing, meaning she knew what she said and was enjoying his reaction.

“Don’t say it like that. People will think other things.”

She chortled, gripping his arm tighter. “Let them. You and I are the only ones who get the meaning, anyway.”

He hummed. “True.” He held tighter and pulled them along. “Now let’s go before we miss all the fun.”

He could get used to this.

Forest, daybreak

They were coming back from a mission. They had suffered minor injuries, his skin littered with scratches and pant leg torn while Shinobu had a sprained wrist and achy back from crashing roughly against a tree trunk. But they took little to no damage from the demon, and as the sun rose, Giyuu was just thankful they get to live another day. Even when he didn’t deserve to.

The sunrise stretched over the horizon, bathing the world in its soft orange light. Something in Giyuu’s chest is relieved at the sight, tangible proof of what he prevented himself from dreaming of: hope.

Shinobu was silent on the way back; unusual. She liked to fill the air with her chatter, goading few and far replies from him. But he had grown used to her voice telling him of mundane things that to not hear it was quite concerning.

Still, it was not his place to pry into her business if she did not wish to share. So he stayed silent, her keeping up with his pace as they ran back toward the Corps.

Then she opened her mouth.

“Ne Tomioka-san, do you believe in reincarnation?”

Giyuu frowned at the notion. He spared her a glance but did not get anything much from her placid eyes and carefully constructed smile. Though the question was thought-provoking, he wasn’t sure where she was going with her line of questioning. Did she believe? It sounded like a dream for children, not honed swordsmen like them who dealt with grief and death nearly every day.

“Well?”

Oh, so she was expecting an answer.

“No. It’s a luxury we can’t afford.”

“Oh so you do have a brain rattling in there!” she said in mock cheer. Giyuu shut his mouth, though he could tell she spotted how his eyebrows furrowed.

She giggled.

“For me, it’s a thought I find comforting.” He didn’t talk, for he knew she had more to say. And he was right. “It’s not a thing I wholeheartedly believe in, but it does give me hope what we’re doing will benefit a future world, a kinder one where demons do not exist and cause heartbreak for families.”

Well, he could get behind the sentiment. He understood her wishes, with their profession wrought with pain and loss. If that was how she saw reincarnation, he would respect it and not dissuade her.

“If I do get reincarnated, Tomioka-san…” he glanced at her; she was already looking at him, “I hope you are there as well.”

He raised an eyebrow. His mouth quirked upwards minutely. “So you have someone to tease and poke?”

Shinobu’s eyes widened as she laughed, real.

“Ara ara you know me too well.”

He sighed, used to her antics.

Her head tilted, eyes warmer now, lips curled in what he knew to be one of her genuine smiles. “But no, not only that.”

“Then what?” he found himself responding, and he cursed the fatigue in his body for letting him be loose-lipped when he should be deflecting and dodging her.

He should have known she wouldn’t outwardly reply, either, because he was graced with her glittering gaze and another secret smile before she responded in that unnaturally high pitch again.

“That’s for me to know and for you to guess!”

Then she quickened her pace, and he was left with no choice but to follow.

That night, his ears rang with the sound of her mischievous giggling.

Along with that piercing purple gaze he felt had always seen too much even when he kept his inner turmoil buried and tightly under lock and key.

In another life, maybe. He could see himself getting used to her.