Here to chill

I watch him from afar, training with the girls from the Butterfly Mansion. He's focused, breathing rhythmically, eyes sharp and concentrating on the wooden dummy in front of him. He runs, jumps, and unleashes a wheel of water; his second form. They clap for him as he lands, a smile breaking out on his face. He looks over at me, and I catch his eye, sending him an encouraging smile of my own. He nods and runs back, starting the process over again. No words are spoken, but the interaction is nice all the same. I watch him a bit longer before gripping my sword and focusing on my own target.

-

I find myself watching him more and more, intentional or not. I begin to observe him for training techniques and tips. I want to progress myself, after all. But I begin to catch my eyes sliding over to him even during times other than practice, and eventually all hours of the day. Each time, I rip them away and give my face a chastising slap, causing the Butterfly girls to cluster around me in worry. Every time that happens, he and his friends look over at the commotion. His eyes manage to meet mine every time, making me want to melt into the floor.

-

The bruises on my face and body get bigger every day, and the Butterfly girls all but threaten to lock me in the infirmary if I don't stop. I resort to avoiding him. After all, I can't accidentally look at him if he is nowhere to be seen. I rearrange my schedule so I am never in the same room as he. It becomes a one-sided game, like a starling and a hawk. Dancing around each other constantly, with chaos to come if the two should ever meet. There would be no epic fight, but one of us would surely die.

-

Of course, all good things must come to an end, as does our blissful dance of ignorance. One day, I run out of water during training. I enter the kitchen and come face-to-face with him just finishing lunch. He gives me a smile and offers me half of his rice ball, but is interrupted by his friend snatching it out of his hand. He scolds them, and kindly hands me the other half, which I politely refuse. He offers to help me get water, but I refuse that as well. I get my water, and, with one final wave from him, retreat outside. I dump most of the water onto my heated face, and train until I am forced to go back inside.

-

The next day is probably the worst so far. As much as I try to avoid him, he somehow manages to get in my way. No matter where I go that day, I see him- leaving the room as I arrive, casting me a glance and smile; or entering just as I leave, waving at me as I pass.

By lunchtime, I rush past the Butterfly girls, racing to get out of the mansion as fast and as far away as possible. I need to get away from there, away from him, away from his smile. I finally stop underneath a sakura tree to catch my breath. running so much made me lose my appetite, so I cast my lunch aside. I think about him, about everything I've felt in the past few weeks since he arrived, and I cannot help but burst into tears. I cry for what feels like hours. I cry until my legs give out underneath me, making me fall at the foot of the tree. I cry until I cannot breathe, until my body is wracked with sobs, and still I cry some more. I cry until I feel a pair of arms wrap around my shoulders, rocking me and murmuring soothing words into my ear. I grasp the person's kimono tightly and, seeing its green and black pattern, only cry harder. I cry until I can cry no more, falling asleep in the person's arms.

-

He doesn't say anything about my behavior the next morning, even when his friends make comments about my puffy eyes and flushed cheeks. Instead, he scolds them for their rudeness and gives me a kind smile.

He still appears frequently throughout my day, this time saying hello or waving a little more vigorously than before. He seems to linger a little bit longer each time, and it feels like the pink in my cheeks will never go away. At lunch time, he catches up to me, asking if he could spend his meal with me instead of with his friends, like usual. He makes conversation as much as he can, and even makes me laugh a few times. Despite all this, I feel my chest get heavier throughout the meal, and the smile on my face has a harder time staying. If he notices, then he doesn't say so out loud.

-

Eating lunch with him becomes a routine, and eventually his friends join as well. I slowly revert my day back to my original schedule, in time with his. The days are a lot livelier than before, and having others there makes me feel a bit better. Still, after I bid goodnight to the three of them and am safely in bed, I cannot stop the steady stream of tears that falls from my eyes each night.

-

One day, I finally break. I run outside at sunrise and train until I can't feel my limbs, hitting the dummies to the point of decimation. He and his friends cannot get close enough, and it is only by the Lady of the house that I am finally stopped. She drags me into my room and, the minute she closes the doors, I let it all out. I tell her all of the awful feelings I experience: the nausea I get when he enters the room, the rising heat in my face at even the slightest mention of him, the dizziness I feel at just the thought of his voice, his eyes, his smile. I tell her how he plagues my every thought. I tell her how when he waves at me, I can't decide if I want to squeal in joy or curl up into a ball and hide. I tell her how his every touch heats my skin, even long after it is gone. I tell her how he makes me feel like flying and like falling all at once.

"Am I sick?" I ask her. "Am I dying?"

"No silly," she replies. "You're in love."

-

Love. Having a name for the feeling makes it a bit better, I suppose. I had heard about it many times in my life, from the stories of the people around me, but I had never experienced it myself. Now that I have, I can't say that I like it.

Nonetheless, I still had to deal with it. The Lady of the house said that the easiest way to come to terms with it was to find out the other person's feelings. If they were denied, then one could move on with their lives. If they were returned, she said, that is often the happiest moment of a person's life.

I disagree. Whatever this "love" thing is, I can't understand how people can like it. Putting all of your hopes on a chance? Who would want that? Yet another simple thing turns complicated, all because of him. Life used to be so easy before he entered my life. I was a demon slayer, killing monsters, traveling from town to town in search of people to save. I had no family left, no friends, just myself, my crow, and my sword. Why did he have to come along and ruin it?

Ever since I've been spending more time with him, he's made me open my eyes, and everything has gotten so much more confusing. He introduced me to his demon sister, and explained that some demons didn't want to be a demon in the first place. He told me of the first time he killed a demon, after failing to before. He told me about his family, and how he met his friends. It's become much harder to finish jobs since then. Not only because of my newfound empathy for demons, but I now have something holding me to this world. Before him, I could kill demons as I liked, and risk my life doing so. It would be a tragedy for the Corps if I died, but that's the same for any other demon slayer. No one really cared about me past the basic level. No one, that is, until him.

I don't necessarily know if he cares about me, but he does save me a seat next to him during lunch. He helps me with my breathing techniques, and I help him with his. Whenever something is wrong with me, he's always the first to ask why. He always shares his dessert with me, when he's not just giving it to me completely. He talks of the future after he cures his sister, asking me to remain in his life even then. He's one of the sweetest people I've ever met. But does he care about me, or is he just being nice? When you have feelings for a person, how can you tell the difference between kindness and love?

-

One day, while I'm at lunch with him, he gives me the rest of his mochi as usual, and I can wait no longer. I have to tell him how I feel. I ask to talk to him after the day ends, ignoring the suggestive comments and wiggling eyebrows from his friends. I'd grown to like them more, but they could still be really annoying. Luckily, he too gives them nothing more than a dirty look, and agrees to my request.

-

So here I stand, underneath the cherry blossoms again. It seems like years and years since then, and yet like it was only yesterday at the same time. To be truthful, it has been two months since that day, and four months since I first noticed him. This time, the sakura tree is just shy of its peak blooming days, and the flowers are opening their tiny pink faces to the sun. Petals drift to the ground with the occasional stronger gust of wind. I feel the same as those little blossoms, barely holding on to the tree even with the gentle breeze. seconds slip by, taking a bit of my patience along with it each time as I begin to worry. Why wouldn't he show up? He always seems excited to tag along with me, why does he decide to leave now? Was it a joke the whole time?

Dejected, I turn to leave, but a warm hand stops me by the wrist. I look back and see a smile as bright as the sun. It's him. This realization doesn't bring me relief; instead, a whole new weight presses down on my shoulders. This is it. He calls my name and asks what's wrong, and I want nothing more than to scream. So I do.

I tell him how tired I am. I tell him how I train nonstop every day, hitting dummies until my knuckles are cracked and bleeding. I tell him how I get up before the sun rises and I fall asleep long after the moon is in the sky. I tell him how I'm constantly risking my life, health, and sanity just to make sure that my next day isn't my last. I'm at my limit, I say, and I'm tired.

He starts to ask me to take a break, but I cut him off. I can't take it anymore. "I can't take a break! Do you know why? Because every time I try, I can't think about anything else except YOU!"

My words and their venomous tone render him silent, so I continue. "You fill my every waking thought! I can't focus on anything except training because of you. Even then, I push myself to the point of exhaustion just to make sure I focus. The Butterfly girls take me to the infirmary every day, but I can't stay because I will have nothing else to do but think of you. I wake up to the image of your shining smile, and fall asleep with your compassionate gaze still burning in my mind. And the worst part-" I choke back a sob- "The worst part is, I want to. I want you to be the first and last thing I see every day. I like eating lunch with you, and sparring with you, and saying hello to you throughout the day. I love you, Tanjiro Kamado, and I'm sick of it!"

I sink to the floor, sobbing, trying to force out an apology between gasps. I bury my face in my hands, both to muffle the sound, and also to block him out as much as possible. For a long time he stands so silent that I begin to wonder if he was ever here at all, or if I, driven mad by my infatuation, had conjured him up to ease my nerves. Finally, I hear the grass shift next to me. He takes a tentative breath. "Is it... Is it really that bad?"

I wipe my tears as best I can, slowly looking up. Immediately, I catch his crimson eyes, filled with sorrow. Blinking, I see that he himself is about to cry. He rubs his eyes roughly with the sleeve of his kimono. When he speaks, it is clear he is choking back tears. "I mean, it's okay. God, of course it's okay. Please don't apologize for how you feel, because that's... That's all I've ever wanted to hear."

"...What?"

He answers by pulling me into a hug, burying his face in the nape of my neck and continuing to cry. Once I process his statement, a huge smile breaks out on my face. I hug him back as we continue to cry, this time in absolute joy. He pulls away. "Can I kiss you?"

A blush rises to my cheeks as I nod. He pulls me close, connecting his lips with mine. My first kiss. It's gentle, but intense, and pulling me ever deeper. His hands are on the back of my head and in between my shoulder blades, holding me as if I will fall apart the minute he lets go. He pauses to take a breath. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

"Me too," I giggle, pressing my forehead to his.

We sit like that until the sun goes down, watching the blue of the sky turn a brilliant red. I feel the best I have in months, all because of him. "I love you," I whisper to him. I close my eyes, falling asleep in his embrace once more.

He smiles, hugging me closer to his chest. As my consciousness fades, I can barely hear his response.

"I love you too."