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Chapter Text

    The freezing night, rare in late winter, was angry when Kamado Tanjūrō was born. The wind billowed and roared, kicking up the snow and creating a whirlwind of chaos in its wake. It beat against the walls and the doors of the small house as Kamado Akiyo stubbornly continued her agonizing labor to bring her eldest and only child into the world.

The house was warm, painstakingly so. The fire burned for thirteen straight hours, not once decreasing in intensity. Kamado Yorihiko kept vigilant as the midwife barked orders for fresh water, more cloths, anything to help with the labor.

It took another two hours before Kamado Tanjūrō came into this world with a sickly cry and a strange birthmark on his forehead.

The midwife called him cursed. Yorihiko named him a gift from their God, Hinokami-sama. Akiyo spent months nursing him, day and night, until she was confident he would survive. A stubborn soul, just like his father.

Time flew by and Tanjūrō, with his stubborn soul, but weak body, became quite famous in the village sitting at the foot of their mountain. With a keen sense of smell, he could tell if a piece of wood was already rotting or not. With his intellect, he learned quickly how to make charcoal, already outpacing Yorihiko by the time he was nine years old.

Tanjūrō is taught the Hinokami Kagura Dance when he turns ten; he masters it by twelve; and he soon begins dancing by himself by thirteen. A prodigy; a gift.

Demons attacked their home on a night where Tanjūrō's illness was at its worst. Yorihiko left the night before to find the blue flowers Akiyo needed for a medicinal soup. Tanjūrō was in a feverish daze of hallucinations and dreams, resting in-between the boundaries of life and death. Akiyo watched the clouds, tracing the omens they told her through the lightning storm.

The air was stifling and heavy. Summer was at its height and the storm loomed over the mountain. Death was coming.

Akiyo knelt next to her ill son, waiting for the water to boil. She brushed through his sweat-damp hair when there was a snap of a tree branch outside.

It was not her husband. I was not human. She reached for the tantō she slid inside her obi, and something tore through the doors, shattering it to pieces.

Akiyo did not scream. She stared death itself right in its eyes, unafraid.

"You are not welcome here, demon," She declares with a fire in her black eyes, burning as hot as the stifling air outside.

The demon stood in front of her on all six limbs. Its head was completely twisted upside-down and its eyeless sockets stared right back at her. It laughs maniacally from its unhinged mouth, nearly separating its jaw with how wide it opened its mouth.

"You think you can stop me?" Its screeching laughter is piercing. Akiyo does not flinch.

Her fingers wrap around the hilt of her tantō and unsheathes it. They do not tremble.

Lightning flashes high in the sky and reflects off of the gleaming blade. "You will not taint this land. As long as I live, you demons will not taint this home."

"Then die!" The demon hisses before it charges forward.

Tanjūrō opens his eyes, staring up at the blurry ceiling of his home. His breath comes out in weak wheezes and he can almost see figures in the edges of his vision, looming over him. Death was coming.

Hinokami-sama leaves his mouth in a silent whisper. He is not afraid. He never was.

An echoing scream slowly brings him more on the side of the living, and the figures disappear. He turns his head and he feels a gust of sticky heat hit his face.

He blinks slowly as lightning streaks across the sky. He sees a creature, with more legs than an animal should have, looming over a fallen figure. It takes a moment for it to register the light-colored kimono.

Tanjūrō is already sitting up as fast as he could before it fully registers how he recognized the kimono. He nearly collapses onto his face, but he forces himself to stay upright.

He could feel pressure against the mark on his forehead. His fever seemingly skyrocketed. But, he did not care. He did not waver.

It all happens in a haze. Tanjūrō barely remembers anything after the realization that something was attacking his mother.

There was a sense of vertigo, and his own hand grabbing the old axe he and his father uses to chop wood. An unhinged jaw with teeth covered in blood and empty eye sockets. There's more blood, and a sense of rage; a sense of protectiveness overwhelms him.

And then, a chill surrounds him like a winter's night. There are glimpses of embers. Lights flash before the darkness and the flaking embers around the snow covered field.

This is what Tanjūrō saw. The pitch-darkness; the snow; the thirteen torches surrounding him. And the figure standing just outside the circle.

His hair, crimson dark and pulled back into a long ponytail. His face covered by the usual cloth Tanjūrō wears for the Hinokami Kagura. He wears a red haori over an orange kimono and black hakama pants. He wore no shoes.

The hanafuda earrings pierced in Tanjūrō's ears fluttered in the wind, moving with the long crimson hair of the man. The wind blows by quickly, kicking up the first layer of snow and blocking everything from view. Yet, the torches remain lit.

The warm light of a summer dawn, peeking over the ancient trees surrounding his home is what wakes him up. Tanjūrō breathes in deeply, deeper than he ever has, and he opens his eyes.

There is no blurriness to his sight, and there are no figures looming in the edges of his vision. He breathes again and he can feel his lungs expand far more than they ever have without forcing a coughing fit upon him.

The illness is still there, he can tell. In the aches of his limbs and the lack of hunger. But, he can feel an energy course through his veins like never before. He feels awake and he can finally breathe.

There's a shuffling sound and soft wisteria eyes enter his sight.

"Good morning, Kamado Tanjūrō." The voice is gentle and soft, like a breeze through the weeping wisteria flowers.

The man is young, almost as young as Tanjūrō, and just as sickly. But, he held himself in a way that showed he would not submit to the will of fate so easily. Something Tanjūrō can share a sentiment with.

"Are you feeling better?" The young man asks, smiling gently down at the teenager.

Tanjūrō blinks slowly. "Who... are..."

His voice comes out incredibly weak and in choppy pieces, but the young man simply continues to smile, gentle and patient.

"Do you remember what happened the last time you woke up?"

The question catches Tanjūrō off guard. He blinks again before he tries to remember.

"...creature... attacked..." He murmurs quietly before a jolt goes through his body. He bolts up from the futon, ignoring how it makes his head spin. His mother—

"Akiyo-san is alright, Tanjūrō-san. She received a few injuries from fighting off the demon, until you managed to fight it off until it burned in daybreak. Yorihiko-san is watching over her now," The young man answered his question before he could go running off to find his mother.

Despite his illness abating for the moment, he still needs to take it easy. Which is a hard task to do even without it involving the stubborn Kamado Tanjūrō.

Tanjūrō stares directly at the young man. Neither break eye contact.

"Who... are you?" The question comes out less suspicious than he intended. He couldn't really help it. This man... Tanjūrō felt completely at ease despite never seeing him before.

It was unnerving as it was fascinating.

The young man smiles before he closes his eyes and inclines his head. The parted bangs fall gently to frame his pale face, and the sun shines brightly upon the black strands.

"My name is Ubuyashiki Masaru. I am the 96th leader of the Demon Slayer Corps. I have come to request something from you, Tanjūrō-san."

The sun finally rises above the treetops and the wind blows through the open fusuma doors. A warm summer breeze, and a new beginning. Odd outside of spring.

"I wish for you to become a demon slayer, Kamado Tanjūrō-san."

The path is cleared and fate is set in stone. A Child of Brightness; a Child of Winter. A curse death tries to reap; a divine gift sent to become the beginning of the end.

-----

Hey!!! I hope everyone likes the first chapter! I've had this idea for a while now, and I've finally figured out how to start it!

Like it says in the description, each chapter is a snippet of Tanjūrō's and Kie's life before, and maybe even after, their children. This is all set in the Embers of Spring universe!!

If you wish, you can consider each chapter a one-shot with all of them connected one way or another.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! Bye!

WhovianWhoudini

Chapter Text

    Yamane Kie came into this world quietly on the hottest day of summer. The air stuck to the skin and no rain had come for weeks before, leading to little water to help with the birth.

  Day and night for five days did Yamane Mitsuko labor to bring her child into the world, without support and without love; only a midwife ordered to attend the disgraced woman to not ruin any further reputation. It took until midday, with blood and agony, for Kie to be brought into this world.

  The midwife left once the infant was cleaned. No one needs a girl after all. And Mitsuyo is left to take care of her own injuries, but she does not mind.

  Her rare blessing is here, and she is beautiful.

  The pregnancy ruined Mitsuko's reputation, and the labor and lack of care afterwards permanently maimed her to the point where she couldn't walk without someone or something to help her. She was given food, and she was given a small hut to stay in—the death of a once famous geiko, no matter how disgraced, would still push customers away.

  It gave her peace to raise Kie. And it gave Kie a chance to grow into her own person.

  Kie knew a lot about the world at a young age. Living in the Shimabara District had her grow up quickly to keep herself and her mother safe. She was clever and quick to learn, trusting her intuition above all else.

  So, it wasn't too surprising that she was forced into one of the hanamachi—not as a courtesan, thankfully—but as a maiko. She was studious and hardworking, knowing she was judged at a higher expectation than any other maiko. She is still the daughter of Yamane Mitsuko after all.

  She was 15 years old when she became a geiko. One of the best, and one of the most sought after; Momoe, a tachikata of the Momo House.

  A master of dance, an expert practitioner of koto, and less so the shamisen, a decent critique in painting and calligraphy, and an excellent conversationalist. Kie was a legend in Kyoto, clients seeking her out more than the tayū of Shimabara.

  Kie knew the danger she lived in within Shimabara. It was full of politics and judgement and extreme scrutiny. Her mother made sure to ingrain in her mind what could happen if she made any mistakes.

  Yamane "Momoe" Kie is 18 years old when Yamane Mitsuko is killed. Without a debt to her name and an irreplaceable part of the Momo House, Kie discovers the danger each human unknowingly lives in every day.

  Winter had come and it brought death. Those without homes or too poor to pay their debts are left out in the snow, either fighting to survive or already dead and buried by the snow.

  It was pitch-black, save for the unmarred snow and the oil lanterns lining the main street of Shimabara. There were few customers outside, a rare night where they either took comfort inside the courtesan houses or the ochaya and okiya, entertained by geiko and maiko, no one wishing to stay outside for more than a few moments.

  Kie stepped gracefully and quietly through the snow, still working despite it being a night off. She appeared like a summer flower among the dead of winter, with her soft purple kimono, a deep red obi tied in the taiko musubi style, and geta sandals. Her hair was pulled back into the chū taka shimada style that night, with a single dangling jade hairpin; a gift from a client.

  As usual on her nights off, she forewent her oshiroi, her natural pale skin illuminated by the oil lanterns and making her appear like a ghost among the falling snow. The wagasa hid most of her features from the odd customer or two wandering outside the houses.

  She did not like being recognized on the days and nights she visited her mother. She did not want her only source of safety and solace to be discovered and ruined by overzealous clients wishing for another chance to merely gaze upon her.

  It only takes three sidesteps into three alleys, walking out onto more and more shabby streets, before turning left at the outskirts to reach the decrepit hut Kie was born and raised in. Kie is silent in her relief at seeing the only place she has ever called home, and her footsteps quicken, wishing to reach her mother faster. Yet, the dread in her stomach digs itself deeper; nausea bubbling just below the surface.

  The shoji door had always been broken, and neither Mitsuyo or Kie were capable of fixing it, so three thick pieces of fabric were draped over the open entrance as a curtain. The kōshi-mado panels were broken or nailed shut, too old and decayed to work as windows.

  Kie wouldn't ask for anything else if someone were to offer her a new home. As long as she had her mother, she would be completely content with being completely homeless. She only needed her mother to be at peace in this life.

  "Okāsan," Kie calls out quietly, pulling open the curtain.

  The fire pit was unlit. There were no books set on the chabudai, no instruments in the middle of being tuned laying about, no tea ready to be served. No one was inside.

  The dread turns to terror, weighing heavy. Kie swallows thickly and takes a step back before gracefully turning.

  No lights were on in the other homes, or fire pits lit, seen through the paper screens. None of the usual drunkards wandered the street and none of the hecklers were shouting at each other or at passerbys.

  Even with the faint echoes of the more beautiful and endlessly working side of the karyūkai, the silence was deafening. There was not a living soul on this street, except for the only visitor it always has.

  "...Okāsan?" Kie's voice trembles and echoes through the empty street. No one answered her back.

  "Danger." Her intuition screamed at her, doing everything in its power to get her to leave.

  "Danger!" Her body wars itself with the desire to run or to fight.

  "DANGER." Her mind shouts as she takes a deep breath and turns to the right.

  She ignores her intuition, her body, and her mind. She needs to find her mother. She has to.

  The wind started to blow harder and the snow started to pick up, falling like cherry blossoms and obscuring Kie's vision.

  "Okāsan! Where are you?" Her voice echoes and nothing answers her. Her heart leaps into her throat, but she forces herself to continue forward.

  Goosebumps ran across her body beneath the lined kimono she wore. Her breath stutters with every step. Her eyes burn with every swallow.

  "Okāsan!" She shouts, going against her training, just for the hope of being heard.

  It happened quickly—too fast for Kie to track and too sudden for her to truly realize what had happened. Not until she was waking up in her room at the Momo House, wounded and ill from the cold.

  She had turned a corner; there was blood soaking the snow, and she saw the body—and the sky blue kimono her mother always wore—before the next second—she was in agony and screaming.

  Hot lava spread from her neck and there was a crushing weight on top of her. Her eyes were blinded by the snow.

  The first thought in her mind was that she was going to die. She didn't know who, or what, had attacked her, and it felt like a bucket of ice-cold water was poured on top of her.

  Kie would be leaving her mother alone. That was her second thought, and it made tears fall from her eyes.

  She tries to push whatever it was on top of her, but it wouldn't budge. She still tried. She couldn't leave her mother alone.

  Seconds felt like minutes, and the searing hot pain in her neck only grew, pooling beneath her head and piercing into her shoulders. She couldn't do anything.

  And then—there wasn't a weight on top of her anymore. Something cold splashed onto her, and she could hear some kind of screech before there was only the wind deafening her.

  She pressed a hand to her neck, crying out at the agony shocking through her body, and sits up. She tries to, at least.

  Stars filled her eyes and black was starting to form at the edges of her vision. She collapses back into the blood-soaked snow, her body losing too much blood, too fast.

  All she sees is orange and crimson before she passes out.

  When she wakes up, it's to a dream of her mother, young and beautiful without a limp to her gait in a field of red spider lilies. Tears fell down her pale cheeks and her smile was as proud as it was grieving. Blood started to fall down her head and Kie tries to run towards her.

  Kie cries loudly, bolting up from her futon with a hand outstretched. Her mother was not in front of her. There were no red spider lilies; only stained wood and bolts of extravagant fabric.

  "Momoe!" The voice of the mother of the Momo House, Natsue, cuts through Kie's grief. Kie continues to sob, everything rushing forward about that horrible night.

  "Okāsan—" Kie grabs the woman's kimono sleeve, half delirious and terrified "—where is she?! Where is—"

  She chokes on air, her throat unbelievably dry, and devolves into a coughing fit. The tears still fell as she tries to make sense of what all happened.

  "It's okay, Momoe. Calm yourself down first. You're alright. You're safe," Natsue speaks softly, even gently. So unlike her usual strict manner. It makes Kie cough even harder as she tries to sob.

  There's a rustle of fabric before a burning warmth presses gently on her shoulder. "Here. Drink this."

  Kie opens her eyes and sees a gourd tilted towards her. In her feverish daze, she doesn't hesitate to take a sip from it.

  She could tell it was a medicine of some kind. It was disgusting, but most medicines are. Kie forced herself to drink it, because the thought of spitting it out in an improper manner cut through her grief like a knife.

  When the gourd is pulled back, Kie pants for breath, her coughing barely coming up, but her tears still falling. When she opens her eyes, everything stops.

  A young man was kneeling next to her, bright burgundy eyes full of concern and such soft kindness. His curly hair, crimson like blood in the lantern light, was pulled back into a ponytail, his bangs framing his face. Oh, his face. It was gaunt just Kie's mother's... but she could tell his was from an illness. But, it was so beautiful... so kind...

  ...and a man, inside her room. Kie glances down and her entire face burns when she sees herself only dressed in her nagajuban.

  "Are you alright? Did your fever come back?" The man asks, his hand reaching up from her shoulder to cover her forehead. Kie felt lightheaded with how hot her face was.

  "Get your hands off of Momoe!" Natsue slaps the man's hand away. "You may have saved her, demon slayer, but she is one of my girls! A prized geiko of the Shimabara District!"

  Kie couldn't even see a hint of anger, or even irritation from the man. He simply leaned back onto his legs, coarse hands resting on his thighs.

  "Apologies, Momoe-san. Are you alright?" The man repeats respectfully.

  Kie sniffs quietly and averts her gaze, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. "I'm—I'm okay. What happened? Where's—where is Okāsan?"

  Natsue's face grimaces at the question and Kie's stomach drops. Kie swallows back the burning in her throat, feeling the dread and the nausea come back.

  "What happened—what happened to Okāsan?" Kie asks again, her voice going thready.

  "Momoe-san... an incident occurred in the street you were traveling through," The man speaks softly, soothingly like Kie was a spooked animal.

  "Everyone who lived on that street was slaughtered, including your mother," Natsue spits out harshly and with clenched fists.

  The truth was harsh and cruel. Just like the season of winter. But, the truth brought new information, and a new way of life.

  A meeting takes place and the clouds part. A rare blessing; a Child of Summer.

  "I, Kamado Tanjūrō, killed the demon responsible... but I was too late to save your mother." The man bows deeply, his forehead nearly banging against the wooden floor. "I beg for your forgiveness, Momoe-san."

  Kie sniffs quietly, wiping away at her eyes before the tears could fall. She cannot make the mistake of grieving. Not in front of a stranger, and not in front of Natsue. She will be given privacy sooner or later. She will grieve then.

  "Please don't bow, Kamado-dono. It... it's alright... and please... my name is Yamane Kie," Kie speaks softly, too scared to speak louder. She doesn't want her voice to crack.

  A meeting of untold consequences. A love blooming; a curse placed.