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gingerpeachtae · 2 years

Text

Incalescent

masterlist

Pairing: rengoku x f.reader

Words: 19.8k

Genres: friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, isekai

Warnings: kidnapping, psychological torture

Summary: You had recently become the personal chef for the highest-ranking members of the Demon Slayer Corps. You were getting used to the heat of the kitchen and the chaos of the Hashira… but you did not expect to feel so warm around one of them in particular.

Playlist: Apple Music / Spotify - I recommend listening in order

A/N: The promised Rengoku fic for my dear bb @thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch ! Alsooo thank you to my honie @miss-insomniac for making the spotify playlist (check out her playlists yall, they slap) As for the fic, the isekai plot line is influenced by the Iekmen Songoku otome game and all the Hashira have residence at corps headquarters for the sake of plot. Enjoy the fiery himbo yall ��🍑💙

The wind gently swayed the noren hanging above shop entryways, the lanterns casted a warm glow against the darkening sky, and your sandals softly crunched as they slid over the dirt and gravel. Your hand gripped the strap of your bag while you weaved through the crowd filling the town’s main street.

“Stupid Shinazugawa and his stupid ginger,” you muttered as you slipped between countless bodies. “And my stupid ass for forgetting to restock it.” The jar containing the Hashira’s precious pickled condiment thumped against your thigh every couple of steps, and it was a constant reminder as to why you needed to hurry back to the dining hall.

Bugs whizzed through the air and danced in the light coming from the lanterns. Tree leaves rustled behind the buildings, and white noise from indistinct conversations rose up all around you. The spring air felt humid and sticky, and your skin tingled from the eyes watching you rush down the street. You ignored the uncomfortable feeling, choosing to focus on moving as quickly as possible instead. Within the next minute, you managed to escape the throng of people and enter the woodsy path that led to the Corps headquarters. Your eyes squinted as the trees blocked out most of the moonlight, and the warm light of the town faded behind you. A low hanging branch nearly whacked you in the face, several rocks and roots sent you stumbling, and you frequently hissed out strings of curses.

“They can protect humanity from demons but can’t put up some freaking lights. Typical.” Another rock made you trip, and you yelled in frustration, desperately longing for tennis shoes to protect your toes. After a few more close calls, the trees finally opened to reveal the moon and the two Mizunoto guarding the gate. You huffed in relief and hurried over.

The Mizunoto guarding the entrance shifted at your approach. They glanced at each other before one cleared his throat. “Are you alright? We, um, could hear you for a while…”

You barked out a laugh and waved your hand dismissively. “All good. Just couldn’t see squat.”

“O-Okay?” the other said in confusion. “Did you-”

“Mission success.” You lifted your bag, smiling.

Both Mizunoto exhaled and nodded, then stepped aside to let you in. You thanked them both and told them you’d bring the dango you’d promised in the morning.

“Have a nice night!”

You waved over your shoulder as you immediately started heading toward the dining hall. Lower ranked slayers meandered about — some going to their posts, others to the training grounds. The sounds of swords clashing in the distance intermingled with the frogs croaking in nearby ponds. It was a chaotically peaceful evening, and you wished you had time to sit and take in the comforting noises.

You shook your head, tightened your grip on the bag, and kept moving… until a hand came down on your shoulder. As you stiffened from the unexpected contact, the hand pressed down and forced you to stop.

“You’re not supposed to go out by yourself.”

There was a blur of yellow and red in your peripherals, and the tension in your body ebbed. You rolled your eyes. “Come on, it’s been weeks since any of you bothered to ‘escort’ me. And I’m kinda in a hurry right now, so…” You stepped away from Rengoku’s hand and turned toward him with a grin, but it faltered when you saw dried blood covering his face.

It was coating his cheek, partially obscuring the fresh bruise on his jaw. It was crusted over his brow as well as cracking and flaking off around his mouth from the smile he was sending your way. It was even matted in his hair, blending into the red tips that framed his face. You were pretty sure it was all his blood, too. You could tell from the countless cuts and scratches marring his face. No doubt the rest of his body was also bloodied and bruised.

Frowning, you stepped forward and raised a hand. Rengoku raised an eyebrow and tracked your movement curiously… then winced when you prodded at a cut beneath his eye.

“I’m fine,” he said while covering your hand with his and bringing it away. “It’s just part of the job.”

“For fuck’s sake, you’re not fine. Go clean up and go to bed.” He was still holding your hand, his palm and fingers calloused and warm. It felt nice. You blinked, sucked in a breath, and tried to tug free. “I gotta get this to Shinazugawa, but I’ll bring you dinner later.”

His bright eyes were amused as he watched you struggle to pull away. Then his gaze dipped lower to the bag swinging at your side. He hummed and finally released your hand, only the pluck the bag out of your grasp and stroll past you.

“Hey! I need that!” you shouted at the disheveled back of his head.

He peeked over his shoulder, another smile taking over his battered features. “I think you mean Shinazugawa needs it.”

You stared at his beaming expression which contrasted so vastly with his marred skin and tattered haori.

I want to tell him, you suddenly thought.

“If we don’t hurry, he’s going to stab the table again,” he called back to you.

That got your feet moving and you practically ran to catch up. Once the dining hall came into view, your nerves got the better of you, and you snatched your bag back. After hopping up the steps, you kicked your sandals off, dropped to your knees, and thrust the sliding door aside.

“Fucking took you long enough,” Shinazugawa spit out. He was impatiently tapping his finger against the polished wooden table, but his sword was still in its sheath.

Relaxing, you breathed out and shuffled past the Hashira. Some greeted you, some quietly nodded at your return, and others simply continued eating. You ducked into the kitchen in the back, took out the jar of pickled ginger, and slammed it down on the counter along with a tiny bowl from the cupboard. While you placed some ginger in the bowl, you heard Shinazugawa snort loudly. “Well, you look like shit.”

Rengoku must have come in.

“Did you just get back!? Why aren’t you resting!?” Kanroji’s voice was filled with concern.

You grabbed the bowl of ginger and the kettle keeping the soba broth warm then returned to the hall just in time to see Rengoku shrug. He met your eyes briefly before saying that he couldn’t skip dinner.

Without saying anything else, he went to his usual seat. You unceremoniously set the ginger in front of Shinazugawa then poured the broth into his bowl. The wind Hashira grumbled his thanks for the meal and picked up his chopsticks while Rengoku stiffly lowered his body to the floor.

“You should’ve washed first, at least.” Kocho wrinkled her nose. “You’re dirty and you stink.”

Rengoku only laughed as his eyes slid to you again. “But I’m still the most handsome, right Y/N?”

You shot the man a deadpan look before slipping back into the kitchen to add soba and sliced mushrooms to a clean bowl. A moment later, you were placing it in front Rengoku and filling it to the brim with broth. You quickly escaped to the kitchen once more to prepare two more bowls, side dishes, and a teapot of broth. It was all set on a tray, which you carefully picked up by the side handles. Heading back out, you announced you were going to bring the Ubuyashikis their meal.

You were reaching for the door when Rengoku abruptly cried out that you never answered his question. Pausing, you took a deep breath and fought the smirk that threatened to twist your lips. “Of course, you’re the most handsome…”

“Aw, you’re always so swee-”

“After Tomioka and Uzui,” you added, turning your head to watch the way his jaw fell and his chopstick-full of noodles stopped halfway to his mouth. You pressed your lips together and opened the door while the dining hall went silent. You first lifted the tray through the doorway then yourself, and as soon as you shut the door, the room erupted with the howling laughter of several Hashira and Uzui’s smug taunts.

The first rays of light began creeping over the horizon, the golden beams peeking past the trees and mountain peaks as you finished chopping green scallions. The smell of freshly made dashi permeated the air, and water was coming to a boil in the kettle over the smoldering coals. You set your knife down, wiped your hands on the cloth over your shoulder, and started organizing the numerous bowls of prepped ingredients when a loud clap right outside the kitchen caused you to jump. With a sigh, you turned around just as Rengoku walked past the noren.

“Good morning, sweets! I’m here to help with breakfast.”

Your gaze scanned him up and down while he breathed in through his nose and mumbled how it already smelled heavenly. His face was clean of grime and his hair was brushed out. Cuts still scattered his skin and the bruise on his jaw had blossomed into deep blues and purples, but he had some bandages on the nastier injuries and looked somewhat rested.

While you were glad to see he had taken care of himself, you crossed your arms and scoffed. “You’re not here to help. You’re here to watch the sunrise through a dinky window while you sip tea and keep an eye on me.”

Just as he’d done many mornings and afternoons since you’d arrived, but you couldn’t really be upset at him for it.

With a steady hand, you ladled some of the boiling water into a teapot. As you waited for the tea to steep, you readied two cups, making sure to grab Rengoku’s favored red one for him.

“You might be right about breakfast, the sunrise, and tea, but in regards to you, you’re wrong.” He grinned and tugged at the tie holding his hair back. “I’m here for your company, not to keep an eye on you.”

His eyes smiled too, and you focused on pouring the tea to avoid seeing how adorable it made him.

In response to your silence, Rengoku quickly added, “Like you said, nobody has needed to watch you for a while now. We trust you.”

Your heart pounded and you slowly inhaled. I should really tell him.

You passed him his cup then settled against the counter to watch the sky brighten. Despite the beauty of the world awakening, your mind refused to quiet down. Should you tell him now? Later? Would he even believe you? Would you lose all the trust you’d gained? The thoughts had you finishing your tea fast. You almost choked while guzzling it, but you desperately needed to give your hands something to do besides merely holding a cup.

The sky got lighter as you removed the pot of rice from the coals then started making miso soup. You hauled the dashi back to the coals and gently stirred the miso into the stock. Rengoku sighed in content and poured himself more tea before shifting to the corner so he was out of your way. While you worked, he told you about his recent mission. As usual, he skirted around the more violent details, instead telling you about the scenery, the people he saved, and the food he ate.

“There was a food stall with really good yakitori, but it wasn’t as good as yours.”

You sniffed and said, “Damn right it wasn’t.”

Returning to the coals, you removed the miso soup and replaced it with a grill rack. You scooped rice into bowls, covered them with lids, and loaded them onto a tray. Without a word, Rengoku came forward and lifted the tray. As he carried the rice out to the hall, you salted the portioned fish before adding the green onions to another round of bowls. When Rengoku returned, he held the tray steady so you could line it with the new bowls. He dutifully brought them out as well and came back for a moment to fetch the kettle of soup.

“Thank you!” You crouched to begin grilling the fish. “Do you mind setting out the chopsticks too?”

He readily agreed to do so.

A minute later, Rengoku poked his head past the noren. He slinked into the kitchen and silently gathered a bundle of chopsticks and the bag of rests. You felt his presence stop beside you, and out of the corner of your eyes, you saw a pair of chopsticks inch toward a piece of fish.

“Don’t you da-”

The chopsticks darted forward and dug into the fish. An offended shriek tore its way out of your throat. You snatched the cloth from your shoulder and whipped it at his thigh. He yelped and scurried out of the kitchen. Huffing, you made a mental note to make that piece of fish his.

“The hell did you do this time?” A new voice traveled to the kitchen — Kocho.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

You could hear the smugnes in Rengoku’s reply.

“He stole a bite!” you shouted.

Kocho tsked loudly and Rengoku shouted back that checking quality and seasoning was important.

You heard the door slide open and yet another voice said, “You’re too loud.”

Snorting, you guessed the newcomer was Iguro. The Hashira made small talk while you rearranged the rack so only three pieces, including Rengoku’s, were directly over the heat. Once they were cooked through, you put them on small plates and brought them out on a tray along with some sides. You repeated this as each Hashira entered the dining hall, with the exemption of two: Uzui ate breakfast at home with his wives, and Tokito was still on his mission.

After everyone had been served, you rested in Tokito’s seat to watch the Hashira eat and banter for a few minutes. Rengoku was in the middle of chatting with Himejima, yet he looked over and mouthed that the food was delicious. Your cheeks grew warm, and you hastily averted your eyes to draw on the table with your fingertip.

I need to tell him.

Across the table, Tomioka raised his head at your motions. He studied your finger gliding across the wood in blatant confusion, which was quite endearing. You softly said his name to get his attention. “What would you like for dinner? It’s your turn to choose.”

He set his chopsticks down. “Whatever is easiest for you.”

“You want salmon and daikon, right?”

He blinked in astonishment. Then, to your surprise, his lips twitched upwards.

Kocho gasped. “Is that a smile!? Guys! Y/N got Giyu to smile!”

The water Hashira instantly scowled and Misturi groaned, upset about not seeing the rarity. Shaking your head in amusement, you stood and went back to the kitchen. After cleaning up a little, you got out the rice flour. Stretching your arms over your head, you wondered if Rengoku would want to help you make dango. He did love sweet things, after all. You looked past the noren to see if he was still eating, but all his dishes as well as his seat were empty. Your lips pursed. He normally thanked you before leaving.

He must be busy today. You shrugged and let the fabric fall back into place.

The Mizunoto boys waved goodbye with full cheeks and half-eaten skewers in hand as you left their barracks. After making sure the container of arare was still safely tucked inside your bag, you began walking toward the training grounds.

It was a cool morning, the breeze making you shiver whenever it picked up, but the sunlight was warm on your face whenever it broke through the trees. The birds chirped and bugs sang as you wandered along the path, but their melodies were soon overtaken by the sounds of powerful cries and weapons clashing. Your hands drummed on your thighs, matching the synchronized yells of the training slayers in the courtyards. You didn’t follow the noise, though. Rather, you took a side path at the rock with “ganbaru” etched into the surface. The narrow trail led to a circular opening surrounded by stone pagodas, and just as Shinazugawa had predicted, Rengoku was training in the middle of the circle.

Light refracted off the blade of his sword as he slowly moved it though the air with practiced ease. His back was facing you and his naked upper body was shiny with sweat. It was also covered in fresh cuts, pale scars, and multi-colored bruises. A testament to how often he was willing to sacrifice himself for the good of the world.

Mesmerized by the grace and power of his motions, you stopped just outside the opening. His shoulder blades pinched in as he moved the sword back. The muscles in his arm flexed when he cut the blade forward, yet his grip on the hilt stayed relaxed. You barely blinked, unable to look away from the strength and skill of his motions. You watched him go through several more forms, each proficient and deadly in the most beautiful way, until he fluidly sheathed the blade. He placed the sword on the ground, knelt, and bowed. Shadows danced over the ground and the curve of Rengoku’s spine. His body tensed as he raised himself out of the bow, and his shoulders rose and fell heavily while he stayed kneeling. Meanwhile, you shifted your weight, unsure how you should make your presence known.

“Thank you for not interrupting.”

You flinched in surprise. Cheeks growing hot, you asked how long he had known you were there. You took tentative steps forward, your feet stopping just shy of the circle’s edge since you didn’t know if you were allowed to enter.

He looked back at you. “As soon as you entered the path.”

Holding in a groan, you lowered your head. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

A boisterous laugh made you look back up. Rengoku had turned his body to face you, was sitting on the ground with one knee raised, and his head was tilted back in the sunlight. Once his laughter died down, he smiled and motioned for you to come closer. While you did so, he leaned over to grab his jacket where it was neatly folded beneath once of the pagodas.

Digging out the container of arare, you squatted before him and held out the snack. “For you.”

He stopped buttoning up his top halfway to look at the arare then at your face then back at the arare. “For me?”

“For helping set up breakfast. I had some leftover rice flour from the dango, so…” You shook the container, trying to entice him to take it.

His orange-red eyes flickered back to you. “Thank y-wait. Dango?” His gaze went down to your bag, expression turning hopeful.

Snorting, you shoved the container into his hands and stood before informing him there was none left. “Though you would have gotten some if you’d bothered to say goodbye earlier.”

A cheeky response was what you expected. Maybe a dramatic explanation for his departure. You did not expect Rengoku to look away, hair sticking to the side of his neck, as he stammered out a quiet apology. He sounded sad, upset even. You didn’t know what to say to the sudden change. After a moment, he faced you again, expression bright once more, and asked what you were up to besides giving him treats.

Whatever that just was with him, you didn’t like it. But you could pick up on cues. He didn’t want to discuss it.

He finished buttoning his jacket, swiped up his haori, and gestured to your bag. “You’re going to town for ingredients, right? It’s about the time you usually do.”

You nodded and said you had to get more daikon. Rengoku’s brows furrowed for a heartbeat, then he stood and dusted off his pants. “I’ll come with you.”

“Because I’m not supposed to go out by myself?” you teased, giving his arm a nudge. “I thought you all trust me now.”

He sighed and secured his sword to his belt before ushering you back to the path. “I want to help. I like helping you… and others! I just like helping, okay?”

He marched you to the gate, several slayers staring in bewilderment at the speed and determination of his gait.

When you exited headquarters, he handed you his haori to put inside your bag. Then he popped the lid of the arare container and brought one to his mouth. His eyes widened as he tasted the rice snack and began muttering to himself.

Concerned, you asked if they were bad,

“No, they’re delicious. How is everything you make so delicious?”

Your pride swelled, and you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. Should I tell him now?

You inhaled and parted your lips, but nothing came out.

How do I even bring up something like this?

You fidgeted with the bag.

Will he think I’m lying? Will it be a joke to him?

The internal battle continued the entire way down the woodsy trail to town. It kept up as you perused the vegetable seller’s selection. It got louder when Rengoku refused to let you carry the daikon back to headquarters.

You followed Rengoku as he easily maneuvered through the crowded street. Every few steps, he would look back at you.

Tell him, your mind insisted, Tell him. Tell him. Tell him. Tell him!

You shook your head and stared down at the dirt and gravel.

Why would I tell him here? And now? It’s definitely not the right time or setting.

“Oh my, is that Rengoku?” someone whispered.

“Sweets?” Rengoku’s voice was filled with worry. “Is everythi-”

“Oh, it is!”

“Rengoku!”

People suddenly swarmed the Hashira, and you were also surrounded due to your close proximity. The atmosphere, which had been relatively peaceful outside your mind, erupted in a barrage of questions. Asking for assistance, asking how his recent mission went, asking if he was hurt and needed help with his wounds, asking if he needed help relaxing, asking if he would try a new recipe.

This happened often when Rengoku accompanied you to get groceries. He was extremely popular with the townsfolk. They adored him. Wanted to be like him. Wanted to be around him. Wanted to be with him. And you knew he loved it.

His whole life is helping and saving others. To protect them from threats.

If I tell him the truth and he deems me a threat…

You looked down at his sword and felt a little nauseous.

All at once, the noise became too much. Too much going on in your head and too much hitting your ears. Grimacing, you took the bag from Rengoku. He shot you a worried look, but you held up an OK sign and stepped back. He reached out toward you. Panic swirled in your gut. You quickly pushed past the people around you and hurried back to headquarters alone.

You slid your bedroom door shut and slumped forward. Your head throbbed. Your feet were sore. Your entire body felt heavy. You took a deep breath in and closed your eyes to the soothing darkness of your room. You exhaled slowly, telling yourself you only had to change and wash up before you could sleep. You clenched your fists and nodded. The motion sent a flash of pain through your brain, and you massaged the heel of your palm into your forehead.

All of the sudden, the floor outside your room creaked and someone cleared their throat on the other side of your door. You gritted your teeth. Maybe you could just pretend to be asleep, and they would go away.

“It’s me.”

Of course it’s you.

“Come on, sweets. Open up. I know you’re awake, and I need to talk to you.”

Groaning in frustration, you pivoted and pushed the door aside. Before Rengoku could utter a word, you trudged over to your floor cushions and sat down. “If you wanna talk, then come sit. I’m too tired to stand.”

“I, um… okay.” Rengoku’s ears were tinged red as he quietly shut the door behind him. He sat on the cushion across from you and squirmed, avoiding your eyes. His fingers tapped over his sword hilt. You stiffened. Your heartbeat synchronized with the pulses in your head. Rengoku’s gaze finally shifted to you. “I’ve noticed how restless you’ve been,” he started softly. “Like there’s something on your mind. I may be overstepping, but I wanted to check on you.”

You looked down at your lap.

Tell him! Tell him! He’s giving you the perfect time and place!

His hand is on his sword. He’s within cutting distance. Did he do that on purpose?

“Especially since it seems to be connected to me.”

Your breaths came faster… and faster and faster and faster until choked laughter bubbled its way out of your throat. How stupid of you to think he wouldn’t realize. How stupid of you to think he wouldn’t know he was involved. How stupid of you to think you could live a lie. How stupid of you. How stupid of you. How stupid of you. How stupid of you.

“-/N. Y/N!”

A hand jostled your shoulder and pulled you out of the spiral of your thoughts. Jerking away from his touch, you tilted your head back and stared at the ceiling. Another strained chuckle escaped past your lips. “Sorry. It’s just this is what I was worried about. This conversation.”

“This conversation…? Me checking if you’re okay?”

Shaking your head, you dragged a hand down your face. I just need to say it. You blew out a puff of air. Just say it. “I’m not from here.”

“I know.”

“No. I’m not from here.” Your fingers clutched at the collar of your yukata. “This time period. This world, too. Maybe. I don’t know. I never read about demons in feudal Japan.”

You refused to look at Rengoku as he asked what you meant.

“I’ll show you something,” you said, eyes falling to the dresser in the corner of the room. You crawled over and reached into the very back of the lowest drawer to tug out the hiking backpack hidden inside. Your thumbnail repeatedly scratched at the zipper. Bracing yourself, you turned back to Rengoku and saw he was watching you and the bag intently. He was leaning forward slightly but was otherwise still.

You went back to your cushion and placed the backpack between you and Rengoku. You slowly unzipped the main compartment, hoping he wouldn’t startle from the sound. While you searched inside for your phone, he leaned further to get a better look. Your movements turned rigid. He moved back. You took a second to force yourself to relax, then explained you were from a time and place where there were no demons and better technology.

He tipped his chin toward your phone. “And what’s that thing?”

“It’s called a smartphone. It’s a communication device, among other things.”

“Other things?” His eyes narrowed.

Shit, that probably sounded suspicious as fuck.

You quickly described some of the phone’s other functions as simply as you could. “I can, um, show you? If you want?”

Rengoku studied your phone for several seconds before nodding. With trembling fingers, you turned the phone on, and the room illuminated with light, making Rengoku gasp.

Only 32 percent left…

As you swiped through the phone and explained what it could do, you could hear Rengoku muttering in awe. You took a picture of the ceiling, flash on, and showed it to him. He rapidly looked between the phone screen and the ceiling, obviously amazed but incredibly confused. You really wanted to take a picture of him, but you were hesitant to point the camera his way. You didn’t want to push your luck. At one point, while you were showing him some photos in a saved album, you mentioned the phone could play music, and his eyes practically bugged out. You scrambled to take out the earbuds crammed in the side pocket, plug them in, and pull up your favorite song. For all you knew, it might be the last time you could listen to it. After demonstrating how to use the earbuds, you held one out to Rengoku and pressed play once he was ready. He breathed in sharply as the song began, but you just closed your eyes and let the music drape over you. When the last note faded, you sighed and removed the earbud. Rengoku followed suit. It was silent while you unplugged the cord and he considered the phone.

“Okay, I believe you.”

Your head shot up. “You believe me?”

“I believe you,” he confirmed, his voice soft yet firm. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

Your hand came to rest over your pounding heart and heat pricked at your eyes. I should be thanking you, dummy.

Rengoku moved so his cushion was a little closer to you. When you didn’t tense up, he did it again. His knee was almost touching yours. “So how did you get here?” he asked.

Masking a sniffle with your sleeve, you turned your phone off and plunged the room back into darkness. You told him how you had tried to take a shortcut while hiking. There had been an incoming storm and wanted to get home before it hit, but you ended up getting lost.

Yet another example of how stupid I am.

The wind had just started picking up when you’d come across an expansive yet decrepit cemetery in the woods. Out of curiosity, you’d approached one of the tombstones and rested a hand on the cool stone. Mere seconds after touching it, heat and light had seared all around you. Lighting, probably. When the light died down, it was pouring rain and cemetery looked restored. Then, you’d heard footsteps running your way.

“That’s when you saved the Ubuyashikis,” Rengoku said.

You hummed, remembering the horror of seeing a thing, which you would later learn to be a demon, chasing Ubuyashiki and his wife… and the subsequent horror that your fight or flight reaction was to pepper spray the demon.

“After that whole excursion, I realized I wasn’t home anymore. But I was scared of you guys with your swords and shit, so I made up the story of the demon killing my family and kidnapping me. Sorry for lying.”

Rengoku snorted and waved his hand. “It was the right decision, honestly. We were suspicious of you and thought you were sent my Muzan to infiltrate us.”

“And that’s on self-preservation,” you declared, shooting some finger guns his way.

He blinked before bursting into laughter. “And this explains all your weird vocabulary and gestures. You’re definitely not from a small village in the countryside.”

Swatting at his arm, you argued you hadn’t had enough time to come up with a better fake life story. He only laughed harder, and his eyes squished closed. His knee knocked into yours. A shockwave of warmth surged in your chest. The feeling was nice but strange, so you shoved your phone back into your bag and zipped it shut. After returning the backpack to its hiding place, Rengoku asked more questions about where you came from. The two you of you stayed up talking a little while longer until a yawn interrupted your description of comic books.

Rengoku clapped his hands and stood. “It’s late, I should get going.”

You sleepily waved goodbye but grabbed onto his pants as he walked by. “Hey, Rengoku? Thank you. I mean it.”

“Of course, sweets. Just don’t keep stuff from me anymore, you had me worried.”

You gave him a sluggish thumbs up, to which he smiled and wished you a good night before quietly slipping out the door.

Warm air and the melodic swishing of leaves flowed into the dining hall through the open doorway. Resting in Shinazugawa’s seat, you watched the clouds slowly trek across the sky while listening to the Hashira eat and converse. When the wisp of a cloud you’d been following disappeared beyond the doorway, you checked the table to see if anyone needed anything. Beside you, Rengoku was debating the use of non-nichirin blades with Tokito. As Tokito went on about the logistics of having one for emergencies, Rengoku lifted his rice bowl. His eyes slid your way and he winked. You stuck your tongue out.

It had been over a month since the night you told Rengoku the truth. You had grown closer to the flame Hashira, just as the air grew warmer. It had become a tradition of sorts to keep him quiet company while he trained, just as he “helped” you with breakfast in the mornings. In return, he would carry your groceries back from town. He even told his fans to keep a respectful distance when he was with you. At headquarters, the two of you would often be seen running through the training grounds playing tag, the lower ranked slayers gaping at the sight. You’d tried to get them to join in several times, but most scattered at the suggestion. Only Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke would participate on occasion, sometimes Uzui’s wives too, but you were never able to catch any of them like you did Rengoku. You also started keeping a constant supply of the arare you’d made Rengoku after a passing comment that it was his new favorite snack, especially when he was on a mission. He never missed dinner when he was around either. Even when he had just returned and was battered and exhausted, he never missed dinner.

“Your food heals my wounds and my soul,” he’d said.

What a dummy.

Noticing that everyone was nearly finished with their meal, you sneaked into the kitchen. You lifted the tray you’d left on the counter earlier and went back to the hall. “Excuse me, I have a gift for everyone.”

“Oh my! Y/N, you’re so sweet!” Kanroji gasped out before holding her chin with her fingers. “Maybe I should call you ‘sweets,’ like Rengoku does.”

He crossed his arms. “Hey now, sweets is my thing.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you adjusted your hold on the tray.

“Don’t get jealous,” Kocho teased, making Suma giggle into Hinatsura’s shoulder.

“And don’t interrupt,” Himejima chastised then gestured to you. “Go ahead, Y/N.”

Their attention swiveled back to you, so you inclined your head and explained you’d made personalized tea blends for everyone. They had been working so hard, and you wanted to do something to show your recognition. Walking around the table, you passed out the gifts, which were small poches with a handwritten note attached. Since the blends were different for each Hashira, you had written down the ingredients and effects of each tea on the note. Of course, you’d tried to keep their preferences and needs in mind for each. You’d also made blends for Suma, Hinatsura, and Makio, who seemed touched by their inclusion. When you reached Tomioka, you placed three additional pouches next to his.

You cupped your hand by his ear and whispered, “Those are for Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke. Please pass them along for me.”

Tomioka simply nodded and inspected the note on his pouch.

After completing the rounds, you returned to Shinazugawa’s seat as some of the Hashira chatted about their tea. You turned to Rengoku, eager to tell him about his blend, but found he was staring at the pouches in front of Tomioka. He inhaled slowly through his nose. You poked his arm. His jaw ticked. You poked him again and told him not to glare.

“He got extra,” he mumbled.

“No, he didn’t. Those are for Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke, so don’t pout.” You poked him a third time then goaded, “Besides, yours is the special one.”

His bright eyes glanced your way. “Special?”

“Mhmm. Wanna know why?” You picked up his pouch and carefully opened it to reveal the contents. “See? It’s a powdered mix. You’ve mentioned you overheat easily in summer, so this will dissolve even in cold water.”

“You made this?”

“Yeah, just a little bit of grinding.” You closed the pouch then inspected your arm. “Though I think my forearm has superstrength now.”

He gently took the pouch from your hands to look at the note, and his thumb smoothed over the smiley face you had drawn.

“I think you’ll like the blend, but we can change it if not.”

“No, it’s perfect.”

“You haven’t even tried it.”

He shook his head and cradled the pouch in his palm. “It’s perfect.”

A few nights later, you were preparing to leave the dining hall after a long day, and through the kitchen window, you could see the moon was bright behind the clouds. It reminded you of a hazy beacon that was ready to guide you home.

If only it could guide me to a McDonald’s. Your hands pressed into your stomach, the empty feeling practically making you ache.

You had meant to eat, you really had. But Himejima had requested buta no kakuni for dinner and you hadn’t realized you were practically out of ginger root until after you’d gotten back from shopping. It was always the ginger, somehow. So, of course, you’d had to run back to town to get some, and the whole trip had been uncomfortable because it was humid and it felt like someone was watching you. You knew it was just the townsfolk gawking as your ass rushed by, but it still made you hot and sweaty and uncomfortable. Then, you’d needed to stay attentive while the pork belly cooked, and after that it was a whole lot of dishes to clean. And after that, your impulses had urged you to do an inventory count of the food cellar so you wouldn’t have yet another ginger mishap in the near future. By the time you’d finished, your brain was too drained to bother making anything to eat for yourself.

Blowing out a raspberry, you did a final scan of the kitchen then headed for the door. The first thing you noticed when you slid it open was the sticky warmth of the air, not even the nighttime provided an escape from the summer heat. The second thing was Rengoku sitting on the steps with his yellow and red hair standing out in the low light. It wasn’t pulled back either. Instead, it loosely fell around his face in wild waves. You didn’t get to see it like that often.

It looks soft. The thought was sudden, and your hand tightened on the doorframe. Thankfully, you weren’t allowed to dwell on the potential softness of your friend’s hair because Rengoku perked up at your appearance and pointed at the step beside him.

You hovered in the doorway, confused. Was the step broken? But why would he be sitting there then? Why is he there, anyway?

He made a tiny noise and pointed at the step again.

A series of possibilities ran through your mind, and dread pooled in your stomach. “Oh shit, is there a bug? Is it big?”

“Sit. Just… sit. Please.” Rengoku tugged at a lock of hair. “I need you to sit.”

“Ah… right.”

While you went over, Rengoku grabbed something from a lower step and said, “It blows my mind how you can forget to feed yourself when you’re surrounded by food most of the day.”

Your feet stopped and your head cocked to the side. “How did y-”

“I pay attention,” he interrupted, grabbing your wrist and tugging you down next to him. He shoved a bento and pair of chopsticks in your hands. “Eat. I know you haven’t since this morning, so I got you dinner.”

You opened the lid, stunned, and took in the spread as your stomach rumbled. “You’re seriously the best.”

Rengoku reclined against the steps and looked up at the sky. “You need to take better care of yourself, sweets.”

Shrugging, you picked up a sushi roll and proclaimed you wouldn’t die from not eating for a day. Rengoku didn’t seem to appreciate that answer, however. He abruptly leaned in with his eyes narrowed to slits, and asked you repeat yourself. You stuffed the sushi in your mouth, half out of panic and half to give yourself time to weigh your options. Should you give in or stay stubborn? You chewed thoughtfully, but Rengoku let out a low hum, prompting you to respond and practically daring you to challenge him again.

Swallowing hard, you choked out, “I’ll be sure to eat, I promise.”

“Good. I’m having Shinazugawa check to make sure you’re keeping that promise while I’m gone.”

“New mission?”

He moved back to his previous position and nodded. “On a train, of all places.”

Your chopsticks came to a halt. That wasn’t a great place to fight demons. It was cramped. It was filled with civilians. “When are you leaving?”

“Tonight.”

So, he was leaving right away. Ignoring the odd twinge in your chest, you pointed your chopsticks his way and ordered him to kick some ass. His chuckle was warm, just like the air. The bugs clicked, the breeze blew his hair across his cheek, and the leaves frantically danced in the aftermath. Forcing your eyes back to the bento, you slowly ate, enjoying the calmness under the moonlight with him.

The utter and prolonged lack of Rengoku had you restless. Sure, he had gone on missions before, but they hadn’t lasted for several weeks like this one. Your disturbance at his absence showed how much he had wormed his way into your life.

In the mornings, you automatically brought down two cups for tea before sighing and putting the red one back. In the afternoons, your knuckles would awkwardly rap against a tree when you remembered there was no reason for you to go to the training grounds. This usually happened after you’d already walked halfway there. Sometimes, Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke would find you resting in the shade post-realization and indulge you for a while. Then, when you went into town, you often had to remind yourself you didn’t have an extra set of hands to help carry things. A lot of Rengoku’s fans would ask where he was, too. And if they didn’t ask directly, you could feel them eyeing you and wondering why he wasn’t with you. Maybe you were being overly self-conscious, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant when you were just trying to do your job.

Overall, the deviation from your normal routine had you practically itchy, leading you to try getting some part of it back by asking Shinazugawa if you could watch him train. He had refused. He’d even flicked your forehead before stalking off, and the attempt at normalcy was left there since you didn’t feel comfortable asking any of the other Hashira.

Thus, the days dragged on. Some were long and boring. Others, you purposefully kept yourself so busy that you weren’t able to think.

Today had been one of the slow days.

Apparently, it was the same for Uzui. His shoulders were hunched, and he was pushing out a lengthy exhale every minute or so as he ate.

“Your dramatics are making it hard to eat,” Shinazugawa grumbled next to you. “One gloomy bastard in the corner is enough, we don’t need another.”

Said gloomy bastard continued eating without looking up.

Uzui huffed and poked at the grilled eel on his plate. “I thought Rengoku was finally joining us.”

The dining hall paused. That simple sentence created a stillness in the Hashira, chopsticks poised mid-air and muscles tensed.

Confused by the lull, you spoke up awkwardly, “Still on his mission, huh? It’s definitely a long one.”

With that, the room came back to life, although it felt forced. Shinazugawa glared across the table. Toward the opposite end, someone quietly coughed.

But Uzui raised his brows at you. “He came back two ag-ow!” He yelped and rubbed his side. The side Makio was sitting on. She was staring at him with wide eyes. Slightly shaking her head side to side. Eyes flashing your way.

What the fu-“What?”

Uzui blanched and refused to meet your eyes. Shinazugawa cursed under his breath. Kocho pinched her lips together. Tomioka frowned at the table.

“What?” you asked again, impatiently waiting for an explanation. “He came back two weeks ago?” Only silence answered you. “Seriously? Nobody is going to elaborate?” Your chest became hot and your heart pounded. You abruptly stood.

Kanroji hesitated but asked, “Where are you going?”

“I think I should deliver Ubuyashiki’s meal. Excuse me.”

After hastily gathering the food in the kitchen and pointedly ignoring the Hashira when you came back out, you left the dining hall. You walked along the path and forced yourself to take steady breaths in through your nose. Your tongue poked at your inner cheek. Your fingernails scraped at the underside of the tray.

Two weeks. He’s been back for two weeks and everyone knew. They all knew and didn’t tell me. Why didn’t they tell me? Why didn’t he tell me?

You kept your stay at Ubuyashiki’s residence short; briefly describing the menu, asking if they needed anything, then bowing and exiting. Outside, you fisted your hands at your sides, looked up at the hazy colors filling the sky, and sucked in air through your teeth. The clouds were sluggish. Your heart rate was fast. Birds swooped up and down. Your chest rapidly followed a similar pattern. As you struggled to get your breathing under control, your feet were shifting to face the direction of Rengoku’s house.

Two weeks.

Your sandals stomped over the gravel and dirt.

Within minutes, you were in the genkan with your mouth open to announce your presence, but no sound came out. You were angry and nervous and scared, and you couldn’t think of what you should say. So, you raised your fist to knock on the inner door’s frame, but you stopped once more.

Two weeks.

Your hand dropped.

Two fucking weeks.

Your hand lifted again, this time going straight for the crack in the door. You slid it open, not bothering to verify whether it was okay for you to enter. To hell with etiquette.

Two weeks and I didn’t know.

It was dark inside, but that didn’t stop you from shuffling over the threshold and pulling the door closed. You squinted in the dim light and looked around the empty room. Softly, as if driven by eerie silence of the house, you called out to Rengoku while moving toward an opened fusama. You peeked into the next room and froze, suddenly feeling very cold. There he was, sleeping on the floor with his back propped up against a storage unit. You moved backwards, rubbed your eyes, and looked back in. He was still there. He was actually there. His chin was tilted toward his chest, causing his hair to fall forward. His sword was resting against his shoulder with his opposite hand keeping it close. A blanket was slipping off his top half and pooling around his torso.

You gawked for a bit. Your weight rocked forward, then back. Your throat grew tight, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You mentally counted to ten and gazed down at your feet. Another mental count to ten and a slow exhale. Another count to ten, and you entered the room to stride over to him. Part of you wanted to shake him awake, to scream, to demand why. Why were you left in the dark? Why did everyone else know? Why did he make you think you were close enough to know, too? But the rest of you was terrified. You didn’t want to know the answer, to know you weren’t as special to him as you’d thought, to know loud and clear that you weren’t an important piece in his life’s puzzle. Maybe you weren’t even a piece at all. That was something you weren’t ready to hear, so you resigned to wait until he woke up. You would ask then. You would ask and accept the answer when it came… but you wouldn’t speed up the process.

Blinking away the sting in your eyes, you noticed he was shivering, so you knelt and reached for the fallen blanket. All you wanted to do was tug it back up to his shoulders. All you wanted was for him to stop shivering. You’d never seen him do that before. He rarely got cold. Even though he apparently didn’t care much in regards to you, you couldn’t help but want him comfortable. He was an important piece in your life puzzle, after all. A big piece. But as soon as you added the slightest pressure on the fabric, there was a forward surge and a brief, shrill ringing of metal. You gasped, but the rest of your body went deathly still. Rengoku pressed his half-unsheathed blade against your skin and bared his teeth. The moment last for one… two… three heartbeats, then the glaze left his eyes and they widened. He eased back carefully, sheathed his sword, and settled against the storage unit with a wince.

“What are you doing here?” His knuckles turned white where they gripped the sword’s hilt. There was a thin scab on his eyelid.

Suppressing the urge to rub at your throat, you countered, “Are you… alright?”

I’m the one who gets threatened with a blade, yet I’m still asking if he’s okay…

“What are you doing here?” he repeated, sharper this time, almost desperate. He was breathing heavily as he rearranged the blanket over his lap.

The collar of his yukata robe had loosened, and there was something white underneath it. You eyed it while saying he had skipped dinner.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“But you never skip dinner.” When there was no response, you weakly added, “I didn’t even know you were back…”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

A pinprick of pained seared into your heart. Your mind went blank except for a single repeated phrase. He didn’t want me to know. He didn’t want me to know. He didn’t want-

“Wait that’s-” Rengoku tried to move closer but hissed and brought a hand to his middle.

At the same time, you scooted away and glanced at the door over your shoulder. “No, I… I get it.”

“No-I-We… We didn’t… Shit. We didn’t know if I was going to make it. I didn’t want you going through that.”

You looked down at his hand on his sternum, then to the white barely visible beneath his collar, and finally to his tense face. “What are you talking about?”

His mouth opened and closed several times before his turned his head away, tugging at his hair.

Silence. Silence. More silence. It was all you were getting tonight. Irritated, you pushed up from the floor.

“What are you…?”

You ignored him and went for the door.

“Sweets? Y/N?” His voice was a bit higher, a bit thicker.

You still ignored him

“Y/N, wait! Ple-ah, fuck.” His pained groan was muffled by the wall as you turned the corner.

With shaking hands, you left the house and marched back to the dining hall. You were seething in frustration. The world seemed to shrink and blur. Your feet staggered over the stones and roots on the path. Your teeth ground together. You growled at a branch that dared to be in your way. You pushed aside the dining hall’s door, fully prepared to glare at any Hashira that approached you but found the seats empty and the table cleared. Stalking to the kitchen, your lips pursed when you saw the dishes cleaned and drying. Turning toward the smoldering embers in the fire, you took an uneven breath.

Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry.

Repeating that mantra in your head, you sniffed and gathered a bowl and cup from the cupboard. Luckily, the miso soup you’d made earlier was still over the heat. You ladled it into the bowl and covered it. Then, you stoked the embers and made a pot of green tea. Everything was arranged on a tray. Steam curled out from under the lids, and you questioned your rational and sanity. The cup made you tap your nails on the counter. It was plain and cream-colored. After a moment’s hesitation, you sighed and switched it out for Rengoku’s preferred red one.

Picking up the tray, you exited the kitchen, closed the door to the dining hall, and made your way back to Rengoku’s house. You went at a slow pace. Nervous about spilling. Nervous about going back. Nervous about confronting him.

Too soon, you were in the genkan again. You steeled yourself and went inside. You found Rengoku in the same room you’d left him, still resting on the floor with his back against the storage unit, but his hands were hovering over his face. When he lifted his head, his hair was messier than before.

“You came back?” His voice was soft, shocked, timid.

“You skipped dinner,” you replied and lowered yourself across from him before you could psych yourself out. “I’m giving you another chance. If I don’t get an explanation after you eat, then I’ll leave and won’t bother you again… unless you’re, um, already done with me.”

“No!” he declared loudly, making you jolt. He leaned over and held your arms. “I’ll tell you everything, I promise. Please don’t leave again.”

Nodding, you told him to eat before it all went cold. He moved back, gasping and holding a hand to his torso as his back collided with the unit. He looked at you, as if making sure you weren’t going away, then uncovered the bowl, raised it to his lips, and started gulping the soup down.

“Slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

Rengoku made a disagreeing noise as he continued to tip the bowl back. Some soup spilled from the corner of his mouth and trickled down his neck into the collar of his robe. The white was peeking out again. It was basically screaming at you to notice. It looked like bandages. Lightly biting down on your tongue, you poured him tea as a distraction. You were just setting the pot back down when Rengoku pulled the bowl away with a satisfied exhale. He returned the bowl to the tray while wiping at his mouth and neck. Then he noticed the filled teacup and smiled weirdly. You passed it to him.

He took a sip and cleared his throat. The smile fell. “Long story short, I got punched through the chest.”

You crossed your arms. “Okay, you got punched in the chest, I don’t se-”

“Though the chest.”

“Huh?”

“Through.”

It took a second to fully process. “Through?”

He hummed while taking another drink.

“Like-” You made an obscene gesture. “-through?”

He hummed again and pointed at his chest. Your gaze followed.

So, they really are bandages.

You swallowed, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “You… You’re going to be okay, right?”

“I’m going to be okay. Just need to take it easy for a while.”

Your feet flexed and your hands gripped the fabric by your thighs. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His head ducked, hiding his face behind his hair. “I didn’t want you seeing me like this.” The butt of his sheath weakly banged against the floor and his shoulders hunched up. “It-I’m pathetic.”

You’d never seen him act like this. The Rengoku you knew was loud and bold, the epitome of confidence.

You took the cup from his hand, placed it on the tray, and slid the whole thing aside. You shuffled forward until you were seated next to him, leaning back against the unit as well. Carefully, you rested your head on his shoulder and gently placed your hand on his arm.

“You’re not pathetic,” you spoke quietly. Your thumb moved back and forth over his arm. “You’re really brave and strong. You’re insanely loyal to your friends and cause and do your best to make the world better. Sure, it was a dick move to not tell me you were back and injured, but you’re anything but pathetic. Your soul is too warm and bright to be that.”

“I really was an asshole to you. I’m sorry,” he said faintly before stiffening. “Are you going to leave?”

“No.” You heard his breath hitch and watched his fingers flex a few times before he turned his palm up. Understanding, you settled your hand in his. “Don’t keep stuff from me anymore,” you mumbled, echoing what he had told you before.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sorry-Shit-M’not sorry. Well, I am, but you told me to stop, so I’m definitely going to s-” You squeezed his hand to keep him from spiraling. “-top. Right now.”

Your thumb resumed its back-and-forth movement, this time over Rengoku’s scarred and rough skin.

“Okay. Okay… Are we okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered honestly, huddling closer. “We’re okay.”

You started bringing meals to Rengoku’s house after that night. His meals and yours, since he demanded you eat with him.

Four nights into the new arrangement, he told you to call him by his given name.

Frogs croaked and leapt into the water as you walked by the pond. Nearby, a collection of furin created light chimes in the breeze, and you watched the tanzaku flutter while absentmindedly swinging the basket in your hands. The air was warm and sticky, and it would stay that even after the sun went down; hence was why it was odd that Kyojuro had requested you bring two blankets. You had no idea what he wanted to do or why he had so shyly asked you to find him after cleaning up dinner, but you had done as he instructed — packing two blankets into the basket as well as a handful of snacks you had lying around.

The tinkling music of the chimes faded and were replaced by organized shouts and clangs of weapons. Carefully walking through the training grounds, you made sure to stay out of the way as you searched for Kyojuro. You first checked the pagoda circle, but found it empty, so you simply began wandering around. After only a few minutes, a slayer waved for your attention and pointed, his mouth forming Kyojuro’s name. You smiled gratefully and followed his direction to a dojo. The doors were open, and you poked your head in. Sure enough, you saw your flash of yellow and red. Kyojuro was slowly sparring with Uzui, and Shinazugawa was observing them from the floor.

The dojo was filled with quiet scrapes and clinks of metal against metal, occassionally intermixed with low muttering. Keeping close to the wall, you skirted the sparring Hashira and went over to Shinazugawa, who was grumbling about their performances. He grunted to acknowledge your presence then went back to his commentary. Setting the basket down at your feet, you watched alongside him. Kyojuro and Uzui were moving fluidly, concentrating on each motion and breath. Each attack and counter Kyojuro made was steady and strong, and the sight had a pleasant warmth spreading throughout your body.

He was so much healthier now. The large wound had left a prominent scar on his chest, but it was healed. He’d been gradually regaining his muscle and stamina. He’d even gone on some missions recently, and they’d helped rebuild his confidence immensely. He was working so hard, and you knew he was going to surpass his previous level. He was going to burn even brighter than before.

When they were finally done and bowing toward each other, you lightly clapped.

Orange-red eyes shifted your way and softened. “As always, thanks for not interrupting, sweets.” Kyojuro pushed his hair out of his face and grinned while Uzui wrapped his cleavers.

“You looked good,” you said, sending Kyojuro a thumbs up.

And then he was absolutely beaming, his eyes squished and cheeks flushed.

“What about me, Y/N?” Uzui slinked over, pouting. “Didn’t I look good too?” He raised his arm to sling it over your shoulders, but you were tugged out of the way by your elbow.

Kyojuro tucked you against his side and stated that you didn’t want Uzui’s sweat all over you.

With an offended expression, Uzui crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “But your sweat is fine?”

“Yes.”

Uzui sputtered and Shinazugawa loudly sighed. You looked down at the Hashira on the floor and shrugged.

It’s not gross when it’s Kyojuro. Actually, it makes him even more a-

“You ready?”

You jumped at the voice right beside your ear.

“Going somewhere?” Uzui asked.

Kyojuro hummed in confirmation.

“Where?”

“Secret.”

Uzui stared at Kyojuro for a couple seconds before gazing at you expectantly.

“Don’t look at me,” you said while raising your hands. “He hasn’t told me anything either.”

Uzui squinted. “Suspicious.”

Instantly, Kyojuro bristled. “You think I’m going to hurt her?”

“Of course not.” Uzui laughed as he came forward to clap Kyojuro’s shoulder. “Just wondering if you’re finally manning up.”

“As if he would put us out of our misery so soon,” Shinazugawa mumbled.

Without warning, Kyojuro’s hand encased your own, his palm rough with callouses, and you were dragged away. “We’re leaving now,” he declared as he scooped up the basket and pulled you along behind him. You noticed his ears were tinged red. Over your shoulder, you shouted goodbye to Uzui and Shinazugawa, who watched your exit with perplexed yet amused expressions.

You let yourself be led out of the dojo and through the training grounds. Some confused looks were thrown your way as Kyojuro power-walked down that paths and past a gate. He finally stopped at the edge of the forest line but still held your hand firmly.

Bringing your connected hands up, you teased, “Scared I’m gonna get lost?”

His eyes flickered to your face briefly. “…Something like that.” He let go. “Sorry.”

Frowning at the loss, you quickly snatched his hand back and intertwined your fingers. “Don’t be. Your hand is warm. I like it.”

The arm holding the basket lifted slightly before falling back down, and Kyojuro cleared his throat. He jutted his chin toward the trees and said you were going in. There was no trail, markings, or signage, but he seemed to know where he was going. The two of you plunged into the forest, ducking under branches, stepping over protruding roots, and moving around dense thicket. The sky gradually became darker, and the thousands of trees began to block the remaining rays of sunlight, but Kyojuro trekked forward confidently.

Maybe thirty minutes had passed by the time the woodland opened to a small clearing. A few trees were dispersed throughout the open space, but it was mostly short grass and wildflowers, which rippled and trembled in the breeze.

“Almost there!” Kuojuro exclaimed while tugging you not further into the clearing, but toward a ravine on the side. You could hear a stream gurgling at the bottom as you neared the edge. He gripped your hand tightly as he helped you down the slope, the sound of the stream growing louder as you descended. When you safely reached the bottom, he gently swiped his forefinger under your chin and smiled, causing the light trickle of water to become a loud roar in your ears. “Almost there, I promise. You’re keeping up so well.”

The roar shifted into a ringing, and you turned to face the stream when you felt your cheeks burn. “I used to hike fairly often, you know. I’m not some noob.”

Kyojuro snorted and brought up how you’d previously made it clear you were used to different footwear. He motioned for you to walk again. The smooth rocks shifted beneath your sandals. The bugs clicked. There was a soft flash of light out of the corner of your eye.

You walked along the tiny stream for a little while, until it branched off to a cave opening. Kyojuro led you toward it. The mouth of the cave was just tall enough to sit comfortably and wide enough to fit a few people side by side. Kyojuro said to give him a moment and released your hand. There was another flash of light beside a plant. He unfolded a blanket and spread it over the driest patch of rock. A flash of light behind his arm as he gestured for you to sit. You plopped down, and he draped the other blanket over your shoulders. Light above the water. He sat down next to you, his knees touching your thigh.

It was fully dusk, the sun dipping below the horizon and the moon revealing itself behind the clouds. The steady psithurism of the foliage mingled with the excited flow of the stream. The occasional plunk of water dripping within the cave interlaced with the forest’s symphony. Then, slowly, as if spurred on by the sounds, more flashings of light appeared. Brief and scattered.

“Fireflies,” you whispered in realization.

They seemed to dance over the stream and between the leaves, twinkling and glowing. It was a serene beauty that left you both relaxed and in awe.

“I’m glad you like it,” Kyojuro said quietly while playing with a lock of his hair. “I come here a lot, especially in the summer. I feel like I can get away from the bad... um, memories.” He paused, resting a hand over his torso, before pressing his body closer to you. “And the cave is cool, which is a plus.”

It dawned on you then. It was his spot. He was willingly sharing his spot with you. You wrapped the blanket more tightly around you and hid your smile in the soft fabric. You watched the tiny, flashing lights in comfortable silence then looked at Kyojuro, who’s attention was already on you. “Thank you for showing me,” you murmured.

He tenderly pried your hand away from the blanket, linked your fingers with his, and balanced them atop his leg. “Thank you for staying with me,” he whispered back.

The sky eventually turned dark, and the cave was a cold presence at your back, but the world was filled with countless little specks of light and you had never felt more content.

“Would you put me down!? I can walk just fine!” You repeatedly smacked Kyojuro’s ass in protest, your legs kicking the air in front of his face. The air was cool on your skin and leaves crunched beneath Kyojuro’s sandals. He pointedly ignored you, besides giving your own ass a harsh poke, and continued carrying you over his shoulder. Accepting defeat, you whined his name and slumped limply. He stomped particularly hard on a crispy leaf, causing your head to thump against his back.

Huffing, he turned on the path leading to his house. “Can’t believe you stepped in a hole.”

“Hey! It was covered in leaves!”

He clicked his tongue. “Should I ban tag during autumn?”

“I will fight you.”

Kyojuro didn’t bother responding, but the silent judgement rolling off him was answer enough.

“It’s just a rolled ankle!” you cried out. “Don’t ban tag.”

He trailed his touch over your swelling ankle, making you squirm. “It’s dangerous when you can’t see the ground.”

Don’t talk to me about dangerous things. You glared at the passing dirt and leaves until your eyes unfocused and everything became a muddled blur.

Your focus returned when you reached Kyojuro’s genkan, and he removed both his and your sandals. He lugged you inside and somehow managed to set out a futon singlehandedly. He tenderly laid you down on the bedding and removed your sock. He prodded at your ankle, and pain shot up your leg. You pressed your lips together while he inspected both the injury and your reactions, then he nodded to himself.

“Good nod or bad nod?” you asked as he gently set your foot down.

“It’s not broken, just sprained,” he said, relieved, before walking out of the room. He returned with a bandage roll in hand and began skillfully wrapping it around your ankle. His brows furrowed as he concentrated, and he kept blowing his hair out of his eyes.

Cute.

“You should be watching how I do this, sweets.”

Your eyes widened and immediately moved to his hands on your ankle. Heart racing, you stammered out an apology, but your brain caught up a second later. “Shit-wait, it’s okay, I already know how to do this.”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

I wasn’t staring at you. “I-I was just thinking of how fun the trips to town are gonna be on this.” I totally wasn’t staring at you.

He barked out a laugh while securing the bandage. “You won’t know because you won’t be going to town on this.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows. “But I need to get ingredients…”

With a scoff, Kyojuro placed his hand on your forehead and shoved you back down. “You will not be going, and that’s final. Just tell me what you need.”

“But-”

“I will get what you need. I’ll drop it off at the kitchen. Then I’ll come get you, bring you to the kitchen, and you can sit pretty while telling me how to prepare everything.”

You got ready to protest again, but Kyojuro leaned in close. He filled your entire vision. Chin raised, eyes fiery, brow quirked. It was that look. The one that dared you to keep challenging him. Suppressing a shiver, you sighed and broke eye contact. He grinned. Crossing your arms, you told him to get you something to write on.

He poked your cheek then smoothed his knuckles down the same spot. “No pouting, sweets. It’s for your own good.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed his hand away, but you couldn’t stop the upwards tilt of your mouth. “Yeah yeah, be my willing slave for the day.”

Kyojuro winked before moving back so he could stand. You fake-gagged to hide how the simple action made your heart suddenly spasm. Ignoring your antics, Kyojuro strolled out of the room. You flopped an arm over your face once he was gone, telling yourself that you hadn’t been staring and that the warmth spreading throughout your body was solely from the futon and injury.

It’s definitely not because of that cute dummy.

The slim twig between your fingers tapped against the dirt. Your eyes scanned the bare trees surrounding the training circle, momentarily pausing on Kyojuro’s figure, before shifting up to the sky. A few minutes went by. You looked in the direction of the cemetery and checked the distance between you and the nearby pagodas. You gazed up at the lazy clouds. You tapped the twig faster.

“…on with you?”

Startled, you tore your gaze away from the sky. Kyojuro was squatting before you, sword secured to his belt and head tilted. You hadn’t realized he’d finished his forms.

“Huh?” You blinked.

“What’s going on with you?” He brushed some loose hairs out of your face. “You’ve been fidgety lately.”

The twig hung limply from your fingers, and you looked down at the impressions it had made in the ground. “It’s nothing, probably. Just overthinking some stuff.”

Kyojuro immediately brought his hand under your chin to lift your head back up. He was frowning and searching your face, but you kept quiet. Eventually, he reminded you of the promise to not keep things from each other.

Fuck. The twig snapped and fell to the ground in pieces.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Your anxiety spiked. It had been swirling in your gut recently, and it was particularly bad that day. The dark clouds in the distance, the wind picking up, the faraway scent of damp earth — it was all making it worse.

He’s the only person who will understand, though. He knows the truth. I can tell him.

You gripped the cuff of his sleeve and revealed you’d been getting a bad, jittery feeling. It was reminiscent of how you had felt while hiking the day you’d been transported there. You’d been racing to beat the incoming storm, feeling rushed and unsettled — just like you were feeling recently. “It’s almost like whatever brought me here is coming back.” You glanced in the cemetery’s direction before turning back to Kyojuro and smiling halfheartedly. “I’m probably wrong, but I’m gonna give the cemetery a wide berth for a while, just in case.”

Kyojuro was quiet for some time until he finally asked, “But wouldn’t it be good for you to go back?”

Your stomach dropped. What does that mean?

Smile faltering, you joked, “What? Don’t want me around anymore?”

You watched him visibly hesitate before his hand fell away from your chin. “It would be better for you to go home.”

A sharp sting began unfurling in your chest. “This is my home,” you insisted while he stood and went to retrieve his haori.

“It shouldn’t be,” he mumbled. “You don’t belong here.”

His words were soft, but they pierced your ears. The sting in your chest blossomed, the pain’s razor-edged petals scratching and gouging as they opened. You physically recoiled, and the noisy hum of the world faded to a low buzz.

You don’t belong here. You don’t belong here. You don’t belong here.

“Not in a place like this,” he continued, his back still facing you as you rapidly blinked.

Don’t belong here. Don’t belong here. Don’t belong here. Don’t belong here.

Your throat grew tight. Your eyes felt prickly, and your vision bleared. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

You stared at Kyojuro, hoping to see him smiling… hoping to hear him say he meant something different.

All you got was his back.

A pathetic laugh escaped past your lips. You hastily gathered your things and stood. After one last, desperate look at Kyojuro’s back, you left the training circle.

He didn’t make any attempt to come after you.

The trees groaned and swayed as you trudged down the trail to town, their skeletal branches rattling against each other in the wind. You idly kicked at the stray rocks and fallen leaves in your way until the town’s lanterns were finally visible through the trees.

You weren’t in the mood to shop or work or be around people, but you were low on ingredients after numbly throwing together a kitchen sink dinner the previous night. Truthfully, you barely even remembered what you’d cooked. The entire afternoon and evening had gone by with a ghost of a smile plastered on your face and your body moving on autopilot. Your movements randomly switched between sluggish and frantic while Kyojuro’s words played on a mental loop. There were some vague memories of some Hashira looking concerned and asking if you were okay. Kyojuro hadn’t been one of them. He had ignored and avoided you as much as possible. That, you did remember.

Consequently, it shouldn’t have surprised you when he didn’t show up for breakfast.

Still hurts, though.

Banging your fist against your thigh, you forced yourself to stop thinking about it — about him — and focus on what you needed to buy.

“Alright, not too much or too heavy,” you told yourself. “You’re carrying it alone.” The trees thinned out and were replaced with buildings and throngs of people. You kept your head forward. You didn’t inspect the food stalls or admire the craftmanship of assorted handmade goods. “And don’t forget Shinazugawa’s damn ginger.”

The street was busy, but besides a couple shoulders checking with yours, you smoothly made your way through the crowd. Soon, the stall with pickled produce came into view, and you craned your head at the table while passing, catching the seller’s eye.

Four jars of ginger left. You would snag one on your way out of town; a lesson learned from a previous excursion involving shattered glass and spilled vinegar at the bottom of your bag.

Pressing on, you walked a little further to your usual vegetable seller. You picked up mushrooms, carrots, and cabbage, silently nodding your thanks after paying and placing the produce in your bag.

There’s enough flour in the cellar, so I can just make dumplings and broth tonight. Keep the hands busy but keep it simple.

Now for the fucking ginger.

You made your way back to the pickled produce stall, stopping shortly on the way to buy a bundle of persimmons. Hoisting the bag’s strap further up your shoulder, you zeroed in on the jars of pickled ginger… or where they should have been.

“No Rengoku with you today?” the seller asked as she wrung her hands.

“Not today,” you replied stiffly, scanning the table with a frown. “Ginger? I saw you had some when I passed earlier…”

“A-Ah, the ginger!” She laughed loudly and gestured to the people walking by. “Someone purchased the remaining jars, unfortunately.”

You cursed under your breath.

I know I have a little left, but I don’t know if it’s enough, and I don’t think I can put up with Shinazugawa’s yelling if it isn’t.

“B-But I think Shinei down the road might have some!”

That got your attention.

“He usually makes a lot for his family, so he may sell you a jar!” she explained quickly. “I can bring you to his house.”

Fuck, I just want to go home… but I really don’t want to get yelled at.

Adjusting the strap on your shoulder, you agreed and said you appreciated her help.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered before throwing a sheet over her table and securing it down.

“About the ginger? Don’t be, it’s good you’re making sales.”

The seller smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “This way.”

You followed closely as she led you out of the market and into the housing district. It was far enough that the crowd of people thinned out.

I should really learn how to make this shit on my own.

Turning the corner, you walked down a street split in half by sunlight and shade, and the seller pointed to a house shrouded in the shadows. She hastily opened the entrance gate then approached the genkan. You furrowed your brow at the unraked leaves covering the overgrown grass while you made your way behind her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again as she knelt and inched the door open.

Before you could ask why she was still apologizing, a flash of movement came from the doorway. Something small and shiny flew out of the open crack and over the seller’s head. There was a fleeting, minuscule sting in your arm. Then, all your muscles went numb and slackened. Your eyes closed, and you faintly registered your body collapsing. There was a heavy thud in your ears, but you only felt a tingle. None of your limbs would move, and only a trivial amount of oxygen would enter your lungs.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You could hear the seller repeating the words in a thick, wet voice. Could hear her shift on the hardwood and shove the door all the way open. Could hear her start to drag you into the house.

“My my,” a stranger’s voice rasped out, “look at how well you’ve done.”

It was a strange feeling. To suddenly have overwhelming fear and rising panic… but to not feel your heart beating out of your chest.

I’m so fucked.

A strong tingle surged on the back of your head and your consciousness dropped into oblivion.

There was a light, consistent tapping sound. A scratchiness around your wrists and ankles. A tightness around your chest and arms. An ache weighing down your body. Groaning, you lifted your head and opened your eyes to a dimly lit room. The tapping noise stopped. You winced at the stuffiness behind your eyes and went to rub them… only to realize you couldn’t. Looking down, you saw rope wound around your upper body and ankles, securing you to a chair. You presumed it was the same with your hands behind you.

A chuckle drew your attention forward. A figure stepped out of the shadows, grinning, and you stiffened. They had large black eyes and slimy, mint-green skin. Fangs poked against their bottom lip and their veins were dark, visible streaks. Then, you noticed their hands. The mint-green of their skin transitioned to a murky black, and each long finger ended in a round, flat pad.

Demon.

They smoothly walked over and crouched before you. “Took you long enough to wake up. I didn’t hit you that hard.”

You leaned back as far as you could.

“No no no,” they cooed and pulled your chair closer. You could see yourself reflected in their big eyes. “No running. I’ve waited too long to catch you, so no running from me like that.”

With an unsteady inhale, you tried yanking your hands free even though you knew it would be hopeless. The room spun, and you shut your eyes with a grimace.

“Not feeling too good, huh? Don’t worry, that usually happens. But if you don’t want it getting worse, you should answer some questions for me.”

The rope dug into your skin as you twisted and tugged against it.

The floor lightly vibrated beneath your feet as the demon rapped on it with their knuckles. “When does Ubuyashiki leave the estate?”

You stopped moving.

A string of curses sprinted through your mind.

Your body started to tremble, but you pressed your lips together.

“Not going to answer?” The demon didn’t sound angry. Your eyes cracked open, and you shivered at how they seemed giddy. “Well, it’s never fun getting answers easily.” Suddenly, those long fingers were being waggled in your face. “Want to know a secret? Each finger secretes a different toxin.”

Breathing faster, you tried pulling your wrists out of the rope.

The demon held up their index finger and cocked their head. “What do you think this one does?” Heart pounding, you stretched your neck away from the finger, which caused the demon to jeer, “Aw, of course you wouldn’t know. Tell you what, if you answer my next question, you won’t have to find out.”

Shit. Fuck.

You sniffed and blinked quickly.

Don’t answer. Don’t answer. Don’t answer. You can’t answer.

“When do the guards at the gates switch?”

Stay calm. Stay calm. You’ll be okay. Stay calm. Don’t answer.

The demon waited a minute then reached into a pocket and took out some fabric. They pulled it across your mouth and tied it behind your head.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

Something wet and hot ran down your fingers.

It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.

“Looks like it’s time to find out,” the demon snickered and moved their index finger toward your face.

No… no, I don’t wanna find out. Please. Please, don’t touch me. I don’t want it! Fuck, Kyojuro, somebody, please!

The cool, slimy finger dragged down your cheek. Following the trail, your skin started burning. A searing heat flared up and spread across your face, down your neck, and to the rest of your body. Frantically, your eyes darted down, but you couldn’t see anything wrong. No fire. No smoke. But the burning sensation only got hotter and hotter and hotter, burrowing deep and overwhelming every other feeling. Your body jerked and strained against the ropes, trying to escape the unbearable heat. A scream clawed its way out of your throat, but it was muffled by the makeshift gag.

It lasted for several minutes. Nonexistant flames scorched your bone and sinew until the sensation gradually dissipated, although you were breathing heavily by the time it faded to a subtle warmth. You clenched and unclenched your hands to give yourself something to focus on.

But the demon wasted no time in asking their next question. “Who’s the weakest Hashira?”

Your hands curled into fists, and you shook your head.

Don’t answer. Don’t answer. My hands are wet. Must be blood. Don’t answer. The rope cut into my skin. Don’t answer.

“No response again?” The demon giggled. “A new finger, then!”

The demon’s thumb pressed under your chin. When it slid away, they informed you the toxin would take a moment to kick in.

I’m scared. I don’t want this. I’m scared. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t-

You gasped as your heartbeat sped up. It was going too fast. Too fast. Too fast. Too fast. You gulped for air. Your hands felt cold, and your forehead beaded with sweat. Your throat became tight, and nausea settled in your stomach. Everything was hot and cold and fast and wrong. Quiet whimpers spilled from your lips, stuttering your breaths around the gag, and soon, you were hyperventilating.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you did your best to breathe normally. Your head throbbed, your heart pounded, your skin felt clammy, your body felt like it was vibrating.

In and out. In and out. In and out, you told yourself over and over. You started counting between the phrases. You eventually lost count somewhere after 300.

Each second felt like a minute, and time stretched on endlessly until your body finally relaxed. You opened your eyes and stared at your lap.

This sucks, you thought as the next question immediately came.

“What are their weaknesses?”

You tried to speak around the gag, but your words were incomprehensible. The demon made a surprised noise and untied the cloth. Steeling yourself, you titled your head back and looked at them straight on. “Fuck you.”

“She finally speaks!” The demon smirked, secured the gag once more, and walked behind you. A cold finger grazed your neck, and you slumped in the chair. Unable to move. Barely able to breathe. It was the same as before — a total loss of movement and control. “You’ll want to keep still for this next one,” they said in your ear.

There’s nothing to be scared of. There’s nothing to be scared of. It doesn’t hurt. There’s nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

It had gone completely silent. You didn’t hear where the demon had gone. You couldn’t see. You didn’t feel the rope around your body or where it had scored into your wrists. You were simply floating in a numb, dark world.

No sound. No sight. No feeling.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. There’s nothing.

Nothingness was swallowing you whole.

Why is there nothing? Last time, I could still hear. Why can’t I hear anything? What’s happening? Why is it not the same as last time!?

“-N! Y/N! Y/N!” Your shoulders were aggressively jostled, and your eyes flew open at the contact. Yellow and red replaced the blackness.

Your lower lip trembled, and you choked out Kyojuro’s name.

“I’m here sweets.” He smoothed hair out of your face and softly smiled. “Keep your eyes on me. Focus on me.”

“The demon,” you gasped out, gaze darting to the dark corners of the room.

“Hey hey. Focus on me, remember?” When your gaze returned to him, his tender smile shifted. “Good girl. I want to see your eyes when I kill you.”

You froze. “What?”

Stepping away, Kyojuro drew his sword and leveled it at the hollow of your throat. It glinted in the dim lighting, sharp and dangerous. Just like his wicked smile. Just like his eyes. They no longer held the warmth you were accustomed to. They were cruel.

His name tumbled from your mouth again, this time laced with fear and confused.

“You want to know something?” The tip of his sword pricked your skin. You involuntarily flinched from the coolness of the metal, from the sting of blood welling to the surface, from the detached tone of Kyojuro’s voice. He sneered. “I never believed you. I’ve always thought you were lying.”

Those words drilled into your heart, but the ache lasted only a moment before it was overtaken by something much more prominent and guttural. Kyojuro pushed his sword forward, and slowly, the blade entered your body… he hummed as your eyes went wide and grew glossy… and then it was cleanly extracted with a sickening noise. Blood poured out of the fresh incision in your neck and splashed onto your chest, coating your yukata crimson. It filled your mouth and dribbled past your lips. Kyojuro watched in fascination as your body shook and futilely tried to suck in oxygen. Watched as you drowned in your own blood and jerked in the chair. Your vision turned black at the edges, and it grew darker and darker with each faint, passing heartbeat.

The last thing you saw was an unsettling grin.

Darkness consumed your world yet again… but the pain faded, the blood in your mouth vanished, and your airways cleared. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t see, but it didn’t hurt anymore. You couldn’t feel anything anymore. Close by, you heard muffled giggles and feet shuffling over the floor.

I’m… okay? I’m okay? Okay… Okay… I’m okay.

Can’t move… can barely breathe… but I’m okay. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

“Did you see something good?” the demon asked curiously before sighing. “Right, you’re still paralyzed. It always lasts for so long. Well, might as well keep going while you can’t scream.”

Your collarbone ignited in blazing heat. The fire swept over your body, and you were forced to endure it motionlessly. You writhed inside your mind, imagining breaking free of the ropes and getting away from the burning sensation. But, of course, your body stayed utterly still.

“Oh! We finally have tears!”

You were crying? You couldn’t feel it.

After some time, the fire began dying. It was at a smoldering heat when you were finally able to feel your body again. You felt beads of sweat rolling down your neck, the rope tied around you, the steady pain in your wrists. Your eyes cracked open, and you breathed in unsteadily.

“How is a Hashira chosen for a mission?”

A self-deprecating laugh was suppressed by the gag. It’s never going to end, is it?

A slimy finger trailed over your nape.

Your heart started racing.

Another finger.

The fire was rekindled.

Your head hung limply. You were exhausted.

How long has it been?

The dim room hadn’t gained or lost any light. You didn’t think there was a window. You didn’t have the energy to look.

The process never stopped. Question. Toxin. Question. Toxin. An insult spat through the gag. Toxin. Question. Toxin. Insult. Toxin. Over and over and over and over.

It never fucking stops.

The worst were the hallucinations. Thinking you’d escaped. Thinking it was all a dream. Thinking you’d been rescued. Thinking he was there. Every single time it hurt, either a sword tearing into your body or words gripping your heart and squeezing until you felt broken.

You shivered. Your clothes were sweaty, but your body was freezing.

I want to go home. I just want to go home. Please let me go home.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched the demon pace in the shadows while mumbling to themselves. “Should I just rot her? Dump her body at the gate?” You flinched. “Would Muzan approve of that? He might…

“No. No. It’s too soon. I can try to break her for a few more days.”

You weakly tugged at the ropes, gritting your teeth as the fibers clawed into your raw flesh.

“Move. We need to move. Get further away so I have more time.” The demon came toward you, and you tried to scoot the chair away.

No no no no no. Don’t take me away. Don’t knock me out again. Please please, Kyojuro, please don’t let them take me.

Their hand reached out. You thrashed in the chair. The wood creaked and groaned. Your heart raced. Those slimy fingers came closer.

Closer...

Closer…

Closer. Closer. Closer.

BANG!

In your peripherals, a door was thrown open to reveal two silhouettes. There was a split-second pause, then the demon snarled. One of the silhouettes surged forward in a blur of yellow, red, and white. You stiffened as a sword whistled through the air.

A lump lodged in your throat. Another hallucination. You laughed humorlessly. I didn’t think I was under.

The other silhouette rushed over to you, cursing loudly.

Shinazugawa? Well, that’s new…

You barely registered the gag being removed and the ropes being cut as you watched Kyojuro kick the demon through the wall. He was gone just as fast, disappearing through the hole.

Faintly, you heard Shinazugawa’s voice. You blinked at him.

“Shit. Fuck,” he hissed before sliding his hands under your knees and hoisting you up. “Let’s go.”

He carried you out of the room. Shouts and sounds of breaking wood echoed through the hallway.

Will it be Shinazugawa’s sword this time?

“You… You should go help him. Help Kyojuro.”

“Shut up.”

Shinazugawa brought you outside, and you gasped when the night air hit your hot, sticky skin. He walked past the gate, then stopped. The moon was bright. There was a steady breeze.

You could still hear the fight.

Even if it’s not real, I don’t want him getting hurt.

“Put me down and go-”

“He doesn’t need any fucking help.” He gave you a serious look. “Trust me. And he’d kill me next if I left your ass alone.”

Suddenly, there was a disturbance in the air and a body lightly landed on its feet a few feet away. You recoiled and burrowed into Shinazugawa’s chest, clutching at his uniform.

Pathetic. Seeking comfort when in know he’ll end me soon.

“Y/N!”

A voice you recognized.

You peeked. It was Uzui.

This one is really pulling out all the stops, huh? Getting the whole gang together.

“The other location was empty, so I came here-shit, your wrists…” Uzui zeroed in on where you were desperately holding onto Shinazugawa’s uniform.

Glancing down, you took in the bloody mess of your wrists.

Uzui started unwrapping his blades. Your heart thudded. Your gaze lifted to the stars. You held your breath and waited for the sharp edges of his twin cleavers to slice into you.

Will he go for the neck? The gut?

A gentle touch on your arm made you jump. Tentatively, you looked down and realized Uzui was wrapping his swords’ bandages around your wrists.

Your brows furrowed. “Why are you doing that?”

Both Hashira mirrored your own confusion. A scream ripped into the night sky. Goosebumps raised along your skin but neither of them so much as glanced toward the house. The scream was cut off.

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” Your voice was quiet as you stared at the sharp blades. “It’s you guys this time, right? Not Kyojuro.”

An “Excuse me?” and “What the fuck?” came simultaneously, their confusion morphing into horror and concern.

Your mouth opened and closed.

Why won’t they just do it?

Do it so I can wake up already.

I want to wake up. I want to wake up. I don’t want him to kill me again. It won’t hurt as much if it’s you guys, maybe.

Your name rang into the night sky.

A chill took over as Kyojuro began shouting for you from inside the house, making you fist the fabric of Shinazugawa’s uniform.

I don’t want to see him. I hope he’s okay. I don’t want him near me. I don’t want him to kill me. I miss him.

“We’re outside by the gate, idiot!” Shinazugawa hollered over your head.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re safe now,” Uzui reassured you. “Rengoku’s finished. He’s coming out. You’re safe.”

Your heart sank. Your stomach churned.

I guess it will be him again, in the end.

I don’t want to d-

All thoughts came to a halt as you were suddenly transferred to another pair of arms. The colors of fire were all you saw, but you didn’t feel any pain burning through your veins. It was gentle, soothing, warm. A thumb swept over your cheek, but it was scarred and calloused, not cold nor slimy. Kyojuro gathered you in his arms, softly crushing your body against his.

Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me. “Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me.”

“Shh… Shhh… I’m not going to hurt you, sweets. I’ve got you. Don’t cry.” He carefully cradled the back of your head. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Holding back a sob, you pressed your forehead to his chest.

Please be real. Please be real. Don’t ask me to look at you.

“Shh, just close your eyes and rest. You’re safe.”

His heartbeat was a steady constant in your ear. He made no move to unsheathe his sword. He continued murmuring comforts as he started walking, his voice calm and familiar. Your eyelids grew heavy at the gentle sway of his steps, and your breaths gradually evened out.

“You did so well, sweets. It’s all over now. I’m not going to let anything else hurt you.”

It’s… over…?

The thought smothered any fight you had left. Utterly drained, you gave in to your fatigue and allowed your eyes to slip shut, and within moments, you sank back into a world of darkness.

Everything was soft and warm, just like a cocoon. You nuzzled further into the softness and felt your consciousness already drifting away again.

Until you felt pressure on your upper arms.

Fear shot through you. Your eyes flew open while your torso tried to rise. Your movements were blocked. Your heartrate increased, and your gaze frantically took in your surroundings. The lighting was dim. You didn’t recognize anything.

“Hey hey hey.” Someone moved into your line of sight. Kyojuro. A few seconds later, you realized it was his hands on your arms. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Where?” you gasped out.

“My house. My room. You fell asleep,” he explained quickly yet calmly.

Eyes finally adjusting, you first confirmed it wasn’t the same room the demon had kept you in. Next, you noted you were half tucked into a futon, a yogi pulled up to your waist. You stared at the bedding then at Kyojuro, studying his expression. There was no hint of violence or malice. Your throat felt scratchy as you swallowed and reluctantly asked, “Is this real? Are you real?”

“That demon will never hurt you again. Can’t ever hurt you again. I promise.”

“Are. You. Real?” you asked again through gritted teeth, eyes flashing down to his waist. His sword wasn’t there, which made you waver, but then you scoffed. “Shit, how can I even tell?”

“I’m real.”

You rejected it. “I can’t trust that. Not after…” Not after thinking it was real so many times.

Huddling down, you wished the futon and comforter would protect you.

“A question!” he blurted out while surging forward, making you flinch and burrow deeper. Seeing your reaction, he moved back and switched to a softer volume. “Ask me a question! Something you know the answer to but have never told me and I would have no way of knowing.”

You mulled it over.

“If I wasn’t real, I would know the answer,” he added.

Since you’d be in my head.

The idea made sense… but you tightly gripped the yogi and shook your head the tiniest amount. “You could just lie.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“But you could.”

You both fell into silence. Kyojuro shifted and tugged at his hair. You tracked his movements. The way he fiddled with his hair tie. The way his brows pulled together thoughtfully. It was all familiar. It was all the Kyojuro you knew.

Then he perked back up, his eyes brightening. “Someone I met a while back had really vivid dreams. They happened so often he did daily checks to know if he was dreaming or not.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you asked him what kind of checks.

“One of them was pressing a finger to his palm. If he was dreaming, his finger would go through.”

I think I’ve read about that before. Vague memories of researching lucid dreaming passed through your mind. I didn’t even think of doing one. Not that I really could when I was tied to a chair.

Do the hallucinations even count as dreams?

Exhaling, you raised your hands above your face. You noticed the bandages around your wrists were fresh. They still hurt, but it was duller now – practically a background pain.

You poised your index finger in front of your other palm.

I guess this is the best I can do. Please be real.

With a deep breath, you drove your finger forward until it hit flesh. You asked if he was real again.

“Real.”

Pressing your lips together, you felt your eyes go watery and only a heartbeat later, a tear leaked out. “Well-” your voice was wobbly “-Thank fuck for that.”

Before the tear could trail into your hair, Kyojuro wiped it away. He softly agreed with you then told you to get some rest. “We can do another check when you wake up, if you’d like.”

After you timidly nodded, he caressed your cheek one more time before pulling away. You immediately felt his lack of presence like a lack of warmth. A lack of protection. You frowned as he went to stand, and you whispered his name without thinking. He stopped, prompting you to stammer out, “Um, I know the demon is gone and everything, but…” You rubbed at the edge of the bandage. “But could you maybe stay? With me?”

He looked down at you, surprised, but whispered back, “If you want me here, then I’ll stay here.”

You simply extended your hand out to him.

Wordlessly, Kyojuro returned to his previous position beside you. He accepted your hand and intertwined your fingers. You felt his calloused thumb tenderly move back and forth over your skin. Your chest began to rise and fall with the slow, consistent motion and your eyes drowsily closed.

Faintly, you heard Kyojuro mumble something, but it was only a soothing sound as the lull of sleep dragged you under the dark waves yet again.

The sun served as your alarm in the morning, beckoning you awake with its soft light. Breathing in, you slowly came to your senses. Warmth was enveloping your torso and legs. A dull pain was in your head and your mouth was dry.

There was a slight throbbing in your wrists.

Your arm was extended to the side and pressure surrounded your hand.

Body tensing, your head darted to the side. The action spiked the pain in your forehead, causing you to scowl, but your muscles relaxed when you saw Kyojuro holding your hand. His eyes were shut, and his chest was rising and falling slowly.

Asleep. You took in the room. I’m at his house. The demon is gone. I’m awake.

…Right?

Biting back your frustration, you tried to get out of Kyojuro’s grasp, but his hold became stronger. His mouth downturned and his eyes blinked open. “What are you… doing?” he asked sleepily.

You tried pulling away again. Your heartrate was beginning to speed up.

“Y/N?” He rubbed at his eyes; his voice was rough from sleep.

Your heart skipped at the raspy call of your name, but you pushed the fluttery feeling down. “I need to check,” you gasped out.

I need to check. I need to know. I need to know.

His fingers loosened, and you yanked your hand free to cradle it against your chest. You took two deep breaths then raised both hands over your face. Two more breaths, and you jammed your finger into your opposite palm. It didn’t pass through.

You looked at Kyojuro, who was silently watching, and asked, “Real?”

He nodded. “Real.”

You let your hands drop. “Okay.”

The two of you simply looked at each other. Your heart thumped loudly, and you squirmed under the weight of his tender gaze.

Why is he just staring? He can’t stare at me like that. It shouldn’t be allowed.

All of the sudden, Kyojuro broke eye contact and fiddled with the tie holding his hair back. He stood up, saying that you needed to eat. “I’ll find you some food. Please come out when you’re ready.”

He left the room, and your mind swirled to keep up with his quick departure. Sighing, you shifted into a sitting position and massaged your temples as the yogi pooled around your waist. Staring down at your lap, it took a few moments to realize you didn’t recognize the kimono robe you were wearing. It wasn’t yours. It was soft orange and didn’t fit properly. You paused, questioning how you hadn’t noticed it sooner, but ultimately, you blamed your exhaustion and panic-riddled brain. Next, you pushed the sleeve back to inspect your bandaged wrist and saw your skin was completely clean. Not a trace of blood, grime, or sweat. You checked your legs. Clean. Peeked inside the robe. Clean… and no undergarments.

Did he…? No, surely not… But there’s nobody else in this house… And I think the robe is his…

A surge of heat swarmed your cheeks, and you pressed the too big sleeves to your face. You breathed in deeply through the fabric, feeling your heart hammering both in your chest and head.

Eventually, your heart settled, and you forced yourself to get up. The room spun as you shuffled to the door, your feet heavy and body sore. Outside the room, you waddled down the hallway until you reached a door left half open. Through the opening, you saw Kyojuro kneeling before a table, arranging various senbei and manju on a tray. The sight of snacks made you aware of the emptiness in your stomach while the man himself had you hyperaware of the fact you were likely wearing his clothes… with nothing underneath.

Gingerly, you rapped your knuckles on the door’s frame before announcing your presence. Your fingers ran along the edges of a bandage as he looked up. His eyes dropped to your wrists as you stepped into the room.

“You know,” he said, his hand forming a fist atop the table, “that’s why you need to go back.”

Your steps slowed, and your head tilted to the side in confusion… then it hit you. The pagoda circle. The anxiety about the incoming storm. Being told you didn’t belong. The memories came rushing back, and you came to a halt, remembering it all. Remembering he thought you shouldn’t be there — thought you should leave.

And I’ve been… You flushed, thinking of how you’d been acting. Like an idiot. Like it isn’t just me. Like we’re both in-

“It’s not safe for you here, especially being connected to m-to the Hashira.”

Not safe… for me…?

Your face grew hot, embarrassment changing to anger. Your nails scratched at the robe. “It’s not safe for me? For me?” You laughed in disbelief. “You can’t say shit about safety. Not when you’re the one fighting literal demons and getting fucking skewered by them!”

Kyojuro practically hissed out, “It’s why that demon took you! To get intel!”

“I didn’t tell them anything!”

“And that’s what got you hurt!”

You scoffed. “Did you want me t-You know what? I’m not doing this.” You took a small step backward before fully pivoting to leave.

You heard Kyojuro scramble to his feet. “Will you just-Stop! You need to rest!” He grabbed the back of your robe.

Does he want me to leave or not? What bullshit.

Turning, you pushed him away. “You stop. Please. Just stop acting like you care so much.” His bright eyes flashed wide. The room spun, your head pounded, your body ached, your heart hurt. “Thank you, genuinely, for saving me, but you’ve made it clear you don’t want me around. You didn’t save me because you actually care, you just didn’t want the guilt of my death since you were the one in charge of watchi-”

“You think I don’t care?” he interrupted, his voice faltering. “How could you… It has nothing to do with guilt. I didn’t-I don’t want you to die!”

You raised your chin and tried to ignore the growing lump in your throat. “Right. Because you want to save the world and everyone on it.”

He hesitated, briefly looking away and tugging at his hair tie. “Because…” He squared his shoulders before giving you a small, nervous smile. “It’s because I love you. I’m in love with you and I really really care about you.”

All the air in your lungs was squeezed out. “But… But you want me to leave. You said I don’t belong here. I don’t… what?”

“I want you to be safe.” His smile fell, and his head lowered so his fiery hair hid his face. “You’re connected to the Corps, which makes you a target, so I thought… I thought encouraging you to leave would be best.”

“Well, your encouragement sucks and I still got kidnapped.”

He doesn’t hate me.

He gave a tiny nod.

“I thought we weren’t going to keep things from each other?”

He loves me.

He nodded again.

“It was a fucked-up thing to do, you know that right? Like really fucked-up.”

He’s in love with me.

“I know-fuck-I know.”

Your heart was racing, but you couldn’t tell from which emotion anymore.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said quietly.

Your weight shifted from foot to foot, and you were silent for a long time. Your hand rubbed up and down your arm, feeling the smooth fabric of the robe and the outline of the bandage underneath it. Finally, you sighed. “This is the second time. If you ever pull this shit again, I’m done. Got it? Three strike maximum.”

Kyojuro’s head whipped up, shock painting his features. “You’re actually…? Yes. Yes, I understand. You’re giving me one last chance. I won’t mess it up, I promise.”

Tentatively, you let the back of your hand knock into his. “You’re not fully forgiven yet, okay?”

His index finger gently looped around yours. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking lightly, before he cleared his throat. “Okay. Whatever you need of me, just… just let me know.”

Your heart was beating fast. Your body felt so warm. Your skin tingled where you were touching him, and you wanted to feel those shivers everywhere else. You leaned in closer. His breath hitched.

“Kiss me,” you told him plainly.

He gaped, his pupils dilating and the tips of his ears burning red. His mouth parted, but otherwise, he didn’t move a muscle, so you placed your hand on the back of his neck and guided him toward you. The first touch of your lips was a mere graze, but you quickly reconnected again. Everything else faded out, and you relaxed into the softness of his lips and the quiet, low moan that came tumbling past them.

You pulled back a bit, moving further away and grinning when he chased after you. Playing with the hair at his nape, you ghosted your lips over his one more time before whispering, “I’m in love with you too, dummy.”

Kyojuro sharply inhaled through his nose. The world seemed to go still for a moment… then he crushed his mouth against yours. His hands cradled your face and tilted your head to the side as he kissed you deeply. Groaning into your mouth, his tongue teased your bottom lip. “Say it again,” he murmured between kisses. However, a hum was the only response you were capable of when he proceeded to softly bite down on your lip. His fingers trailed down your neck, his thumb delicately tracing the center of your throat, before moving back up. He loosely grabbed your jaw and forced you to look him in the eye. “Say it.”

Your legs went weak, and you gripped his wrist to ground yourself. After three shallow breaths, your mind was able to regain some clarity. “I’m in love with you.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Again.”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Fuck, sweets.” He dragged you back into a kiss. Your fingers tangled in his hair. His arm snuck around your waist, holding you up and against him. Your body pressed into his. He swiped his tongue across the seam of your mouth then left featherlight kisses along your jaw.

After some time, Kyojuro placed both hands on your hips to keep you in place while he stepped back. He was flushed and breathing hard, his lips swollen lips and eyes half-lidded eyes.

“Why’d you stop?” You hooked a finger in the belt of his robe and tried to tug him back in.

He shook his head. “If we don’t stop now, we won’t be stopping for a long while.”

“Don’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

“You need rest, sweets.” He brushed stray hairs out of your face then readjusted your robe where it had slipped off your shoulder without your knowledge. “And you won’t be getting any if I see more than I should right now.”

You huffed despite the warmth spreading across your chest. “But you’ve already seen me naked! Thanks, by the way, for the robe and for cleaning me up.”

Kyojuro coughed and ran a hand through his hair. “It, um, wasn’t me… Uzui’s wives cleaned you up and got you changed. I just supplied the robe.”

Oh… Well, I’ll have to thank them later. But at least I was right about one thing.

“So, it is yours.” You smirked and lifted your arms to spin. “How’s it loo-” Your legs abruptly gave out, but Kyojuro caught you before you could fall.

“It looks amazing on you. Never take it off.” He spoke right in your ear, sending a toe-curling shudder down your spine. Lifting you up, he carried you over to the table. He placed you on the tatami delicately, which made you roll your eyes, but then he shoved a rice cracker in your mouth. You sputtered and shot him a glare, yet he only crossed his arms and ordered you to eat.

“Not even a please,” you muttered but followed his order anyway. Once you had crammed enough into your stomach, you sighed and rested your head atop your arms on the table. You met Kyojuro’s eyes.

His hands fidgeted in his lap. “I know mutual feelings and-” he coughed “-kissing doesn’t automatically fix everything, so if you need time or space or anything, I’ll give you whatever you need.”

You stretched an arm out to him. “I don’t want to be away from you, so just make sure I know you want me. No more of this pushing me away to save me bullshit.”

“I’ll do that.” His hand covered yours. “I want you right here next to me. I’ll show you, prove to you, make you believe that without a doubt.”

“I look forward to it,” you replied with a tired smile that soon turned into a yawn. You were exhausted on all fronts, but you made no move to leave and neither did Kyojuro. He absentmindedly played with your fingers. You sat in content and watched him do so. The tatami was soft beneath your legs, a loud bird chirped somewhere outside, there were some crumbs scattered on the table, and each delicate touch of his fingertips had you feeling like everything was finally right. That everything was going to be okay. “Hey, Kyojuro?”

He hummed questioningly, now drawing random shapes and lines on the back of your hand.

“I love you.”

His motions stilled then he was grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips. He pressed a gently kiss to your palm and beamed, his eyes squishing closed. “I love you too. I really really do.” He kissed your fingertips next while pushing the plate of snacks closer to you with his free hand. “Now eat one more so I can bring you back to bed.”

“Geez, don’t say it like that. Gonna get my hopes up and shit.”

“Want me to stay beside you again?”

Lifting your head from the table, you grunted in confirmation while reaching for a manju. “But this time, I want cuddles too.”

His finger spasmed over your skin. “…Cuddles?”

Your “Yes, is that okay?” was muffled by the steamed cake in your mouth.

Kyojuro consented eagerly, explaining he just wasn’t expecting it. He patiently waited for you to finish your final snack, but immediately moved closer when you were done to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you against him. He nuzzled at your temple, his lips grazing your cheekbone, then scooped you up. “Let’s get you those cuddles, sweets.”

The sun was a hazy, distant aura through the window. You finished chopping the ginger and pulled down two cups from the cabinet — one red, just like always. Your mornings were a stable routine. Prep. Sunrise. Tea in a red cup. Kyojuro stealing a taste, usually of the food. And a reality check. Every single morning, without fail, right when you woke up.

“Tea time?” Kyojuro’s head poked past the noren.

You gestured to the now-filled cups with flourish, prompting Kyojuro to fully enter the kitchen with a grin. He pecked your cheek on his way to his designated corner. You breathed in the earthy scent of the tea and relaxed against the counter.

It was going to be a good day.

Some days weren’t. Some days, you constantly pressed your thumb into your palm and got jumpy around swords. Some days, Kyojuro rested his hand over his torso and spaced out for long periods of time. Some days, one of the Hashira would sit, silent and sluggish, and you knew their mission had been rough. Not every day was a good one, and you knew the future would only bring more pain and wounds.

But most days were good, like today. The anxiety you’d associated with getting transported there wasn’t lingering in your mind. You’d heard Kanroji safely returned from her mission last night. You had three jars cleaned and ready to experiment with pickling your own vegetables. Your kitchen was heated and fragrant, a comfortable haven from the early winter chill. The day was off to a good start.

Cradling your tea in both hands, you went over to Kyojuro and nestled against his side. He threw an arm over your shoulders and hummed contentedly. Through the kitchen’s dinky window, you watched the sun rise over the mountain tops. The bare trees shook in the wind, the pot of dashi started to boil over the fire, and your entire body felt pleasantly warm. Kyojuro kissed the top of your head, and you glanced up to see his face relaxed and the light of the sunrise reflected in his eyes.

It was going to be a good day.