WILD BOAR COMIN' THROUGH!

He's having FOOD? And he didn't even think of inviting the loudest, most bothersome boar that he knows? Shame! Shame on Giyuu for a thousand years!!!

It wasn't long before Tanjiro got the scent of relief from the other, smiling in return at the happiness that radiated off his friend. "I guess seven days is a long time to sleep. Sorry, Inosuke. I didn't mean to worry you." He does check out the bandages and bruises as subtly as he could; but since Inosuke was up and about he figured he had little reason to worry.

"Don't worry! I'm tired, but I won't sleep that long again." I promised as he sat up, cringing at the wound to his side. Pushing that aside, he thought back to their fight and....couldn't really remember much either.

"Good. We need you back on missions as soon as possible! I don't want you falling a rank behind us!" Not that he was allowed on the battlefield yet, but he certainly planned on making it happen sooner than later. "If you behave and recover quickly, I'm sure they'll let you out. You won't even have to try sneaking out!"

His head tilted slightly to the side in slight confusion.

"What? You're never eaten one? But they're so delicious! Sometimes, they even come with a surprise little worm inside!" Which seemed to be a true delicacy, judging by Inosuke's excited tone. "Maybe it's because humans don't like to eat their food right from the ground, for some reason... Maybe we could try putting them in hot water! Or even grill them on the fire like fish!"

He seemed content with her choice, the boar's snout practically dancing before him with his eager nods.

"To the river, then! Maybe we'll see some other animals drinking there! Oh, maybe even a bear! It's been too long since I've fought one!!"

He almost rushed ahead of her, only to recall a gesture he'd seen Tanjiro and her perform a few times. A way to lead the other towards an exciting adventure. His calloused hand reached for Nezuko's sleeve, a little hesitant, before it wrapped around her own palm instead.

She merely stood there, the sunlight reflecting the amber hue of her eyes, allowing the space between them to widen until he became a mere charcoal blur against the lush green backdrop of the interior.

HE WAS A CREATION OF HER OWN DESIGN, A LIVING PROOF THAT SOME MEN WERE TOO PROUD TO BE SWINE, YET TOO OBSTINATE TO BE HUMAN.

The ensuing months flowed in a hazy rhythm of blooming jasmine and crashing waves. She watched always from afar as the stallion transformed into a specter of the highlands, a tale murmured among the nymphs who beheld him racing through the mist-laden valleys with a wild, unrestrained elegance. He did not seek refuge in the groves or the gentle waters of the springs; instead, he pursued the loftiest summits, the realms where the air thinned and the horizon unfurled like a promise.

He became the quiet guardian of the cliffs, his jet-black coat merging with the shadows of the rocks, his gaze eternally scanning the azure expanse for the white sails of the world he had abandoned.

One afternoon, as the sun's heat shimmered off the limestone cliffs in dizzying waves, she materialized beside him. She did not herald her arrival with a thunderous clap or a burst of light; she simply existed there, her presence a refreshing breeze against the stifling humidity of the day.

“I told you, they always come here, willing or not, but they always come.”

As she looked at him and the stallion remained unperturbed. He merely shifted his majestic, weighty head toward her, a deep, resonant nicker echoing from his chest. She saw that he regarded her not as a subject would a queen, but as a soldier would a general who has finally returned to the battlefield.

“They will take you and others as well, most deserve that fate truly, to be taken, do you?”

Together, they gazed down toward the cove. Below, the rhythmic crashing of the surf was disrupted by the arrival of three longships. These men did not come as driftwood, salt-encrusted and battered. They arrived with the swagger of the living, shields gleaming like mirrors, swords drawn and shining, and coils of thick hempen rope ready to seize whatever they deemed precious.

They stepped onto the sand with the heavy footfalls of conquerors, their eyes scanning the treeline for gold, for wine, or for the fabled beauty of the sorceress they had heard of in the taverns of Ithaca.

“Take me down to them.”

He was a silent guardian of the shores. There was never a day without some intrusion, without some foolish souls barging upon the beach uninvited. Some would fail before they even landed, their ships crashing into the cliffs, lacerated by invisible boulders, reduced to timber and rubble by the relentless winds. Only the most organized parties made it to the shore, their chances of survival only proportional to their greed.

Only the vilest souls made it unscathed. Ripe fruit for her to pick.

Her sudden appearance did not startle him. At every given moment, from his deepest slumbers to his most alert instants, he could feel her there. Her very presence was palpable to him in every corner of the island, from the tiniest blades of grass to the highest cliffs. He greeted her with a soft noise, letting her decide what sort of fate would be bestowed upon this particularly nasty crew.

Her request was met with a little snort. He could have made the cliff crumble upon them with a mere stomp of his hooves, but perhaps she wished to play with her toys a little longer. He knew what happened to the lowlives who washed upon her shores - he had seen the result of it, but not the process. Admittedly, he was rather curious to see her in action.

He lowered his stance ever so slightly, allowing her an easy climb onto his broad back. He was an omen of death, jet-black coat and burning pits in his gaze, bringing the divine down to the realm of the lowly. It almost felt like an insult to her grandeur.

The men's gazes felt like as many daggers sinking into his flesh. He could feel the ravenous greed oozing from them, the thirst for conquest, the firm belief that this island alreayd belonged to them. These mindless bastards were too thick to understand who - what she was.

Bankotsu snorted as sharp little teeth snapped harmlessly through empty air where his fingers had been a heartbeat earlier. He pulled his hand back without the slightest urgency, having expected the bite from the moment he'd flicked the boy's forehead. "There he is," he said with a crooked grin. "I was starting to worry the hot spring had boiled what little sense you had left." Water continued to drip from both of them into the steaming pool, and the ravenette finally released the back of Inosuke's neck with a casual shove that was just firm enough to keep him sitting upright. "You've got a nasty habit of proving people wrong in the dumbest ways possible."

His laughter faded into something quieter as Inosuke launched into his next declaration with all the confidence of someone who believed the future could simply be wrestled into obedience. "Thirty seconds. Forty seconds." Bankotsu rolled the numbers around with exaggerated consideration before clicking his tongue. He lifted a finger as though unveiling some profound secret. "Or if you could learn when something's worth proving." Blue eyes settled on the half-demon with surprising steadiness. "Strength isn't collecting the biggest pile of stupid things you've survived. Otherwise, cockroaches would rule the world." The corners of his mouth twitched upward again.

He crouched in front of Inosuke, resting his forearms across his knees as steam drifted lazily between them. "You keep talking about becoming stronger every time you kill. So fine, maybe you do." His gaze lingered on the boy's bright, untamed eyes before continuing. "However, if every victory leaves you too broken to enjoy the next one, that's a lousy bargain." The jewel shards buried within his body remained silent beneath his skin, though for just an instant they pulsed with a rhythm that echoed memories far older than either of them cared to name.

Then, just as quickly, the weight of the conversation vanished beneath another grin. Bankotsu reached over, grabbed one of Inosuke's damp ears between his fingers, and gave it an unapologetically firm tug. "Don't get ahead of yourself, piglet." He released it before the inevitable retaliation could land, already leaning back with an amused glint in his eyes. "You held your breath because I dragged you back out. If I'd waited another five seconds, your grand debut as a 'real yokai' would've ended with me explaining to everyone how the mighty mountain beast got defeated by bathwater." He barked another laugh, shaking his head. "Now quit trying to impress me for ten minutes, and that'll be a challenge worthy of a demon."

He eyed Bankotsu with all the animosity he could muster, a pout tugging down at his lips. He utterly failed at making himself look intimidating, between the childish expression, the locks of hair clouding his gaze, and the wet ears flopping on top of his cranium.

"Cockroaches don't seem all that strong when I'm eating them." He retorted with a snort. It was getting harder and harder to keep up the bravado, when Bankotsu's tone veered dangerously into proper lecturing territory. "The things I survive aren't stupid! I don't always get to choose what's happening to me, y'know!"

An uneasy scowl tugged at his lips as Bankotsu crouched before him, his stance and words both keeping Inosuke cornered, forced to face his own stupidity. Was this really what he sounded like? Some shaggy brat deluding himself into dreams of grandeur, when he was hardly a threat at all? He'd always believed that he could bend without ever breaking. That every battle was worth fighting. Did he have it wrong the entire time?

"I wouldn't let it happen. I'd know when to stop!" Empty words. It would have been an outright lie, if Inosuke wasn't so good at lying to himself.

He couldn't let that last offense slide. The second Bankotsu finished his sentence, his advice falling into deaf (and one ruffled) ears, Inosuke lunged at him with full force, determined to sink the man under water with his entire body weight.

"Let's see if YOU can hold your breath for those ten minutes, you fucker! Nobody touches my ears and gets away with it alive!"

closed  fan  finds  the  delicate line of flesh  where  cheekbone  meets  hollowed  skin,  douma's  head  tipping  slowly  to  the  side.  he's  watching  with  curious  jeweled  eyes,  expression  a  mixture  of  perplexed  focus  and  …  amusement.  after  a  moment  or  two,  a  hum  loosens  past  his  lips.  “  wow!  look  at  you!  ”

claw  tipped  fingers  reach,  only  for  the  little  boar  creature  to  bite  at  them? nibble, even?  oh  my!  laughter  bubbles,  and  he  finds  himself  tipping  toward  the  small  one,  resting  one  hand  on  his  knee.  “  I've  never  seen  anything  quite  like  you  before!  ”

The little creature kept his response to a growl, his desperate attempt to gnaw the man's fingers off amounting to mere dents in their skin. He was distracted from his goals as he spotted the peculiar shiny of the fan in the other hand, his impulsive nature urging him to spring to his hind legs, dirty little palms trying to snatch the fan next.

A brief smile of genuine amusement danced across her face; he was fortunate that she had looked beyond the salt-encrusted remnants of his pride to discover a spirit deserving of a stallion. Most who washed ashore here were merely gluttons draped in silk, fated for the muck and the trough.

TO HAVE BESTOWED UPON HIM THE GRACE OF A GALLOP RATHER THAN THE GRUNT OF A SOW WAS A KINDNESS THAT FEW MORTALS COULD EVER HOPE TO RECEIVE.

However, the goddess of Aeaea had no need for a steed. Her island was a vast canvas of concealed valleys and melodious springs, and though its expanse was immense, she traversed it with the effortless grace of a shadow. She had no inclination to spend her afternoons tending to a temperamental creature or directing a stubborn hoof.

In a sudden, decisive motion, she struck his flank with a sharp slap. The sound sliced through the stillness of the shoreline like a whip, serving as a physical exclamation to her divine command.

"Away with you.” She commanded, her voice now stripped of its tenderness and replaced with the cold authority of a sovereign. "Go, adapt, and learn the language of the wind. Avoid the predators that lurk in the highlands, and above all, avoid the men."

As she watched him as he trotted away, his dark hooves clicking against the damp stones. He was a stunning creature, a rare spirit that truly deserved the elegance of a gallop rather than the humiliation of the trough. A brief wave of generosity washed over her for recognizing the stallion hidden within the salt-encrusted remnants of the man, yet she understood that the island would ultimately be his greatest mentor. Aeaea was a vast contradiction of melodious springs and rugged cliffs, a realm where beauty often served as a trap and silence stood as a warning.

“I’ll find you, when I need you.”

She realized she couldn't be everywhere simultaneously, and the island was besieged by the ceaseless, rhythmic influx of men. They arrived with their corroded swords and ravenous gazes, treating her haven as merely a stopover or a treasure trove to be raided. Some were audacious enough to attempt to abduct the creatures she had nurtured, trying to lead her horses or hounds away from the shore under the cover of night. The loss of a few livestock hardly troubled her, there were always more arrogant sailors washing ashore, always more vanity to be harvested and reshaped.

She was giving him a chance. When war and sea had leagued together to try and erase him from history, she had bestowed upon him the greatest of honors. He could feel her grace in each of his powerful muscles, in the perfect mastery he had gained over his four limbs within seconds, even in the ebony mane that gently danced in the wind. If she had meant him harm, if she had viewed him unworthy of a second chance, she would not have granted him this form.

He gave a snort at her command, feeling a little ashamed of his boldness. How dare he assumed that a literal goddess needed any sort of assistance in ruling her realm?

She was setting him free. He now understood how this was the greatest of all honours that he could have received. Should he survive long enough, should he prove his worth time and time over, perhaps she would grant him his humanity back. Should he amuse her enough, perhaps she would release him back into the world, just to see how long it took him to wash upon her shores once more.

He would give one last nod, and a bold little prod of his snout against her arm, before he galloped away from the shore. He would explode the island's every nook and cranny, and every encounter brought him to further realize just how priviledged he was.

His fate was far more enviable than that of the other island dwellers. He could have easily become a king amongst the pigs, who spent their days idly basking in puddles, blissfully unaware of their predicament. Those who hadn't entirely lost their mind did not survive long.

It wasn't long before the desperate and the damned came flocking to her shores once more. These ones weren't so wretched as he had been, swords and shield intact, equipped with ropes and ships to embark their loot on. The stallion towered from the nearest cliff, as if daring them to come further into the land, to try and knot their ropes around his neck.

tanjiro knows that inosuke means well, he just needs to adapt to having friends. it isn't exactly difficult to get along with him, but sometimes the other can be a little...antagonizing. tanjiro recognizes it as some sort of need to fight, to challenge and stand up against that which opposes him. still, his expression lingers, the disappointment very clear ; hands on his hips, lips twisting into a frown, brows furrowed over a reddish stare that is unwavering.

he tries to hide the surprise he feels when inosuke confirms that it was indeed Shinazugawa Genya who gave him the slingshot as a gift. it isn't often that someone like him gives gifts - especially to people who often push his buttons like inosuke does. he will have to make note to thank genya for reaching out, but chastising him for giving a weapon.

"Inosuke! That's not very nice to say about Genya. Just because he can't use breathing styles doesn't mean you can call him names," he scolds gently, huffing as his gaze flicks between the crafted weapon and inosuke's concealed face. he just knows there's a grin on his real face, but he won't let that deter him. "He isn't any weaker than us just because he can't. he's strong in his own ways. Just like you and me and Zenitsu."

tanjiro isn't above using a gentle form of force to get inosuke to listen. he reaches again and finds that the other bends out of reach. he squirms like a worm on a hook, wriggling just beyond where his fingers can grasp. tanjiro grunts and pulls his arms back, arms crossing tightly over his chest as he offers the other a very stern look.

"I don't care if he said not to, that should be basics. You shouldn't hurt birds or people or anything with that thing," he says, wagging a finger before tipping his head to the side. "And I will be talking to him." but first, he needs to get that thing out of inosuke's grip.

"Hahahaha! Not even the mountain monkeys could ever steal treats from me, y'know! You'll never take the shrimp's weapon away from me!"

Not be force, at least. Inosuke might be accurate in gauging his own flexibility, but he was underestimating his opponent in many an aspect. Starting with the potency of a stern gaze, a disappointed tone, and some bribing...

"Stop trying to lecture me! I'm the boss here!" He protested, feeling his resolve waver at the mere wag of Tanjiro's finger. "What's the point of having a weapon if I can't hurt people with it?! It's like telling a bear not to catch fish with its claws!"

A gasp escaped his lips at Tanjiro's next attack. The prospect of missing one meal was already irritating enough, but to miss out on freshly fried tempura was enough to make a pit open at the bottom of his stomach. The scene played out inside his head - Monitsu wearing a goofy smile, stuffing his stupid face with his tempura...

"NO FUCKING WAY!! I'd rather never eat a bird again than let him have my tempura!!! You hear me?!"

Stubborn and brash as he might be, Inosuke retained an almost childish stroke of gullibility. He practically shoved the slingshot in Tanjiro's hands, with enough force to make his friend stagger.

Alas, survival must have made her the same as well for her next words were just as kind as Kanae would've said.

"Oh, Inosuke.. their ignorance too is a blessing. It means we have done well to protect our land. It means.."

A brief pause opening her eyes to gaze upon that old but unwithered tree to thank it once more that it had remained steady and unmoving, becoming a relic of the past that was carried into tomorrow.

"It means that nobody will ever experience the pain of what we felt. However, they do look pretty frail don't they? Unlike this scarred lady, i can still make do with menial chores!"

Still, she merely chuckled, indulging in his energy that had resembled the bright and stubborn girl who demanded a pillar, to take her and her sister to his world, it was that same stubbornness that had brought her here, now able to enjoy the fruits of her labor and time.

Still, he carried on with munching the petals as if it was second nature and to a growing boy who was born alone in the mountains, it is no wonder.. so she sneakily grasped one petal to take a small bite only to make a neutral expression, it wasn't that she disliked it, it had a soft almond-like taste but it very much is bland.

"I wan't doing it for them." Inosuke was never moved by grand feelings of altruism. His swords were a predator's sharpened fangs, meant to maim and kill, to tear and shred. He wasn't fighting for a noble cause, no. In a way, he used to be just as selfish and cruel as the demons he was fighting every night.

"They'll never understand what we went through. What's the point of fighting for other people, if they're not even gonna be thankful? Every time I saved some weakling, it was just so Monjiro wouldn't nag at me, y'know!!"

He could understand fighting for one's comrades. That was the first lesson he had learned - humans could be partners in battle. They could be partners in life as well. To fight for one's friends, for one's family, Inosuke could now begin to grasp. His progress had come in bounds and leaps when it came to social skills, yet he often found himself confronted to the issues he hadn't resolved yet.

"What's with you humans and always wanting to put food in hot water first? I don't get it!"

She had seen this scene a hundred times: the frantic reach, the glazed look of a soul realising the shore is not a sanctuary but a waiting room. The sea was a cruel curator, collecting the ambitious and the lost, scrubbing them clean of their titles and treasures until they were nothing more than wet, shivering things. For the vast majority of men, Aeaea was not a destination. 

BUT THE FINAL STOP ON A JOURNEY THAT HAD LONG SINCE LOST ITS WAY.

She reached out, not to take his hand, but to brush a stray grain of sand from his eyelid. Her touch was cool, an artificial winter that seemed to momentarily still the frantic drumming of his heart. She wondered, with a detached curiosity, what specific failure had brought this one to her shores. Had he underestimated a current? Had he insulted a deity? 

OR HAD HE SIMPLY BELIEVED, AS SO MANY DID, THAT THE HORIZON BELONGED TO HIM?

She leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting from his smirk to the horizon where the wreckage of his ambition still smouldered. Her mind began to sort him, categorising him as she did all the debris the tide brought in. The world was a vast sorting house of masculine vanity. 

Proud men, she had found, made excellent horses, strong, spirited, and capable of being broken into a level of utility that served her gardens. Stubborn men, those who refused to bend even when the wind screamed, made for sturdy donkeys, useful for the heavy lifting of the soul. And the loyal ones, the rare few who knew how to love a master, made for the most devoted dogs.

BUT AS SHE LOOKED AT THE SALT-CAKED MAN, SHE FOUND THE CATEGORIES LACKING. 

Most men, once the veneer of glory was stripped away, were simply pigs, greedy, gluttonous for power, and driven by the most basic of hungers. It was a transformation that felt less like magic and more like a revelation of the truth. Usually, the spell took hold the moment she made up her mind, and the transition was seamless because the beast had always been there, hiding beneath the tunic.

Yet, she hesitated. There was something in the way he looked at her, not with the desperation of a drowning animal, but with a misplaced, almost endearing confidence, that didn't fit the porcine mold. He was a curiosity, a puzzle of brine and cedarwood. 

TO TURN HIM INTO A PIG NOW WOULD BE TO WASTE A RARE SPECIMEN OF EGO.

“Close your eyes, rest and wait for the best day of your life to begin now, I got you.”

He was no prized shell to be placed on a shelf. The future that awaited him, he was certain of it, had greater plans in store. He wasn't meant to become bones that littered the sea floor. He wasn't meant to fade away from records here, a nameless victim of the Mediterranean's wrath. Whatever shore he had washed up upon, was only going to be his stepping stone.

She held his future within the crook of her divine palms.

What was the color of his soul? What manner of beast his within his very core? He himself wouldn't have been able to tell. He was adaptable, yet stubborn. He could make the best out of every situation, never losing sight of his own goals. Had he ever had a master worth following, perhaps he could have been a loyal minion.

He could picture it now - the future she offered him. A place by her side, ever basking in the blinding light of her godly presence, the spearhead of her protectors. He wouldn't mind living under her rule, as long as her ambitions for him remained high. He could see the curiosity in her gaze, bordering on amusement, like a child would prod at a particularly large bug that writhed on the ground.

He closed his eyes, and chose to trust her. He had no other choice, did he?

Brush after brush, she had gone through two thirds of the head, only the last bit remaning, standing out as a ruffled mess against the smooth locks of hair she had just worked her way through. She ran the brush through it, but the bristles met a particularly stubborn knot, and halted. Haruko huffed, trying to pull the brush away and start again, but the brush just wouldn't let go of it. It was stuck.

Shit.

"Huh? Of course I would!" There was the slightest hint of apprehension in his voice. "I'm basically invincible, y'know!"

His hand twitched over his crossed legs, palm rising ever-so-slightly above his knee. No, he had no reason not to trust her. Her hand was just stuck on a particularly tough knot. Nothing more.