KitCatTales

Author's note: Chapter 6 is officially up on AO3 and my other cross-posting sites, so here's chapter 4 for ya'll! \nwn/ Hope you guys enjoy it! As always, warnings and related tags can be found in chapter 1 or you can check out a more thorough list of warnings and tags on AO3! <3 Thanks for making it this far and happy reading~! <3 God bless! <3

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER THREE

Cross-posts: AO3, FFN, Wattpad and Quotev

Word count: 15,412

Chapter 4: By Ceramic Teapots

The Mugen Train Station was crowded this evening.

The warm, golden glow of the station lights above were as they had been last: guiding and disorienting all at the same time. Busy people leading busy lives kept walking, coming and going, tickets in hand. Groups and couples walked leisurely along the platform towards their destinations while enjoying the quaint sights around them, as did many singles. Although, interwoven amongst the calm individuals, there certainly were some patrons hastily beelining through the crowds towards wherever their busy lives were taking them.

_______ could hear the chattering of the people, discussing things she couldn’t quite make out. Some seemed content, others happier, others more serious, but they were all in their own bubbles leading lives she’d never get to know about.

Looking down, she noted she was seated on the same metal bench she had been on the last time she was here. She could tell, because it was three seats down from the end of the station platform. She placed a hand on the empty seat beside her, thoughtfully rubbing her thumb against its metal surface. It felt cold to the touch, denying her the warmth she had hoped to find in the familiar spot and replacing it with something she was scared of becoming accustomed to.

Her eyes closed, wanting to block out the sight of the empty seat at her side. In its place, she listened to the crowds instead. Their chatter was so distinct to her, but at the same time, muffled. No matter how clearly she felt she could hear the people around her, she couldn’t make a single word out of whatever it was they were talking about; not about destinations nor loved ones waiting for them nor exciting adventures they were looking forward to. It almost felt like she was eavesdropping on the world from underwater, the voices of life above the surface muffled by crashing, deafening waves.

She didn’t know how she was meant to fight against the waves. It felt like there was an enormous glass pane on the surface of the water which blocked her path, keeping her trapped beneath the surf. No matter what she did to beat the glass pane, no matter how much she tried to scream beyond it, the whitecaps continued to pull her under and beckon her into silence.

At some point, she stopped trying to fight against it all. She didn’t care about the waves nor the surf nor the whitecaps. It all simply was, and she simply had to live with it.

The sound of the wind, however, never swept her by without gathering her attention.

It toyed with her hair, ruffling and braiding it playfully within its wispy fingers while it cooed for her companionship. It was hard to deny its call, so she caved in and chose to follow. Opening her eyes, she turned her head the direction in which the wind guided her. At first glance, the sight was the same as last time. Beyond the vacant tracks of the Mugen Train Station, the forest which outlined the progressive city stared back at her. She almost closed her eyes to it, almost rejected its very existence as muffled and gray as the people walking on the platform around her, but before her lashes fluttered, a familiar detail caught her eye.

Curiously, she leaned forward in her seat, her elbows resting on her knees for leverage. The wind picked up once more with her movements, and the wispy being began to dance and play with the leaves of the trees, their giggles carried out in the atmospheric night to greet her with longing.

The trees with which the wind danced were not the tall cypresses she knew of bordering the train station.

No, instead, the wind had embraced itself hand-in-hand with mighty cedars.

Cedars of the cedar woods she was well-acquainted with.

She drew in a slow, deep breath as she stared towards the dark, familiar forest and released it through her slightly parted lips. The way the tall cedars waved at her with their friendly yet mischievous branches called for her, wishing to have her join them and the wind in a cordial dance of reunion, but she didn’t move herself from her seat. Rather, she simply continued to watch, her eyes scanning the individual tree trunks lining the outskirts of the newly bordering forest.

Watching the woods caused for her chest both to ache and soothe. The vacancy of the train tracks between herself and the tree line ominously reminded her of what had happened or what was yet to come in this strange land she found herself in. The emptiness and the truth behind it caused those rusted strings within her to strum with vigor, just as they had done the night before, and it was nearly enough to make her curl into herself on the bench. The problem was, she didn’t want to allow herself to break down on the platform surrounded by so many people preoccupied in their own lives just as much as she was. She didn’t want the attention – nor did she want to be a disruption.

Instead, she clasped her hands together, fingers intertwined. She took in another deep breath, though this one painfully stung at her throat and lungs. Her heart felt like it was hammering into infinity within her chest, ringing in her ears, crying out for help. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears for what felt like the millionth time, but she forced herself to maintain her composure.

She had been crying far too much as of late.

She felt ashamed for it.

What right did she have to cry when she was still alive?

Denying herself the human right, she simply did everything within her to keep her thousand-yard stare on the cedar woods and off of the station platform.

She felt…afraid.

She was scared that, if she allowed herself to look back, if she allowed herself to properly look at the warm, gold lights and the hustle and bustle of the pedestrians passing her by, she would be forced to relive that moment again.

She already knew what would happen in this story.

She already knew how the hero’s journey would end.

She already knew the conclusions, the what ifs and everything in between.

She didn’t need to see it happen again. She was afraid to. Her entire being hurt so much already – it was excruciating, what she felt she was going through. The cords wrapped and wound so tightly around her heart strummed and orchestrated no matter how much she tried to stop them. The vibrations of their melancholic melody ached and pained her bones with their echo, forcing quakes within her she couldn’t control. If someone saw her, they might think she felt cold in the evening air, but that wasn’t it. At least, not in the way they thought.

The cedar woods, however, offered her comfort.

It hurt to look at them, because they reminded her of her journey through their depths and what had occurred within them. Yet…they also brought her a soothing sense of warmth. It was something she felt deep guilt for, finding comfort in the forest of demons thanks to the peculiar existence of the Third Upper Moon, but it was all she had right now to keep her as steady and contained as she could manage.

As long as she kept her eyes on the woods and her mind on the comfort Akaza allowed her to borrow, she wouldn’t have to relive anything. She wouldn’t have to remember memories she’d rather forget. She wouldn’t have to accept a reality she woke up hoping was a terrible nightmare each and every day.

She hated how much her chest hurt. She hated the feelings of immense pain and grief she constantly felt constricting her being, making it harder and harder to breathe with each day that passed her by. She didn’t want to feel any of it anymore. No matter how empty she thought she felt, the pain always returned one way or another, and it stuck to her like a curse. It leeched off of her life, consumed her in ways she couldn’t describe. It was a parasite morphing into her body, becoming her and turning her into it, pushing her further into a bed of questionable choices that never led to any proper solutions. If she allowed it to continue this way, she wouldn’t exist anymore. She nearly got to that end last night already. Somehow, someway, she needed to find a way to bury those feelings. She needed to dig that hole in the ground as deep as she could go, until she met with the molten core of the planet, and there, she needed to bury those feelings until they were lost forever and she felt nothing in their place.

That’s what she wanted most: to feel nothing.

As she struggled to stay afloat within those thoughts, she felt a large, strong hand come to rest upon her shoulder, an intense and comforting warmth instantly soaking into her being where it touched.

“You need to allow yourself to feel those emotions, young _______, no matter how much they might hurt right now.”

Rengoku’s voice softly remarked from behind her, causing for her hazed, pained eyes to widen. A knot in her stomach tightened as she felt him lovingly squeeze her shoulder, and a ripple effect followed in the form of a harsh quiver upon her person. A grimace of pain molded the look of emptiness away from her face as her rusted strings strummed ever louder within herself.

She knew it was him before he even spoke. By the touch of his hand and the warmth of his palm which radiated with nothing but love and comfort, she knew it was him – his voice only served to confirm what she already knew.

Still, she refused to look away from the cedar woods.

She was too scared to look. If she looked, it would be real. If she allowed herself the chance, she’d feel it all over again. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t have the strength to watch it happen again. So, she continued to keep the cedars company the same way the being within it kept her, her only reply to her dear mentor and friend being a pitiful whimper.

Rengoku clearly didn’t mind.

Rather, he simply chose to meet her where she was.

Though she refused to turn away from the woods, she could see him from the corner of her eye, walking around the bench and coming to take the empty seat beside her just like before. She was too scared to face him, but she could still see parts of his fiery mane of hair in her peripheral, gold and crimson, just like she held so dearly in her memories.

“Those emotions are a part of you,” He carried on. “You’re only hurting yourself by denying them. You’re denying a part of who you are, and in doing so, losing yourself in the process.”

“I don’t care if I’m losing myself…” She managed to murmur out to him, low and somber. “I don’t want to feel any of this anymore, Rengoku. I wish I couldn’t feel anything at all anymore…”

“You don’t really mean that.” He denied her claim, his tone tender yet strong. Supportive. “You know you don’t mean that. You and I both know you would never genuinely feel that way, deep down inside.”

“You’re wrong.”

She shook her head, watching as the cedars swayed and opened their arms towards her, calling for her to enter their embrace with whispered promises of better days.

“All I feel lately is this…intense, consuming, confusing mixture of pain, hurt, hate, anger, grief, shame, guilt, uselessness, helplessness and so many other things all jumbled up into one, and even then, I feel a drowning emptiness at the same time…I don’t want to feel any of it anymore, Kyo, I really don’t.” She referred to him by the nickname she used with him in the past, deciding that formalities between mentor and student didn’t matter anymore when he was, once again, minutes away from death. “I wish I couldn’t feel anything anymore, and I wish I felt indifferent towards life. I wish I didn’t care. I wish none of it mattered.”

“That’s not true, _______. You know it isn’t. You’re lost. That’s why you’re here again and still grasping to understand why. You’re lost and in a lot of pain, but I know you don’t mean that.” He continued to deny what she tried to say, never raising his voice nor becoming impatient with her.

“Please, face me. Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.”

Her eyes tightly closed, his request having vigorously thrummed at the strings which entangled her besieged heart. Her grimace deepened and a sharp, shaken breath left her as she forced herself to catch a pathetic sob in her throat.

She didn’t want to look at him. If she looked at him, the scene would progress forward, and she’d be forced to watch him leave again. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to watch him board the Mugen Train and ride off to his death again. She knew that’s how this story would end, but she isn’t ready for it yet. So, she continued to reject his request, even blocking out the cedar woods now. Nevertheless, the mighty cedars never ceased their calls for her with their rustling in the wind, their leaves cooing out her name with promises of hiding her away from the painful reality she tried so hard to run from.

“Why don’t you want to look at me, _______?” Rengoku’s voice softly broke through the sound of the cedars. “Are you angry with me for leaving on the Mugen Train?”

“Of course not!”

Her eyes snapped open once more, desperately scanning over the miles of dark hidden beyond the cedars. Her denial of his question was automatic, refusing to give him any room at all to even consider the possibility he put on the table.

“How could I ever be mad at you for something like that? I know you were doing what you believed in, and I would never be angry with you for that. In fact, I’m proud of you for everything you’ve done and who you are.” Her eyes began to water, blurring her vision. Though trembles began to take her body once more, she was adamant on staying upright. She needed to keep her eyes on the comfortingly cooing forest to help her let the words out she had the chance to say.

“I’m so damn proud of you for who you are, Kyojuro. I’m proud of you for fighting as hard as you did, to the very bitter end, for the sake of protecting people weaker than you. I’m proud of you for watching over everyone you could and for being the person people needed even when you didn’t have anyone to be there for you in return. You became the person you always needed for those around you, for people like me. You lived and fought for what you believed in, and I couldn’t be prouder of you, and I’m just as proud to be able to call you my mentor and friend.”

“If that’s the case, then why won’t you look at me? What’s stopping you from facing me tonight?”

She remained silent for a moment, her gaze lifting to the sky and focusing on the full moon above. Her lower lip quivered again and it was starting to get harder to breathe normally through the tears which tried so hard to escape her.

She didn’t want to cry again.

She wanted to keep everything bottled up.

She wanted to bury it all and pretend everything is fine.

She wanted to pretend she was fine.

So, once again, she tried to take in a calming breath, but this one was so unstable, it forced her to fall against the backrest of the bench. This motion brought Rengoku’s view more into focus in the corner of her eye as she faced the forest again, trying with all her might to calm herself down.

“I-I’m scared, Kyo…” She finally whispered. “I’m scared of facing you just to watch you leave again…I know you have to do it; I know you have to go, b-but…I don’t want to. I don’t want to watch you go again…”

She knew none of what she did nor said mattered. She knew that, one way or another, all of this would end and he would board the Mugen Train once again. She knew nothing could change nor alter the course of history, but…she still wanted to stall him, still wanted to delay the arrival of the train. She knew, no matter how many times they sat on this bench, it would always arrive right on time. She knew, but still…

From the corner of her eye, she saw him begin to move. His hands came into view, obstructing her sights of the cedars as they came to rest upon her cheeks. The warmth his large palms enveloped her skin with caused her to let out a labored whimper, her eyes fluttering, fighting hard to keep her tears from falling as he guided her to look at him.

When her eyes met with his, all she saw was love and pride.

On his face, there was a soft and thoughtful smile, sincere in his emotions. Those fiery hues of his…they held that adamantly proud gaze she wondered if he still had for her. She could see the emotion clearly and vividly in his eyes, nothing masqueraded nor feigned. The waves and whitecaps within her nearly had her convinced that he would never look to her with pride ever again because of all the mistakes she’s made, because of how far she’s fallen, but as she gazed upon his expression, it was undeniable that all her thoughts on the matter had been false.

She supposed he…somehow really is still proud of her…

The realization caused her to sink into his open palms, one of her hands coming to rest on his as she pressed her cheeks against his hands. God, the feel of him, the warmth of him…Did he always feel this way? Was she really already forgetting the feel of his touch and the warmth of his palm…?

Despite her stubborn battle to keep her tears to herself, a couple of the solemn drops slipped down the curves of her cheeks and wet his skin, but he didn’t seem to mind. He simply rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs and softened his smile at her as he wiped her skin dry of those heartbroken drops of rain.

“It’s okay to feel afraid.” He assured with a gentle hush. “I know it’s scary and that’s okay, but I promise I’ll always be with you, _______, even if it isn’t in the way you’d like right now. One day, a very long time from now, we’ll be together again, but for now, I’ll accompany you wherever you go. I’ll always be there; I always have been. It’s okay to be afraid of the pain, but likewise, it’s okay to feel that pain as well. You deserve to work through it just as much as everyone else does, but you need to allow yourself to do so first.”

“I-I don’t want to, Kyo…”

She denied through her tears now, the droplets falling as they came. No matter how she tried, no matter what she did, they fell like rainwater upon her face, so she gave up on trying. Within Rengoku’s hold, wrapped up in his warmth, there was nothing on God’s green Earth that could hold her back.

“I h-hate feeling this way…It feels so loud and muffled in my head all at the same time, l-like I’m drowning underwater. It’s agonizing, how much everything hurts…I just want it all to stop, Kyo, I-I want it to stop…I never want to feel a damn thing again – even the crippling emptiness is better than feeling anything at all…”

“Oh, young _______...” Rengoku shook his head and softened his smile further, the look in his eyes heartbreakingly compassionate. “If you couldn’t feel anything at all, you wouldn’t get to know about what’s waiting on the other side of all those negative emotions. You wouldn’t know happiness, love, peace, care, joy, laughter and all the other wonderful emotions in between that come with the good in life and make it worth living through the bad.”

Tilting his head slightly to the side, he took a moment to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear before pulling his hands away from her cheeks. Despite how much it hurt to be in this moment, now that her eyes were on him, she couldn’t bear to look away. It hurt like hell to know how this story would end, but at least…at least one more time…she could watch him smile, could listen to him talk and could be with him, even if it certainly wasn’t in the way she wanted.

“The truth is, this painful grief that you’re going through right now only proves that you once knew happiness and love. You knew all of those wonderful emotions before – and you’ll know them again. I know it might feel as though the hurt hangs over you forever, but believe me when I tell you that one day soon, these feelings will come to pass. One day soon, you’re going to know peace again, and when that day comes, I look forward to seeing your genuine smile return to you.”

Something inside of her told her his words were true (after all, Rengoku would never lie to her), but it was so difficult to believe there would be a break in the storm within her mind. She knew he was right, that she used to be happy and she used to know these joyous emotions, but it felt so old now; did she really remember what those feelings were like to have? Can she properly remember what it felt like to genuinely, sincerely smile?

It hurt more than she thought it would to realize she couldn’t.

Suddenly, catching her completely off guard, a new pair of arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind, pulling her out of her own thoughts and into a strong embrace.

“Yeah, _______! Listen to what good ole Rengoku is telling you! If you couldn’t feel anything, you wouldn’t be able to remember our stories and how they made you feel back then! Wouldn’t that be a crying shame?”

_______ stiffened up something fierce in the arms of her new visitor. Her (eye color) eyes widened as far as they could go, staring into the joyously amused expression of her mentor as he watched the scene unfold before him.

Before she could react, a new hand found its place on her head, lovingly and teasingly ruffling up her hair until multiple strands were completely set astray. The gesture was playful with a hint of a tease, but it was undeniably filled with just as much love as the first visitor’s embrace was. They both radiated with a warmth she feared she would forget with the passage of time, and though she may still desperately cling to the memories of their touch, nothing compared to feeling the real thing.

“I couldn’t agree more. You can’t go forgetting us and the memories we share together so easily, _______. We’re a family, after all. We all carry these memories and feelings with us through thick and thin, and we’re going to hold you up to your end of it too.”

Her eyes met with Rengoku’s, the undeniable shock on her face asking without words if what was happening was what she thought it to be. When he gave her a single, thoughtful nod of the head, she sprung to her feet, pulling away from the arms and hands which held her to stare into the faces of the two men standing behind her.

“Keisuke…?! Botan…?!”

The two brothers chuckled and smiled in unison, Keisuke nodding in confirmation for her while Botan gave her a cheeky wink.

Keisuke – the oldest of the two – stood a couple inches over his younger brother. The smile he bore was warm and inviting, strong and reassuring – friendly, just as he had always been. His deep brown eyes never failed to bring the image of freshly brewed coffee accentuated by the delightful note of smooth chocolate to her mind, the warmth within those comforting hues almost identical to a morning brew. His lengthy tresses of deep black hair were gathered into the messy bun he always kept them in, a few strands blowing freely in the wind on either side of his face contrasting against his pale skin. His haori hugged his shoulders much the same way as Rengoku’s did, but his was as dark as night, a pattern of paper cranes flying upwards to the boundless sky adorning a majority of its fabric.

Botan, on the same branch as his brother, was as brilliantly bright as the sun was luminous. His grin stretched from ear-to-ear just as it always had, his pearly whites on full display as playful chuckles continued to escape his lips. His eyes, the same earthy coffee ground brown as Keisuke’s, were crescent-shaped from joy, the skin by them crinkling up exactly the same way she remembered they always did. In contrast to Keisuke, Botan’s hair was always cut short and messy. He always kept his wavy chestnut locks parted heavily to the right, and before her very eyes, she was witness to the way they almost cheekily cascaded down the right side of his face like waves of liquid mahogany. His haori he wore by the sleeves. It was deep cerulean in color, accented by various traditional images of golden clouds and dignified eastern dragons.

Around both of their necks, she noticed the necklaces bearing their family crest she remembered they always wore with great pride. The necklaces themselves were nearly identical down to the sturdy silver link chains and the matching kamon pendants displaying the intricate plum blossom of their lineage. The only difference between the two was the color of the gem linked above the kamon pendants themselves, Keisuke’s an ethereal jade and Botan’s a creamy pearl.

The two men looked…exactly as she remembered they did before their passings.

Bright.

Happy.

Loving.

Proud.

Beautiful.

_______ rushed towards her dear friends once she drank in the precious sight of the two, tossing herself at them with her arms wide open. When they were enveloped in her tight, desperate embrace at long last, she pulled them in as close to her as she was able and pressed her forehead against their shoulders once the trio was huddled together. When she felt their strong arms wrap around her just as tightly with the same amount of vigor as her, she began to sob openly into the wind while she took large handfuls of their haoris in her grasp to keep them from fading away.

“Keisuke, Botan, I-I’m so sorry…!”

Those were the first words she spoke.

“I-I am so, so s-sorry…! I tried to save both of you, I-I really did! I fought the demons off all night long t-to keep the two of you safe and to stop them from taking you away, but it wasn’t enough…! When everything was over, i-it was already too late a-and you just…! You were dead! I’m so, so very sorry…! I-I’m so sorry I let the two of you down the way I did!”

Keisuke brought his hand to rest on her head once more, stroking her hair to offer her comfort in the midst of her grief. Likewise, Botan brought his hands to rest on her back, running them up and down along her frame, warming her trembling figure with his comforting, protective presence.

“There’s nothing you need to be sorry about.” Keisuke assured, his lips pressing over the top of her head. “What happened wasn’t your fault. Botan and I know you did the best you could that night. You don’t need to apologize for something like that.”

“It was out of your control,” Botan murmured softly by her ear. “You didn’t know what was going to happen that night, and the decisions we made were our own. You have no blame in what happened. We chose, not you.”

She tugged desperately on their haoris, her mouth held agape as she cried aloud with no sense of control nor composure. Her tears, salty and unforgiving, were soaked by the fabric of their beautifully familiar coats. Each and every single drop of rain which fell from her eyes were elicited by the deep, loving sounds of their voices she had tried so hard no to forget; they were encouraged by the scent of them which always managed to take her to a different place and time in the universe. When she was in their arms, she felt as though they were seated by a peaceful waterfall, stories shared between them and laughter drifting in the breeze like the good old days.

With every ounce of her being and every bit of her will, she had desperately clung to the memory of them. She was so scared she would start forgetting. She was terrified to watch those memories slip from her fingertips, forced to watch them drift into the furthest depths of space where she’d never know nor hear of them again.

Despite her fears, they’re right here, proving her painful thoughts wrong.

Their voices, their scents, their embraces, their touch, their warmth; it was all right here.

She was cause for their death. It was her fault they were dead and gone, and she knew she didn’t deserve to fall apart in her mournful tears within their arms, but there wasn’t a force in the universe that could pull her away from them in that moment.

She was guilty.

She was a hypocrite.

She was nothing.

Still, it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the feel of them in her arms and she in theirs, as if she had never lost them to begin with. She would give a million tomorrows and a million more to be able to stay in this space, to never have to watch it fade away again. Even though she knew it was impossible, her broken heart thrumming at the rusted strings of her very soul wished for it so deeply that she almost convinced herself it was possible.

As long as she clung to them with all her might, could she stop the wind from taking them away?

If she never let go, would they stay?

Would they share a million tomorrows and a million more?

“B-but…it absolutely was my fault…” She choked out in broken bits, her nails digging into the intricate cloths of their haoris. “I-if I had just…j-just paid more attention to what I was doing…If I hadn’t been so o-overly confident in myself and my abilities…neither of you would’ve had to rescue me…Y-you’d both be with me still, breathing and living your lives…” Deeper, she sunk into the brothers, and in perfect time, she felt them squeeze her closer as well.

“You’ve both placed such a h-heavy price on my worthless life that I have no idea how to repay…I don’t deserve the breath y-you both saved for me, I-I really don’t, and losing you has left me feeling so…l-lost…What am I supposed to do, Keisuke? W-what am I supposed to do, Botan? I-I didn’t deserve the price you both paid a-and I never will…You should’ve…Y-you should’ve just let the demon kill me that night…”

“Never.”

Both of the brothers retorted in unison, their tones firm and sure.

“You are everything but worthless, _______. You are as much a part of us as we are of you.” Keisuke remarked, his hand guiding her head to comfortingly nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

“You’re our family, _______. You’re priceless to us. We made the choice to save you because of that – because you are worth more than you’ve ever allowed yourself to believe.” Botan added, pressing a loving kiss to the side of her head.

“We would choose to save you time and time again, _______. If dying means you can live on, we’ll choose it every single time.”

As the brothers’ voices turned to one, she felt her knees buckle beneath her. She collapsed in their arms upon the station platform, and she could swear her cries grew as loud as they could become within her tattered soul, but they sounded muted and muffled to her. She was being dragged beneath the waves, the whitecaps forcing saltwater into her lungs to weigh her down. The glass pane above the surf was too thick for her to break through no matter how hard she kicked and pounded against it.

“It’s not your fault. You have no blame. We chose our fates to end the way they did because we love you. We have no regrets. To know you survived is our greatest victory. Not the many demons we fought and won against, not the many missions we finished, not how far we got as Demon Slayers – you. You are our greatest victory. We want you to live on and tell our stories to new people. We want you to feel happiness again. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to feel. We believe in you. We know, very soon, you’re going to understand why you keep coming back here. Don’t give up on yourself, ________– we never did.”

The waves were grabbing her, drowning her in their murky depths. Through her tears and the surf, she saw the blurred image of them, but they were too far away. She reached through the violent waters, hands outstretched and fingers desperately grasping, but the rapids dragged her out further and further, twisting her within its ferocity. She swore she would die beneath the waves, locked out of breath by the glass pane.

Through the violent sea’s storms and tumults, however, they were there.

Their warmth surrounded her regardless of the glass pane dividing them.

Their arms kept her taut to their forms, unshaken by the aggressive quakes which raked her very bones. Her cries and whimpers which bubbled beneath the waves didn’t scare them away. It didn’t matter that her words were formless, voiceless and silent – they would be there through it all.

Within the midst of this catharsis, the warmth of Rengoku’s presence washed over her as well. It blanketed atop the three within the group’s embrace on the station platform’s floor, forming a protective cover for them. Upon her person, she could feel his arms hug around her and her boys, his haori shielding them from the world around them.

In the distance, she could hear the ominous, foreboding sound of the Mugen Train’s whistle blowing into the cool evening air once again, but still they stayed. She knew it wouldn’t last, she knew she’d be forced to watch them go, and she was terrified to be away from this warmth again.

Living felt so cold without them.

“You are worthy. You deserve to live on. You deserve every breath that leaves your lungs. You. Are. Enough.”

The violent storm was ceaseless and she wasn’t strong enough to break out of the crashing waves and drowning whitecaps, but through the glass pane, she still saw them.

Blurred as they were, she saw them.

Though the thick glass separated them, she felt them.

Through the crashing, muffling waves, she heard them.

“You. Are. ENOUGH.”

~¤ ¤ ¤~

Her pillow was wet again.

Its damp, flimsy fabric somewhat clung to the side of her cheek as her senses returned to her, but she didn’t care. Slowly, her eyes opened just a crack, and through her fluttering lashes, she caught sight of the gentle rays of sunlight greeting her through the open window.

People were walking down the streets of Tatsukawa Village again, their chatter muffling into the background ambiance of nature. The birds chirped alongside the people, conversing in a language of their own, but she felt she might understand them better than the people surrounding her as the days continued to pass her by if she only tried to listen a little harder. The skies above were bright blue once more, she noted, the fluffy white clouds lazily drifting by paying an homage to the life down on the ground for the day they had in store.

There was beauty to be had and appreciated in this shattered world, but from behind her endless pane of glass, everything looked blurry. All the beautiful sights and sounds all mixed into one until nothing was distinguishable. From behind the glass, she could only make out odd shapes and blurry faces tied to distant sounds she couldn’t differentiate between the songs of life and simple white noise.   

Distantly, her tired eyes stared into the infinite sky, her mind filled with empty static. Images of the dream she had awoken from continuously played in her head. They were the cause for the wetness upon her pillow, for the tears which dampened her skin. She could remember the absolutely devastating pain she felt on that train station platform so vividly that, if she didn’t know any better, she would’ve believed it all actually happened. Her dreams as of late have been a theatrical display of difficult, complex emotions she didn’t know how to cope with, but right now, she felt nothing.

She felt numb inside.

Seeing Keisuke and Botan in her dreams with Rengoku was something she wished she could experience in real life just one more time, but she knew better than to cling to a wish so fictitious.   

After feeling everything at once which she tried so hard to keep buried beneath the surface, there was little room for her to feel much of anything else in the aftermath.

The waters calmed, though they kept her beneath the surface. Swallowed within the overwhelming blue, she could feel the waves settle for a moment’s breath only to gain momentum for the next time her strings were thrummed.

For now, the saltwater simply aided in building the rust around her cords once more.

With an immense push of effort, she rolled herself over in bed, turning away from the window to stare at the wooden ceiling above her. There, she inspected the individual grains she could make out in the boards, wasting the ticking minutes which passed her by. The only movement she allowed herself to make for a very long time was to wipe her face dry of the tears she wept in her dreams, numb to the ache that came with those olden droplets.

She had to think about it for a while, trying to find a pocket of strength within her to push herself away from the heavy bedsheets hugging her down to the mattress she laid upon. They felt weighted to her, as if they were monstrously hefty, filled with nothing but rocks and stones to keep her nailed down where she was. They offered her warmth, and though it felt nothing like the warmth she craved, it still did a very good job at faking it. The heavy, weighted warmth made it hard to want to try to leave their smothering embrace.

Everything in her told her to stay where she was so she could rot with the passage of time beneath those suffocative bedsheets, but the voices of Keisuke, Botan and Rengoku whispered in the back of her mind to fight against the poisonous thoughts of hopeless compliance.

She didn’t want to.

Every muscle, bone and nerve within her begged for her to stay suffocatingly cocooned within the covers. They cried for her to give them a break from the shattered world outside her open window, but she knew she didn’t have that luxury to spend. Thus, with the ghost of the hands of those she loved most supportively pressing against her back and shoulders, she pushed herself up to sit within her sea of blankets and face another day.

She felt disoriented at first, like someone forcefully pulled her out of a fever dream. Groggily, she looked around herself, gathering a sense of her surroundings again, until her eyes took notice of something she had completely overlooked the night before.

Resting against the far corner of her room was her Nichirin sword, sheathed and just as she had left it last. She hadn’t noticed in the disarray, but it seemed Momoko or one of the other healers must’ve left it in the room for her while she was unconscious or asleep. Its presence here with her, completely the same as she last remembered it to be, left her thinking about the perplexity of it.

After all, she didn’t come back to the village last night.

She was brought back.

That meant Akaza brought her sword with her when he left her here.

Why wouldn’t he destroy it? Or at least toss it somewhere far away within the vast cedar woods? As a Demon Slayer, a new one would’ve promptly been forged for her by the Corps’ special swordsmiths as they did for all Slayer’s whose swords were damaged or lost in combat, but at least it would’ve definitely left her fully defenseless while she was in the village. Ultimately, it would’ve left her and every single one of the villagers in Tatsukawa vulnerable to any and all demon attacks from the neighboring woods, and to her, that felt like an obvious blow and win for a demon to make on a bunch of humans.

Yet…for whatever reason…Akaza hadn’t done that.

He left her with her only form of defense despite the fact that their realities kept them fighting on opposing sides.

She couldn’t wrap her head around it nor could she find a way to understand the peculiar Upper Moon’s motives, but she supposed it wasn’t important anymore. She didn’t think she’d ever see Akaza again, so it just…is what it is.

Whether that was a good thing or not, she wasn’t so sure.

She turned her gaze away from her sword at the thought, not wanting to dwell upon the what ifs right now. Rather, she needed to get herself up and moving again. She didn’t know where her life was headed now nor did she know how long it would last after last night and the dreams she had, but she did know one thing: continuing to live on her borrowed time meant she still had a chance to secure Tatsukawa’s safety.

Though she had sent her Kasugai Crow for backup, there was still no word as to what or who would come. She owed it to the villagers to stay until reinforcements arrived, to protect a people who saw so much good in her she could never find on her own. What would happen to her after Tatsukawa Village, she didn’t know, but she tried not to think about it too hard. She would follow the currents of the crashing waves and abyssal waters wherever they lead her, but right now, she felt the need to fight against the current just a little bit longer for the people of Tatsukawa.

For the memories of Keisuke and Botan.

With them as her driving force, regardless of how persistently the bedsheets attempted to keep her woven within the confines of their cocoons, she pushed herself to the edge of her bed and pressed her bare feet to the floorboards beneath her. The wooden boards squeaked and creaked welcomingly, encouraging her in her fight to keep going – and she listened this time.

She stood to her feet, pushing passed the overwhelming effort she needed to find within herself to do so. Though her body continued to ache from the long weeks of battles for Tatsukawa’s sake, she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel better than the night before. The pain had faded away a good deal over the course of the evening, and the protest within her bones grew quieter and quieter with each step she took towards the chair where her uniform was folded upon.

Was it Momoko’s medicine that helped or was it Akaza’s gross medicinal tea? I wonder…

She laughed a bit to herself humorlessly at the thought. She would never know which of the two did it, but she figured she didn’t need to know. In their own regards, it felt like they both did something to help. What a weird thought that was. A demon trying to heal a human – who would’ve thought?

Shaking off the oddly somber memory of him, she began to dress herself in her uniform. It was cleaned and pressed, any holes it had last night now sewn shut with hand-sewn needle and thread. One of the healers must’ve taken care of it the night they found her at the entrance of the village after they changed her into a dry, clean set of loose night clothes.

She would have to thank all of them when she had the chance. They worked so hard to keep her well…She didn’t deserve it, but they still did so much for her sake.

She frowned, staring at her patched-up right sleeve once she was clothed again.

Her mind was in a distant place in that moment, her thumb tracing over the individual stitches in the fabric of her sleeve, offset by the white thread used on the black background. Only when she heard the creaking of the bedroom door did she turn away from the stitches.

Turning around, she faced Momoko as she walked inside.

Momoko seemed to be in a brighter mood today than she was the day before. She was anxious yesterday, _______ had noticed, but she couldn’t blame her for it. After so long of living in fear of the moon rising to the sky, it was natural she would feel on edge as the days continued to move forward without a whisper from the forest. This morning, however, she seemed to be at ease. There was a pleasant smile on her face, her eyes, blue as the midday sky, were bright and friendly. Her short, straight, black hair was neatly tied into a ponytail, her fringe bangs perfectly lined above her eyebrows. The hairstyle accented her and her face well, aiding in drawing attention to her eyes of blue skies as well as her pale pink lips angled to her crescent-shaped smile. All-in-all, she came off completely different today than she has the entire time _______ has been stationed in Tatsukawa.

“Good morning, _______. It’s good to see you up again. How are you feeling today? Any better?”

_______ nodded, forcing a small, polite smile to her lips.

She had forgotten what it felt like to genuinely smile. It took her a while, but she eventually mastered the art of faking it for appearances. She didn’t want people asking her if she was alright or if there was anything wrong when faced with the vacant look in her eyes and the unreadable expressions she often made, so she learned and she learned quick.

She didn’t want to be impolite to the people of Tatsukawa Village in any form of the word, so she made good use of her counterfeit talents around them just as she did with everyone else. Nevertheless, her smiles may not be real, but the great fight she put up in secret every day to give the people around her the emotions they deserved were always genuine.

“Good morning, Momoko. I’d like to say I’m feeling better today, better than I felt before anyway. Thanks for asking.”

“Well, that’s great to hear!” Momoko chirped, though a sheepish look soon took her expression as she continued to linger by the open door. “I hope I’m not disturbing you? I see you have your uniform on again.”

_______ shook her head.

“No, not at all. Actually, I woke up not so long ago and only just got dressed.”

“Ah, well that’s a relief then.” Momoko’s friendly smile returned to her. “I just stopped by for two things, so I won’t take up too much of your time. First, Namba-san asked us to let you know he’d like to speak with you about something. He didn’t tell me what it deals with, but he did say it was important, so whenever you feel ready, you should consider paying him a visit. Second, would you like your breakfast here or would you like to join the others and I around the table this morning?”

At the mention of the village head’s name, _______’s brow furrowed. She supposed it wasn’t strange that he wanted to have a one-on-one meeting with her after everything that’s recently transpired. With the last two days of peace Tatsukawa has known and the fact that they all found her unconscious by the village after having disappeared within the cedar woods, she could only imagine there were a couple of things he’d like to exchange words about. For now, she could only assume the importance of the matter must deal with the safety of the village and a conversation on their newfound, questionable peace.

“Alright, thank you for letting me know. I’ll make sure to head over right away. As for breakfast, don’t worry about me and just go get yourself something to eat instead. I’ll sit down for a bite once I’m back, but thank you for offering.”

Truth be told, she didn’t want to be around other people for too long right now. No offense whatsoever towards Momoko and the other healers; they were all a lovely bunch and she appreciated having them around.

The problem wasn’t them – it was her.  

Solitude felt like her dearest companion as of late, and no matter how much time she got with him, she feels she needs more and more of his time as the days pass her by to really feel like herself.

Today was especially true to that fact.

Thankfully, Momoko didn’t press. She simply nodded her head in understanding and gave her a knowing look.

“No problem. You know where to find us if you need us. Be safe out there, _______.”

With that, Momoko left, closing the door behind her to give _______ the privacy she needed to get ready for the day ahead.

She let out a long, steady sigh when she was on her own again, her expression falling to the somber look she only ever allowed herself to have when she was alone.

Turning to look back towards her open window, she watched for a second or two as the gentle breeze of the day ruffled the bundled curtains. She considered going over to close it, but eventually decided to leave it open.

Maybe doing so would allow the sun’s warmth to enter the room while she was gone.

With that decided, she glanced back at the night clothes she strewn onto the chair where her uniform was. She took a moment or two to fold them up neatly, knowing the healers would check her room later to make sure things were tidy for her. She never wanted to be a burden to them in any way, so she did whatever she could to ease their work in that regard. So, after folding her night clothes, she made her bed as well, and only then did she finally find herself standing in front of her Nichirin sword again.

She stood there for a while, staring at her sheathed blade, wondering if it truly still held a use in her hands or not. That night, it might as well have been a toy blade made from plastic for children to play with. Never once did she lift it to fight the demons she was here to ward off, and she felt shame for that, as though she had dishonored the blade painstakingly crafted for her hands.  

Regardless of what she felt, it’s here.

It’s here thanks to the demon of the Upper Moons.

Her frown deepened at the thought.

She knew not what the day had in store for her today, though she supposed anything was possible now after what she experienced.

Keeping that in mind, she took her Nichirin blade in cautious, guilt-ridden hands and sheathed it by her waist before stepping out the door to face the day ahead of her.  

Maybe she didn’t care about what happened to her anymore, but she did care about Tatsukawa and its people. Until the reinforcement squad arrived, she was their sole defender. When she wandered into the woods, she thought she donned the title in the form of a distracting sacrifice given on a silver platter to the demons within, but her sacrificial plan didn’t turn out how she expected. As a result, she was inadvertently given another chance at life. Where the breath in her lungs would lead her now, she didn’t know, but now that she’s lived to see another day, she would gift her remaining tomorrows to the villagers. If the need came to be, she would draw her dishonored blade once more in the people’s defense regardless of her inadequacies.

For Tatsukawa Village, she was ready to give her very last breath.

~¤ ¤ ¤~

The scent of tea was strong in the village head’s home.

Seated upon one of the gray zabutons in his living room, _______ awaited Namba’s audience. As soon as she arrived, he had offered to make her a pot of tea to welcome her with. She tried to politely decline as she hadn’t woken up in the best of moods nor the healthiest of appetites, but he insisted nonetheless. By the time she was seated, he was already walking down the halls of his home to brew the drink for the two of them, and by then, she couldn’t reject his hospitable offer.

It smelled like it was almost done. Its sweet aroma wove itself throughout Namba’s home soothingly, bringing images of sunny yet rainy days to mind. If things had been different, she would’ve liked the idea of enjoying a hot cup of matcha green tea seated on the porch of one of Tatsukawa’s charming homes while watching the rain drizzle and the sun break through the clouds. It sounded and felt so peaceful, when she thought about it, but days like that felt out of reach to her now.

The last time she spent a day like that was when Keisuke and Botan were still alive, watching over Tastukawa Village with her.

She remembered, after successful nights of them defending the village from the attackers in the woods, some of the villagers would show their gratitude to them in the form of humble gifts primarily consisting of food. One afternoon, the three of them were invited for a cup of tea by Namba and his wife, Junko. She glanced towards the back of the room at the large double doors she knew led to the resident’s backyard porch, and in that moment, she almost felt as if she had been transported back in time.

The scent of matcha was strong back then too. The three of them were seated next to each other on the porch with their legs dangling off its elevated edge; she sat in the middle, Keisuke to her right and Botan to her left. After they spent a while with the couple talking about the events of recent days over a couple sips of their tea, they encouraged them to sit on the porch of their home so they could feel the sunshine on their skin again. There, they drank their matcha and shared peaceful smiles. Many words weren’t exchanged, but they didn’t need to be. The light of day breaking through the trees the Namba family had planted in their quaint yard mixed with the breeze spoke enough for itself. After a while, she recalled it began to lightly drizzle back then as well. It was a picturesque scene; the perfect way to enjoy a cup of tea, surrounded by people you love and care for.

Now, however, the sliding doors were closed to the world outside and there would only be tea served for one visitor.

Her stare was vacant as her eyes lingered on the sliding doors. Within her, she felt her heart constrict, aching to squeeze, but she refused to allow those cords within her to strum again.

Not here.

Not right now.

Only when she was under the cover of night alone in her room did she ever want to let those shameful cords to strum again.

“The tea is ready, _______-san.”

Namba’s voice called her attention, bringing her gaze to rest upon the towering man which came to join her by his rectangular chabudai table.

Namba was a large, middle-aged samurai who has seen his fair share of battles alongside a blade. His physique was imposing and muscular, notable even through the simple, loose, mute orange yukata he wore today; the result of the training he dedicated much of his life to, no doubt. His skin was tanned to a deep caramel color, whether it was natural or caused by extensive work beneath the sun, she didn’t know. Various scars alluding to stories he had to tell were brandished proudly upon his ruggedly masculine complexion, and he did nothing to hide nor withhold them from public view. His salt-and-pepper hair hung loosely by his shoulders in messy straight strands, and beyond them, he donned an impressive beard he noticeably kept well-maintained. His eyes called for the attention of anyone he met; one was a glistening, warm amber color, edged with honey and gold, while the other, in contrast, was completely hazed over in ghostly white with its lids tattered by merciless scaring.

He was a man whose mere appearance demanded the respect of others, but as a person, he was kind and humble. He treated those around him with just as much respect and consideration as they treated him. After all this time she’s spent with him and his village, it was obvious to her that he, as an honorable samurai, gave his life for Tatsukawa, always at the ready to defend it and its people whenever the need came to be. It was no wonder someone as loyal and strong as him became the village head.

She couldn’t imagine what he must’ve felt when a threat he could do nothing against fell upon his beloved village.

Relying on others was always so…scary.

Scary and hard.

“Thank you so much, Namba-san. You really didn’t have to trouble yourself like this, but I appreciate it. Your tea always tastes lovely.” _______ politely thanked the samurai as he settled the ceramic teapot and accompanying cups down on the chabudai.

“Nonsense. You are not only an honored guest in my home, but to all of Tatsukawa. The work you and your friends put into protecting all of us here is a debt we can never repay. Brewing a decent pot of tea for you is the least I could do in return.” He waved her formalities off in his friendly ways, already beginning to pour the tea in the cups.

“Please forgive Junko, she couldn’t be here to greet you today. She’s out with her mother and father helping them stock up on groceries before nightfall, but she sends her regards.” Namba apologized on behalf of his wife’s absence, receiving a wave of the hand from _______ as she accepted her cup of tea from him.

“That’s alright, no need to apologize. Spending time with family is important…” She paused a moment, glancing into her warm cup of tea before offering Namba a tight smile. “I’m sure I’ll be able to catch up with her next time.”

“Absolutely. Next time, you must join us for a meal. It’s been so long since you last sat down with us for dinner in our home.” He returned a smile to her, but his was genuine and grand, somehow made friendlier from the fuzziness of his beard surrounding his lips.

“Yes, it really has been a long while since we all ate here together…”

She trailed off and took a sip of her tea, hoping the heat of the drink would help keep her in the present rather than drifting into memories again. The tea was still hot and it burned on her tongue, but it wasn’t so much that she couldn’t bear through it. It hurt a little, but it helped in keeping her focused, which is really all she wanted right now.

“Well, that’s something that can be properly planned out very soon, I’m sure.” He remarked, following her lead and taking a steady swig of his tea. “Tatsukawa Village has known peace during these past two nights after what felt like a lifetime of fear. I don’t know what you did when you left to the cedar woods in the middle of the night, but whatever it was, it seemed it bought us some time.”

“Bought some time?” She echoed.

“Yes. Bought some time.” He repeated, carefully swirling his tea in his cup before bringing it to his lips once more. “I don’t believe this lifelong struggle would’ve just ended overnight the way it seems. Of course, I mean no insult to your great work, and offer nothing but my deepest respects to your friends who arrived here with you.”

_______ noticeably grimaced at his words and turned her gaze away from the village head, focusing on her cup of green tea instead.

“What are you trying to say, Namba-san? Please be blatant.”

“What I’m trying to say is, you and I know demons are craftier and more intelligent than people might give them credit for. They were once human, just like you and I, and with their change, they gain abilities far exceeding anything we can ever aspire to have. For a long time, the cedar woods have been plagued by them, more and more having made their refuge there as the years pass. The forest is vast and practically endless, giving them ample places to hide away in for a night or two.” His expression fell to a more serious look, his eyes sharp and keen. “What I’m saying is, I don’t believe they’re all gone. Perhaps some of them are, I know you’ve slain more than we can count and others have run off, but I know for a fact that there are more of them hiding away within the woods waiting for the moment to strike when Tatsukawa is at its most vulnerable – and I have reason to believe these things as well.”

_______ narrowed her eyes and took in a long, quiet breath as she watched herself squeeze the teacup within her hands, her fingers pressing into the ridges of its ceramic.

Once again, guilt was eating away at her insides.

Everywhere she turned, everyone she talked to, everything she tried to do or avoid, it all resulted in the same feelings to flood her over and over again.

She didn’t do a damn thing to help stop the attacks on Tatsukawa the night she wandered into the cedar woods, but she couldn’t bring herself to confess her sins of it to Namba.

If anything, she felt like a traitor to the people of Tatsukawa, considering she had spent the entirety of that night in the arms of a demon of the Upper Moons.

She shook her head at the memory of him, refusing the images of his person to resurface in her mind during a time like this.

He was a sin she knew she could never atone for.

“Regrettably,” She muttered, lifting her gaze from her cup to look at Namba again, her expression unreadable as she set her teacup aside. “I have to agree with you, Namba-san. My experience as a Demon Slayer up to this point has taught me never to let my guard down after a quick and easy victory…” She leaned forward against the chabudai table, her elbows resting on its edge as she keenly met the man’s gaze.

“I don’t believe the battle for Tatsukawa is over quite yet either, but I do have to ask: what reasons do you have to draw to these conclusions as well? You sound like you’re trying to tell me something, and I know you didn’t ask Momoko to call me over just for us to have a simple chat over a few cups of tea.”  

Namba huffed through his nose, a deep rumble resounding from his chest, and he gave a firm nod of his head as he, too, set his cup of tea to the side.

“I won’t beat around the bush.” He began. “The morning you were found by the side of the village, I lead another search party of my own into the cedar woods while you were being cared for by Momoko and the other healers. I’m not sure if you recall, but I escort these parties up to a certain point in the forest during the day when it’s safe to search for any possessions or articles of clothing belonging to the villagers who have fallen prey to the demons. Anything we can find and identify we return to the families of those lost.”

She nodded her head, her brows furrowing.

“Yes, I remember you telling me about that when I first got here. Was your group attacked? Did something happen to one of the people in your search party I’m not aware of?”

Namba shook his head.

“No, that isn’t it.” His tone dropped, serious and low.

“Thank God, we’ve never had any kind of attacks during the day. No, what happened was that we came upon a pile of possessions in the woods that morning. It was just a few yards passed the edges of the forest. We have no doubt that whatever put that pile together where it did, it was a deliberate act, because we’ve never found as many possessions of those departed together like that before. Whenever we did recover possessions, they were always scattered and randomly strewn about the forest floor, found by dedicated searches and immense luck, but these were purposefully piled high on top of each other, as if whatever did it had been collecting them for months. It was set in a way to make it unavoidable and hard to miss. From everything we found, we’ve been able to identify the belongings of over fifty missing villagers. Shuji and a few of the other village guards are returning the items to their rightful homes as we speak.”  

Taken aback by this new discovery, _______ blinked her eyes at the village head as her expression fell more and more into horror.

It didn’t take a Demon Slayer to realize that leaving a pile of belongings of the missing villagers somewhere that could easily be found in the demon-infested forest was nothing short of an act of mockery. It gave off a boastful, pompous air, as if whoever had done it burst out in guffawed laughter at them all through the vindictive, personal attack.

“I see...” She muttered, a deep frown angling her lips.

One look at each other’s eyes and they both knew they drew the same conclusion: one of the demons in the woods was not only getting bolder, but cockier as well.

“I’m afraid that isn’t the end of what I called you here for today.” Namba remarked softly, bringing his hands off of the chabudai. “While we were able to identify most of the belongings we found in the pile as items from Tatsukawa villagers, there were two things that we weren’t able to identify for any of our missing people. The craftmanship doesn’t match the work of any craftsperson in our village either, so I thought I would ask you if you perhaps recognized them.”

Upon explaining himself, _______ watched Namba reach into the right pocket of his yukata to fetch what he spoke of. When his hand came out, fisted around the items, she noticed a pair of oxidized silver chains dangling between his fingers.

Her heart dropped to her stomach as soon as the chains caught her eye, the beat of it becoming overwhelmingly loud with sudden anxiety as she extended her hands out to the village head. Gingerly, he allowed the necklaces to drop within her grasp, their chains gently weaving around her fingers as a pair of cold pendants came to rest upon her palms.

Nervously, she remained in place for a few seconds even as Namba sat himself back upon his zabuton, her hands trembling the slightest bit. He didn’t question her stalled, shaken reaction as he watched her.

No, rather, there was a look of empathy in his eyes as he watched the woman tremble with the honorable jewelry in her open hands.

Slowly, her movements fueled with apprehensive nerves, she brought her trembling hands closer to herself until she allowed them to rest on the very edge of the chabudai. There, she finally willed herself to peer into what was given to her.

Laying upon the loosely tangled silver chains were the plum blossom kamon pendants belonging to the Watanabe family, one adorned by cracked jade and the other by sullied pearl.

Laying coldly and lifelessly within her hands were the kamon pendants of Keisuke and Botan.

As soon as she recognized what they were, her hands balled up into tight fists around the pendants and she abruptly turned her face towards the ceiling away from Namba. Tightly, she closed her eyes and roughly bit the inside of her cheeks. She tried with all her might to keep every single one of the horrid emotions she constantly felt swirling within her where they lay buried beneath the waves, but no matter how hard she tried, heartbroken whimpers tore through her throat viciously. Her eyes watered and tears began to form, but she quickly gritted her teeth and began to aggressively wipe at her eyes with her fists, refusing to allow herself the space to let those stinging drops flow again now that she wasn’t alone.

Her heart felt like it would stop any day now from all the pain it’s been forced to withstand. Every day, it felt like she was issued another blow that painfully tore at her arteries and muscles, gradually slicing her heart into haphazard threads within the confines of her chest. How she was still alive from the constant emotional beatings alone, she had no clue.

At the thought, she pressed Keisuke and Botan’s pendants firmly against her chest right over where her tattered heart continued to laboriously beat, hoping upon hope that the ghost of them would help ease the scarily rapid, anxious thumps it struggled to maintain.

“I truly am sorry, _______-san…Their kamon pendants were the first things we saw, placed on the very top of the pile. I wasn’t quite sure at the time, but I had an inkling they belonged to young Keisuke and Botan; I had to ask you to be certain. I know this is bittersweet, but they’ve found their way to you again. I hope you may find some comfort in that knowledge.”

Her misty eyes snapped open at Namba’s words, sharply scanning all over the ceiling again. Something he said stood out to her, burning her deep with a wretched insult she never once expected to receive towards the deaths of her closest friends.

They were right at the top. They were the very first things Namba and the others saw when they found the pile. There is no doubt whatsoever that the pile itself was made as a mockery to the people of the village, so that means…Keisuke and Botan’s pendants placed on the very top mustn’t have been a coincidence. Does that mean it was…?

She bit so hard into her cheeks as the thought dawned on her that she began to taste blood. Grimacing at the repugnant taste, she reached for her cup of green tea and took a clumsy gulp. It was lukewarm now, but it did well to replace the taste of metal from her tongue. When she placed her cup firmly back down onto the chabudai, it was empty.

“Thank you, Namba-san…” She quietly murmured, her now vacant gaze locking with his once more. “It means a lot to me to have their necklaces with me now…Keisuke and Botan will accompany me in getting to the bottom of this thanks to you, even if they’re not with me physically anymore.” Abruptly, she stood to her feet, her hand falling from her chest to her side but still maintaining an iron grip on the pendants. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be alone for a while…”

She began to walk away from Namba and the chabudai, knowing her way out of his home, but before she could get far, she felt the man’s large hand take a gently firm hold of her wrist, stopping her in place. Glancing back at the older man, she caught his eyes staring up at her with deep empathy again, the softness in his gaze making her crack the slightest bit.

“Please, sit down, young one. I know you must have a lot to think about right now, but before you go, allow me to tell you a story.”

She sucked in a sharp, painful breath, the memory of Rengoku now hitting her like a flood as well thanks to the way Namba spoke to her, to the way he looked at her.

Though she lingered on her feet for a moment, she conceded to the man’s request and silently walked back to her spot to sit on her zabuton. His hand slipped from her wrist when she moved to join him, a somber smile angling his lips as their eyes met yet again.

“When I was a young man learning the ways of the samurai, I had a friend. His name was Akihiro. Akihiro and I trained beneath the same master, and thanks to that and all the years we spent training under his tutelage, we grew up together. With time, we became not only the best of friends, but the closest of brothers also. When we grew into young adults and our master passed away, we decided to move on from our home village and travel the lands together. It had been a dream of ours from our youth, and by then, it felt like the right choice to make. Akihiro and I…” He chuckled to himself – a warm and heartfelt, grumbly sound. “We built and made many good, fond memories and stories together drifting from town to town and by the flames of the campfires we kindled in between. For many years, it felt as though he and I would see this lifetime through to the end together as brothers in time. However, fate didn’t destine it to be so.”

He took a pause, drinking down the last of the tea in his cup as well before placing it beside the half-empty ceramic teapot. _______ could feel the grief from his person, could hear it interlaced in each and every single one of his words, but not once did his smile fall.

Despite how saddened his smile was, she felt it to be genuine. There was nothing forced nor fake about it. The way his eyes glistened and gleamed gave away to her that, in his mind, he must be replaying his beautiful memories like a performance on stage for the very first time all over again.

“One day, we came upon Tatsukawa. We only planned to pass by; our intention was to spend a week resting and enjoying the quaint life of a small village like this one. Yet, something about its charm drew us in. We didn’t want to leave, and as luck would have it, it also didn’t take long for us to know that Tatsukawa had been in dire need of a couple of guardians of sorts for its people. You see, back then, demons weren’t the ones tormenting the people of Tatsukawa. Rather, they struggled against their own humankind. The village was constantly targeted by wandering bandit rōnin who would cause damage to people’s property and steal whatever they could get their hands on, because there was nobody around strong enough to put a stop to them at the time.

Naturally, a pair of skilled swordsmen like the two of us fit their needs quite well and held up a difficult challenge to the bandit rōnin, so we chose to remain in the village for a while longer as new samurai of Tatsukawa. What began as a week of relaxation turned into many years of life spent in joy within this village’s borders. We grew older with the passing of seasons, I met Junko and got married, and while Akihiro never wed himself, he loved all of the villagers and the villagers all loved him. We were happy, and our brotherhood only continued to grow as the years leisurely carried on.

Several years went by after we settled down here, and one evening, the village was attacked by a notorious group of rōnin Akihiro and I had crossed blades with in the past in Tatsukawa’s defense. They bore a grudge against us from the very first day we defeated them in battle and dishonored them and their blades, and so, they plotted against us to avenge themselves. Akihiro and I fought the men until dawn, and by the time it was all over, I was the last man standing in that battlefield.”

He took a short pause, breathing in and out steadily through his nostrils, though his somber smile remained upon his lips.

His story began to sound eerily similar to her own, and as the words matched with hers more and more, she began to shake her head with trembling lips. She could feel her rapid, anxious heartbeat kickstart once again with vengeance, her breathing picking up, and all she could do to try to control herself was squeeze Keisuke and Botan’s kamon pendants within her fist on the table for comfort, but their cold surfaces only proved to remind her just how similar their story was to Akihiro’s.

“Akihiro gave his all that night to defend what he loved most,” Namba continued despite the evident emotional discomfort on _______’s expression. “And he died protecting what he loved most as well. It was a truly honorable death for a man like him, and I understand that very well now with age, but back then, understanding any of it was impossible for me. That night, I lost my brother for what felt like no particular reason. I became both inconsolable and unapproachable. Within me, bitterness and hatred began to grow and fester both towards myself and the long-dead rōnin we’d slain that day. A part of who I was got torn away from me, and it felt as if an emptiness of the likes I had never known before began to consume me.”

“P-please, stop…” She painstakingly stuttered, a tear or two slipping passed her defenses and down along the sides of her cheeks. Stubbornly still, she wiped them away with her trembling free hand, never once removing her gaze from Namba’s.

“Why are you telling me all of this, Namba-san…? W-what’s the point of making me listen to this story?”

Namba’s gaze softened with care and sympathy, his somber smile growing the smallest bit, tugging at the edges of his bushy beard. Delicately, he reached across the chabudai and placed one of his large hands upon her fist which gripped onto Keisuke and Botan’s pendants.

She shuddered out a breath as the warmth of his hand enveloped her own, the way he comfortingly stroked the top of her palm with such care reminding her evermore of Rengoku. The stubborn, fearful part of her that kept her trapped beneath the waves fought hard to force her to pull her hand away from the gentle giant, but the much smaller, weaker side of her that desperately craved this comfort won the battle today.

No matter how scary and painful this conversation had become, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away now.

“I tell you this story to let you know that I, too, know what it is like to lose your brother-in-arms and what it is like to walk through life with that lingering hefty weight of grief on your shoulders. I know what it feels like to sit through the darkest days and to feel as though you’re the only one who can bear your burdens. I tell you this story to show you that, though the grief of losing Akihiro had killed me in the land of the living for a very long time, I eventually found my happiness again with the help of the people who surrounded me. Even when I buried myself down to the deepest depths I could reach, people like Junko fought to meet me there, and eventually, she and the others pulled me out of that hole right by their sides.”

He gave her hand a tight, reassuring squeeze, widening his smile a little more again as he watched a couple more tears drip from the young woman’s eyes.

“I tell you my story to show you that, although the pain feels blinding and never-ending right now, you will find your happiness and joyful days within your tale again as well.”

With that, he released her hand and sat straight upon his zabuton once more, his hands coming to rest upon his laps.

“I won’t push you further than that. I know the pain you feel right now is suffocating and confusing, but I want you to know that I am here for you. I understand what you’re going through, and should you ever wish to have another talk, I will always be here. Our titles completely set aside, I view you as one of our own, so I will always welcome and treat you as such – Junko and I both. You know how much she has come to care for you; she would do anything to help lighten the load on your shoulders too, but only when you’re ready to let us in.”

Silently, _______ wept in her seat, her head lowering between her shoulders away from Namba’s gaze. She bit her quivering lower lip as best as she could, but it did little to help the tremors. From there, she watched with wide eyes as several of her tears dripped and fell upon the top of her palms, soaking her skin in lonesome resentment. Inside of her heart and mind, there were violent storms brewing in the middle of her distant seas, painful and tormenting, but…there was something about the pain which came with Namba’s story that felt almost…safe. To know that the two of them shared such similar, tragic stories helped to make her feel a little less alone in the boundless ocean she was adrift in.

Still, she wasn’t quite ready to try to swim towards him.

It was a territory she was far too afraid to explore right now.

Knowing he was there waiting for her, however, was definitely a comforting thought to have nonetheless.

Sniffling shakily, she wiped her face dry as best as she could with her free hand before standing to her feet once again. Lifting her teary gaze to meet with his, she met Namba’s patient eyes and deeply bowed for him in respect.

“Thank you…for everything, Namba-san…”

His eyes turned to gentle crescents, and he met her formal display with a strong, loving hand placed upon her head, ruffling her locks of (hair color) much the same way Rengoku used to.

“It’s nothing, young one. It’s nothing at all.”

~¤ ¤ ¤~

After _______ left the village head’s home, she wandered on her own to the edge of the cedar woods.

The massive cedars excitedly swished and swayed upon her arrival, almost giving the impression that they had missed her presence ever since she was last within their home. She, however, hesitated to enter their domain. She thought about it and stood in front of the forest’s edge for a long time just staring into the vast wilderness within, but she ultimately chose to remain where she was and took a seat on the very dirt path she was on.

Her mind was stormy, filled with a million different thoughts she had no idea how to sift through as she stared at Keisuke and Botan’s plum blossom pendants in her hands.

Namba’s words stuck to her and kept repeating in her mind from the moment she stepped through his door. In place of the vacant, guilty emptiness she felt upon waking up this morning, she now felt a strange stirring mix of both immense grief and another strong, intense emotion she couldn’t quite put her finger on just yet.

When she first got out of bed today, she didn’t know where life would be taking her next. In her mind, she should’ve died two nights ago – but she’s still here, and once again, she’s found her way back to the cedar woods despite everything which transpired within. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with this breath in her lungs nor the heart caged within her which continued to thump and beat, but when she gazed upon the Watanbe family crests, something within her told her Keisuke and Botan would be happy to see her still standing – Keisuke, Botan and Rengoku.   

Her frown deepened at the thought, watching as her thumb traced the petals of the plum blossom on one of the boys’ pendants over and over within her palm.

Leaving this world isn’t easy. Passing away leaves so many loose ends left undone behind, it throws everyone involved into their own lost spirals with no real way of finding proper closure. She thought giving herself up to the demons in the woods would be the easy way out, that it would be the right thing to do, but admittedly, she hadn’t taken the chance to properly think over what would happen after her death when she had planned everything out. She tried to think a couple of steps ahead, but it wasn’t nearly enough to tie up all the loose ends she still had left to fix.

If she had died that night, what would become of Keisuke and Botan’s stories? Of the stories the three of them shared with Rengoku? Nobody would be able to tell the tales of their trio the way she could, so their stories would be lost to time.

What would become of Keisuke and Botan’s mother and father? They were their only children, and she was also aware that they came to look upon her as a daughter as well thanks to all the time she spent with their sons.

Did she really have it within her to force them to swallow the death of another one of their children like that?

What about all of her other friends in the Corps? Or all the friends she’s made in Tatsukawa Village? Would everyone come to feel the same way she did right now if Akaza had actually killed her that night? What would become of Tatsukawa Village itself? Reinforcements were yet to arrive, and it’s become gravely obvious that the battle for the lives of Tatsukawa wasn’t over yet.

If she died that night, would their blood stain her hands crimson as she was buried underneath the dirt?

What honor was there to be had in a death as selfish as that?

“None.” She murmured to herself, never once removing her gaze from the pendants in her hands. “That would’ve been a coward’s death…Could I…really allow things to end that way…?”

Before she could answer her own question, a familiar crowing caught her attention from above, the sound forcefully pulling her gaze away from the necklaces in her hands. Staring up towards the sky, through overarching branches of cedar, she could see her Kasugai Crow circling in on her, the flapping of its wings loud and rambunctious.

“Caw! _______! _______!”

Terumi crowed as she came to land by her side on the dirt path. There, she began to hop from side to side in front of her, turning her head over and over to always keep one of her never-blinking eyes on her at all times.  

“Your reinforcements request was received by headquarters, but there are currently no squads nor Hashiras available to take this mission! Caw! Caw! You are asked to remain in your post and protect the village as long as you can! Reinforcements will be sent the moment a squad or Hashira becomes available with Kakushi accompanying to bring you back to the Butterfly Mansion for rest and recovery! Caw!”

Her lips parted in surprise at the message relayed to her, but she promptly closed her mouth with a soft sigh.

She supposed it made sense. After Rengoku died and Tengen retired atop of all the lower ranked Slayers they had lost in recent events, there was a huge hole and deficit in the Corps. They were in desperate need of more people to aid in their fight, but they were yet to find proper solutions or form new teams experienced enough to take on high-ranked missions like that of Tatsukawa’s so quickly.

She glanced back down at Keisuke and Botan’s pendants, furrowing her brow as she considered her feelings towards this development.

Could she really bring herself to leave Tatsukawa Village in the hands of another squad or Hashira after everything she experienced here? Could she live on knowing she gave up like that? What of Keisuke and Botan’s pendants and the way they were so blatantly displayed in a pile of mockery and insult along with the belongings of so many other missing victims? Could she continue to breathe knowing she let go of the chance to track down the demon responsible so as to rid the Earth of its malicious existence?

Could she live on knowing she gave up on something Keisuke and Botan gave their lives fighting for?

All at once, a massive wave of determination crashed into her chest, mixing with the whitecaps and surfs of pain and regret she had become so used to.

She couldn’t.

She absolutely couldn’t.

She couldn’t live nor die giving up like that.

Her brothers-in-arms left Tatsukawa Village within her hands to protect and defend. They gave their lives to protect her own, dying with the belief that she would be victorious on behalf of their legendary trio. To live on or die without earning that victory and bringing Keisuke and Botan back home to their parents would be an insult to the legacy they fought so hard to leave behind.

“Terumi.”

She called her crow’s name, her determined gaze returning pointedly upon her companion who mirrored the look.

“Tell headquarters I have things under control in the village. I will continue to fight and protect Tatsukawa no matter what it takes, so there’s nothing to worry about. I will be their defender and continue to fight even when reinforcements are made available. Tell them I’m not going anywhere until Tatsukawa is free.”

Resolute with the new course she was charting in her new life, she chose to cement her decision by taking Keisuke and Botan’s necklaces and clasping them both around her neck. They weighed down encouragingly on her chest, giving her the limitless strength and support of the Watanabe brothers she loved so dearly.

Stirred by her choice, she stood to her feet the moment Terumi took to the skies with her message, watching as her crow flew further and further away until she was completely out of sight. Still, _______ stood there, watching the endless blue skies as her hand came to hold the plum blossom pendants close to her beating heart.

One way or another, all three of them would finish the mission they started.

Together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: I recently updated AO3 and my other cross-posting sites with chapter 5 for the story, so I thought I'd go ahead and post chapter 3 on here in the meantime! c: I hope you guys come to enjoy the rest of the story as it keeps progressing forward! <3 As always, warnings can be found in the first chapter of this series, and if you'd like a more in-depth review of tags/warnings for the fic as a whole, you can check out the story's page on AO3 as well! <3 Thanks for the support and as always, happy reading and God bless! <3

CHAPTER ONE , CHAPTER TWO

Cross-posts: AO3, FFN, Wattpad and Quotev (I am most active on AO3!)

Word count: 13,710

Chapter 3: Deep Within the Cedar Woods

When her eyes closed, she told herself she wouldn’t open them again until she absolutely had to.

The last thing she gazed upon was the image of the irori’s flames brightly and fondly bidding her farewell hazily through the opaque sliding door of Akaza’s cabin. That’s the image she wanted to rest with in her mind while she was held taut to this peculiar demon’s chest, wrapped up in his surprisingly comforting warmth. She assumed it wouldn’t matter whether she paid attention to where they were going or not. He didn’t make her stir nor bothered her to open her eyes, so she took advantage and simply allowed herself to sink into that familiar warmth his body was able to mimic so well.

With her eyes closed, she could tell herself she was somewhere else. She was was wrapped up in the arms of her friends, laughing and smiling to the stories they told on one of their scarce breaks between missions. The scary reality they lived in didn’t exist during times like those. Their world, their lives, their bubbles; all that existed was just good times and cheesy jokes. Smiles were everywhere, bright eyes gazing towards the cloudless sky, fantasizing about what they would all be doing once the world was a place everyone would be safe to live in without fear nor apprehension. What they themselves would be and where they would be in the future didn’t matter. What mattered was that they swore they’d stick together until the end and watch the world they lived in change for the better, hand-in-hand and in each other’s arms.

The light sway she felt as Akaza walked between trees and through the forest reminded her of what it felt like to be rocked back on her heels when one of them would rush to her, arms wide, before jumping at her in a huge hug. The force of the affectionate display would always make her stumble on her feet, nearly fall back on herself as well, but it never failed to get her to beam a smile from ear-to-ear even in the darkest of times – and boy, was a hug like that needed in the aftermath of the scariest of battles. It always helped to remind her that they were still alive. That there was still hope. For that moment in time, the scariest part was over and they could simply admire the oncoming sunrise together as the resilient trio they used to be.

What she wouldn’t give for a hug like that right now.

While Akaza’s warmth came close to their own, the purposefully measured strength in his thoughtful grasp didn’t compare. Sometimes, the way her friends would hug her left her breathless. They would squeeze the air right out of her, but even if it hurt a little sometimes, the loving pressure was something she always craved from them. They’d laugh at her whenever she’d dramatically gasp for breath and whine about their ridiculous strength, but the glint in their eyes would never fail to bring a smile of her own back to her lips.

The light blowing of the breeze brought different scents to her, reminding her of many places the three had been to together on their travels during their work as Demon Slayers. It brought swirling memories to her mind of what the two of them smelled like whenever she nuzzled her head into the crook of their necks, scents she couldn’t properly describe in words, personal to them as people.

The best she could do was describe them as the scents of Botan and Keisuke.

How long will it be before I forget what they smell like? What it felt like to hug and be hugged by them? How long before I forget the sound of their voices? Their laughter? Will the image of them fade away too? Will I forget what their smiles looked like? How bright their eyes would become whenever we were just having fun together? How long will it be before they’re just distant memories and blurry faces tied to stories I’m the only one left to tell?

Her brow furrowed deeply at the thoughts which quickly began to hit her, interrupting her blissful state of pretend. She curled up further in Akaza’s arms, ducking her head closer to his chest to shield her face away from the blowing winds which threatened to take her precious memories away with it.

I don’t want to forget…I can’t let myself forget. Not Botan, not Keisuke…and not Rengoku either…

Yet, how was she supposed to keep going? How was she supposed to muster the strength to survive when it had become unbearable to watch the sunrise alone?

All those happy times, loving embraces and glistening eyes were gone now. She’s the only one left to remember, and that in and of itself is a fate worse than death.

She knew it was the coward’s way out, but…she would’ve given anything to have died hours ago. She was scared when she approached the Upper Three demon – who wouldn’t have been? Not knowing fear when staring into the face of death itself isn’t human. Regardless, the anxiety didn’t matter. She just…wanted things to go black. She had hoped a demon as strong as him – as strong as the man who took Rengoku’s life – would be enough to make her pass like the flickering light of a dying candle. It was her easy way out, her cheat card, but it seems there were different plans prepared for her that she simply wasn’t ready for quite yet.

The threat of tears began to nag at her insistently, but she refused to cave in. She didn’t want to cry in the arms of a demon tonight – especially not this one. She knew it mattered not at this point, but despite her own weaknesses and how much of a traitor she felt she was right now for comingling with the man who killed such a wondrous person, she didn’t want to worsen the situation by letting her most intimate vulnerabilities out to him as well.

Akaza, however, had already noticed something was wrong with her almost as soon as he walked the two of them out of his lonely cabin. He noticed it when she fell into his grip, the feel of her head resting on his bicep calling for his curious attention.

He caught her with her eyes already closed, losing herself into a world of her own. He thought of trying to strike conversation with her on the way to the lake he was taking her to, but in the end, he decided not to disturb her. It didn’t take extensive guesswork to see there was a storm brewing in that human mind of hers, considering everything that had happened up to that point. Perhaps time alone with her thoughts is what she needed for a little while, even if only for a few minutes. So, he opted for silence, and simply observed her on his trek through the massive cedars.

Gradually, the deeper into the forest he walked them, he watched as her expression faltered and grimaced until she eventually nuzzled her face further against his arm to hide. It seemed that whatever she was thinking about, it was causing her a great deal of pain. He felt perplexed by it, that strangely familiar feeling he felt when he was making that medicinal tea for her tugging at his chest once more. It poked and itched at long forgotten parts of his memories in a way he wasn’t quite sure how to describe. He didn’t know whether to be frustrated by the fleeting, hazy feeling or to simply let himself be within it to see where it might lead him.

Although, if he was quite honest with himself, he subconsciously knew he already chose to absently follow the whispering, lost memories.

Something about it felt right despite knowing how absurd all of this technically was.

Guided by the tug at his chest which urged gentleness from his person, he carefully squeezed her in closer. He adjusted his grasp on her enough to bring her head near to his chest for her to better hide herself away. With her eyes closed, he took the chance to make it seem as though the motion was due to a curt step he had to take by a fallen cedar tree. Peering into her face, he could tell she was none the wiser of his intentions.

A small smile took his lips at the sight, and shortly afterwards, a steady breath pushed through his nostrils.

He wished he knew where this side of him was coming from.

These instincts and feelings were his own, but they felt like they belonged to someone else at the same time.

He knew he’d likely never know who he used to be, but the allure of these questionable inclinations continued to hum for him, and he found himself unable to deny their call.

It felt…good, in a way, to take care of someone.

He almost laughed at the thought.

Him? Taking care of someone? A human woman?

It never would’ve crossed his mind, given his solitary lifestyle and peculiar disposition.

Yet, here they are.

Stuck between the cedars together.

~¤ ¤ ¤~

The entire trail he led them upon was walked in silence.

He didn’t want to disturb the woman curled into his chest. From what he could tell, it looked like she settled down comfortably against him after a while, and that illusion of comfort was something he wanted her to maintain. Thus, he simply wandered on paths he knew by heart while keeping his thoughts to himself. He did everything he could to stop from disturbing the bubble she had created around herself.

He was aware she had crafted a fantasy behind her closed lids she preferred in exchange for her current reality. Though he tended to be blunt and brutish in nature, he didn’t want to be the pin which ruptured the world she was creating for herself, so he did everything he could to keep her bubble safe. When walking by the tall cedars, he’d lean her figure away from their reaching branches, keeping her luscious locks and lulled head from their gripping leafy fingers. When hiking over inclines and declines of the low grassy hills, he’d hug her tighter to keep her from feeling the impact of his firm steps too brusquely. Whatever he could do, he would do. His reasonings were far from reach, but the instinct was so natural within him, he decided to follow its current and search for answers at a later point in time.

Though the dense woods were full of many lesser demons of different shapes and sizes, the areas in which the Upper Moon roamed were devoid of all demon presences aside from his own. It was as though the sun had breached through the dense cedar canopies bordering his paths and the tall trees gave way for its brilliant light, ridding the land of the hellish beings of the woods. In turn, the faithful cedar canopies rolled out a darkened carpet of shadows for himself to walk the human woman upon, safe from the light of day. He was a proud man, proud of his prowess and might, and knowing his mere presence caused the others to cower away from him as if he were the sun itself always allowed him to step through the cedars not only with confidence, but with pride for his status upon his darkened carpet.

Eventually, that long carpet gave way to the lake’s clearing, the overarching cedars spreading around the perimeter almost obediently to his very existence.

The lake itself wasn’t enormous in size, but it certainly wasn’t small either. It formed a rare large nook within the dense forest which gave way to the light of the moon outside of the grasp of the suffocating canopies surrounding it. All around its edges, those tall cedars overlooked the body of water, forming what felt like an impenetrable wall to guard the luminous lake and its inhabitants within. If a passerby were innocently unaware of the reality hidden beneath the deceitful canopies, they would fall into a false sense of security in a sublime place like this. They would feel protected from the perils of the outside world, all the while completely unaware of what truly lay waiting between bark and leaves. With Akaza there, however, the security was anything but false. They may as well be the only two living beings in that forest as long as he was there with her. The moon was a welcomed alliance of light while he was by her side, but had it been just her, its inviting light would quickly turn into her biggest foe.

He stared down at her intently as he came to stand by the water’s edge, the thought poking at that curiosity in his mind once more for what felt like the umpteenth time this evening.

Multiple times tonight, he had asked himself what would’ve happened to her had their paths not crossed.

If she had run into anyone else other than him tonight, she would’ve died long before she would’ve reached the lake. She never would’ve gotten to see the way the moon’s reflection shimmered on the surface of the lake’s still waters. She never would’ve gotten to feel the gentle laps of those waters on her skin nor the smell of its pristine existence. In fact, if she even did manage to make it to the lake, she would’ve just been cause for its clear waters to be stained crimson and for its once untouched surface to be riddled in chaotic ripples and waves before the world plunged into natural silence once more.

His temper bubbled as the thought came to him.

He had always been the type who dons a short fuse. Easy to anger, Akaza seldom kept his rage to himself when someone provoked him – something others (such as the second Upper Moon) were all too familiar with.

Still, it had been a long time since he last felt rage on behalf of someone else.

It wasn’t as though he knew this woman in his arms nor as if anything connected the two of them. Her existence would’ve continued unknown to him and unimportant had they not met on this mundane evening, but for some reason or another, fate had intertwined their paths and tangled loose ends together. A jumbled knot formed between the two of them with those loose, wandering threads, and now, he felt rage on her behalf.

The intense emotion made him want to grip at his hair and shake his head as vigorously as he could. He was frustrated with himself and the confusion she forced into his stable lifestyle in the matter of a couple of hours, but despite it all, he still refused to react so callously. Rather, he harbored it within himself as he had done all evening, refusing to stir her with such gravity and lack of respect. Still, that rage he felt towards all of those what ifs she could’ve run into had it not been for the way they met left him with a tight, uncomfortable feeling both in the pit of his stomach and deep within his chest – a pressure of anger he didn’t even need to remember to know he dealt with ever since he was human all those centuries ago.

Calmly, he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath through his nose before allowing his head to fall back on his shoulders. His posture slowly relaxed as he stood there listening to the sounds of nature. Cicadas buzzed and cricked in the distance, a familiar chorus people either enjoyed or absolutely detested. Thankfully for him, he found their chorus to be soothing in its own right. Along with the cicadas, cedar leaves would flutter and crinkle with the occasional wind or the movement of the small woodland animals living upon their branches. When the wind would gently blow and coo, the reeds by the lake would gracefully sway and bend like a wave on the edge of the water, joining the natural ambiance.

A few moments of losing himself in the nature around him helped him to regain his composure, willing the sudden, puzzling anger to fade.

His golden eyes finally opened, his lashes of sunset pink lightly grazing over his inked brow. His numbered gaze set upward towards the moon, and there he remained a few moments longer to stare at its unobstructed appearance.

The moon was full and almost appeared engorged in the sky. It stood out prominently with its ethereal, soft white glow, but it never outshone any of the stars which gathered around it. The evening was cloudless, and thus their stage was clear for all of them to shine together.

It felt like it had been decades since he last took a chance to just stare up at the sky and watch what was happening beyond the clouds. It was such a mundane activity, something he knew humans tended to love doing, but the longer he stared at the cloudless evening sky, the more out of place he felt. Finding the feeling both unnecessary and uncomfortable, he promptly turned his gaze back to the human in his arms. A part of him expected her to be looking back at him when he did, but no, she was still huddled close to his chest and hugging the basin he gave her tight to herself.

A small frown angled his lips at the sight of her. He had hoped she would’ve popped her own bubble after he stopped moving for a while, but it appeared that she was determined to stay in her own space for as long as she could. He tutted, glancing towards the water’s edge as his tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth.

He supposed he would have to be the pin to pop her bubble after all.

Forward the demon began to walk once more, his footsteps relaxed and light. He trekked along the dirt trail naturally formed by the weeds beside the water, kicking stones as he went, until he eventually came upon the lake’s bank where he had cleaned himself up earlier during his first solitary trip over. Rather than stepping straight into the water this time, he carefully kneeled himself on the dirt, crossing his legs beneath himself to sit down only when he was certain he wouldn’t jerk nor haphazardly sway the woman in his arms with his movements. Though he found himself comfortable seated on the lake’s bank, he kept the woman in his arms elevated in the air, hesitant on how he should proceed. By instinct, he almost brought her to lay upon his lap, but he stopped himself midway before he did, uncertain whether that was truly the best way to go about this.

He looked to her unchanged, troubled expression in hopes of finding the answer there, but she left him feeling as profusely confused as he did so himself. Huffing lightly to himself in slight frustration, he decided while staring at her in her bubble to simply do what felt right. One way or another, now that he chose to walk this path with her, he had to wake her from whatever dream or fantasy she was having. Thus, he finally settled her down on his lap, making sure she was securely resting against him.

His brow furrowed deeply as he placed her weight upon himself. The actual weight she had didn’t make much of a difference to him with his unnatural strength, but there was definitely something strange about the way it felt to have her laying atop of him as opposed to him carrying her around. The weighted warmth her feminine figure brought him in that moment was practically something alien to him. Rather than it being a deliberate action on his part of holding her to himself to move her around with him, her warmth flooded his senses all from her own accord as she slumped comfortably into his muscular frame.

For centuries, he had lived a mostly solitary lifestyle. Companionship was never something he held in high esteem nor did it ever hold much importance to him as a demon, and yet, thanks to her, his mind stirred with distant, faint nostalgia once more.

How many centuries has it been since he last felt the touch of another on his person? The warmth of another soothing his roughened skin? Did he have loved ones when he was human that he was able to hug and hold? Did they feel just as warm as she did? Did their weight on him make him feel as strangely as hers did? Did they fit as perfectly in his arms and upon his lap as she did? Did he know a woman like her back then? Did he have a woman to call his own when he led a normal human life? Did he stir or was he ever taken aback the way he was right now? Did he like it? Was companionship like that something he sought out like the necessity it is to most humans?

He can’t even remember when the last time was that he had spent a few moments with someone he enjoyed the company of, so that sudden flood of questions was something that caught him completely off guard.

The onslaught of it all which began to flood his mind felt overwhelming to him. It was as if he had lost his identity, as if he had gotten some extreme case of amnesia and was only left with very shattered, very small bits and pieces of the person he used to be. He supposed, in a way, that’s exactly what was going on with him, but he had never cared about that sort of thing before. Sure, on rare occasions he would feel the whisp of a long-lost memory in the back of his mind, but that seldom ever occurred, and when it did, he’d dismiss it entirely after considering it only for a moment’s breath. Tonight, however, the vague memories of someone he no longer knew felt more constant, and all he could amount them up to was the fact that she continued triggering them without even trying.

Always mindful of his strength with her, he gently slipped his hand out from beneath her knees and brought it up to rub at his face, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Everything about mingling with the human woman felt confusing, but so familiar and oddly comforting. He swore her very essence tried to beckon memories of his human life forward with honeyed words and soft humming, but none of it was strong enough to muster an image in his mind’s eye. She confused and shook his stability to his very core, and he didn’t even know her name nor where she came from.

Breathing in deep, he let out a soft sigh and pulled his hand away from his face, deciding the mystery of his past was one he’d rather leave where it was for the time being. For now, he simply shifted his gaze back down towards the woman’s undisturbed figure to continue following the mystery of her instead.

“We’re here.” He finally spoke, his voice rough and low.

Deep within her fantasies, she could hear his voice calling for her. Despite how hard she tried to envision herself in a different place and a different time in the arms of the past, there was nothing in this world that could definitively rip her away from her true reality the way she so wanted.

_______ didn’t want to open her eyes. With her eyes closed, she could continue to dream and lie to herself. She could continue to be with the people she loved, could continue to feel their embraces and hear their sweet voices. If she opened her eyes, all of that would go away. The whole point of her coming here tonight was for all of this to be over, for her to fall and slip away from this world she felt she didn’t belong in anymore. Why is she still here? Why is she still breathing? Why can’t she just slip into her dreams and never wake up again?

She didn’t want to.

She didn’t want to open her eyes to the same old world she tried to leave behind.

So, she didn’t.

Rather than respond to the demon’s remark, she curled tighter into herself and hugged the wooden basin in her arms closer to her chest. As long as she didn’t open her eyes, she didn’t have to face any of it. She didn’t have to face the world again, didn’t have to face the truths, didn’t have to face the pain.

“Mm. You’re gonna pretend like ya don’t hear me, huh?”

His voice was so strong. So deep, reverberating and strong. She could hear him, loud and clear, like running water in a river. The rapids of his voice threatened to submerge and drown the fantasies she tried so hard to stay within, so she clung to the daydreams with all her might despite knowing the battle was already lost.

“Come on,” He urged lowly, tenderly reaching down to stroke locks of hair away from her face so he could see her better. “I know you’re tired and rest would be the best for you right now, but we can take care of that when we get back to the cabin. The faster we wash you up, the faster you can close your eyes again.”

Her brows knitted together tightly and a deep frown took her lips in response to his rough fingers brushing through her hair and along the surface of her skin. It didn’t matter how hard she tried to fight against the current, she knew this. His voice, the feel of his touch, the smell of the dried blood on her person; it all forced wave after wave on her, the violent waters grabbing onto her arms and clothes, dragging her away from the life she knew no longer existed.

The peace in her mind of being lovingly held in the arms of the people she longed for most was fading away. The images of their smiling faces blurred, the sound of their voices became static, and all she was left with was an empty, dark room she stood in all by herself with the echo of the demon’s voice ringing within. It felt like a room she was far too familiar with, vast but suffocatingly small all at the same time. His voice was incredibly loud within its boundless walls no matter how tender he feigned to be.

It felt like she couldn’t breathe when she was stuck in that room, and so at long last, she was forced to open her eyes to the real world again.

Slowly, she lifted her head and allowed for her eyes to scan over her surroundings. She took note of the secluded lake, the still waters it harbored, the way the tall cedars bowed their heads of bushy leaves to the clearing and the gracefully waving reeds by the water’s edge. She blinked her eyes hazily and squeezed the basin in her arms to herself, unwillingly recalling why it was he had brought her here to begin with.

When her sights returned to the two of them, she realized he had her draped over his lap, snuggled close to his frame. It was certainly an odd position she never thought she’d find herself in tonight, but the warmth he gave off was something she didn’t want to reject. She knew she should’ve jumped out of his grasp as soon as she came to, but nothing within her willed her to do as such. There was something about his warmth that helped numb the excruciating ache of how lonely and worthless she felt, and selfishly, she wanted to stay within it a while longer.

At the thought, she turned her gaze upwards and met his unnatural sight. His eyes peered strikingly into her own, large and spectacular in their deceiving colors, and almost as if he had read her mind, they turned to crescents in response to her hazed, inquisitive expression.

“I take it you managed to get some kind of sleep in ya during our trip.”

Sleep…Ah, yes…It was all just dreams at the end of the day.

“Yeah, I guess I did…” She muttered, her voice barely more than a weak croak. “Where did you bring us to…?”

“I brought you over to the lake I’m familiar with so we can get you washed up. I’m sure getting clean with some nice, cool water will help make you feel better.”

Groggy from her somber slumber, the demon’s words only resulted in furthering the stupor upon her. She swore she sometimes forgot she was speaking to one of Muzan’s Upper Moons whenever he talked to her. In place of rage, anger, hate, sadism and violence she expected to receive from him tonight, he instead received her with care, tenderness, gentility, concern and attention. She still didn’t know how she was supposed to feel about any of it nor how she was meant to react, but for all it was worth, she didn’t quite care anymore. To her, her life was nearing its end. She didn’t see very many tomorrows left for her in the great horizon despite the failure of her initial plan for the evening. Perhaps having this strangely comforting demon accompanying her on one of her last nights will help make letting go easier when the time did ultimately come.

“Right…” She eventually nodded. “Washing up would be nice…”

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up then.” He hummed, taking the basin from her hold with his free hand and setting it down beside the two of them for the time being.

He felt her fall into his chest again when he freed her arms of the basin, and it was cause for him to pause for just a time. He watched as she laid her head against his chest, her hair lightly tickling his bare skin with the way it splayed and rubbed against him. The stare she gave into the distant cedars was long and vacant, as if she were still lost in her own world despite him having pulled her out of it.

After a second or two, he took the towel from the basin and draped it over his shoulder before hooking his arm beneath her knees again. When she was secure in his grip, he stood to his feet and began to walk them forward. He only needed to move them towards the still water so he could sit her down right by the shore. When his bare feet stepped into the crystalline shallows, he kneeled down and allowed her legs to rest in the waters, their submersion causing ripples to distort the lake’s surface for as far as the eye could see.

_______ watched her legs dip beneath the waves. The crystal-clear waters aided by the shimmering light of the moon granted her the perfect view of them beneath the surface. When her eyes trailed up the length of them, she took notice for the first time that evening that he had removed her boots and socks. When he had done that, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t mind. The water itself was, indeed, cool and refreshing to the touch, not cold nor hot. The lake bed was host to many different aquatic plants, but the only ones which grazed her calves were like the blades of grass overlooking the hills of the woods. The sand she sat upon was soft and inviting, offering no sense of discomfort, and a harboring of the warmth the bank must’ve gathered during the light of day. 

“Are you comfortable here?” She heard him ask her from behind as he reached back for the basin.

“Yes…this is fine.”

She didn’t need the basin. Instead, she cupped her palms together and dipped her hands in the still waters, watching as it seeped in through the spaces between her fingers. Like this, she brought the water to her face and began to scrub the dried blood off of her cheeks with the pads of her fingers and the heels of her hands. When the blood began to streak down her skin, as if revived from the dead, she grimaced heavily. The repugnant scent of iron overtook her senses all over again as drops of crimson lake water dripped over her uniform.

She was desperate to get the blood off of her, to mute the scent of iron from herself once and for all. Quickly, she continued to fill her palms with water over and over again, scrubbing at the skin of her cheeks as hard as she could, until they felt raw and sensitive.

Akaza simply watched her as she took care of herself, having taken a seat by her left in front of the lake’s edge. Upon his lap was the wooden basin, the towel still sitting draped over his shoulder. Patiently, he waited for her to finish cleaning her face, his gaze soaking in the image of her desperation to rid herself of the crimson staining her pure flesh. He watched the reddened drops of lake water slide down the edges of her jaw, some even clinging to the skin of her lips and the tip of her nose. Several of the drops gathered along the edges of her brows, but she was always quick to wipe all of them away. It didn’t take long for her to clean herself of the blood, but she kept going a couple more times, and he waited patiently for her through it all.

Eventually, her hands simply rested on her laps, her eyes fixed on the rippling waters before her. His golden gaze followed her own, and gradually, they both watched their reflections appear on the lake’s surface once the waters calmed. From the surface, he watched an anguished scowl morph her expression as her reflection stared back at her, and like that, she turned her sights away from the water entirely.

He observed her for a little while longer on the lake’s surface in silence. Only the sounds of nature and their quiet breathing intermingled between the two of them. She had turned her face away from him, avoiding his eye. It drew his curiosity, but he also knew to respect the space she wanted around herself.   

After a while, he lifted his sight from the lake’s waters and faced the back of her head. His eyes scanned over her luscious locks in the silence until a small smile came to him.

“Why don’t you let me wash your hair for you?” He offered. “It’ll help you relax. Maybe it’ll take any headache you might have away too.”

_______ didn’t respond with words this time. It took her a moment to consider, but she did ultimately nod her head at him as her answer, deciding not to question it for now.

His gaze softened at that.

Subconsciously led by the nostalgia of his memories, he gripped the basin by its rim and turned to dip it into the lake, scooping it nearly to the brim with water. From there, he first moved himself to sit behind her away from the shore so he could face the back of her head and she could watch the lake’s waters in her own space more comfortably. Once he found himself content seated behind her, he firmly placed the basin into the sand beside himself, shifting it from side to side until its bottom was buried in the bank. Once he was sure it was secure, he faced the back of her again and watched as she lifted her head to make it easier for him to work with her hair.

He didn’t want to wet the back of her clothes, though. She was already so weakened from whatever hell she went through that drove her into his arms; he didn’t want to try their luck by making her spend the evening in soaked clothing. So, he took the towel draped on his shoulder and unfolded it on his lap. With his large, ink-dipped hand, he carefully scooped her luscious locks from the base of her neck and lifted. Then, he used his other hand to drape the towel over her shoulders before allowing her hair to fall back to where it naturally would.

When he was sure she was properly covered, he finally began to scoop water into his cupped palms from the basin and brought his hands to the very top of the back of her head. From there, he steadily allowed the water to cascade upon her locks. Back and forth, he repeated the process, allowing the water to rain and drip over different areas of her hair until it was completely soaked. Obviously, they had no shampoos, conditioners nor soaps with them for this trip, but that was fine. In place of washing her hair with flowery aromas, he instead leisurely and gently ran his fingers through it, soothingly combing through her mighty waves and currents as if it were second nature to him.

_______ couldn’t remember the last time somebody had washed her hair for her. She reckoned it was likely all the way back when she was a child and her mother still bathed her. Those days felt so far away now; she could hardly remember what it felt like. Yet, having this strange demon’s fingers running through her wet locks, softly detangling and gliding through in relaxing repetition, soothed her in place. The previous anxiety she felt over the blood on her face was being washed away from her. She felt herself sink into the sands beneath her and her gaze lifted towards the distant shores of the lake without much focus. Her mind was filled with vacant, hazy static and didn’t feel present in the moment at all, but oh, how well those fingers of his knew to glide.

Staring out at the water in the midst of it all, she finally seemed to genuinely notice the still reflection of the sky on the surface of the lake. When there were no ripples nor movement, the water mirrored the image of the moon and stars above perfectly to the last detail. She hadn’t paid much attention during her trek into the forest earlier, but there was a full moon tonight, large and bulbous, and the sky was chock-full of stars. A deep sadness befell her as she looked over the picturesque scene.

“Has the moon looked like that all night…?”

Her voice called for his attention, and he hummed in response to her, his gaze lifting towards the sky.

“Yeah, I guess it has. It’s full tonight.”

“It looks so…lonely.”

“Lonely?” He echoed. “What do you mean? It’s just a big ole rock in the sky; it can’t be lonely. Besides, it’s not the only thing up there – it’s surrounded by tons of stars, ya see?”

She shook her head, her eyes lidding solemnly at the moon’s reflection on the water.

“No, don’t you see? No matter how many stars gather around it, no matter how many comets or shooting stars or anything in between, it’s still all alone up there. While the stars all shine beautifully with their very own lights, all the moon can do is steal its light from the sun on the other side of the world. The moon is just as you say: a big ole rock in the sky – but that doesn’t make it any less alone up there, surrounded by so many others it can never compare itself to…”

Akaza contemplated her words with a soft hum, his eyes caught up in the sky for a few moments before a little chuckle left his lips.

“You humans sure like your poetics and romanticism.” He murmured. “I guess I don’t really see it that way.”

“Why? What makes you see it differently?”

“Well…” He paused, gathering his thoughts as he reflexively ran his fingers through her now detangled, silky hair over and over. “I’m not sure, now that you ask. I’ve been alive for so many years, it almost feels like the moon is just as much a constant as I am. The stars come and go, they flicker and fade out, but the moon is always there, going through its phases and changing on its own timing. I also wouldn’t say it just steals its light from the sun. After all, the sun would kill me, but the moon almost seems to cover for me and my kind. I think that makes them plenty different and unique in their own rights. Can you imagine how many eyes have looked up at it by now? Demon and human alike? Nobody can stare straight at the sun itself, but everyone can look up at the moon for as long as they want, whenever they want. If it could feel anything, I doubt it’s loneliness.” Shortly after he finished his thought, he laughed lightly to himself and smiled in amusement. “Well, damn, would ya listen to me go? Maybe I still got some of those poetics in me somewhere too.”

_______ silently mulled over the demon’s words as her vacant stare hazily scanned the surface of the moon’s reflection. Their viewpoints differed significantly, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of his interpretation. All she felt in that moment was the loneliness of the moon’s reflection, and no matter how hard she stared, she could never see beyond that.

“You killed my mentor, Akaza.”

His hand stopped mid stroke; fingers caught in waves of (hair color). Her sudden, blunt remark rang in his head, echoing over, but it took him a couple of seconds to really register what her words meant. When it finally sunk in, he lowered his gaze from the sky and faced the back of her head. Curtly, his smile fell and was replaced by a serous, unreadable look.

So, there it is.

She hadn’t moved. Her gaze remained on the moon’s reflection on the lake, though she wasn’t really focusing on anything in particular anymore. Lost in her mind, lost in the world of painful realities and the vivid memories she would never feel again, she spoke by instinct. She spoke because there was no more room left in her head for the words to bury themselves in silence and fake ‘I’m okay’s.

“I see…” He muttered softly. “Who was your mentor?”

“Rengoku.” She didn’t skip a beat. “Rengoku Kyojuro. You killed him the night the Mugen Train was attacked by another demon.”

“Kyojuro.” He echoed the name, instantly remembering the man she referred to. Akaza never forgot a worthy opponent, and Kyojuro had definitely been one of them. Little did he know, however, that he would hear the name again after the night of his defeat.

“You killed him.” She repeated. “You killed him and took him away from me, away from all of us. He gave everything in him to protect the passengers of the train until dawn, and like it didn’t mean anything at all, you took his life for it.”

He remained silent for a while, staring at the back of her head in thought of how he should formulate a response. If she had been a man, he wouldn’t have cared for this conversation nor his reality of it. He’d say bluntly and proudly that he did, indeed, strike the Hashira down by his own hand. He’d declare the Hashira’s last moments a foolish waste of potential and power due to his blatantly stupid denial of the offer to be turned into a demon. He would’ve gone beyond his human limitations and become stronger than he could’ve ever imagined, but his humanity was a drawback and a fault up to his very end. If she were a man, he’d have no mercy with his words and say it as he saw it to be – but obviously, she wasn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to speak to her the same way he would’ve a man.

“Kyojuro was a very talented fighter,” He began, his tone leveled and respectful to match his measured words. “He was a worthy opponent, and a man with an insurmountable spirit and fierce determination. The passion he had within him to defend those weaker than himself was admirable, as was his unmovable will and beliefs. From one fighter to another, he died an honorable death.”  

He didn’t say more beyond that. He didn’t apologize for the act, because not only would it be an empty gesture, but it would be a backhanded one at that. Apologies, no matter how sincere or insincere, mean nothing when someone is dead and gone. Death meant very little to him, but to humans, he knew it was an agonizing goodbye no one was ever ready for. He knew there was nothing he could say to make it any better, and he didn’t intend to try to soothe the pain nor to comfort it away with false words and empty apologies he didn’t mean. His hands were forever stained crimson with the man’s blood, and that wasn’t something anyone could change anymore.

_______’s eyes began to water with each word uttered from the demon’s lips. More and more, her expression scrunched up in pain as fat, wet tears quickly began to trail down the same old paths on her cheeks. Before she knew it, she began to tremble on the spot, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop the shakes which selfishly quaked her frail form. The trembles forced her shoulders to stiffen up in a false attempt at control, but she knew she had lost all sense of the word long ago. Downcast, her head lowered in shame and distraught while her hands curled into painfully tight fists upon her laps in the shallow, cool water.

His words, so thoughtfully interlaced with considerate respect, strummed at olden, rusted strings deep within her caged frame, forcing them to life. It hurt. It hurt in ways she didn’t know they could when they sang and vibrated within her very being. She wanted it to stop as soon as it started, but there was nothing that could stop it now.  

She felt so disgusted with herself.

She felt like a complete hypocrite.

She should hate him. She should absolutely deplore him. She should want to behead him with every single ounce of her being. She should want to wipe the earth clean of his existence. She should want all of these things – but she didn’t.

She didn’t hate him.

She couldn’t bring herself to.

Rengoku gave his life for what he believed in. He gave everything up to defend and protect those weaker than himself. His entire life, he dedicated his everything to help everyone he could, and for some reason, she was part of that group in his eyes as well.

She knew he had no regrets when he died.

He gave his life for what he lived it for, and he passed away in peace knowing he was victorious in his selfless goals up to the very end.

Hating Akaza would take away from Rengoku’s legacy. It would be as if there were pity in his death. It would diminish the work he gave his life for, the lives he fought so hard to save, the young Slayers he inspired and watched grow before his very eyes, destined to become the future.  

She should absolutely abhor Akaza, but she didn’t.

She couldn’t even if she tried.

All she felt was a massive, cold emptiness within her that Rengoku’s magnificently bright, fierce and warm presence left behind.

All she felt was a consuming, drowning grief she didn’t know how to cope with nor escape from. It followed her every day of her life, leeching off of her, attached to her shoulders by flesh and bone. It was a part of her and she a part of it.

“H-how am I supposed to move on…?” She wept out to the demon behind her. “He was s-such an amazing person…You know, he used to have s-so much faith in me and who he thought I would become…Hah,” She laughed bitterly. Wetly. “I wonder i-if he’s still looking at me with those same proud eyes from Heaven…D-does he still have that same faith in me? I-isn’t he ashamed of how far I’ve fallen? I’ll n-never be able to amount to what he saw in me, s-so does that leave him feeling disappointed? A-am I saddening him with my inadequacies while he’s supposed to finally be at peace after h-how hard he fought his entire short life?”

Her hands shot up and hid her face behind her palms as those rusted strings strummed with forlorn passion. She gripped to her forehead and cheeks by the pads of her fingers and out she sobbed without restraint into her open hands. Her mouth fell agape as smothering cries left her broken, trembling figure. The heels of her bare feet dug into the sand of the lake’s bed, kicking and pushing before bending her legs closer to her body in an attempt at a false sense of security, but no such feeling ever came to her. The pain within her only grew and grew with each second which tick, tick, ticked. It became unbearable, forcing her to twist and turn in an attempt of spreading that hurt to other areas outside of her shuddering chest, but it remained dormant, locked behind her ribs.

“He was m-my teacher and a very good friend, and just like that, he’s gone…! Kyojuro is dead, but I’m still alive! What am I supposed to do with this breath in my lungs?! H-how am I supposed to keep going!? How?!” Her cries grew louder, carried by the wind through the cedars who bowed and swayed in somber grievances along with her.

“Why am I still alive?! Why do I get to keep living wh-when people like Kyojuro die from one day to the next?! W-why am I allowed to keep living while I watch person after person fall and die around me?! People who deserved so much more to have a million tomorrows instead of someone as useless as me! What am I supposed to do?! Where do I go from here a-and how am I supposed to keep living a life I never deserved?! Akaza!”

She pried her hands away from her face and abruptly turned to face the demon behind her. Her puffy, tear-filled eyes met with his sunset hues, and in them, she didn’t know what she saw. Whether it was pity or sympathy was beyond her, but there was definitely something there that she didn’t expect to find in the eyes of her mentor’s killer. There was a kindness within his unnaturally numbered gaze that confused her beyond all understanding. She knew everything about him was wrong and terrible and awful, she knew she should curse him to the furthest abyss she could think of along with the rest of his kind, but everything in his eyes called for her to come in for comfort. For reassurance. For warmth and care.

She hated herself beyond all definitions of the word for the sense of safety that took her when she looked into those peculiar and confusing sunset hues.

“How do I cope?! What am I supposed to do with this breath in my lungs?! P-please, tell me something! G-give me some guidance, tell me how to s-start, tell me what to do, j-just tell me…!” She choked on a heart-wrenching cry of immense pain, one of her hands gripping tightly at her chest in a desperate attempt to find stable ground. “T-tell me how to make it stop…! Tell me how to make it stop hurting so damn much! I-I can’t take it…!”

At that last, pain-stricken plead, Akaza reached forward and pulled the human woman tightly into his embrace. Strongly, his arms wrapped around her unsteady, quivering frame, one of his hands cupping the back of her head to guide her to the hiding place against the crook of his neck. His ink-dipped fingers dug into her soaked locks, firmly keeping her in place to prevent her from stubbornly struggling against him. In place of the struggle he anticipated, however, he instantly felt her sink in and latch onto him when he gave her the opportunity to. Her arms hugged around his torso as tight as her feeble state allowed once she collapsed against him. Her hands desperately clawed and grabbed at his back until she managed to gain an iron-grip on the loose cloth of his haori, and when they did, she clung to the foreign fabric for dear life. Against the crook of his neck, she wept inconsolable wails and sobs of a pain he once thought he didn’t know, but something about the way she cried to him and the way she clung to him with such hopeless devastation stirred bygone emotions deep within him he never knew existed.

All he could attach them to was a familiar sense of grief, lost to space and time.

So, he said nothing. Nothing he could say would make the pain go away. Nothing he could say would change things.

He didn’t have the answers she was looking for, but at least he could hold her for the night. He could hold her through the weeping, could gather up her feminine figure back upon his lap and rock her while he offered her a secret place to let those buried, bitter tears go beneath the glow of the moon and the watch of the stars. At least for tonight, he could be an odd place of refuge for her to cry, a place to let out everything she’s bottled.

Distantly, his sights fell beyond the far end of the lake and passed the mourning cedars. His mind was both cacophonously loud and drowned in quiet.

He wasn’t built for moments like these.

He didn’t exist for people like her.

Yet, there they were.

Through the course of the night, his lost memories bombarded him with a barrage of questions, but as his protective embrace tightened around the human Slayer, he came to the understanding that there would be no answers for either of them tonight – and that’s okay.

He’s lived this long without knowing anything about his past; he could survive centuries more without it.

Her life, however, was a blink of the eye in comparison to his own.

Humans were so fragile and short-lived, like the tail of a comet luckily caught in the night sky.

He couldn’t imagine an entire lifetime spent dwelling on the past and those lost to time. It was illogical to him. Yet, seated there with her on his lap, he felt her wave of grief crash upon him like the rapids of a raging river, and he knew not how he should respond.

His hands were stained red, and seldom did he ever care, but something about this instance moved him.

He could say nothing.

All he could do was pay witness to her heartbreak and devastation alongside the cedars and reeds whom grieved with them. All he could offer her was his embrace and himself as her hiding place and safe haven. Though she sought him for an end to her life, he chose to offer her a space within the cedar woods to properly mourn in secret instead – and so she did.

Deep within the cedar woods, by the lake once untouched by human and demon kind, she mourned in his blood-stained arms.

It felt like they were in that position for hours. The moon gradually descended in the sky as he held her in the clearing, and with each inch it fell, he noticed her cries grew quieter. Eventually, when the moon was just above the canopies, silence enveloped the world once more.

His shoulder felt wet, soaked by her tears, but she no longer shook nor cried. He could feel her warm breath against his neck, and the grip of her hands on him remained strong, but at long last, she had relaxed. He peered softly upon her expression, careful not to disturb her, and noticed she seemed to have exhausted herself of the little energy she had left. There on his shoulder, she had fallen asleep, her face riddled with tears where there once was blood.

He held her protectively in his arms for a while longer within the clearing, watching over her, curiously examining her face of exhausted slumber. Once he was confident she wouldn’t stir for a long time, he gently began to stroke her hair with the hand he used to cup the back of her head. Tenderly – almost affectionately – he pet her as she slept, lost on the idea of how someone like her managed to find someone like him on a night like tonight.

He supposed it didn’t matter.

It simply was.

He sighed softly at the thought, and at last, stood to his feet. Cradling her close to his chest and keeping her head comfortably on his shoulder, he walked them into the dark embrace of the cedar woods once more.

~¤ ¤ ¤~

When _______ next opened her eyes, another unfamiliar ceiling stared down at her.

The grains in its wooden boards greeted her with their deep mahogany colors accented by the sweet light of day. Where the sunshine seeped through, she wasn’t quite sure yet, but it was definitely there. Not only could she see it blanketing the natural wooden boards above her in a beautiful golden glow, she also felt its warmth welcomingly embracing her person. It nearly felt like the sun itself was fondly cupping her cheek within its hand, rubbing at her sensitive skin with tender digits.

Slowly, groggily, she blinked her eyes and grimaced lightly. They ached quite a bit. Had they ached that much when she last fell asleep? She couldn’t remember. What happened before she fell asleep? The question encouraged her to look around, expecting to see the small cabin belonging to the demon in the woods, but rather, she was in a different room than the one she remembered.

This room was more spacious and more homely decorated than what she could remember of Akaza’s cabin. She was laying on a mattress propped on a wooden bedframe, its sheets a simple white color. The screen walls which encompassed the room were an aging eggshell white, outlined with supportive dark wooden beams and decorated with a couple of hand-painted illustrations of different scenes in nature. By the right of her bedside, there was a table, and on it, a porcelain vase filled with flowers. She didn’t recognize what kind of flowers they were, but their blooms were beautifully round and pale pink – a lovely accent. To the left of her bedside was a window, its panes closed to keep the breeze out, but its forest green curtains were spread wide open to allow sunlight to warm the room within. The warm lighting drastically differed from the dark she recalled of the demon’s lonely little home, self-imposed by the boards he nailed up to keep the sun from touching his skin.

In contrast, she could see the sky from where she lay. It was bright blue, and a few white, puffy clouds lazily drifted by. A couple of birds flew passed her view as well, their chirping a lovely sound she felt she hadn’t heard in a long time. The difference between then and now was astronomical, and that fact caused her to wonder.

Tiredly, she sat herself up in bed and continued to stare into the great beyond of the boundless, bright blue sky as she attempted to recall the happenings of the night prior.

Last she remembered, she was talking to Akaza about Rengoku and his passing. She could remember crying to him about things she hadn’t spoken about aloud to anyone before. She could remember him pulling her securely into his strong hold as she broke down in front of him…He wasn’t crude nor cruel nor thoughtless concerning what she wept to him about. Despite being the cause of all that anguish, he treated her with compassion and care. He held her like he understood her, like he would never let her go until he was sure the pain dulled itself out.

If all of that really happened, then where was she now? They were by the lake deep within the cedar woods when he held her. Now, judging by the sound of casual chatter outside and the sunshine proudly beaming through the window, she could only guess she was back in the small village she was stationed to protect. Akaza couldn’t be anywhere near here, otherwise the pandemonium would be as plain as the day was bright.

Nevertheless, she knew last night wasn’t just a dream. She knew it wasn’t, because she could remember everything to the very last detail as well as her reasonings for seeking him out to begin with.

She could remember the strength she felt emanate from his being perfectly. No matter how hard she tried not to focus on that, he was a being whose mere presence demanded the attention of those around him due to his unnaturally intense prowess. Despite that, she remembered he never used his immense strength to hurt her in any way – not even verbally. Rather, she felt how strong he was in the way he held her, in how tightly he squeezed her close to himself, in the way his hand had cupped the back of her so she could hide against him as much as she needed to.

She could recall the sound of his voice and the words he shared with her. When she expected him to tell her vile things about her mentor’s death, he instead offered her measured words of both respect and consolation.

When she couldn’t speak any longer, his silence spoke for him as well. In his arms, she could vividly remember how easy it was to fall apart.

In his eyes, she could remember how safe he made her feel.

She closed her eyes at the thought only for images of him and his sunset hues to flash before her mind’s eye. She groaned at his image and brought a hand to her face as she recalled his intricacies. Rubbing at her eyes and cheeks, she recalled his bewildering care for her, how sympathetic he was to her situation, and a part of her continued to question if any of it was real at all.

Did any of that actually happen? Was it all truly real?

Did a demon of Muzan’s twelve Kizuki really comfort her last night?

Did the third Upper Moon truly try to nurse her back to health in his lonely cabin after protecting her from a rampaging demon?

Did he really care about the way he touched her? About the way he spoke to her?

Did he really take her out to a hidden lake in the woods where he allowed her to spill her heart out to someone for the first time in the real world?

He should be her number one target. As a Demon Slayer, he was someone she was meant to eradicate from this world. He should be someone she hated with every fiber of her being, especially considering what he had done to Rengoku, but when she thought of him, all she felt was…loss. Loss and confusion as well as a new, small feeling of longing and warmth.

“What the hell is wrong with me…?” She whispered aloud, groaning against the palm of her hand before allowing it to fall onto the bedsheets.

Last night was very real, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to make of it now. Demon and human interacted in the cover of night as if they had known each other for decades. It made her a traitor to humanity, she was aware, but…why couldn’t she see it that way as well? Why couldn’t hate surface at the image of him in her mind?

Why did she feel unhappy that she hadn’t woken up to the sight of him sitting in front of his irori pit, stirring another nasty medicinal tea for her?

The sound of footsteps in the hallway pulled her attention away from her own ceaseless, unthinkable questioning and drew it towards the door. It opened with a soft creak, and a familiar face walked inside. It took her a moment to recall, but she soon recognized she was one of the village’s few healers she remembered speaking to when she brought injured villagers to their recovery rooms. Momoko, she remembered was her name. In her hands, she noticed she was carrying a tray with what appeared to be a plate of onigiri and a steaming cup of something to drink.

Tea, probably.

“You’re awake!” Momoko chimed, a bright smile angling her lips when she caught sight of the Slayer seated upright in bed. “I’m so glad to see you up again! We were all so worried about you, but I knew you’d wake up in the morning!”

_______ observed her, a perplexed look befalling her as the young woman approached her bedside with such zealous vigor. 

“Where am I, Momoko? What happened? Why were you all worried about me?”

“You mean you don’t remember?” Momoko shook her head and frowned at her sympathetically. “No, that’s right – how could you? You were so beaten up when we found you…It’s no wonder you can’t remember anything…We found you at dawn by the entrance of the village. It looked like you had dragged yourself out of the woods after fighting off the demons all night. We guessed you must’ve collapsed from exhaustion before you could make it back to one of us healers. To tell you the truth, we don’t know what happened while you were away. We noticed your room was empty in the early evening, but by then, you had been out for quite some time.” Sheepishly, she averted her gaze to the tray in her hands. “None of us were brave of enough to go beyond the village to find you…We assumed you had gone with some kind of plan to help protect the village, and we thought we would only be a burden to you if we got in the way by sending anyone after you, so we chose to wait until dawn for you return. If you hadn’t shown up, we didn’t know what we were going to do…” A deep sigh of relief left her. “Thank God, we found you safe and sound in the morning…”

Momoko paused for a few seconds after that, her gaze still set on the bed’s comforters. _______, taken aback by the tale, didn’t know how to react at first. She simply stared at the village healer, bewildered by the tale, and watched as a saddened and guilt riddled frown took hold of her expression.

All of a sudden, Momoko tightened her grip on the tray in her hands, closed her eyes tight and deeply bowed her head in respect to the recuperating Slayer before her.

“Because of how hard you must’ve fought through the night all on your own, the village was safe from attack for the first time in months! Throughout the entire evening, not a single demon was spotted nor were there any reports of villagers injured or going missing! Whatever you did worked, and for the first time in a long time, we were able to sleep peacefully in our homes without the fear of losing any of our loved ones! Thank you! From all of us here in Tatsukawa Village, we can never thank you enough for how bravely you’ve battled and how many times you’ve risked your life on our behalf!”

_______’s eyes widened and gooseflesh rose upon her arms as she allowed the healer’s words of deep gratitude to sink in. A mix of bewilderment and horror formed a massive, tight knot at the pit of her stomach, and all at once, it felt like the world was caving in on her again.

She…hadn’t done a single thing last night to fight any demon off. For weeks, she had been stationed in the village, fighting with all her might from the very first day she arrived – back when one used to be three. Those days, however, are a figment of the past now.

_______ was the lone Slayer in charge of protecting Tatsukawa Village up to date. It became apparent to her that, no matter how hard she tried, she wouldn’t be able to complete the mission her friends left in her hands before she was able to join them where they’ve gone. Thus, before making her trek into the cedar woods, she had sent off her Kasugai Crow to call for reinforcements. Her greatest hope was that the demons in the forest would be too distracted by her wandering between the cedars to really care for the villagers that one night. Effectively, she had planned to use herself as a sacrifice to keep the village safe while they waited for a new squad of Slayers to arrive so as to complete the work she could no longer carry on her shoulders. 

Yet, things very clearly didn’t go the way she had planned.

The demons found their interest in her, yes, but that didn’t last long at all. When she crossed paths with Akaza, they avoided him like a plague.

Nevertheless, the village was still safe.

Nobody was missing, and nobody was hurt – not even herself.

How…?

Before she could say anything in response to Momoko, the young woman stood up straight and extended the tray of food towards her, resting it upon her lap. The smile she bore beforehand had returned to her much softer, a look of gratitude radiating from her being.

“Because of you, our village knew a night of peace once again after months spent in fear of the dark. Thank you for being the answer to so many prayers. Thank you to you and your friends, may they rest in everlasting peace. Nobody here will ever forget what you’ve all done for us. So, thank you. I promise we healers will take the best care of you that we are able to provide. Please,” She beckoned to the food on the tray. “Enjoy this breakfast we put together for you. It isn’t much, but we weren’t sure how well you would be feeling for a meal after the state you were in. We put together some Kombu Onigiri for you along with a nice steaming cup of tea. Don’t be shy and eat as little or as much as you’d like! I’ll come back in a little while to clean up and bring you some medicine to help with the pain.”

With one last, thankful bow of the head, Momoko turned on her heels and left, leaving _______ with just the sound of the creaking door and the chirping birds outside, the distant chitter-chatter of bystanders mere white-noise to her.

For several seconds, she stared at the door to her room with that same large-eyed, dumbfounded look on her face, still trying so very hard to properly understand the barrage of information that was just given to her.

As each and every single word echoed and reverberated in her mind repetitively, her breathing quickened steadily until she was nearly to the point of hyperventilating. Her eyes quickly filled with bitter, stinging tears, but before a cry could threaten to loosen itself from her raw, scratchy throat, both of her hands shot up to firmly cover her mouth.

Into her open palms, she muffled her whimpered, broken sobs as the tears of a pathetic waste of life rolled down the skin of her cheeks for the millionth time.

She tightly closed her eyes as she wept into her palms, hiccupping and trying with all her might to catch up to her own breathing while doing her best to be as quiet as possible.

How could she do this to these poor, sweet people?

How could she be such a terrible person?

They thanked her.

They praised her.

They took care of her.

They saw her as some kind of blessing.

Yet, all she could see when she looked at herself was a coward.

An obstacle.

A waste of breath.

A disgusting hypocrite.

She didn’t deserve any of their kindness, didn’t deserve a single word of praise nor hospitality. She should’ve been left for dead, but here she is, alive once again. Rather than getting what she so clearly deserved, she was spared one more time, and now, all she could do was hopelessly wail over her own insufficiencies and faults against her hands towards the open skies beyond her window.

“W-why, Akaza? Why didn’t you just kill me when you had the chance…?”

~¤ ¤ ¤~

The rest of the day felt like a foggy fever dream to _______.

After Momoko had left her alone in her room that morning, she had cried her eyes raw and red for as long as she could muster the tears. At some point, they stopped coming no matter how miserable and guilty she felt, and from then on, she felt nothing but gray.

She shut down. She felt like she had gone through an entire lifetime in the course of just twenty-four hours, and she was exhausted from it all. She didn’t want to feel anything anymore, so she did everything within herself to prevent those emotions from resurfacing. Around others, this was an easy enough task. Nobody asked her about why her eyes were red and puffy whenever anybody would walk into her room to check on her, which was something she was grateful for. She was so used to hiding everything she felt, that doing so around the villagers was practically instinctual to her by now.

She could manage being alive when people came to speak with her like the village head, or when the healers came to check on her or offer her some kind of medicine. When she was around the others, she could force a smile and hold conversation for a short while until they would be on their way to let her rest – but when that door closed behind them, it left her trapped with culpability, regret and self-loathing.

To top it all off, mixed within that terrible concoction of dreadful emotions was also the thoughts, images and recent memories of the demon of the Upper Moons.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to stop thinking about him throughout the entirety of the day. It didn’t matter what kind of mood she was in at any given time; Akaza would arise in her mind regardless of whether she was faking peace or just mourning the loss of it on her own.

Where is he now?

Is he still in the cedar woods?

Was he the one who left her at the entrance of Tatsukawa Village?

Did he have something to do with the constant attacks on the village?

Why did he take such good care of her?

Why did he care about the way she felt, emotionally and physically?

How was it possible that a demon like him would come to share such kindness and compassion with a human like her?

Silence was the only answer she ever received to her questions, but she continued to find new ones to ask herself even as day leisurely turned to night.

By the time the moon rose above the clouds beyond her window, Momoko returned to her bedroom to say goodnight and ask if she needed anything before she went to bed. The only thing _______ asked for was to have her window opened, so as to watch over the village better and to feel the evening’s cool breeze.

It was now far passed midnight, and she couldn’t bring herself to sleep; she had been too afraid of what she would dream of if she allowed her head to fall on her pillow. Instead, she remained seated in bed for hours into the night, resting her back against a pillow she propped on the bedframe behind her. Beyond her open window, she watched as stray dark clouds joined the moon and the stars in the night sky. Despite their presence, the clouds did little to obstruct the view off the full moon hanging over the world, lighting up darkened paths with its counterfeit shine.

All night, anxiety had wracked her body, thinking there would be an onslaught of demons falling upon the villagers’ homes now that she was no longer in the woods to distract them all. However, for hours, nothing happened. She simply paid witness to the world passing her by. The villagers went about their day, mingling with neighbors and loved ones, exchanging affectionate gestures or a few words by dingy home fences. With time, the crowds of people thinned until only a few stragglers walked down the dirt roads, but even they eventually wandered out of view.

It appeared that, for another night, Tastukawa Village would be able to sleep in peace.

Still, _______ watched the world, though she no longer knew whether she was keeping a vigilant watch or simply existing in the dark.

As her eyes fixated on the moon above, her head lulled towards her shoulder on her pillow. It had never looked so unfamiliar to her before the way it did this evening. She didn’t know if it was the same moon she gazed upon anymore, for all she saw when her eyes locked on its brilliant splendor was a liar trying desperately to blend in with the twinkling stars at its side.

“It must be hard,” She whispered to the moon. “Living up to that lie all the time. Do you ever get tired of it? Do the stars ever notice just how dim you really are? I guess he had a point in one thing…If it weren’t for the sun, you really would just be a big floating rock in the sky.”

Her expression fell as the words left her and a breath escaped passed her lips as she kept the moon solemn company. Her eyes softened at the twinkling of the stars, and as they did, a soft breeze swept through her window to playfully ruffle her hair and cool her skin. Unable to help herself, she took in a deep breath of the fresh evening air and slowly closed her aching, tired eyes to rest by the moon’s side for just a few minutes. The breeze picked up once again, stronger this time, and enveloped her within its wispy arms, encouraging her to lower herself properly in bed for the night despite the anxiety of what would come attached with rest.

As she turned her body towards her open window, she could hear the chittering of leaves belonging to the cedar woods in the distance, calling her name in a longing, mysterious whisper.

Within the strong embrace of the breeze and beneath the watchful gaze of the moon and stars, she fell asleep to the image of sunset hues by an untouched lake deep within those cedar woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: Here's chapter 2 of my Akaza fic, ya'll! c: If you're liking the story so far, please maybe consider supporting me and my work on AO3 and my other cross-post sites! c: Chapter 1 - 4 are all available on those sites! <3 Your support means the world to me! <3 If you've made it this far, thank you for keeping up with the story up to this point! As always, God bless and happy reading! <3

Please find information about warnings and the rating for the entire fic in the post featuring Chapter One linked below! I will also be doing my best to tag these posts with appropriate warnings as well!

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER THREE

Cross-posts: AO3, FFN, Wattpad, and Quotev (I am most active on AO3!)

Word count: 11,172

Chapter 2: Wrapped in Lantern Light

The forest had fallen into a peaceful silence when Akaza began to trek down paths familiar to him despite their unmarked existence.

His footsteps were quiet as they traversed the foliage around the cluster of cedars though he walked briskly with the unconscious woman in his arms. His bright golden gaze remained fixated ahead of him, trying to focus solely on the environment and the beings in the forest around them, but try as he might, he couldn’t dedicate his full attention on where he was going. There were subtle things about the girl in his arms which continued to cause his attention to stumble upon her repetitively, wordlessly beckoning those otherworldly hues of his onto her being.

The gentle, almost ticklish sensation of her hair brushing against his arm with every move he made when she’d sway just the slightest bit though he tried to maintain as stable a grip on her as possible; the rhythmic warmth of her constant, quiet breath blanketing the skin of his bare chest, causing gooseflesh to come to life along the length of his arms every so often; the occasional tear which slowly dripped and trailed from her cheeks to wet his flesh and soak into his open haori; the odd scent of her, so feminine and delicately mixed with the natural essence of the woods, something so foreign to him, it kept him wondering how long it had been since he had smelled something similar from this close.

In a word, the human woman was completely and utterly distracting.

He was normally much more focused and attentive when it came to his objectives, but this entire scenario with the Slayer in his arms was totally off-script from what he was accustomed to. It left him baffled with himself, almost at a complete loss on what he should be doing. He had some course of action to take for the time being, but whether that was the right move for him to make or not was still incredibly unclear to him.

As he pondered the thought, his walking slowed, and subconsciously, his gaze lowered upon the nameless woman swaying lightly in his arms. He didn’t really need to look where he was going. He had walked through the spaces in between the densely packed cedars so many times, he practically had every single seedling, adolescent, adult and fallen tree perfectly mapped out in his head. Effortlessly, he could sense the weaker beings which inhabited the forest alongside him, but he didn’t really care about their presences. Unlike the humans, he didn’t need to worry about the other demons. It truly had to be a mindless creature freshly born of rage and desolation with nary an idea on how the world around them works for one of them to charge at him like the weakling from earlier.

That in mind, he presumed he could devote a moment or two to observe the woman in his arms.

He found himself staring aimlessly at first, the sound of the breeze encouraging the leaves of the cedars to dance to the sound of the orchestrating crickets filling the space of existence around him.

Even asleep, she looked incredibly…sad. Somber. Distraught. Her brow was furrowed lightly, creasing her delicate skin on her forehead. Her lips, plush and softly reflecting the distant glow of the moon whenever the canopy allowed, were pulled downwards. A few of her tears had left their streaming trails on her skin alongside the corners of those lips of hers before they had dripped and disappeared beneath her chin.

He supposed it was only natural that she looked that way after what happened. He assumed most humans would be fairly distressed or troubled to have a confrontation with a couple of demons in the woods – but then again, she wasn’t just any ordinary human and he already knew he couldn’t have been the cause for her original strife.

Mimicking the expression on her face, Akaza’s brow had furrowed, perplexed once again by the thoughts running through his mind.

What a strange human, He thought to himself. Coming to me on her own like that. She must be out of her mind. If I had been any of the others, she would’ve been a pile of bones by now.

He frowned, stopping a moment to adjust his hold the slightest bit so he could carefully stroke a few strands of hair behind her ear the wind had blown astray. By then, the blood on his hands had dried and brushed off on the two of them, allowing her hair to remain dry this time when his ink-dipped fingers lightly tucked those silky strands back in place.

He stood still where he was, just staring at her, his eyes slowly trailing down her frame to take in the curves and contours of her plump, feminine figure before trailing back up to her face to take in the small detail of her long lashes gently brushing the tops of her wet cheeks. The world around them kept moving, the woods kept breathing life and eliciting excitement into the beings hiding amongst the cedar, but he felt like he was stuck in place despite knowing exactly where he had been going. Everything about what this woman was, what she represented and what he was doing with her was all completely against everything he knew and did throughout his lifetime as a demon. It caused things to stir in him which left him feeling unlike himself.

Uncertain.

Hesitant.

He didn’t like feeling like this. This feeling of instability on the ground he walked on no matter how firmly he planted his feet nor how sturdy he made his stance.

Tearing his gaze away from her figure, he turned to look towards the direction he knew led back to the village he assumed she came from. For an instant, he considered to just take her there. He could leave her at the edge of the village before any of the other humans saw him and disappear. He’d have saved her from death’s grip tonight and would be free of the uncertainty she planted in him.

Long, seemingly endless seconds passed him by as he considered it, his eyes staring into the distant empty foliage as far as his sight allowed him. Ultimately, he turned sharply on his heels, dismissing the idea and simply continuing along the paths he knew as well as the back of his hands.

Forward he walked with purpose and focus once more, the distractions of the woman in his arms pushed to the back of his mind for the time being. He didn’t want to linger on possibilities and open air anymore. He needed a sense of grounding, a sense of stability and concrete direction of the likes of which he thrived from. So, he kept walking, swiftly ducking and passing in between the gossiping cedars smoothly no matter how packed and dense the woods around them became.

Deeper and deeper into the dark he wandered, the two of them consumed in a world he knew she couldn’t survive on her own. Without him, she’d be a sightless, bloodied lamb, wobbling around and bleating in her lost, innocent ignorance until a starving wolf came along to do away with her life so as to stain the blades of grass beneath their feet with red. In that scenario, what did that make him? He could’ve very well been the wolf, and he very well still could be, technically, but he knew better than anyone that would never happen. So, what is he? What role is he supposed to take in this story?

He shook his head, deciding that the answer didn’t matter.

Thankfully, his hastened, quick footsteps made it so he didn’t have to wonder about it for much longer, either.

Before long, he had found the path of forest floor bordered by two twisting rows of thick, ancient cedars. The massive, impressive trees stood side-by-side, on guard, their canopies outstretched to keep all light at bay along the trek to the door of the old cabin at the end of the trail – the abandoned cabin he often called home when he needed sanctuary from the brilliantly scorching sun; something the humans looked at as a symbol of hope and happiness, and likewise, something demons like him looked at as a symbol of a cruel, painful death.

What did it feel like? He wondered absently. The warmth of the sun on my skin without the feeling of it blistering me like a burnt piece of meat…Did I like the sun when I was human too?

The questions made him frown again though he felt more at ease at the sight of the cabin’s inviting wooden structure. The feeling of walking below the cedars’ shadows had always covered him with a sense of safety and refuge; a place he knew he could rest in without worry of the sun’s burning rays hitting his sleeping body. Regardless of what he must have thought about it in his prior lifetime, the sun was now an enemy he would have to battle against for the rest of his eternal, immortal days. As long as she was in the cabin with him, she would be safe from the others on the outside even during the day.

Sliding the cabin door open with his right foot, he stepped into his home, greeted by a calming dark within. The dim light casting hazily from the open door allowed him to see the little furniture he had in the small room was right where he had left it last.

The cabin itself didn’t have a lot to look at on the inside. The structure was relatively small, primarily consisting of one main room and a small closet towards the back. There used to be two windows on opposing walls, but he had boarded them up when he first found the place to ensure it would be shrouded in complete darkness whenever the sun rose. Within the main room there was a simple one-person futon, tucked towards the center of the room away from said windows just as a precaution. Its comforter was thick, the edges bordered in white with an intricate pattern of waves displayed on the middle fabric. It wasn’t exactly his taste, but he wasn’t picky, either. He had stolen that from the nearby village, actually, not so long ago.

Beside the futon, there was a lantern with a recently replenished tall, white candle confined within the detailed metalwork. Naturally, it wasn’t lit. A few feet away from the futon was an irori pit with a cooking pot setup above it and two beige zabuton cushions on either side. In the irori pit itself, there were a couple of cedar logs haphazardly beaten down to size, edges jagged and misshapen. He wasn’t in the habit of cooking at home often, but considering his specific dietary lifestyle, he would sometimes simply hunt animals in the forest and cook the meat he harvested from them in his cabin. Of course, he didn’t have to do this, but he wasn’t really the type to go out of his way to kill off just any human for a meal, either. Consequently, the fact that the cabin had its own irori pit was actually a bit of a plus for him. Eating cooked animal meat whenever it was convenient to fill him was just…well, convenient. When he wasn’t cooking anything, however, he would light the irori anyway to better illuminate the entire cabin.

The walls themselves were barren, the natural grooves and rings of the wooden planks the only decoration offered in the room. Against the wall to his left, there was a basic wooden cabinet with a single door hiding what was stored within. Beside the cabinet, there was also a basic wooden dresser with two sets of three drawers. All in all, it wasn’t a whole lot that he had there, but it was enough for a being like him who never stayed in one place for too long.

The floorboards beneath his bare feet hushed out quiet creaks in greeting as he approached his futon. Kneeling down before the mattress, he carefully lowered the woman in his arms down onto it, one of his hands sliding to the back of her head to guide it tenderly to his pillow while the other straightened and adjusted her legs. Once she was settled in and his hands were free at last, he looked towards the Nichrin sword sheathed by the woman’s hip. He didn’t expect her to use it on him, and even if she did, he knew he could handle it, but he still figured it would be for the best for him to remove it from her person so she didn’t hurt herself if she started tossing around in her sleep. Taking care not to jostle her body too much, he detached her sword from her belt – sheath and all – and placed it on the ground beside him for the time being. After that was taken care of, he turned back to her and moved the comforter gently out from underneath her legs and hips to pull the warm blanket atop of her weakened frame. He took a moment to tuck her in loosely, making sure she was warm and well-covered by the comforter.

Only when she was completely settled is when he got back up on his feet and went to close the cabin door, the dark within the room completely consuming the two of them for a moment’s breath. Still, even in the pitch black of these four walls, he knew exactly where he was going and where he shouldn’t step. Instinctively, he walked towards the dresser against the left wall and pulled open one of the top drawers. He rummaged inside for a few moments, his tainted fingers feeling around various miscellaneous objects he had stored away until he eventually came across one of his matchboxes. He fumbled with the box, his thumbs pushing the lid open so he could pluck a single match out of the bunch. Closing the box and holding it firmly in his hand, he swiped the match

once,

twice,

three times

until fire sparked on its head.

He hummed, pleased, and tossed the matchbox back into the drawer before pushing it closed. He then returned to the woman on his futon and knelt down beside her to face the lantern at her side. He opened up the small cage’s door, a squeak of rusted metal groaning with the motion as it revealed the candle hidden within its framework. Pinching the match between his thumb and forefinger, he lit the candle, its graceful flame dancing to life bathing the cabin in a warm, orange glow. Once it was lit, he blew the fire out on his match and tossed it carelessly into the irori’s sands to swallow up the faded giver of light.

For a moment, he considered lighting the irori, his eyes lingering on the pit and the cedar logs he had yet to use within it, but he shut the lantern’s door closed and decided against it for the time being. Instead, he took the woman’s Nichirin sword and went to rest it against the wall by the closet door before returning to kneel by her bedside once more. Bathed in the lantern’s glow, as he gazed upon her sleeping figure, he began to drink in her details in a different light almost without even noticing. He didn’t really know where to look at first, so many details long since forgotten suddenly pushed onto his lap out of the blue tonight having made everything somewhat confusing to the demon, but in time, his gaze began to focus on the small details again just as he had done out in the woods.

He took in the sight of her chest rising and falling consistently with her breathing first, the subtle motion causing for the comforter atop of her to ruffle quietly along with her shallow breaths. It was lulling to watch, a constant rhythm which made him feel somewhat…peaceful. Strange that he got a feeling like that just by watching over her like this. His eyes then traveled back up to her face, taking in the sight of her feminine softness bathed in orange light and brushed crimson where his hands had touched her earlier. Despite the macabre undertone, she actually looked quite beautiful with her thick locks of hair splayed out across the pillow around her. Womanly and graceful even in the state she was in.

He hummed at the thought as he took in, once again, the troubled and pained expression the woman harbored on her delicate features he caught himself admiring. Her frantic crying and pleas to be killed set aside, there had been something else going on with her that caused that look on her face to surface. She had been limping when she approached him, having practically dragged herself all the way to him from wherever she had come from. He wouldn’t be surprised if her body was littered with all kinds of injuries beneath that uniform of hers, considering her line of work and the humanity she couldn’t help.

“If you were a demon, that wouldn’t matter. You would have gotten over it by the time you blinked twice.” He commented lowly, hushed under his breath, an innate response which rolled off of his tongue instinctively. “…But you’re not. You’re human…You’re weak.” He remarked, gently reaching down to comb his fingers through a few locks of her hair. “You’re fragile…You can’t take care of yourself on your own like that, can you…?” He repeated the motion a few times, starting near her head without actually touching her and combing his fingers leisurely along until they carefully pulled themselves out of her luscious waves by the tips. He watched curiously as the strands gracefully fell from his fingers onto the futon and pillow, unused to the silky sensation and the odd sense of peace these simple, insignificant actions continued to bring him.

On the sixth time his fingers found themselves swimming in her (hair color) waves, his hand had paused midway. He stalled there to allow his thumb to rub those silky strands between the pads of his fingers, the smooth, honeyed sensation of it abruptly causing the inkling of a memory to shyly lift its head within his mind. He blinked a few times, his fingers stopping and his brow furrowing, the shy memory he didn’t know he had becoming bolder and extroverted, suddenly hitting him with a quick flash of images and words that forced him to stir from where he sat with a start. He straightened up, his brow creasing further, taken aback but actively motivated to move with the sudden information he had at his fingertips. Finally allowing her hair to fall from his fingers one last time, he stood to his feet and got ahead of himself, already rushing towards the door, but he stopped himself halfway with an annoyed click of his tongue.

“Water.”

He turned back around and moved towards the closet, sliding the door open to reveal a pail set on the floor below the shelves he used to bring water to cook with and to refill the small outhouse outside. He grabbed its handle with his bloodstained fingers, and the sight of their bloodied state casually reminded him he needed to wash himself up after his encounter with the lesser demon. After he made a mental note of that, he closed the closet door and rushed out of the cabin, making sure he had slid the front door closed behind him.

He was sure she’d be fine on her own for a little while. After what happened earlier, he doubted any of the others would really dare themselves to come near her now that he’s taken her in, even when he wasn’t around – at least not tonight.

I’ll remind them why it’s an awful idea to try if they forget quicker than they should. At the very least, it would make for an entertaining couple of minutes.

~¤ ¤ ¤~

The evening air was warm, the cool breeze carrying the sounds of people conversing and traveling, caught up in their own bubbles and lives. The lights above were warm and golden, easy on the eyes, but bright enough to make the scenery come to life for those who walked along the station platform. Up ahead, the train tracks were empty, a wide and vast forest left in full display on the other side during its temporary vacancy.

_______ felt disoriented by the familiar sights and sounds of the Mugen Train Station, aware that she had visited a few times in the past, but she couldn’t remember visiting it recently, let alone coming tonight to sit on that metal bench she was on right now. She looked around her, eyes squinted, lips parted slightly as confused, labored puffs of air left her. The sight of the crowds of bustling people and the bright ticket counters illuminating the dark of night came off blurry to her, so she lifted her hands to rub her eyes in an attempt to bring the world back to clarity. She tried to orientate herself, remind herself on where she was and what she was doing, but her mind kept drawing a blank no matter how clear her vision became nor how focused she tried to make herself be. The only thing she was able to really acknowledge was that this was, in fact, the Mugen Train Station. She didn’t need to read the signs to know that. Still, that didn’t tell her anything about why she was there and how she got there to begin with.

“You’re awake, young _______!”

That voice…

That voice.

It shook her to her very core to hear it ring so vividly in her ear. It sucker-punched her in the gut to hear it clear, bright and warm like the comforting lights above her. It forced the air out of her lungs to hear the laugh which followed soon afterwards, full of vigor and life. Slowly, she turned in her seat, coming to face the side of the station she had neglected since her eyes opened in the midst of the hustle and bustle of common life. Upwards her gaze rose until it landed on those lively, unique golden hues and that brilliant, heartwarming smile she had burned in her memory to the very last detail. Right down to the dimpled creases and the fiery rings of color within his irises.

“R…R-Rengoku…? Is that…? B-but…but how can…?”

He simply widened his smile, chuckling further as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Don’t trouble yourself too much with how right now! We have other things to discuss, don’t we, young _______? More important things.”

_______ shook her head, her hands trembling on her lap before they grabbed tightly at the hem of her skirt. Her nails tugged roughly at the fabric, so strong she swore it would tear, but that didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that Rengoku was there.

He was alive.

“Tell me, why are you here?”

Still completely floored by the Hashira’s appearance, _______ slowly shook her head in response. There was so much she wanted to say, so many things she wished she had said, but none of it came to her tongue now that he was sitting in front of her like she thought he never would be again. Everything jumbled up in her mind in a large, convoluted knot, forcing her to hyper-focus on his presence as a whole instead.

“I…don’t know why I’m here…I don’t even know how I got here…”

“Yes, you do know why you’re here. I’m sure you do. Dig in a little deeper, _______, I know you can do it!”

Her lower lip began to quiver at his familiar encouragement, her eyes beginning to mist up.

“But I r-really don’t, Rengoku, I-I don’t know why I’m here…I can’t give you the answer you want…”

“Yes, you can! Search within yourself and you’ll find the answer you need!”

She shook her head again as it lowered, pulling her gaze away from his brilliant expression completely to instead stare at his flame emblazoned haori draped beneath him on the bench.

“You always had so much faith in me,” She whispered meekly. “Why…wh-why did you ever have that much faith in someone like me?”

Though she no longer looked at him, his smile softened and his head tilted gently to the side.

“I had many reasons to have faith in you, but there’s more to this.” He remarked softly. Vaguely. “Dig a little deeper.”

She shook her head one more time, tears now beginning to roll down her cheeks, clinging to the edges of her jaw before falling in fat droplets onto the fabric of her skirt and the metal of the bench.

“B-but, Rengoku, I don’t care why or how I got here, I-I’m just…I-I’m so happy you’re here…I d-don’t even know what to do with myself, my head feels so empty but so loud at the same time…There’s so much I want to s-say to you, but I’m…” She couldn’t completely end her sentence, a heartbreaking sob wrenching itself free from her gut forcing her to cut herself off. She bent forward, ducking her head down lower into her chest as she brought her pained, heavily squinted gaze down to her laps where it heavily blurred with her tears. All the while, the bustling, busy crowds around them continued on their ways, carrying on their own lives and business, completely ignoring the two of them in their shared bubble.

Roughly, she bit into her lower lip, surprised she didn’t taste blood from how brutely she had dug her teeth into the tender flesh, but she didn’t question it.

She just needed to try to compose herself.

She felt like it was crucial.

She had no idea how much time she had.

“Why are you here, _______?” Rengoku asked again, the feeling of his large, gentle hand reaching down to press and rub against her back forcing another devastating sob to rip through her throat no matter how hard she tried to swallow it down.

“Y-your hand,” She sobbed. “My God, Rengoku, your hand i-is so warm…Without saying anything o-or…or d-doing anything in particular, you’ve always made me believe l-like things will be okay at the end of the day…J-just like that…J-just because you’re so reliable a-and dependable…S-so strong…”

“_______...”

“W-why would you ever waste s-something so compassionate and k-kind on someone like me…? W-why, out of e-everyone you could sit with, did you come to m-me? I don’t deserve this – I-I don’t deserve you…!”

“Why are you here?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” She suddenly cried out loud, as loud as her lungs allowed her to proclaim. Her back straightened, bringing her to sit up and face the Hashira with an expression completely crumpled in heartache and every single sense the sentiment held.

“I don’t kn-know why I’m here, R-Rengoku…! I never did!”

Rengoku’s expression softened further, warm and full of compassion and care, not at all shaken nor deterred by her outburst.

“You wandered into that forest on your own,” He remarked. “You went in when you were most vulnerable. You dragged your feet across roughened soil and through shadows in the dead of night knowing fully well what you were getting into – but why? Why did you do that, young _______?”

She couldn’t answer him. Her trembling lips quivered heavily and broken, painful whimpers erupted pathetically from her throat as the tears distorted her vision of Rengoku further, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer that question.

Not to him.

She would sooner confess it to the entire world before she would ever confess it to him.

“I know it hurts,” He hushed softly when she didn’t reply, the hand he had rubbed her back with coming to slide upon her cheek where he brushed her tears away. His touch was gentle and thoughtful, the warmth of his skin reminding her again of the life beating in his heart in this moment in time. When he wiped all of her tears away, he brought his hand up to pet the top of her head in comforting strokes. “I know it’s hard to move on, but you can do it, ________. I’ve always known you could. I never had a doubt.”

Still, she could say nothing. All she could do was continue to fall apart right there in front of him, new tears taking the place of the ones he so tenderly wiped away for her as she reveled in the feel of his petting – something she almost forgot the feeling of. The way his large hand would lay flat against her head and gently stroke backwards towards the back of her head before lifting to the top to start over again. The way his fingers would sometimes get caught in her locks and the memory of how they would laugh when he pulled some of her hair out of place when he was done. It all only served to break the small pieces of her heart which remained into smaller, miniscule, jagged shards, devastated that she had really forgotten how this used to feel.

In the midst of his petting and encouraging words, she could hear the distant sound of a train’s whistle blowing. The sound caused for her heart to leap to her throat, the widening of her eyes clearly showing the panic she felt bubbling because of what it meant – because of the fate she knew it carried within its carts.

“Whenever you need me, I’ll be here,” Rengoku promised her, his eyes closing into gentle crescents as his smile splayed softly across his lips from ear-to-ear in his own unique display. “When you figure out why, I’ll be here too. I know it’s hard right now and the answers aren’t as clear as you’d like them to be, but you’ll get to them in time. Be patient not just with this, but with yourself. Be patient and be kind.” Giving her one last stroke of the head, he allowed his hand to slide to her cheek where it lingered for a few seconds before he stood to his feet as the Mugen Train came to rest at its station.

Instantly, _______ began to shake her head vigorously, her body moving on its own to stand her up along with him.

“R-Rengoku, please, don’t go! D-don’t get on the train!” She gripped at his arm desperately, trying to pull him back to her, trying to pull him away from the open maw of the Mugen Train and the destination she knew it would lead him to. “Stay! S-stay with me! J-just…j-just a little bit longer! You don’t h-have to go! We can think of something else! W-we can get backup from the Corps and m-make a proper plan! PLEASE, just stay with me…! Don’t get on that train!”

He let out a soft sigh lightly laced with a somber nostalgia, his eyes shifting to look at the Mugen Train with the smile still on his face before turning to look back at _______ once more.

“You and I both know I can’t do that,” He commented softly. “But that’s okay. I’ll be okay, and more importantly, you’ll be okay too.”

With that, he gently removed her hands from his arm, squeezing them strongly and reassuringly in his own for a few seconds longer. When he released them, he turned towards the Mugen Train and boarded it with the other passengers, flashing her one last smile before he disappeared in his cart. Suddenly, the entire train station was empty of the crowds and the atmosphere was silenced from the chitter chatter of the pedestrians. All the doors of the train closed and locked, the beast of iron and coal roaring to life once more with a loud blow of its whistle and a shrill screech of its wheels beginning to turn on its rustic tracks.

_______ shook her head desperately once more, watching as the train began to leave the station at a slow, leisure pace which gradually picked up speed the more its wheels turned.

“N-no, no, no, no, no…! Rengoku! RENGOKU!”

Despite the futility of the situation, she raced after the Mugen Train, trying with all her might to run alongside the cart he had boarded. She could see the top of his fierce mane of blonde locks with their bright red tips from one of the windows, the small sight of him beckoning her to kick her feet as fast and as hard as she was able against the platform floor – but there was only so much platform she was able to run on and only so much time she had before the train was traveling at a pace she could never dream to compete with.

Skidding to a clumsy stop at the very edge of the station platform, _______ watched the Mugen Train rush down its tracks, carrying Rengoku away with it to a fate she knew she couldn’t change no matter how strongly she wished she could.

From there, all _______ could do was watch from the lonely, empty platform as the train quickly grew smaller and smaller in the distance until it was completely out of sight. By then, she was sobbing openly into the blowing wind, orchestrating her deep, wrenching anguish to the vast woods – the only audience she had left.

~¤ ¤ ¤~

Orange.

Flickering, swaying orange delicately tinged with a golden inner glow casting shadows while performing on what seemed like a wooden stage.

That was what the world around her was gradually coming to be as her eyes slowly fluttered open. Her eyelids felt heavy, almost too heavy to lift, the weak effort she put into opening them causing for her lashes to tickle the skin of her cheeks. The world still didn’t make much sense to her in those senseless moments of groggy forgetfulness. She couldn’t tell where she was, couldn’t remember what had happened last in that very moment, but she did acknowledge the colors soothingly dancing on the foreign ceiling above her.

The colors were vibrant and strong, lighting up the space of the room she was in perfectly in its comforting glow though she made no move quite yet to look around. She could just tell and feel that it did from the intensity of the colors acting out their play on the ceiling. She felt safe watching them, wondering how it was they got there but having no real determination nor interest in finding out.

She didn’t want to question it.

She knew what happened was just a dream, but she wanted to pretend for a while longer.

She wanted to feel safe and comforted in a way she had long since forgotten for just a little bit longer.

It was a feeling the colors on the ceiling tried to mimic with their performance, and they did quite well, if she were to critique. The play they put on for her made the feeling linger for a while, though it was naturally diluted and nothing like the real thing. It was as though she were coming down from a numbing high, plummeted back into a reality she didn’t want to accept, but allowed a few more minutes in blissful ignorance and disassociation of the truth she hated to accept.

Her vision slowly began to mist and cloud as she watched the colors dance and flicker in the sporadic climax of their stories, but her expression remained the same. She didn’t grimace nor crumple nor pucker. The tears simply came to be in her eyes and slowly began to slide down the sides of her temples, because that’s what they were supposed to do. They were supposed to be there, welling and building up in her sore, tired eyes and marking her skin with their paths repeatedly until she was covered in well-worn tracks. For this instant in time, she was too exhausted to react, too battered to care and too far deep to struggle.

Thus, she simply allowed it to be.

Yet, despite all of that, something beyond the colors was beginning to seep into her current reality. She was gradually becoming aware of the sound of what she believed was bubbling water, consistent and lively somewhere to her left. Along with the bubbling was the occasional clang, pank, clang, pank of metal lightly bumping into metal. Lost in her vague awareness, she shifted her focus from the dancing colors on the ceiling to the shadows which surrounded them. Most of the shadows bore no defined shapes, constantly changing and altering with the movement of the bright glow. She assumed those shadows were stationary objects in the space she was laying in, though she still showed no interest in moving to see what they were.

Amongst the majority, however, was a more persistent shape. Naturally, it would distort and bounce gracefully on the wooden ceiling at the dancing glow’s demand, but through it all, the shadow itself owned its own fluidity. She could make out what appeared to be an arm steadily turning over and over in circles. There was something held in its hand, though she couldn’t make out exactly what it was. Occasionally, the arm would stop its rotating motions to pull on whatever it held – or was it lifting it? Yes, it was lifting it. A ladle of some sort. Shortly after she labeled the mystery object, a larger shadow came into view; a head and upper body bending forward seemingly peering into the ladle. The person who inspected whatever was on the ladle didn’t stay in view for long, already dipping the ladle back into what must be a pot of some sort to continue their stirring. It was then that she picked up on an earthy aroma warmly enveloping the air, reminding her of flourishing fields and endless plains of grass sprouting from earth recently bathed in cooling rainwater.

Where exactly was she supposed to be? The last place she remembered being in was the cedar woods. She had been close to death then, but had she actually died? Was that what the vision of Rengoku related to? Was that why she was in the Mugen Train Station with him?

No, that didn’t make sense. If the afterlife was really cruel enough to torture her with those kinds of visions, then it would be the same kind of hell she lived in day-to-day. Besides, even if that was the afterlife, why wasn’t she at the station now? This wooden ceiling didn’t belong to the modernized train station, that much she was aware of. It was much too rustic for a bustling, up-and-coming city like the one that station resided in.

That begs the question: if she hadn’t died and she wasn’t laying in the space between life and death, then where exactly was she?

She knew she should turn her head. She kept asking and wondering where she was while watching the shadows and lights on the ceiling, but she was fully aware she could begin to gather an answer if she simply looked around.

Pull her gaze away from the ceiling.

Lead her eyes astray from the calming, warm glow.

It’s such a simple action. If she just turned her head even the slightest bit, she would already have more detail and information to work with to piece together what had happened to her, but that one simple, minuet action felt harder for her to accomplish than the training she endured to become a Demon Slayer and every mission she ventured on up to this day. Turning her head away meant turning away from the warmth of the orange and bright golden glow which kept her company during their comforting play. Pulling her gaze away from the lights and shadows on the ceiling meant turning away from so much more than just absent, blissful ignorance.

It meant turning away from the vision.

It meant turning away from the comforting, temporary fake feeling of okay.

It meant turning away and simply allowing the door to close and lock again.

‘You’ll be okay.’

She grimaced lightly as his voice echoed in her mind. She could practically hear him laughing, could practically see him smiling down at her with reassurance from within the glow. He said that with so much confidence and faith in his voice for her, but how could he be so sure? How could he believe in her that much when she held no faith in her own self? Though he had been certain of what he said, she was convinced she would never truly be okay again, so she wanted to keep pretending. She wanted to keep existing in the pathetic copycat of the safety and encouragement he made her feel when he was still there. When he spoke to her. When he expressed so much belief in her when it was difficult to see an ounce of worth on her own.

When he was still alive.

She lingered a few moments longer, envisioning his smile and repeating everything he told her in the station, the clang, pank, clang, pank of the shadows having long since turned to soothing background noise. If it had been up to her, she wouldn’t move ever again, but deep down, she knew she had to – even if it was only to live up to Rengoku’s beliefs in her.

Though it was difficult, though it shattered her heart to watch his image dissipate and fade amongst the dancing lights, _______ began to turn her head in defiance against everything in her that told her to sit there and rot. Slowly, stiffly, she turned to the left, taking in the mostly barren sight of the room she was laying in. In the process of it is when she realized she was tucked into a futon, its thick comforter hugging her close to the thin mattress beneath her. Not only that, but her Nichirin sword had been taken away from her, although it was still close by, leaning against the wooden wall facing her. Being disarmed didn’t unnerve her. It simply was.

Beside the futon itself was a lantern, its metal frame housing a burning candle. For a few seconds, her gaze lingered on the intricate cage of the lantern, taking in its crisscross detail highlighted by the flame burning within. When she caught herself becoming too comfortable with the soothing glow once again, she forced herself to shift her gaze beyond the lantern.

Close by, there was an irori lit, the planks of wood in the pit of sand roaring with brilliant, lively flames which licked at the underbelly of a dark pot strung above them. The most jarring part of the scene, however, was the person who had been casting the shadows on the ceiling she was watching mere moments ago.  

Of all things she expected to see, Akaza tending to something in an irori’s pot while she laid in a futon a few feet away from him was not one of them. He was stirring something he had cooking over the open flames, his dual-colored eyes focused on the broth. The glow of the flames danced and reflected off of his skin much as they had done on the ceiling, highlighting his features to her from the angle she observed him in.  

He has long eyelashes…

It was an odd thought, but it was one of the first things she noticed, the very first being how much his eyes stood out even in the dimness of the room they were in and the fierce glow of the irori’s fire. The blue of his sclera was shattered with dark veins, the brilliant color reminding her of a cloudless, sunny day, his striking golden irises taking the role of the sun for themselves.

What does that make his eyelashes then? Pink and full…Maybe an oncoming sunset?

Again, a strange thing to think about. She was just soothingly fascinated by his natural colors and how much they actually stood out. His nature as a demon and the terrible things he had done set aside, Akaza was quite beautiful in his own regard, but maybe that was her artistic side talking. She used to be the type who appreciated that sort of thing, but every now and again, that side of her personality peeked up from the murky depths they now hid beneath to help her cope with the world around her.

He was, after all, the reason why Rengoku was gone.

“You’re awake.”

The comment startled her some, causing her to shift slightly on the futon as she turned her focus to the demon as a whole. Had he maybe heard her head moving? Or maybe he saw her eyes open from the corner of his? Who knows? He seemed the observant type, something that was taken to an extraordinary level when paired with a demon of his caliber.

“Good to see. I was starting to wonder whether you’d be out cold ‘til morning.”

He didn’t look at her as he spoke. His eyes remained on the pot and what he was stirring, his free hand resting in a fist upon his lap. The expression on his face was one of neutral concentration, not aggressive nor particularly friendly. He just…was. Paying attention not to burn whatever it was he was brewing.

“Wh…Where…” She began to speak, her throat feeling raw, her voice sounding not like her own to her. She frowned in distaste, weakly clearing her throat and swallowing the dry lump before continuing. “Where am I…?” Her voice came out in a murmured whisper, almost lost to the crackling of the lively flames of the irori, but not to Akaza.

“In an old cabin, I guess is the best way to describe the place.” He hummed thoughtfully, his expression softening with a light purse of his lips as he pondered his choice of words. “I found it a long time ago. Abandoned. So, it’s my cabin now.” He corrected himself, nodding his head, satisfied with the clarification.

“Your cabin…” She echoed, her eyes wandering away from him to take a better look at the cabin. There didn’t seem to be any signs of struggle anywhere she looked. No claw marks on the walls, no broken bits of furniture scattered on the ground, no old bloodstains forever soaked up by the wooden floor. The only thing that was slightly out of place was the fact that the windows were boarded shut, but seeing as he had come to claim the place as his own, it made sense that they would be that way. “Why did you bring me here…?”

“You weren’t making a whole lot of sense back in the woods, but if I had left you where you were in the state you were in, you’d be dead by now. I knew you’d be safe here until you woke up, so I just brought you with me.” He replied matter-of-factly as he pulled the ladle he was stirring with out of the pot to prop it on one of the handles. Turning to the other side of him, she watched him pick up a cup he had waiting on the floor before taking the ladle once again and dipping it into the pot. He poured a little over two ladles full of the broth he had cooking, steam wafting above the cup he handled with care. Once it was full, he propped the ladle back on the pot’s handle and stood to his feet. Her gaze followed him as he walked over to her, their eyes meeting while he closed the short distance between them until he was kneeling down by her bedside.

“Sit up.”

She knew what he said was more of an order than it was a request, but the way he said it and the gentle way he looked at her confused her by suggesting it came from a good place. It was bizarre, to say the least, the way this demon spoke to her with such…decency despite the unwavering firmness of his voice. Her brow furrowed slightly at the detail, her lips parting the slightest bit more so in bemusement than with intention of speaking.

“Ah,” He seemed to realize something when she didn’t react after a few seconds. “That’s right. Human. You’re human…” He muttered to himself, carefully setting the steaming cup on the floor beside him before turning back to her, his hands coming to rest on his laps again.

“Do you need help?”

Do I need help…?

What was going on? This is the demon that killed Rengoku? How? He was treating her with respect and even offering to help her sit up if she couldn’t do so herself. She had heard of the other demon on the Mugen Train, Enmu, who had lured people in with false kindness of sweet dreams before he plunged them into horrific nightmares, but Akaza didn’t have that kind of profile. From what she was told, he was an abrupt and upfront fighter; someone who didn’t beat around the bush and got straight to the point. He wasn’t a manipulative demon. He was a close-range demon who fought for the sport of it, starving for the thrill of a challenge like the one Rengoku had to offer that night.

This demon isn’t at all what she expected to be confronted by when she set out to the woods tonight.

Even in her baffled silence, he patiently waited for some kind of response from her, no annoyance or hasty agitation in the way he looked at her. His hands remained on his laps, not moving an inch to touch her, but his striking stare did remain on her face, studying her the same way she studied him. That is, until his gaze had shifted towards the cup at his side, his head nodding in its direction as well before he refocused on her.

“It’s an herbal tea. I went to fetch some water and to find the herbs and roots I needed to make it for you while you were asleep. You’re weakened from your work with the lessers. I noticed. This should help.” He informed her, offering a small smile to appear friendlier. He understood her apprehension. If their roles were switched, he’d be apprehensive too. From a human’s perspective, what was a demon supposed to be serving them from a pot of a boiling brew they couldn’t even see because of their incapacitated state? It really could be anything, so it’s not like he expected her to fully believe him the moment he brought it over and explained it to her.

Hell, even he couldn’t believe he had this herbal remedy stored away somewhere in his faintest memories.

He supposed it made some sense. He was human once, but that was centuries ago. Yet, he somehow remembered the recipe and what he had to look for as if he had made the tea every day since he was turned.

Something about her triggered the memory, that was all he was sure about.

“…How do I know you’re not lying…?”

He let out an amused breath, his head tilting again in his good humor.

“I guess you don’t. You just have to take my word for it.”

She shook her head the slightest bit at him, a distant look befalling her as her lips angled into an exhausted frown.

“Why didn’t you kill and eat me…?” She asked, the question leaving her so naturally, it unsettled her; unsettled her how much she wanted to know; unsettled her how much she had wished he had been what she had expected. Something in her told her he had ulterior motives. That he was keeping her alive to make the thrill of the kill more exciting in some way or another. Maybe he thought if he gave her the idea of being spared, she would take back her death wish and be eager to escape to the village. Then, he could enjoy the chase, too, before inevitably sinking his fanged maw into the tender flesh of her neck when he tackled her onto the ground.

Akaza, however, didn’t answer her question. He simply stared at her, the small smile he had given her straightening the slightest bit but retaining its foreign friendliness despite it. Genuine.

“Would you like me to help you sit up so you can drink your tea?” He repeated his question instead, making no move to place his hands on her if she didn’t answer him. She considered denying him, but she supposed she didn’t have much to lose either way she went about this. So, she finally gave him a small nod of her head.

“Please…”

His smile widened up a bit once more when she accepted his help, giving her a curt nod of his own in return. Reaching over, he folded the futon’s comforter halfway so the upper half was resting on her legs. Once he did, he turned to her as she began to prop herself up carefully on her elbows. She would wince with each move she made, he noticed. As gently as he could, he slid one of his hands down her back until he had it pressed against the middle of it, slowly pushing her upward while his other hand took a hold of hers to help give her more support.

His hand felt warm to her. Probably warmer than it should be, since he had been holding the steaming cup of tea. Looking upon his larger, masculine hand, taking in the feeling of his calloused palm wrapped around her own, she took notice that the blood from the other demon he fought earlier was gone from his skin. Her eyes traveled up his arm, across his chest and down his other arm. Nothing. The blood was gone, cleaned away probably while she was asleep. For a second, she wondered if the fight had actually happened, but the speckling of blood around what she could see of the ends of his white pants told her otherwise. Images came to mind of the short-lived confrontation he held with the lesser demon as she stared at the bloodstains on his clothing. It was a stark reminder of how powerful this man actually was.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” She repeated her question, her gaze slowly lifting to meet with his once more when he helped her sit up properly. “If you wanted to, you could have done away with me just as easily as you did that other demon…Why didn’t you…?”

His small smile had fallen entirely this time, morphed to a bemused look of his own.

“Why did you want me to kill you?”

The retort caught her off guard. She hadn’t been expecting any kind of questioning on his part of this. He’s a demon, after all. Demons kill and eat humans. That’s just what they do. That’s what they’ve always done. Why would he care for her reasoning? Why did he want to know? She didn’t know, but being put on the spot like that so curtly made her squirm in discomfort, her gaze dropping to her hand he still had gripped in his own.

She had spilled a lot of what she thought about her predicament when she approached him, she knew, but…telling him exactly why was something she didn’t want to do. She didn’t want to tell anyone why. Nobody knew. Nobody had the slightest idea that she had these thoughts running across her mind, and the one person who came closest to uncovering her inner turmoil was dead now. It was an accumulation of a lot of things which caused this spiral in her person, and the thought of saying all of those things aloud left her feeling unbearably shameful and vulnerable in a way she absolutely abhorred.

Akaza didn’t press. He simply pulled his hand away from her back and picked up the cup of herbal tea, bringing it down to their joined hands. There, he released hers and placed the cup in her grip, wrapping both of his hands around her own this time to make sure she held onto it properly. When she didn’t lift her head nor squeeze the cup on her own, he leaned down and peered up at her, offering a gentle, patient smile.

“You should drink it while it’s warm. It’ll be good for you.”

At first, as soon as his face came into her line of sight, she turned her eyes away from his, looking off to the wall on the right of them. When she felt him lightly squeeze her hand in both of his, however, she hesitantly looked back again. His eyes were softly narrowed, masking some of the kanji in both of his irises, and through them, he still gave off that friendly vibe he’s been carrying from the start.

His hands completely covered both of hers, enveloping them in a warmth she didn’t expect him to radiate. She had assumed it was from the cup of tea, but both of them felt the same way and it wasn’t changing after he put the cup down. She had always expected the touch of a demon to feel…cold. Chilling. Yet, his wasn’t. It was the kind of soft warmth you’d seek out during a cold winter’s day. The type of warmth you’d want wrapped around you when you feel scared and need comfort. The type of warmth you’d hide in during a stormy night to help lull you to sleep alongside the melodies of pattering rain. How could something so…wholesome radiate from someone like him? She didn’t know how she was supposed to take this nor how she was supposed to react. Should she really believe in that friendly gaze and patient smile? Should she buy into the kind act he was showing her?

Without a doubt, she would be a fool if she did.

She gave him a small nod of her head and squeezed the ceramic cup in her hand. He pulled his hands away from her own when she did, bringing them back down to his laps as he straightened up his posture again. She followed his lead and straightened up a bit as well, her gaze dropping again to peer into the cup she brought close to her chest in both of her hands. There were herbs floating in the amber-tinted brew, partly living up to the demon’s explanation. Bringing it closer to her face, she took a curious whiff of the drink, noting that the earthy aroma she picked up on earlier had come from the tea. Letting out a shaky breath, she dropped her shoulders and caved, finally deciding to bring the edge of the cup to her lips to take a gulp of the warm brew.

After the first two gulps, she pulled the cup away from her and grimaced heavily, making a face of clear distaste. It certainly tasted like a medicinal tea, that’s for sure. Actually, it tasted almost identical to the remedies the medics at the Butterfly Estate often had her take whenever she was brought in with injuries. Granted, she may be wrong about that. All those herbal remedies tasted the same to her: like dirt. She never liked drinking them, and this tea Akaza had given her tasted just like the others. She didn’t want to take another sip, but when she peeked over in his direction, he was staring at her pointedly, lifting an eyebrow at her in question. She didn’t need to be told what that look meant. The medics gave her similar looks whenever she reacted this way…It was just jarring to receive that look from a demon of the twelve Kizuki.

Deciding not to try her luck as she often did with the Butterfly medics, she tentatively brought the cup back to herself, stalling in awkward pauses until she eventually pressed it to her lips once again. She wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, so she just went for it. She shut her eyes tight and drank the warm tea in large gulps, slightly tilting her head back to take in all the liquid while doing her best to avoid the leaves in her way. When there was barely anything left, she pulled the cup away from herself again and dry-heaved to the right, a short series of coughs following soon afterwards.

Akaza chuckled a bit at that, taking the cup away from her and setting it to the side once more before leaning over to pat at her back with minimal strength in the gesture. Only just enough to help her get over her coughing fit.

“I take it you’re not a tea type?” He questioned, smirking lightly in amusement.

“Medicinal tea tastes like mud…If that is what that was…”

She replied without missing a beat this time once she had calmed down, shakily bringing her hands up to wipe at her eyes and face. When she pulled them away, she looked at her palms and narrowed her eyes in confusion for a moment. There were…red streaks covered all over them. When she realized it was blood – dried blood she must have dabbed onto her hands when she wiped the tears off of her skin – her hands began to tremble before balling up into tight fists and quickly falling to her sides out of her sight. All of a sudden, she became all too aware of the scent of blood on her person – the demon’s blood Akaza had wiped on her back in the forest before everything went dark.  

“Oh, that’s right,” He commented, beginning to stand to his feet with her cup in his hand. “You probably want to wash off after what happened earlier, right? Let’s go do that now.” She looked up at him when he said that, watching his back as he walked to the other side of the cabin to place the cup on the dresser before he opened up one of the top drawers. He pulled out an old towel from within, gray in color. Then, he wandered over to the closet and pulled out a small wooden washing basin which he tucked the towel into.

When he heard no kind of reaction or response from her, he turned around and lightly waved the basin in her direction.

“You do want to wash away the blood, don’t you?”

Again, he was being so polite and considerate. It threw her off, and perhaps in the right state of mind, she would’ve rejected his kindness and labeled it a manipulative fraud. Right now, however, she simply saw it as an odd direction life was taking her in, completely skewed from the one she had chosen to walk upon earlier this evening. Maybe it was also because she was desperate to get rid of the scent of blood on her. Normally, she was completely accustomed to it, but having it on her person like this, mixed with her tears, with what she had dreamed of still in her head? It was suffocating.

“…Yes, please…”

“So polite~” He mused lightheartedly, walking over to her bedside once more, but this time, he simply bent down by the knees, his legs spread on either side of him with ease, his free hand resting upon his left thigh. Offering her a more playful grin this time, he handed her the basin with the towel, and once she accepted them, he propped both of his hands on his knees as he looked her in the eyes once again. “Right, then. I figure you can’t walk much right now, can ya? ‘Course not. You’re pretty beat up. So, do you want me to help again?”

“I…I-I suppose I need your help, yes…” She really couldn’t deny it. She had been a wreck when she wandered into these woods, and right now? There was no way she could do much of anything without it hurting her like hell. Acting like she could walk without support through the woods on her own again would be a pathetically obvious display.

“Right. Okay, hold tight.” When she had been expecting him to help her to her feet so she could walk with her arm over his shoulders, he had surprised her by instead pushing the comforters of the futon completely off of her before scooping her up in his arms, one hooked beneath her knees and the other coming to wrap around the back of her waist. Easily, he propped her body up against his chest, secure in his grip. Tight and cozy.

_______, in response, stiffened up something fierce, ignoring the ache it forced to spread throughout her body. Her arms hugged the basin he had given her tightly against her chest, her nails digging into the wood while she stared up at him wide eyed.

“Comfortable enough? Is it okay for my hands to be where they are?”

 His…hands?

What kind of a question was that? He cared about something like that?

“I-I…Y-yes, this is fine…”

“Okay, good. Tell me if that changes on the way.”

She really couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This man – this demon – had gone from crushing and dismembering one of his own kind brutally without an ounce of remorse, to making her medicinal tea and caring about the way he touched or held her. It totally, completely contradicted everything she thought she knew and left her floating in a strange feeling of vacillation and gray areas.  

This wasn’t how the night was supposed to play out.

Yet, there she was, being carried out of this demon’s cabin, snug in his arms.

On the way out into the cedar woods, she even became acutely aware of his large hand pressed firmly against her waist, propping her up against his chest. She could feel each individual inked digit of his digging securely into her waist to keep her close to his person and safe from falling. She could feel his palm splayed on her side, radiating with that surprising warmth of his even through her uniform. Come to think of it, pressed up against his bare chest like this, she could feel his body radiated that same warmth as well.

She could have told him to move his hand if she wanted to, but decided against it.

The warmth felt soothing.

Familiar.

Instead, she allowed her head to lull against his bicep and for her eyes to slowly close as she watched him walk them away from the cabin, the light of the flames within still somewhat visible through the sliding doors.

Instead, she decided to keep pretending.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: So, I'm trying this for the first time, please bear with me for any mistakes, but PLEASE read the warnings and tags before reading as this fic d o e s touch on very mature and sensitive topics in mental health ;w; My purpose in writing this series is to tell a story as well as to give readers a relatable, realistic experience with bad mental health struggles along with a loving message in regards to that, so please be sure you're doing alright enough to proceed ;w; <3 I've never shared any of my fanfics on Tumblr before nor am I super apt at using this platform, so I'm not sure how this will turn out, but I thought maybe I should give it a try ;u; I hope you guys like the first chapter to my Akaza fic! ;w; <3

If you'd like to continue onto the next chapters available so far, you can find the rest of my fic cross-posted on AO3, FFN, Wattpad and Quotev! Links are down below! c: <3

Synopsis:

Loneliness and guilt can lead people down a painful spiral of darkness which is often times difficult to crawl out of. It can be suffocating to the point of which your thoughts are no longer your own. At least, they're not what you would recall them to be now that the person you once were is gone. Mourning and grievances can escalate and deepen the slope of self-destruction and self-loathing, pushing you further into an abyss of quicksand your fingers can't claw into no matter how hard you try to pull yourself out to make things right.

No matter what _______ did to reconcile for her mistakes, nothing ever made the emptiness and hurt within her go away. Life lost its meaning, and with it, the Slayer's will to continue had faded as well.

She had become so desperate, she convinced herself a demon of the twelve Kizuki was her only solution to make the torment end; to pull her from the quicksand and let her slip in a senseless dream.

To most, it would have been crazy, but to her? It was the last chance she had to make things right and to pay for the sins she could never undo.

Funny how a demon was the answer to prayers like that.

Rating: M for Mature.

Warnings:

THE FOLLOWING FIC CONTAINS THOROUGH DIALOGUE ABOUT SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND TENDENCIES ALONG WITH DIALOGUE OF SELF-LOATHING. IF YOU'RE IN A DARK OR VULNERABLE PLACE RIGHT NOW, PLEASE DON'T CONTINUE PASSED THIS POINT.

This fic also contains depictions of violence and gore. Don't know to what extent I should label it, so I'll just say that it's definitely in there (not that it would really stand out in a series like Demon Slayer).

The fic also goes into details about the Mugen Train arc so, spoilers ahead. It also slightly hints to stuff about Akaza's background - not in tons of detail, but there's hints.

CHAPTER TWO

Word count: 9,671

Cross-posts: AO3, FFN, Wattpad and Quotev (I am most active on AO3! <3)

Chapter 1: Something There

There was a light breeze this evening, blowing with the lovely scent of not-so-distant blooming wild flowers. The sky was cloudless, unobstructed and ornamented with an endless array of dazzling stars which freely blinked with detached innocence amongst their vast, endless world of obsidian depths. The moon – large and full – rested right in the middle of the spectacle, shinning its soft, ethereal light onto the earth’s plane of existence like a blanketed gift from Heaven. Underneath its brilliant light was an open plain of grass, long and feather-like with the blades which fluttered and danced hand-in-hand with the wind whom swept them from their rooted dance floor. All the while, from a distance, an audience of ancient cedar watched, their leaves restlessly enthused to join and encourage the ballet from where they stood so admiringly.

In all respects, the setting was awe-inspiring. A place most people would envision when thinking of a landscape bathed in peace and serenity. A place one could run away to so as to fall amongst the swaying blades, to roll along with them in their reality and giggle out joyous fantasies with the nearby cedar in a private, heavenly world of their own. A place where one could lay back, arms splayed, eyes to the sky, dreaming of an exciting, blissful (maybe even euphoric) future.

It should be a place drizzled in otherworldly wonder.

It should be a place of refuge.

A place people can go to by choice for a night of delight and mindful wondering – but there on the ground, viewing it all from a perspective so polar opposite from the view from Heaven, the scene came off in a completely different light.

The grass was coarsely grabby, edged with sticky little weeds which clung at her clothing as she dragged her feet across the hardened soil. Her body screamed cries of overexertion, protesting wildly and cacophonously against its owner, begging for a rest like the one the stars and moon dreamed of, but she knew she was beyond that point of grace.

The soft, white glow from the seemingly engorged moon only served to illuminate her path. It was leading her towards a destination every sane thought in her head told her to run away from, but the stronger voice in her edged her to strive for even beyond the painful exhaustion she felt seeping into her very bones.   

The stars may as well not even be there. To her, they certainly weren’t. She never bothered acknowledging them when she stepped onto the plain. She knew they were there, by logic, but to see and actively acknowledge them would be a cruel reminder of the beauty of life that was so fleeting.

The sweeping wind reminded her of that sense of inescapable mourning for something that was lost long ago, the way it pushed through the spaces between her fingers even as she let them hang loosely by her sides, mocking her weakness and fragility. It reminded her of the things and moments she allowed to slip through those very gaps time and time again before this very moment in time within that desolate field.

The audience of cedar, much closer now than they had been before, swayed in precarious gestures, almost as if whispering amongst themselves before – suddenly – waving at her with urgency as a warning not to enter the land they shielded her from.

She, however, paid no mind to the warnings they attempted to heed her. Her eyes, though vacant and void of emotion, simply stared forward beyond the gaps in between their thick, barky bodies into the inky black deep within the land of densely packed cedar. The only time she listened to her aching body to stop for a moment was when she reached the edge of the forest.

Her right hand weakly pressed against the bark of the nearest tree, rough against her palm. Her body greedily leeched off of the support the chivalrous cedar provided by collapsing against it a mere second or two afterwards. She whimpered pathetically as her battered side collided with the rough bark, her breaths coming out heavier for a moment while she tried with the miniscule amount of willpower left in her to compose herself.

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

Her teeth gritted painfully, her eyes shut tight, but she focused her breathing. She focused effectively, just as she had been taught and trained to, successfully alleviating some of the pain which screamed from deep within her core. When the world around her began to make more sense to her sightless senses beyond that of the pounding in her ears is when she allowed herself to gaze into the darkness once more.

Likewise, it was then that she had picked up on the pungent scent of blood creeping into her reality like invisible tendrils of poisonous vines come to destroy the idea of anything like a flower in a world like hers.

Flowers.

HA!

What a silly idea for something like that to exist in a moment like this.

Still, she was undeterred by the iron-noted scent. She had grown eerily accustomed to it over the course of time she had dedicated within her uniform. It was simply a sign of a cruel world; a reminder of how temporary everything was.

She was well aware the scent typically spelled out ‘danger’ and a definite threat within the near vicinity, and for a person like her who was so worn and tattered, it urged for her to turn back to run almost in an audible whisper.

Was it the cedar talking in the blood’s behalf? The chitter-chatter of their leaves fluttering deterrently, begging for her to reconsider?

Blatantly, she ignored.

She pushed herself off of the tree she leaned against and forced her body to continue forward. Quickly, as she slipped beneath the thick canopy of the forest, the moon and stars ceased to exist. Though she hadn’t actively acknowledged them when passing through the field, their absence was prevalently notable as soon as the branches of cedar roofed her within their mysterious home. The world around her grew as dark as the one thriving in her head, teeming with a life she was unaware of and instinctually afraid of.

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

The fear was quickly swallowed up by the inky sensation of disassociation. It had only served to exist a few moments in the back of her head, wondering aloud what she might run into on the way to the finish line she had drawn for herself, but it just as quickly fell to a numbing silence. Her head filled with fog and quiet, aiding in the subsiding of the gooseflesh which had momentarily sprouted along the length of her arms.

There was nothing to be afraid of. She had planned this shortly after she found out about what dwelled in this area. For a long time, she had been dreaming of a way out of the nightmare that is her daily life she could not escape from, and just like that, as destined by fate, the solution had fallen onto her lap through speculating whispers and murmurs from people in the nearby village about the things which sometimes dwelled in the cedar forest. It had been a hunch, a possibility with an equal possibility of it being something else entirely which the villagers spoke of, but something inside of the young woman told her this was definitely what she had been hoping for since everything had first started going downhill.

As she dragged her feet and trudged deeper and deeper into the abyssal world she walked through like a stranger in a town she didn’t belong in, she picked up on the sounds of creatures moving in the dark. Creatures she didn’t come here to see today. She could sense their presences in her flesh and bone, humming and vibrating with their being to force her awareness on them. She, however, chose to force her awareness of them into silence.

No, she didn’t come here for just any demon.

She came here tonight for a very specific one.

One she knew was stronger than any other she had ever faced or heard of thus far.

The one that would be the perfect and quick solution to her problem.

I could just stop walking, she thought as she dragged the top of her foot along the dirt beneath her to force it in front of her for another agonized step forward. It hurts to walk, anyway. I could just stop here, let any of the ones following me right now do away with me. End the nightmares already…She shook her head, forcing her steps to gain a bit of haste, though she made no move for her Nichirin sword sheathed at her side – her only true form of defense in the midst of an infestation like the one she ventured into. No. The weaker ones are cheekier than all hell. They like to play with their prey and food. They’ll make it worse for me than it needs to be. No, I’ll get to him and have him do it fast. I’m fairly certain he does it for sport, and with a demon as ridiculously strong as him, I probably wouldn’t even feel it when it happens. If the worst happens and the rumors are wrong…well…the others still remain an inescapable option at this point. One way or another, I’ll be able to pay for my weaknesses. I’ll make it up to them all. The nightmares will end and I’ll slip away like I should’ve so long ago.

The thought caused her brow to furrow as the sorrowful emotion she seemed tied to the hip with washed over her. It felt suffocating, like she had been forced down a waterfall and the harsh waves just kept battering onto her over and over, leaving her sore in every possible way. Before everything got as bad as it had, when everything was still so fresh and explicit in her mind, the feeling would’ve caused tears to surface in her eyes. She would’ve collapsed and bawled, a soul-raking kind of cry that shook her to her very spirit, rattling the human frame caged within her skin. A mournful sound and act of hopelessness to help her cope and allow her body to wash out the pain that was so endless and vast.

Not this time, though.

She hadn’t cried like that in a very long time.

The last time she had shed those kinds of heartbreaking tears was when her best friends had died on the field, a small group sent out to protect the very village she trekked from right now. There were demons terrorizing the villagers for weeks, people going missing in the forest leaving nothing behind but their screams in the night. Her squad arrived, eager and confident in their abilities to aid the people they had been sent to save…Yet, in the end, the ones who needed saving were them.

She could remember it as though it had happened just yesterday. The blood of her friends slowly dripping from her hands as she had desperately tried to stem their bleeding when the demon had coward off because of the rising sun. She could remember how loud she had cried for help to the point that her throat felt bloody and raw, how desperately she had begged with her friends not to die on her. Not to leave her. Not to let her weak and feeble attempt at protecting them and the villagers be the reason they were going.

Not to let them jumping in to save her be the reason they died in her arms.

Unfortunately, it was a request neither of them could fulfill for her.

By the time help arrived, they were gone. Nothing left but corpses in her arms staring blankly towards dawn.

She cried harder than she ever had that day. The only people she had ever considered family – the only people she had close to her left in a world so bleak – had been ripped away from her when they came to her aid; all because she couldn’t defend herself.

All because she allowed herself to believe she had the upper hand.

All because she allowed herself to get cocky.

All because she left her blindside wide open.

PATHETIC, PATHETIC, PATHETIC! You don’t deserve to be alive! It should’ve been YOU who died that day, not THEM!

Her head lulled from side to side as the harsh thought rang in her mind, reminding her time and time again that she wasn’t worthy of their sacrifice; that they had bestowed a value on her insignificant life she had no clue what she did to earn.

“I know…” She sucked in a harsh breath, her eyes fluttering for a moment from the pain radiating in her with each step she took. The recent fight to defend the village from demons had left her body a tattered and bruised mess beneath her uniform, barely able to do anything without nearly collapsing every few minutes. It had been going nonstop for many nights now, these harsh, numerous battles. Battles she felt tied to finish in memory of the ones she lost during the original mission. A sort of reconciliation she was aware would never amount to wash away the sins she’s committed towards the ones who loved her most, but the beating her body received every night…it felt well-earned.

“I know…” She repeated, her lip quivering as the shaken breath left her. “I-I know I don’t…”

The forest around her began to giggle and chuckle through the dark. Cheeky, mischievous whispers floated from cedar to cedar as the sensation of a million pairs of eyes staring her back down crept through her veins. By instinct, her senses had heightened again, becoming more and more aware of the things following her and gossiping about her, laughing about how easy it would be to rush in and end her right there, but deciding to play around with their food to prolong the inevitable through a torturous mind game.

I’m not scared to die. I haven’t been for a long time. I’m not afraid. None of this scares me. They can’t do anything to me I haven’t felt already in a million different ways. I. Am not. Afraid.

The laughter in the woods grew louder, almost as though they had peeked into her mind and read her thoughts. Mocking her. Gossiping about the reality she tried to hide behind her lies.

She tried her best to ignore the gossip. Her nails dug into bark as her hands pressed and pushed her feebly from tree to tree, each one she passed by close enough aiding on her course of self-destruction despite their previous warnings. The grass and weeds around her feet clung to her clothing just as they had done on the open plain, tugging at her harder and with more persistence the deeper into the void she propelled herself. Her dragging feet pulled away from them each and every time, deadest on reaching the end of what the woods attempted to protect her from.

Nothing could deter her from her quest, and the only thing which caused her pause and hesitation in her trek so deep within the darkness was the sound of a collapsing cedar a short distance away.

The timber was dissonant and jarringly crackling like booming thunder. When the massive cedar collided with the ground, the entire forest appeared to shake and tremble in protest of its fallen extremity. The living cedars chittered and waved in anxious, shrill cries before the world around her plummeted into deafening silence. Even the laughter and gossip had ceased from the demons she knew remained close by. She was sure they had been toying with her, but from the sound of the collapsing cedar, it appeared she had found what she sought, and the affirmation of his existence deep within the desolate forest forced them into fearfully respectful silence.

She stared ahead, leaning against a tree once more, watching intently through her vacant gaze for further movement. Her panted breath was all she could hear for a few moments, and her heart had plummeted into the abyss of her stomach when a thought crossed her mind.

Maybe it was just a random tree that was about to fall. Maybe nothing really caused it to fall other than an old injury to its bark. Maybe the rumors are just that: rumors. Maybe I’m stuck with my terrible plan B after all.

The thunderous sound of yet another falling cedar, however, told her she was wrong. The quick succession didn’t sound natural, nor did the way the woods reverberated with the collapse. There was something else there, something else that caused a third tree to quickly fall right afterwards as well.

Her heart jumped to her throat with anxious hope that the rumors were true after all. The silence around her from the demons whom followed her up to this point also inclined her to believe it to be so.

It has to be him. She pushed herself off of the tree she rested against, quickening her steps towards the trembling trees and earth-shattering commotion ahead. Please let it be him. Please don’t be another lesser demon. Please don’t play with my emotions like this. Not now. Not again.

Her breaths puffed out faster now, shaken with the effort from her quaking, hobbling form. She could barely keep going. If this wasn’t him, whoever it was would have to do away with her, because her body couldn’t carry her much further. No one would miss me, anyway. The village would be better off with a different Slayer there to defend them. I’m useless to them. I’ve been able to keep the demons at bay thus far, but I can’t anymore. They’ll be fine until they send someone else tomorrow. I would be a hindrance if I had stayed behind. At least with me being here, the demons can entertain themselves watching me with him instead – or coming after me themselves if it really isn’t him. GOD, please let it be him.

Unsettled by her desperate thoughts, she shook her head as firmly as she could before forcing herself to focus once more so she may sense the beings in her surroundings. As soon as she did, the vibrations in her bones shook her like an earthquake, nearly toppling the already beaten woman onto the forest floor like the falling cedar ahead. She reached out, clawing her nails deeply into a nearby tree one more time, her arms hugging tightly around it as her knees buckled beneath her. She whimpered with struggle, trying with all her might to stay on her feet against the mighty cedar, but through it all, her eyes had stayed fixated on the area the fallen trees were plummeting from. The strength of the demon ahead was…terrifying. She knew he had to be, considering he was of the higher ranks of Muzan’s twelve Kizuki, but that it felt like this without any kind of confrontation? For a second, it caused the thought of reconsideration to cross the woman’s mind as freezing fear raced through her being to solidify her in place. Her eyes were widened despite their vacant state and her teeth clattered and chattered together with her trembling.

Remember what’s waiting for you outside of this forest even if you do somehow manage to make it out alive. The life you chose to leave behind. None of it is worth it anymore. You’re pitiful to feel this damn afraid of something you’ve plotted so thoroughly, but it’s a natural response. I can’t think of many people who wouldn’t shake at the sense of this ridiculous amount of demonic presence…

She took a deep, calming breath at the thought, the sound of the falling cedar becoming background noise to her. Nodding slowly to herself, she pushed forward one last time and began to drag her feet towards the man she now had no doubt was there. No lesser demon would even come close to the essence she picked up on, so at least that thought was calming in its own regard.

Keep walking. Keep going. You’re almost there. You won’t feel this pain or fear for much longer.

She pushed herself through a few bushes now, her shoulder bumping against another cedar as a small clearing gradually came into her line of vision through the foliage ahead of her.

Within the clearing was the finish line.

The demon she had come here to see.

The end of her quest.

The answer to her prayers and the consequence of her sins.

Akaza.

The name rang in her mind from memory at the sight of his muscular frame and head of short, disheveled salmon-toned hair. His back was facing her, his concentration mainly set on the cedars before him which his fists continuously connected with, causing for them to fall one after the other. Sometimes, he’d mix things up with kicks as well, his form rock solid and unmovable with each strike he landed. It appeared as though he were training a form of martial art which, in retrospect, came off rather odd to her if she really thought about it. A demon training his skills as though he were human when the amount of strength he actually harbored was beyond humanity in all definitions of the word? Maybe it was just something he enjoyed to do, beating the life out of tree after tree. Whatever it was, it didn’t really matter. What mattered is that he was really there. The rumors were true and the finish line was now within reach.

She had heard of his battle and unfortunate victory against the Flame Hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku, through her Kasugai Crow. It had been widespread news when it happened. It spread like wildfire from Slayer to Slayer, the heartbreaking loss of a man so kind and great like Rengoku leaving a gaping hole many knew not how to fill.

In all regards, she should hate him. This demon. This disgrace and mistake on the face of the planet which only lived to cause pain and suffering to humanity. She should despise him with every fiber in her being – and when the news first reached her, she did. She wanted nothing more than to gain news of his defeat and demise while she mourned the death of the Hashira amongst fellow Slayers at the time.

Right now, however?

He was an antidote to her.

A sweet remedy she was desperate to taste.

A consequence she knew she fully deserved – and the desperation she felt for him to give it to her already only made her feel even less worthy of living on than she already did.

How could she want this so badly?

How could she be this desperate?

How could she be so disrespectful to the memory of Rengoku and the entire Demon Slayer Corps as to seek this demon out for the sole purpose of taking away the breath from her lungs?

Something anyone who knew him would quickly give up in return for Rengoku’s life.

If I could, I would trade places with him in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t even have to think about it. I know I’m unworthy and completely incomparable to him, but if it were possible, I would give my life in exchange for his. He deserved to live. He deserved a happy life. He deserved a lovely future. He deserved every good thing in the universe because of how much of an amazing man he truly was. So, why is it fair that an extraordinary person like Rengoku had to die, but a pathetic excuse for human life like me is allowed to keep going? It isn’t fair. God…please let me trade…Take me instead. Give us back Rengoku, let me rewind time, put me on the Infinity Train and let me take his place against Akaza. Let me give the world that kindness before I go…

Alas, even if it were possible to do as such, she knew Rengoku would’ve never allowed it. He would have saved her just like he had everyone else on that train.

Just like he had given his life to accomplish for those who couldn’t fight for themselves.

I’m sure if he were alive, he’d probably scold me for the thoughts I’m having. He’d probably start giving me one of his zealous pep talks, too, about not giving up so I can keep moving forward in the memory of them…He always had such a warm energy to him…So much hope, courage and perseverance in a world so bleak and scary. I wish I could’ve been like you. I’d like to believe I might be lucky enough to meet you in the afterlife…but…I don’t feel like I deserve to go where you’ve gone.

Her head lowered in shame, the quivering of her lip returning with vengeance. It was then she noticed just how many fallen trees were scattered in this clearing Akaza was training in. So much so, it made her believe the small clearing only existed because of him now, quickly growing in size with each massive cedar he brought to its knees. From up close, the shattering wood caused her ears to ache, the actual quaking fall forcing a flinch from her out of reflex.

Looking up from the litter of fallen trees, she watched as the demon stood up straight and rolled his shoulders after the last cedar he had beaten into submission. He turned his head to one side with a satisfying crrrrrack before turning to the other with the same result.

In his momentary pause, she found the will in herself to force her feet to walk forward again. She found it a bit difficult to maneuver around the fallen trees, her aching body screeching at her now with painful protest each time she jumped herself over one of them. There was no way at this point that the demon of the Upper Moons hadn’t become aware of her presence. She was sure he knew she was there long before she even showed up at this clearing he was making, but if he hadn’t, the raucous of her fumbling over logs and crunching leaves and twigs beneath her feet had certainly alerted him of her approaching presence.

She could tell, because he made no move to continue his training against the cedar no matter how much closer she got to him.

No, he didn’t move until she was right behind him, having somehow managed the hurdle of the final cedar at their feet.

If she hadn’t been before, she was definitely passed the point of no return now.

From up close, she could take in his details a lot better. Markings ran all across his skin, many of which disappeared under the cover of his baggy clothing. From behind, the ones which caught her attention most were the rings encircling his throat, visible still from the back of his neck. That, and the stained ends of his fingers and bare feet, his nails all tinted in a deep red color. All of it contrasted heavily with his pale skin tone and softly colored locks of hair which swayed just the smallest bit with the light breeze sweeping through the woods, offset even further by the reddened pearls ensnared around his ankles.

It was an odd thought, but the combination of his natural colors was a pleasant one. It was a strange sentence which floated in her mind for several moments because of how bizarre it actually was.

She supposed if she would give herself up to a demon, she would rather he didn’t look as terrifying as they come.

At the very least, there was something soothing about the softness in his palette. It almost felt like he belonged in this landscape, really, jumping out of the scenery like a painting in a black and white book.

“This is a surprise,” His rough, masculine voice broke through the silence, causing for the woman’s eyes to shift sharply to the back of the demon’s head. “You Slayers sure are interesting. Coming after me in my own domain like this? Can’t say you’re very good at sneaking up on the enemy, though. Might want to work on that.” He remarked, noticeably disinterested.

Why would he be interested? He didn’t even need to look at the Slayer to know they were weak. Their sounds of struggle as they traversed the fallen trees behind them told him all he needed to know. He had never been interested in fighting weakened opponents. Where was the fun in that? No, he wanted a challenge. Always seeking a new rival to combat and train with for years to come.

It’s a shame those damn Hashiras never chose to turn.

They really would’ve made the centuries so much more fun.

“I’m not interested in facing off, if that’s what you came here for.” He blatantly remarked. “You’re not worth the time, I already know that. If you want to pick a fight, have at it with any of the others in the woods, human.” With that, he readied his fighting stance once more, just as he had prepped himself with earlier. A few seconds after, quick as lightning, he struck the tree directly in front of him with his fist. No sound of effort emitted from him, but the mighty cedar fell backwards with agonized creaks and shatters from the single strike.

She, once again, flinched from the sound of the fall, her eyes turning to look at the defeated cedar before turning back to Akaza once more. A part of her was somewhat surprised that he didn’t care that a human was standing behind him as a perfectly easy target, but another part reckoned that might have been to be expected from someone of his prowess.

It simply reaffirmed the facts she already knew to be true.

For a moment, she didn’t know what to do next. Something in her hadn’t expected to make it this far. She had been convinced, in the back of her mind, that the night would end with her devoured by some random lesser demon in the woods before she could ever hope to stumble upon Akaza. Somehow, someway, fate had listened to her begging and delivered, but now that she found him, what exactly was she supposed to do? Wasn’t this supposed to be as easy as she always envisioned it to be? Wasn’t handing herself over to a demon supposed to quickly fall into the same pattern of blood, violence and gore?

Another tree fell in the midst of her thoughts, this time vanquished by a curt kneeing from the demon. This time, she didn’t flinch, stuck in her head, her eyes focused on the markings on the back of Akaza’s neck.

“You’re still here.” He remarked with a deep sigh, annoyance laced in his tone as he straightened to stand up tall. “Why are you still here? You’re no challenge to me. I assume you got business with me, but let’s be real here, you and I both know how things will end if you really want to try, little Slayer.”

“I…I-I do. That’s why I’m here…” She finally found her voice, deciding she would follow the flow life decided to toss her way right now.

Akaza’s entire demeanor shifted at the sound of her. He startled in place, stiffening from the unexpected feminine voice which carried itself so dimly through the breeze. By instinct, he had assumed the Slayer whom came to so (stupidly) boldly stand before him was a man looking for a fight. He had made a few short guesses in the moment he had spoken to her, wondering if maybe it had been someone from the Corps come to avenge someone he had taken down. He wouldn’t have been surprised; it’s happened before. Nevertheless, he certainly did not expect a woman to approach him for battle tonight.   

Slowly, he turned on his heels, his odd, golden hued gaze, marked by the beast, coming to meet with hers. It didn’t take him long to take in the state she was in and to guess she was in no condition to put up any kind of fight, let alone with him if that’s really what she came out here to achieve. She had a noticeably heavy limp, most of her body weight balanced on her left foot. Her facial expression looked worn, spent and drained of all energy. Her Nichirin sword, a blade lethal to demons like him, remained sheathed at her side and she showed zero interest in pulling it out in any form of defense. Her uniform was one he was all too familiar with, having already guessed she was a Slayer long before he ever came to face her because of the distinctive scent of the cloth and the sound of her blade hitting her leg with each move she made.

Despite the roughened exterior, she was extremely feminine. A woman in all forms of the word. Her face was full, cheeks lusciously round with large doe eyes adored by long, fluttering lashes. Her lips, though pulled into a desperate frown due to the state she was in, were plush and pink, lightly pursed with the face she was making. Her hair was thick and tinted in (hair color) which shimmered in the light from the moon he had allowed entrance into the forest within their plain. Her uniform consisted of a knee-length skirt and the typical top he was accustomed to seeing on the Slayers, though it definitely filled out more with the curves of her womanly figure, the color of her legs contrasting heavily from her attire as well.

A woman. He thought to himself, dumbly.

He remained silent, completely taken aback by this predicament. He simply stared at the woman with his widened dual-colored eyes, trying to figure her out from where he stood.

“I know I’m no challenge for you,” She eventually spoke up again, her voice quiet, just there for him to hear. “I know you could…so easily do away with me…You could just…j-just end it all in a second if you wanted to, really…” She muttered, trailing off for a moment as her gaze shifted to the side despondently. “But that’s why I’m here. I…I-I don’t want to put up a fight…” Her gaze shifted back to look him in the eye, her composure quickly faltering and falling as she, quite literally, stared death in the face.

“I want you to kill me…Do what you will, eat me or just do it for the sport of it, b-but…kill me…”

Tears were beginning to surface in her eyes now, quickly blurring her vision before overflowing down the curve of her cheeks. All the while, her expression fell with them, her lips pulling into agonized whimpers as she forced the words out of her raw throat.

“I-I don’t want to be alive anymore,” She openly sobbed at the demon, a creature she knew wouldn’t care, but letting out the thoughts that had been screaming in her head for so long to anyone who would listen was better than letting them die in her head with her. “I d-don’t deserve to be alive, s-so just do it…Do it…!” She was sobbing now, her knees buckling heavily, causing for her sword to clatter loudly at her side. Out of desperation, she reached out to tightly grip at the demon’s loose haori in both of her fists, her legs finally giving out from underneath her.

Just like the mighty cedar, she collapsed with a loud thud that caused her world to quake, and through her blurred vision, she stared up at the man who would finish the job to let moonlight shine through when she was gone.

“K-kill me, take away my breath, wipe me out of existence! P-please, just make it stop! M-make the pain stop! I should’ve died ages ago, but I’m here and it isn’t fair! I don’t deserve to be here! Please, p-please…! I came to you myself, o-on a silver platter, it w-would be so…s-so easy to make it all end here tonight…! PLEASE! DEVOUR ME!” She pulled tightly on his haori, her eyes never leaving his in her pathetic state. She pleaded with him in all ways she thought she could, hoping to elicit some excitement and thrill of the kill in the powerful demon she clung to.

Anything to make the pain stop.

Anything to do away with the agony.

Anything to make the nightmare end.

Anything to stop the loneliness and guilt.

Anything to get what she so rightfully deserved.

Akaza, in turn, stared down at the human woman feeling an uncomfortable sense of foggy nostalgia. It wasn’t in the things she was saying or the desperation in her pleading, but from the tears and the hopeless look in her eyes. There was something…there. It was just out of reach in his mind, tickling his memories, whispering to him of times that never came to be nor came to exist. Yet, the nostalgia still rang.

Why did the nostalgia ring?

He didn’t know, so he continued to stare at the young woman, at a loss on how to react or respond. He made no move to touch her, simply looking down at her with an unreadable expression which more so teetered in the direction of bewilderment. After a moment’s consideration, he raised his hands hesitantly, confused on what he was supposed to do about the sobbing woman who now lowered her head deeply towards her chest as her body curled closer to the ground. Her arms remained outstretched above her, clinging to his haori as she openly cried her tears into the grassy ground of the woods.

He thought about removing her hands from his haori, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. His hands lingered just above hers, his tainted fingers slightly trembling with indecisive energy, but he couldn’t bring himself to place them on hers to pry her off of him. In all his years of living as a demon, he had never had anyone so desperately seek him out to kill them like this. In battle, sure, when his opponent was mangled yet conscious enough to feel it all, but never so forward, out of the blue nor on purpose like this.

His lips parted with the attempt of speech, but no sound came from him. His mouth simply remained slightly agape before coming to a close a few seconds afterwards. The woman’s sobs had grown louder now, letting everything out she had buried within, and the sound of her heartbreak and loss of a will to go on caused for him to feel an incredible sense of growing unease and discomfort.

Was it pity he felt? He didn’t know, but he definitely felt something through this moral code of his.

Despite her distraught and the odd sensation it caused to bubble in him, Akaza had still caught on to the stirring of life in the woods around them. The sound of the woman must have caught the attention of the demons nearby. Did they really think it was such a good idea to encroach in his space? Apparently, at least one of them did. His eyes darted to the left as it shifted fast through the foliage before leaping out a second after in a bellowing flash of mindless hunger.

The sound of its heavy footsteps and soul-shattering bellow reached her viciously, jarring her in place as her eyes widened to stare at the ground beneath them through her constant tears. She only had seconds left to look up and see the beast that was running towards the two of them on all fours, all sense of sanity completely lost from the monstruous maw it held outstretched and salivating for her flesh.

Its fingers dug deeply into the ground each time its palms slammed onto it, booming repeatedly like massive drums straight out of the deepest depths of Hell. Its skin was covered in bulging, bright red blisters, pulsing and shifting with its savagely brusque movements. When its feet propelled it forward, it caused the fallen trees in its way to scatter wildly on either side of its massive rampaging form, slamming into the sides of the standing cedars near its position. It had three eyes – two where you expected them to be, and the third on its forehead, all of which stared wildly ahead of it. It sunk and registered in her the moment she saw them that its sights were primarily set on her, the only human in the forest, frail and vulnerable like a newborn lamb with a broken ankle left for dead.

Plan B was literally stomping towards her at the speed of sound and brutally forcing itself into her reality, whether she wanted it to or not.

In those split seconds before the collision, Akaza had moved before either of the two could notice. He had found the nerve in him to push her hands off of his haori for the sole purpose of planting his feet wide and strong on the ground in front of her. The sound of the earth cracking beneath his soles filled the air as his face morphed to one of sickened anger and his breath steadily left him through his nostrils. His hands moved so quick, their figures seemingly disappeared into thin air until they came to grapple onto one of the charging, deranged demon’s reaching arms. Without flinching, he lifted the massive creature into the air with little effort, the veins in his muscular arms bulging underneath his skin as he turned and slammed the beast into the cemetery of fallen cedar beside himself and the woman at his feet. A massive crater formed beneath its bulky, writhing body when it landed, the impact forcing the shattering of the earth beneath them to deepen and worsen dramatically.

With ease, he tugged strongly on the demon’s arm until it riiipped and tore from its socket. The atmosphere filled with its ear-shattering screech as blood splattered through the air with his curt yank of its enormous arm, but Akaza was unconvinced. He tossed the dismembered appendage into the woods as the beast roared in outrage and began to stand itself up, but before it could get itself very far, he had stomped his foot down ruthlessly on its chest, crushing bones beneath its skin from the force of the leisure blow. He pushed and pushed until the struggling monstruous being was buried in crackling earth. Meanwhile, its remaining arm attempted to reach for him and the woman while the other slowly began to regenerate at the bloodied stub. Promptly, Akaza gripped at its wrist, his fist crushing the bones in the demon’s arm as he, once again, ripped it from its socket as easy as ripping a paper in two.

“You’re new,” He let out in a low, husky, rough tone, eyes wide and staring into the mindlessly violent gaze the demon stared back into his as its own blood steadily began to pool in its crater. “So, I guess your stupidity in thinking you can rush into my space to take something from me is something you can do without an issue makes sense – but that isn’t the case anymore, is it?” He cocked his head to the side, raising his foot and stomping it back down onto the struggling, incoherent demon beneath him. Its bellows had never stopped from the moment Akaza had pinned it to the ground, the sound rattling the foundation of the forest, but it didn’t affect the Upper Moon in any way other than through annoyance and rage.

“I should give you a warning,” He mused, tutting as his foot stomped into the beast once again, forcing its chest to cave in on itself, blood pooling much faster in its crater; a morbid puddle of grotesque proportions. “Let you off with a tap on the wrist,” He reached down, eyes widening up further as the frown on his face deepened when his hand came to grip at the demon’s scraggly head of hair. It came off as though it had been a man before it was turned, and naturally, that made it even more enraging to him. Roughly, he tugged on the demon’s hair, forcing it to raise its head to properly look at him in the midst of its feral, bloody struggles. “That sounds fair, doesn’t it? Maybe I would have if it had just been me. Maybe I wouldn’t have thought twice about you. Maybe I would have let you scurry off without a second thought – but it’s not just me, is it? No, it isn’t. You came out here and charged at her, didn’t you?” He nodded his head, answering his own question as he reached down with his free hand to grip onto the beast’s jaw which hung wide at its snapping, open maw.

“Yeah, you did.”

Mercilessly, his grip tightened on its jaw and yaaanked backwards, tearing the bone and flesh right off of its skull in his iron grip. “You wanted to attack her, didn’t you? Eat her alive? Swallow her whole? Alleviate that disgusting salivation dripping from your mouth? Can’t say I’m surprised, but really,” He laughed humorlessly, tossing the bloodied jaw in his hand into the forest. “You should seriously know better with me here.” Pulling his bloodied foot out of the demon’s concaved chest, Akaza let out a heated breath and scowled deeply. “You sicken me. I hope your regeneration is quick,” He remarked, looking towards the stubs of the demon’s arms and the unnatural groove in its chest where his foot had once been. They were yet to heal, leading him to believe its regenerative abilities were not that strong. A lesser demon in all regards. “You’re gonna need it. Now,” He reached down and grabbed at its twisting body, listening to the gurgled sounds it produced with the lack of a lower jaw. Lifting the beast into the air on both of his hands, Akaza planted his feet firmly on the ground once more, facing the forest ahead.

“Get the hell out of my sight!”

With a mighty heave, he sent the demon hurtling forward through the air, quickly colliding with a path of cedars, easily smashing right through several rows of the thick, ancient trees long before the beast came to a brutal stop a good distance away. Akaza maintained his readied fighting stance, bringing his hands to the ready in front of him in case the demon was senseless enough to look for an actual fight.

It seemed that the beast was smarter than he thought, though, because as soon as it landed, it scrambled on its pathetically bubbling limbs before rushing into the forest to disappear in the dark.

After that, the world plunged into silence once more.

Not even the sound of insects minding their business in their microscopic world could be heard.

The young woman stared up at the Upper Moon’s back with a widened, horrified gaze. She was a crumpled heap on the forest floor, completely at this demon’s mercy, and the spectacle he had shown the Plan B demon was something that caused ice to crystalize through her veins. If he could be that vicious to one of his own kind, what’s to say he wouldn’t be equally as cruel with her? What’s to say he wouldn’t toy with her and inflict as much pain on her as he could just to watch her writhe and cry until he eventually got fed up with her enough to let her die? He was enraged so easily, so quickly…How would it feel? To have his strong hands wrap his ink-dipped fingers around her extremities similarly to how his pearls ensnared his ankles until he crushed her bones? To have him stomp down on her until parts of her caved in? To have him hurtle her through bark and cedar until she was nothing but a mess of human flesh and blood being soaked up by the soil?

She came to Akaza for a quick, painless death – but had she miscalculated?

Would a lesser demon like the one he just pulverized into submission have been more merciful?

Will a confrontation with him be unbelievable agony?

Would she feel every single thing he did to her until the life seeped out of her, or would adrenaline sink in and numb some of the pain by the time things got that bad?

The tears started flowing again, dripping down her chin and clinging to her eyelashes until she blinked them away. Her body started trembling violently as Akaza straightened to stand normally once more. When he turned to face her, a pitiful whimper forced itself out of her lips, her instincts making her kick her heels into the dirt to push her a few feet away from him uselessly.

COWARD, COWARD, COWARD! THE OTHERS HAD IT A MILLION TIMES WORSE THAN YOU! FACE YOUR FATE! ACCEPT THE CONSEQUENCES YOU SO RIGHTFULLY DESERVE!

When he started walking towards her, easily stepping over the carnage of blood and cedar, her heart sank for the millionth time tonight. It was happening. It was finally happening. He was going to heed to her request. He was going to give her what she came to him for – whether it was for better or for worse. Her crying came out broken and choppy now, her chest quickly puffing in and out from how hard it was for her to maintain a composed breath. When he was standing right in front of her, she shut her eyes tightly and allowed her head to hang low again, her shoulders heaving as she waited for the inevitable.

Several long, agonizingly slow seconds passed where nothing happened. She felt nothing, sensed nothing, heard nothing. She didn’t know what was scarier – the actual act of the kill or the anticipation for the blow that was to come. She supposed it wouldn’t matter either way soon enough.

The sound of crinkling leaves is what first broke the silence. The sound of movement. It was abrupt and didn’t last very long, but it was there and it was definitely caused by Akaza. Then, all of a sudden, in the dark of her tightly blocked vision, she felt his hands gently brushing his fingers along her wet cheeks until her face was cupped in a pair of roughly calloused, warm palms slickened with blood. A moment after, the feeling of his thumbs brushing her skin and painting it red tantalized her senses, causing for the eruption of gooseflesh to spread all over her arms. Despite the morbidity of it, the gesture from the demon somehow felt so…gentle. Soft. Tender. Almost…kind.

Could that even be real? Could that seriously even happen? A kind demon? A demon kind towards a human?

She knew of Nezuko’s existence, but from her vague understanding of the circumstances, she was a special case.

Akaza was in an entirely different category all on his own, not to mention his ranking with the twelve Kizuki.

No, this kind touch has to be a cruel joke…His palms, rough-skinned from his training and stained crimson from his brief, sadistic fight, cupping her tear-stricken face with this level of…compassion? Comfort? She didn’t even know how to label the feeling, but it was definitely something she had never envisioned herself labeling upon a demon’s touch.

Was he toying with her? Giving her a false sense of safety before he’d rip her head clean off of her body the way the Slayers’ blades cleanly sliced those of the demons off of theirs? After all, through the touches, she still felt that blood being caressed softly on her face, a cold and honest reminder of what exactly she was dealing with. Though the thought terrified her of the unknown oblivion which waited beyond living, curiosity bested her fear and willed her to open her eyes to look upon the world one last time.

Before her, Akaza had gotten on his knees to better stare down onto her frightened expression with a look of perplexed curiosity of his own. She struck what felt like olden memories in his head by the way she cried and sniveled. The sound strummed cords in him he didn’t know existed, long since dissolved in a past he couldn’t be entirely sure was once reality or something his dreams came up with when he rested in refuge away from the light of day – and now, as he gently stroked the skin of her face out of his own curious nature, the feeling brought other unknown instincts to life in him.

It had always been his moral code not to involve himself with human women. He wasn’t to fight with nor eat any of them, because that was simply the way he chose to live his life. It was a moral code he fiercely followed – what first brought it upon him, he wasn’t so sure. When he looked at the Slayer before him now, however, the image of her crying, frightened state answered a few of his questions in choppy phrases. Nothing linked quite well just yet, but he knew from the look of her that she came off…defenseless. He knew there had to be something strong in her by human standards, of course, that would amount to her becoming a Demon Slayer, but it was more than that. It was just…something else he couldn’t put his finger on. A strong desire to save the life she was so desperate to throw away.

Why would I want to do something like that? His brow furrowed slightly at the thought, his perplexed expression deepening. I don’t know you. You’re just some random human woman who stumbled into me with a ridiculous request. Why would I care? If you were anyone else – any other man I’d faced – I would have ended you on the spot…but there’s something in your eyes. Something…there.

But it was gone before he could grasp it in his mind. The memory dissipated like dust, drifting into the dark of his subconscious, leaving him only with the woman in front of him to make sense of the strange, growing protective feeling he had swelling in his chest.

“No.”

“…N…N-no…?” She repeated meekly, her voice forced out of her throat in a cautious, shaken tremble.

“No, I won’t kill you.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion and her lips parted, taken aback, surprised by the sudden answer to what she had begged him for. She stared at him for numerous, silent moments through the blurring tears in her eyes, unable to shake off just how bizarre that sentence sounded coming from a demon’s lips. Any demon would’ve leaped at the easy catch she came to offer tonight – one of which quite literally did. She had been completely positive that Akaza would have been similar. Maybe not as mindless nor deranged, but she had been convinced he would’ve reveled in the chance to play with easy prey. So…

“W-why not…?”

Akaza didn’t respond. He simply stared at her, one of his bloodied hands sliding further back on her cheek to allow his fingers to weave through her (hair color) locks. His striking dual-colored eyes practically stared right into her soul from how intently he observed and drank her in.

“Relax,” He spoke in a soft murmur. “I won’t hurt you.”

As the words left him, he pulled his hand back from her hair and stiffened it tightly, fingers straightened, before bringing it down firmly over the back of her neck.  

She barely had a moment to really register what had just happened. The only thing she was able to notice in those few seconds before she lost consciousness was the powerful blow to her neck and the gentleness in the demon’s eyes. After that, the world slipped out from under her, gravity taking its toll and greedily pulling her towards its core. Akaza, however, caught her against his chest, having brought his arms down to wrap them around her waist so he could properly hold her to his larger figure. For a moment, he just held her, staring at the forest floor as his bloodied hands stained her uniform and her head lulled onto his shoulder. Again, there was something there. Something poking at his subconscious. Knocking at the door of his mind, cooing at him in seductive whispers to open up, but the door disappeared as soon as he attempted to reach out to let it in.

He turned his head to look at the woman in his grip and he squeezed her in closer to himself. This human woman felt…soft all over to hold. Warm. Plush. It was something he was unused to in contrast to his rigorous training, finely toned physique and all of the battles and missions he had been sent on over the course of the centuries he’s lived through. She was the complete polar opposite of everything he knew, really.

Not wanting to dwell too long in the confusing thoughts, he shook his head clear of them, bringing his focus back to the here and now. He stood up with her in his arms, shifting her in his grasp until he had her cradled in both of his arms up against his chest with her head resting on his bicep. Once he carefully settled her in, he began walking deeper into the forest of whispering cedar.

Any other demon would’ve devoured her on the spot, but he had no such desire.

For now, he had to get her the hell out of the forest to start saving her life.

Saving her life…What a strange thing for a demon to consider.

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