Archive of Our Own

Shinobu’s carefully manicured schedule falls apart at the hands of someone entirely unexpected.

So unexpected, on all accounts, that someone could irrevocably crawl their way into the gaps of her ribcage and poke, unrelenting, until they had made a place there and decided not to leave. Shinobu had no choice in the matter. It’s not her decision to make, for it was another’s unbidden idea of duty -- an immensely misplaced one at that -- and an apparent lack of dignity, she thinks with a hidden scowl.

“Ah! There you are! Of course you’re still working.” Kanroji chides, swooning into Shinobu’s floor mat. Then she goes limp, boneless, winding her way into Shinobu’s workspace with the ease of someone who is accustomed to wriggling into places they aren’t meant to be. It’s not as though Kanroji lacks the strength to retrieve her own mat. Shinobu knows with utmost certainty that is not the case.

By now she’s accustomed to these disturbances, even though her daily routine suffers for it. Not that Shinobu puts up any resistance. Not to Kanroji; who Shinobu willingly invites her disruptions into her life -- who is unlike any other. Not to Kanroji, who assigned herself the task of befriending her, who succeeded in an area where all others failed. Not anymore.

Kanroji hovers teasingly, out of reach, her other hand over the row of ink beds at Shinobu’s side. She inspects the new set Shinobu purchased for her calligraphy and murmurs, delighted, at the quality of it. She refocuses and returns to her original goal of interrupting Shinobu’s afternoon: “I’ve been looking for you all over!”

“Mm,” Shinobu replies, noncommittal, focused on the stack of parchment before her.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’d wind up here. You’re always doing work, Shinobu-san. Your dedication, as always, is very admirable!” One of Kanroji’s braids falls into Shinobu’s lap. She leans her elbows against Shinobu’s desk and sufficiently removes any chance of Shinobu continuing work with her in the way. “But it really isn’t necessary. Come, come downstairs. We can spar! Ahh--!” Shinobu’s free hand pushes her off the desk. “Why won’t you talk to me?” Kanroji pouts. Shinobu glances at her once, quickly, and averts her gaze back to the reports.

It wasn’t always this way. For better or worse, Kanroji introduces herself into Shinobu’s life and latches on with no intention of letting go. They don’t slot together like two halves of the same cut, harmoniously sliding into shape. No, there’s rough, uneven edges keeping them apart. But the distance, all of that empty space, opens --

(“Do you have any friends, Kochou-san? No? Well, that’s alright. I think you’re super cool! Let’s be best friends!”)

-- and allows something new to grow in between.

In hindsight, Shinobu muses later, she never stood a chance.

The outcome was already decided for her long before she put a name to that fleeting sense of life; like drawing breath for the first time and learning what it means to feel alive. That’s the closest approximation she can make for how it feels when her gaze meets that unfettered smile.

Not that realizing this now will do her any good. It’s a weak and apologetic comfort to know -- somehow, someway -- she would always find herself here.

She relives her life before her sister's death in the moments between where her eyes remain closed, before they open in the morning. She wakes with a thought, ready to speak it from the tip of her tongue, I have to tell Kanae about this, and then she remembers.

There is almost no time to mourn after Kanae’s death. The Pillars are a set, well-oiled machine of nine members. Shinobu is the obvious choice for a replacement, even though every part of her skin itches when she is greeted by her new (unwanted) title.

She can’t offer her grievances over the position either. She has Kanae’s name to look after, to honor. She wears her sister’s haori with pride; even though her shoulders will never be as broad or fill out the material like the owner before her. She will do what her sister would have. She will smile and pretend she’s at ease. She will continue as Kanae would have if she --

Shinobu takes a deep breath, for all the good it will do her. Her grief chokes her by the collar.

...if she lived.

Her uniform is new, stiff and unworn. It requires frequent usage to wear out the material comfortably. The stitches are hard, not broken in by wear; unforgiving, unyielding. She exchanges sorrow and accepts gold-bronze buttons. Despair changes nothing; neither does grief, and neither does regret.

She seals Kanae’s sword and begs at her sister’s shrine to forgive her, because she won’t wield a sword that doesn’t fit in her hands. The blade will dull, and rust, with time, but she will never unsheathe it again. She can’t look into the reflection. She can’t bring herself to do a lot of things. Kanae’s loss always hits her in new, unexpected moments, and she’s wholly unprepared to deal with any of them. But she must. She must.

Kanao lost a sister as well. Although Kanao handles her grief far differently than any person Shinobu has ever met, she understands the younger slayer is still grieving in her own silent way -- even with her dry eyes and distant expression as though her mind was somewhere far, far away. Shinobu needs to be here and support her. That’s what Kanae would have expected. That’s what Kanae would have wanted her to do. She has her sister’s legacy. That has to be enough.

Each new year brings the loss of old faces and greets new ones, like the rise and fall of seasons. Himejima, the Pillar of Stone, arrives among them. Following close behind, claiming no other available places to go, another slayer arrives and assures herself a steady place with a new form of breath called Breath of Love. Shinobu is off on her own assignments, testing a potent array of wisteria poisons and single-mindedly focused on her work.

She meets Kanroji coming back from a night of hunting with Kanao. Although Kanao doesn’t say a word, Shinobu hears her stomach growling beside her and makes the joint decision to stop in the dining hall. Inside she receives brief congratulations and a toast to her return, followed by a stream of introductions from the newest amongst the ranks who returned from Fujikasane Mountain. Rengoku reels her in (and she’s unable to wrestle out of his one-armed shoulder grab) to greet a small gaggle of them by the tables. Shinobu loses track of names quickly, until a swirl of pink and green hair overpowers her.

“It’s so lovely to meet you! I’m Kanroji Mitsuri!” Kanroji spurs herself forward with bubbly, animated greetings. “You are the Insect Pillar, Kochou Shinobu?”

Shinobu half-smiles. It would be like Rengoku to inform a new slayer of all the names of the Pillars before she arrived. “That is correct.”

Kanroji chirps, “How exciting! And so cute too!” One of Shinobu’s eyes twitches at the implied jab about her height.

“Nice to meet you,” Shinobu says, forcing herself to keep the smile on her face. The moment Kanroji spins around to greet the other Pillars, she allows a scowl to slide into place instead.

“Don’t let her size fool you, Mitsuri-san.” Rengoku sagely informs Kanroji, within earshot. “Kochou-san is capable of taking down even the most formidable of demons. And she specializes in poisons -- our very own master of medicines, that Insect Pillar!”

Mitsuri nods, bobbing her head with enthusiasm. “I see! I will be sure to remember that. Thank you, Kyojourou-san!”

After Kanroji makes her other introductions, she gravitates back towards Shinobu. Shinobu smiles faintly, inclining her head a little to acknowledge the new swordswoman. Kanroji’s returning smile is bigger than her own and bears no signs of being forced. Or she’s very accomplished at faking it.

“Wow! Such a warm welcome!” Kanroji observes. “You slayers are a rather strange group, aren’t you?” Without waiting for a response, her hands flapping with barely-contained fervor, she giggles and adds, “But that’s perfect! I love it, really!”

Shinobu eyes her, considering, replies with a murmured, “That’s good.” She’s sure Kanroji will adjust well with the other slayers. She exudes the same well of liveliness and vivacity that usually terrifies those outside the demon slayer corps. Uzui already complimented her twice on her passionate disposition, sending Kanroji into flustered giggles.

Kanroji taps her nose with one hand, then her cheek, as though collecting herself. “You must be wondering why I joined the slayers,” she hums thoughtfully. Shinobu makes a small noise to indicate that yes, she’s listening, but Shinobu doesn’t particularly care. She’s never asked the other slayers, choosing to remain informed only should they choose to reveal and entrust their blood-stained histories to her. Respectfully, the others offer her the same courtesy. “Well, I want to find a gentleman who’ll marry me for life! Girls like men who are strong and capable of protecting them, y’know?” Shinobu blinks at her, wondering if her expression properly conveys that she definitely doesn’t know. “And who is stronger than those among the demon slayers? Wouldn’t that be incredible! Don’t you think?”

Shinobu stares at her. Several beats pass, longer than normal for an expected response, until she finally replies, “...I suppose.”

Kanroji is new among them. She doesn’t understand the unspoken rules among the slayers yet, but she will, in time. This is how Shinobu reasons her forgiveness at the swordswoman's boldness when she asks: “Why did you join, Kochou-san? If you don’t mind me asking. Is that alright?”

There’s no malice in her voice. She’s -- innocent. Genuine. A little naive. Shinobu reserves her anger for those who deserve it -- those who took away her sister, her family, the families of all her fellow slayers. Kanroji is certainly not one of them.

Shinobu’s returning smile is friendly but her eyes are far away. Her hand strays to her side, resting on the handle of her sword; a reflexive action. “I joined to slay demons.” Her parents are dead. Her sister is dead. Her dreams of her old life are dead with them. She has Kanao and a promise that weighs on her shoulders like she’s carrying the world. Nothing but ghosts and memories of the person she used to be. For all intents and purposes, the Kochou Shinobu who lived before is gone, too.

“Oooh, alright! How mysterious!” Kanroji coos. Shinobu dips her head and offers smooth apologies, sorry, it was very nice to meet you, but I really must be going now. She collects Kanao, “Did you eat? Was it good?” receiving only a nod in return, and they return to the Butterfly Estate to rest.

The next time she crosses paths with Kanroji, the swordswoman of Love is awarded with a place among the Pillars. Kanroji immediately recognizes her at the Pillar Conference. Shinobu immediately takes notice of her uniform and smiles sympathetically. A beat passes before Kanroji notices her staring at her uniform and she gives Shinobu a fast once-over of her own costume. “Your -- why is your uniform so normal, Shinobu-san!” Kanroji wails. “I thought all the girls wore their uniforms like this!”

Shinobu leans in and lowers her voice to console her, even as the Love Pillar turns splotchy red with embarrassment. “Oh, that’s the old pervert Maeda-san. He gave me that too at first.” Her smile turns sharper, relishing the memory of old Scum Glasses’ haunted expression as she turned that same pointed smile on him. “But then I burned it in front of him.”

Kanroji’s flush fades, although she’s still trembling from agitation. “Did you really?”

Shinobu’s smile mellows into something more pleasant and withdraws the gift from her pocket. “Here, take my matches and oil. I did the same for Aoi and Kanao.”

“Shinobu-chan!” Kanroji wails again, but Shinobu takes promise in the flash of amusement across her face. “Ahhh, thank you so much, thank you, thank you!”

Shinobu nods, dismisses herself quietly, and decides not to concern herself with any further acquaintance.

Kanroji, however, has different ideas.

“Shinobu-chan!” Shinobu hurries her steps to the Butterfly Estate. Kanroji makes a small surprised noise behind her. “What’s wrong? Why are you running?”

Shinobu doesn’t have an answer to that either. She thinks it might be something to do with the earnest thrill on Kanroji’s face when she says, confident and sure like she’s already made the decision, “Let’s be best friends!” The angry, bitter coil in Shinobu’s heart leaps and recoils; no. Shinobu does not say this. She imagines a wall slamming up between her and the Love Pillar in her mind, shutting her down before she has to hear any more. Shinobu presses her lips into a thin line and turns her back on Kanroji’s eager, open face.

Kanroji chases after her, her footsteps light and persistent, a cheerful shadow in her wake. Any other time, Shinobu might be impressed by the Love Pillar’s stamina. “Shinobu-chan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you--!”

“You don’t have permission to call me that.” Shinobu replies. She doesn’t turn around. Kanroji’s steps falter, then pick up speed.

Kanroji loses her somewhere between the Butterfly Mansion and halfway into the outskirts of the woods beyond the mansion. Somehow, Shinobu is both surprised yet similarly unsurprised that Kanroji doesn’t accept defeat so easily. The next day Kanroji appears at the Butterfly Mansion’s entrance and cheerfully bids a good morning to Shinobu. Shinobu blinks, pretends this is all acceptably normal, and ignores her.

Then she notices Kanroji’s uniform and blinks again. The all-too revealing uniform from earlier is gone, replaced by a far more practical length skirt and buttoned top -- except for a cut out area just below the collarbone. Shinobu says nothing, because the design is clearly intentional. At least it’s more functional than the one Scum Glasses tried to hand off. This uniform looks more like something Kanroji designed herself. Reluctantly, though she keeps her opinions to herself, Shinobu approves.

“Shinobu-san!” Kanroji calls out, song-like. Kanroji has no understanding of shame either and says outrageous things all of the time. She doesn’t appear to care who listens. “Shinobu-san! Fine! Kochou-san, do you want to go eat dinner with me?”

The other Pillars find Kanroji’s attempts amusing, probably because Shinobu finds them so irritating. Shinobu’s face pinches. Is it not clear enough that she’s already heading to the dining hall? Why would she leave to go out and eat now? “Don’t offer to take the bill,” The Flame Pillar advises sagely, clapping her shoulder with cheerful enthusiasm. His eyelids crinkle shut. “We’ve all made that mistake before. Once.”

Uzui nods and corrects, “Or twice,” with the air of someone speaking from embittered experience.

Shinobu meets Kanroji’s hopeful eyes and politely declines. “No, thank you. Another time, yes?” Shoulder sagging, Kanroji nods.

This is the manifestation of the Love Pillar’s newest project: befriending everyone within the slayer ranks. This, unfortunately, also includes Shinobu among her conquests. It’s all part of Kanroji’s plan -- for whatever illogical, self-fulfilling enjoyment -- to annoy her at the most inopportune moments. As though that will accomplish the task of befriending her. Which isn’t to say Shinobu cares whether Kanroji actually succeeds or not, but she’s resisted for this long.

Having more or less come to terms with the new world order by this point, Shinobu only flickers her gaze in Kanroji’s direction before looking away. Kanroji pesters her throughout the day, begging for scraps of attention, and invades Shinobu’s tentative privacy with promise of more exciting, fun, friendship-bonding filled activities. Eventually Kanroji grows bored of Shinobu’s silence, and Shinobu resumes her daily routine in relative peace.

Most of the time.

But, without fail, eventually Kanroji tracks her down after and crawls right back into her space.

Shinobu does not look up from her report. If she does not react in any way -- if she doesn’t encourage Kanroji to disrupt her afternoon workload -- then Shinobu will continue her day uninterrupted. Except Kanroji does not take her lack of attention as a sign to leave. She snuggles in closer and Shinobu’s breathing falters.

“So?” Kanroji asks, expectant. Shinobu realizes she’s forgotten the question, but Kanroji swiftly follows up with, “Don’t you get lonely, always spending time by yourself and working, Kochou-san? Do you want to be my friend?”

Shinobu meets her eyes, steady, even. Her expression smooths, returns to something resembling normal. “What will you do if I say I don’t?” Which is evidently not the right thing to say. Kanroji pulls back like she’s brushed against a hot kettle. Her cheeks are flushed; but she’s usually blushing anyways, so Shinobu shakes her head and returns to her stack of junior reports.

The Love Pillar reappears after their normal evening meal time and crawls back into her quarters, as she often does when she’s feeling lonely. Or if not lonely, something else. Shinobu assumes she’s lonely. Maybe craving a conversation, or company, or whatever satisfaction Kanroji receives out of pestering her. Kanroji teases the end of her braid between her lips and releases a full-body sigh that Shinobu can feel against her stomach. “You have your own housing,” Shinobu reminds her, but she doesn't move Kanroji’s head from her lap. “And you have other duties to attend to instead of interrupting mine.”

“No,” Kanroji draws out in an exaggerated whine. “This is more comfortable. I wanted to spend time with you, Shinobu-san. You never answered my question!”

Shinobu ignores her. “I thought Rengoku said he wanted to spar with you tonight.”

Kanroji laughs. She pulls her arms up and curls her bicep, flexing her muscles. She winks and tilts her chin up suggestively. “I have decided I will be kind tonight and save him from humiliating defeat! He really is a beggar for pain!”

“He really wants to beat you,” Shinobu corrects. “I think you’re damaging his ego.” The tightness in her chest -- nor the feeling of her shortened breaths -- has anything to do with the way the fabric of Kanroji’s uniform twists and shows off more of her well-defined arms. Very, well-defined, and...

...right. Work. Shinobu stares down at her report. She has no idea what she meant to write on the next line. She huffs and puts it aside in favor of something useful. Something scientific. Research can always be done; new findings to organize. The junior evaluations can wait for another day.

After Kanroji becomes bored of lying down, she rises and pokes around the jars and glass vials where Shinobu keeps a station for experiments. That doesn’t entertain for long. She returns to Shinobu’s table and settles in, playing with Shinobu’s hair piece, chatting aimlessly about training and the recent Pillar gathering, and so forth. Shinobu allows her voice to lull her into an easy, almost trance-like calm.

Unprompted, Kanroji muses, “You’re a very interesting person, Kochou-san.”

Shinobu makes a small noise to indicate she’s listening. (She isn’t, not really.)

“Almost everyone asks me about my hair.” Emphasizing this with a quick flip of her braid over her shoulder, a flash of soft pink and green, Kanroji sits forward with earnest attention. “I know it’s an odd color! So unusual. Yet you never asked. Did you find out my secret already, dear Shinobu? Isn’t it interesting?” Shinobu restrains the sigh in her chest. “Well,” Kanroji continues, after it becomes clear Shinobu won’t prompt her with the appropriate responding question. “I’m not really sure why it’s this color, but it must be from all the sakuramochi I eat!” She laughs, sustaining her laughter through Shinobu’s pensive silence.

Finally, Shinobu turns and offers her distant, pleasant smile that so often puts others at ease. “That is rather interesting. Thank you for sharing, Kanroji-san.” The conversation falls short after that. Shinobu resumes writing, correcting her older formulas as she reviews her older research.

She’s long accustomed to the Love Pillar’s habits and boundless energy. Kanroji can’t sit still for too long without doing something active. Usually in the form of... “Can I braid your hair?” Ah. There it is.

“You may.” Shinobu allows. She frees her butterfly clip and tips her head back, enough for Kanroji to grab a hold of. Kanroji scoots closer and pulls a mat under her knees. Her hands are gentle and smooth, pulling loosely at her hair to untangle a days worth of accumulated knots.

Kanroji contents herself with reshaping Shinobu’s hair into small, orderly braids from the top to the base of her neck. Shinobu finds her focus drifting away from her map, pushing away her irritation and allowing herself to relax under the feeling of Kanroji’s sure finger movements. Shinobu closes her eyes and finds her voice: “Why do you care whether or not we are friends?”

Without missing a beat, Kanroji tugs the end of her braid into a trim tie. Shinobu can’t see her face with her back turned, but she doesn’t sense any hesitation or surprise in the Love Pillar’s reply. “There are so few women in the upper ranks. Just the three of us. Better to stick together, wouldn’t you say?” Kanroji replies, which is a perfectly reasonable and acceptable answer. Shinobu fights back the lump in her throat that inexplicably forms.

She turns and meets Kanroji’s eyes. “Is that the only reason?” She watches Kanroji’s body language shift, shy, teasing the end of her own braid between her fingers.

“Of course it isn’t.” Kanroji perks up, lifting her hands to her cheeks and pulling at the skin to stretch her smile. “I think you and I would make for very good friends. Don’t you think so too, Shinobu-san?” Her voice rises like the edges of her smile, playful, teasing. “Does that mean you want to be my friend after all?”

If Kanae were alive she’d certainly agree with Kanroji. She’d like Kanroji, too, based on her personality and eagerness to make friends with everyone. If Kanae were alive, she’d probably encourage Shinobu to make some friends her own age. If...

(“No! Tell me! What was this demon!? Tell me, Kanae, please! I can’t live a normal life after someone did this to you!”

Her sister’s blood sprays in a wide arc behind her. Moisture on her chin, falling from her eyes down her cheeks. Salt and iron, water and blood. Deep red and cloying warm, wet, between her fingers, pressing down upon the open wounds that she knows are too deep to close.

“Shinobu…”)

Shinobu takes a deep breath, exhales, and holds the next one.

...If Kanae were alive.

Kanroji makes a simple, objective point in her argument that Shinobu finds difficult to counter. There are few women among the slayers, far fewer among the higher ranked. Only three women among the pillars, as Kanroji said -- the Insect Pillar, the Love Pillar, and the Water Pillar -- out of nine.

“What about Makomo-san?” Shinobu asks, deliberately avoiding her opportunity to answer. She just doesn’t understand where she fits into this arrangement. “I thought you two were getting along. You can go -- braid each other’s hair and talk about your patrols. Or go sparring. Whatever it is you like to do in your spare time.”

Kanroji sighs dramatically. “But she’s older than I am and way more experienced. I feel so nervous talking to her all the time! You’re far less intimidating.” Shinobu glowers at her, but the depth is reduced by the awkward height and angle between them. Kanroji giggles and resumes braiding the other half of Shinobu’s hair. She doesn’t ask again that night, but Shinobu tucks it away in the back corner of her mind where her less important musings go.

Friends. She doesn’t know how to feel about it. Apathy, certainly, at first. Now she’s confused, to say the least, at Kanroji’s motivations. What does she gain from it? Why does it matter to her at all?

Patience is not the Love Pillar’s strongest suit. A day, then another, until the third day, Kanroji pounces again after Shinobu’s finished re-sorting her cabinets of chemicals and medicinal powders. Shinobu isn’t prepared for the Love Pillar to launch out of nowhere with an excited “KYAH!” and literally latch onto her back and shoulders.

“Kanroji-san,” Shinobu says, exasperated. She keeps walking, albeit slower, determinedly towards the Butterfly Pavilion. “We really must stop meeting like this.”

“Then perhaps the respectable and esteemed Insect Pillar should stop avoiding my requests to spend quality time together!” Kanroji says, which makes about as much sense as her usual declarations. (That is to say, not much.)

Shinobu’s jaw clicks. “I am not avoiding you. I am busy,” she insists.

Kanroji yanks her forward, towards the Love Pillar’s housing. “Not too busy to spend time with me!”

Sighing, Shinobu demands, “Why?”

“It’s important!” Kanroji answers, and tugs her through one end of the house to the other. Shinobu passes walls of art -- childrens art, sloppy and uneven -- passing by her so quickly she can barely make out what they’re for. The Love Pillar’s estate is smaller than her own, which makes sense. Kanroji is the only Pillar with her title. She has no students, no tsuguko to train. Of course she lives alone. The courtyard outside Kanroji’s estate is fenced in, like the Butterfly Mansion, although lined by cherry blossom trees and persimmons instead of wisteria. There are other wisteria trees outside the property, but the smell of blossoms and peaches is far stronger.

Kanroji leads her on a clean path with inlaid stones, loosening her grip to slip her fingers around Shinobu’s wrist. Turning back once more, she beams, and urges her forward with another excited grin.

Shinobu tries again. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I want you to meet someone special,” Kanroji answers cryptically, which explains exactly nothing. She drops Shinobu’s hand and ducks under the shower of branches by one of the larger trees. Shinobu follows and watches. Kanroji opens the hutch in the corner of her courtyard and carefully frees her “special” guest.

Shinobu blinks. “Her name is Mimi,” Kanroji displays the bunny proudly, lifting it under it’s short front arms and waving the bunny back and forth. The bunny -- Mimi, yes, alright -- doesn’t appear to enjoy the movement and frantically kicks with it’s back legs to return to steady solid ground.

“I --” Shinobu starts, but Kanroji shoves the bunny into her arms and beams, inordinately pleased with herself. Shinobu’s met many eccentric types among the slayer ranks; dedicating a lifetime to killing demons does come with a fitting, eccentric job description -- but she doesn’t think she’s met anyone quite like Kanroji. “-- I don’t -- that’s…” Her fortitude falters.

The bunny looks up at her with baleful eyes, as though saying don’t you dare drop me, and Shinobu uncomfortably adjusts her arm under the bunny’s legs to ensure just that. “She likes you,” Kanroji whispers, edging into Shinobu’s personal space as she is often inclined to do so. “See? When her nose wiggles like that, it means you’re her favorite person!”

Shinobu doesn’t have the heart to tell her that rabbits probably don’t concern themselves with affection the way humans do, and stays silent. Kanroji glows with joy, pressing her nose close to Mimi and giggling at the rabbit’s soft brush of whiskers against her cheek.

One of Shinobu’s hands reaches up and pats the back of Mimi’s head, behind her ears, which seems like the right thing to do. Both ears twitch, but Mimi otherwise accepts the touch without complaint.

It’s...endearing, she supposes, if she were to put such a feeling into words. The rabbit’s fur is soft, and doesn’t appear to mind Shinobu’s tentative petting. It’s heart races, fluttery and light, against her palm where she rests it safely in her hands. While it’s not what she had in mind for bonding over slayer training, she can’t say she’s against it.

Perhaps this -- being Kanroji’s companion, that is -- won’t be so bad.

Determined to prove as such, Kanroji dutifully requests her presence at the food hall for their evening meal. Shinobu rarely joins the other slayers unless there’s a scheduled-and-or-socially-mandated reason to do so. It’s not that she’s antisocial or dislikes the other slayers. She takes far more comfort eating in solitude: accompanied by Kanao’s steady and silent presence, Aoi, Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho, and the controlled atmosphere of the Butterfly Estate.

The dining halls are a stark contrast to her usual quiet meals. All chaos and loud and messy; overbearing, filled with energy and excitement.

Although there isn’t any specific celebration for tonight, the ritual of greeting returned slayers is usually reserved for evening meals when all the other slayers gather to eat. While the upper ranking slayers and Pillars are reserved their own areas for dining, her fellow slayers are more likely to mix in with the younger slayers. Shinobu greets Makomo at the far corner, before being dragged along by Kanroji to the other side and pushing her down into one of the cushions at the larger tables.

She watches Kanroji fill her bowls and plates with enough servings to feed at least three grown men. Kanroji notices her staring and frowns, before breaking into nervous laughter. “I -- er, I’m very hungry tonight!”

Piecing together her knowledge of Kanroji based on what she’s heard from Uzui, Shinobu doesn’t disagree with her. “If you say so.” Kanroji nods. She stops serving herself another bowl and her expression falls. Shinobu frowns. “I didn’t say you needed to stop on my account. There’s plenty of food for everyone here. You should take as much as you need.”

Kanroji nods again, her smile returning with easy grace. Shinobu removes her chopsticks from the top of her bowl and scoops in dumplings and rice. She doesn’t mind the food from the kitchen staff, but from experience she knows it’s better to cook and season her own meals. Not that she minds the milder texture or flavor. Most meals from the kitchen, even properly seasoned, never sit right on her tongue.

Kanroji doesn’t speak much through her meal -- on account of inhaling most of the food on her plate at an impressive rate -- but when she does, she chews her words through her food. Wincing, Shinobu reaches over and offers her a small towel to wipe her face.

Kanroji takes it with a bewildered expression. Shinobu pushes it closer. “You have something on your…” Everywhere, she doesn’t say, but the expression on her face must explain enough because Kanroji takes it without any other questions.

The slayers returning from afternoon patrols or their longer missions fill into the dining hall near the end of their meal. Kanroji waves at them from the table, inviting them for small conversation and congratulations on their safe return. With them comes Sabito, who boasts an impressive two month scouting quest on the south-western border chasing an elusive demon by the sea. At the head of the welcoming party is Rengoku, who congratulates the returning slayers with fiery enthusiasm that leaves most of them with bruises.

Near the end of the welcoming line, Sabito accepts the bowl shoved into his hands by one of the hinoto, timidly seeking his favor. He smiles; they eagerly grin like he’s given them a great compliment. He’s popular among the younger slayers, especially the recently recruited, for reasons that elude Shinobu. He’s likable, in his own eccentric way, she supposes.

The Flame Pillar catches sight of him soon after. His haori, while rather plain, does little to detract attention by the nature of his popularity. “Good to see you back, Sabito!” Rengoku greets him with a rough slap on the shoulders.

Sabito winces at the force but he breaks into a smile. “Ah, Kyoujurou, always happy to be back. Anything new and terrible I missed while I was away?”

Rengoku guffaws and answers, “No more so than usual!”

Sabito laughs too, but he catches a new visitor out of the corner of his eye and his attention sways like a sail caught in the wind. His haori shifts under his shoulders, as though finally relaxing from tension he hadn’t even known he held. Shinobu scowls into her bowl, even though she doesn’t turn around to look.

Not that she needs to. Tomioka joins the small gathering and they part like two sides of a field, clearing a straight path for Sabito in the middle. Sabito grins. Shinobu coughs into her bowl again. Kanroji looks at her like she wants to ask about Shinobu’s odd reaction but is too distracted by the newest arrival to voice it.

“You’re back.” Tomioka says unnecessarily. He smiles -- ugh -- and offers his hand out to Sabito, who takes it and slides his fingers around Tomioka’s wrist. “Early, too. I’m glad.”

Sabito scoffs, puffing out his chest and boasts, “Of course I am! I said I’d be back, didn’t I? A real man always keeps his promises!”

“That’s very honorable of you,” Tomioka agrees neutrally. His smile glows. Shinobu rolls her eyes. Kanroji swoons a little and presses a hand to her chest, her other to her mouth, shining and enchanted by the sweet reunion in front of her.

Sabito’s mouth puckers -- the way it does when he thinks he’s making a particularly humorous joke -- and adopts a serious expression. “Wow! Giyuu, you’re so charming, looking at me like that.” If Shinobu had an appetite before, it’s certainly gone now. Sabito marvels, “I’ve never felt this way before! Is this what appreciation feels like?”

Shinobu answers under her breath, “You probably have indigestion.” Uzui, the closest, hears her muttering and covers his laugh with a well-timed cough. Kanroji hears it too and bursts into stifled giggles, her palm pressed to her lips as though that might keep them inside.

After wiping her face again, Kanroji rises to greet Tomioka herself. Shinobu remains at the table and stacks the empty bowls she left behind, if only to give her hands something to do. Rengoku joins her on the other mat and, without prompting, declares, “Shinobu-san! It’s so good to see you making friends!”

The disgruntled frown Shinobu returns does little to dissuade him. Undeterred, he continues, “It is in my understanding the best generations of Pillars were understandably close, and there must be something to that, yes? Well--”

Shinobu interrupts, “Get to the point.” Impolite, yes; but her patience is not unlimited.

Rengoku doesn’t even have the decency to look abashed by her impatience. He only smiles and strikes one hand over his chest, above his heart, proudly explaining, “I think you have plenty to learn from the Love Pillar, as she does from you! I think you will be very good for one another!” Then he launches into a speech about how it’s stroking the passionate fires of his heart, or that the first sparks of a bold new friendship are invigorating his fiery spirit...but that’s how Rengoku is, so Shinobu is content to let him talk and tune in and out of the conversation.

Her mind jolts back into awareness after she realizes Rengoku’s asking her a question. “Hm? Yes?”

Rengoku repeats his question, showing no sign of being discouraged despite her inattentiveness. “I almost forgot, but some of the Wisteria Houses sent me a request to reinforce their wards. You wouldn’t happen to have any in your supplies to help them out, would you?”

Shinobu mentally pulls through her latest memories of the shape of her stores. A resupply of her own wisteria collection wouldn’t be amiss. She frowns. “I don’t, unfortunately. Is it urgent?”

“I’m afraid so!” Rengoku says, frowning as well, before straightening. “But you’re leaving soon for a hunt, yes?”

Nodding, Shinobu agrees. “Tomorrow, yes -- Kanao will accompany me. It’s her last hunt before she enters Final Selection.” She considers and adds, “I’ll ask one of the crows to send word to the houses -- maybe one of the kakushi can prepare a cart for us. And one to return here to the Butterfly Estate, if I can.”

“You should arrive near Fujikasane Mountain by the following evening,” Rengoku supplies. “That will allow you plenty of time outside your patrol to collect wisteria at the base of the mountain. And extra! Some for your experiments, I gather?”

“Something like that.” Shinobu says, deliberately vague.

Rengoku nods and grins. “Well, I’m sure that won’t be a problem! You’ll have Mitsuri-san to help you, as well. The two of you will make quick work of it.”

Shinobu blinks. Rengoku’s smile doesn’t waver. She blinks again and waits for an explanation. It becomes evident there isn’t one forthcoming, so she prompts, “What?”

“She mentioned you were assigned together. Were those not the orders you received?” A genuine curiosity alights in his face. “What’s that face for -- ah, I see. She requested to accompany you! But it appears you didn’t know.” Shinobu glares at him. Rengoku laughs, all brass, and exclaims, “How strange!”

Shinobu knows she’s hardly the strongest Pillar, let alone as physically strong as even the lower ranking slayers, but this is really too much even for her. Kanroji’s concern is well-meaning, but decidedly misplaced.

“Indeed,” Shinobu murmurs, already calculating her exit strategy. She does a quick scan of the room and realizes Kanroji isn’t among them; either she slipped out and retired for her rooms, which means it’s up to Shinobu to track her down and … well, she doesn’t know what she’s going to do when she finds Kanroji, but there will be words.

Some of her emotions bleed out, darkening her usual placid expression. Confusion evident on his face, Rengoku asks, “Ah, aren’t you friends with Mitsuri-san?”

“Something like that,” Shinobu repeats. “It’s no problem.” On the scale of everything else, this is a fairly minor issue. Barely worth consideration. A small annoyance. “I’m sure it's nothing but a little…” She purses her lips. “...misunderstanding.”

Rengoku nods severely. “I am confident you will find a solution! Mutually beneficial, I should hope!”

Shaking her head, Shinobu dismisses herself from the hall and prepares to find Kanroji again. Tracing her back to the Kanroji estate isn’t difficult. The younger slayers she passed leaving the hall indicated Kanroji returned to her house.

Shinobu knocks once. She breathes out slowly, ignoring the slide of her uneasy thoughts as they swirl in discontented circles. There’s a long moment of silence before she hears Kanroji’s footsteps approach the door, which is flung open with a delighted Kanroji behind it. “Ah!” She says, and then shrinks at the dark look Shinobu offers in return and realizes this isn’t a friendly visit after all and repeats, “ah,” far more subdued.

She nervously allows Shinobu into her threshold, allows her to shrug off her shoes and follows Kanroji upstairs to her quarters. Shinobu takes careful stock of the unimportant details of her room; the tiny mirrors, dangling yellow-rose lamps, and pink plush pillows that cover one corner of the room in a mountain of feathers.

“I feel like this isn’t a social visit,” Kanroji edges cautiously towards her. Shinobu, already declining to sit, nods sharply.

“It is not,” she confirms. “I must ask, Kanroji, you are aware it’s rather impolite to change commands behind someone’s back?”

“I didn’t --” Kanroji fusses. “I wasn’t trying to be rude! But you’re --” She flaps her hands and gestures vaguely at Shinobu, which is more confusing than anything else she’s tried to explain. “-- y’know! And I asked Oyakata-sama, as a personal favor, because I really wanted to go out with you! I promise, it wasn’t trying to make you feel like I thought you weren’t capable, I just really want to spend time with you!”

Shinobu blinks. Opens her mouth, deliberates over how to properly reply, and decides against it. Her mouth purses into a thin line.

“Everyone talks about how cool you are, Shinobu-chan,” Kanroji continues patiently, but she sounds like she’s close to whining. “I’ve never had a chance to go hunting with you, and I really really want to see you fight! Aren’t you curious? To see me, too? Just a little bit?”

“...What,” Shinobu says, which isn’t an articulate question at all.

“I wanna see you fight, Shinobu-chan!” Kanroji explains, punctuating her demand with a bounce on her heels. “I think we’d fight together, and that’d be so cool! I wanna fight with you, Shinobu!”

“Ah,” Shinobu says. Not for the first time, Shinobu remembers: everyone in the demon slayers are, on some level or another, a little bit off-center of normal. (Depending on the slayer, however, sometimes this range skews very far away from this happy medium. Shinobu likes to think she fits in happily with the off-center crowd, until she remembers most people around her are even stranger than she is.) “If that’s the case, then I don’t see why not.”

“Then you’ll let me come with you?” Kanroji smiles, as though she already knows the answer.

As much as Shinobu’s instincts tell her otherwise, she can’t deny Kanroji at all. She’s powerless. “Yes,” Shinobu decides. Ah, defeated, again. “Alright. I will see you tomorrow, Kanroji-san. Meet us outside the Butterfly Mansion.”

“Wonderful!” Kanroji agrees. Shinobu spares another moment of despair as she realizes she’s not half as annoyed by Kanroji’s interruption as she should be.

Hm, she thinks. Interesting.

Rising before the sun, she and Kanao pack rations together and ready for their travels. Shinobu holds onto the last few moments at the window, savoring the dull glow of sunlight bleeding into the inky sky. “Time to go.” Shinobu tells her. Kanao nods, the most acknowledgement Shinobu expects from her, and they exit the Butterfly Mansion as one.

Kanao spots the Love Pillar first hesitating on the wide dirt road outside their estate. Kanroji hovers near the east wall, her posture eager and anxious. She jogs over to Shinobu and waves one hand high, as if Shinobu might have missed her notice. Shinobu stops, as does Kanao, and waits for her to catch up.

“Good morning!” Kanroji chirps. Shinobu returns the greeting. Kanao watches Kanroji with an even stare. Kanroji’s earlier uneasiness is given a voice: “Ah, ah, Shinobu-san, I know you said so already, but is it really okay I’m coming with you like this?”

“I told you it was alright,” Shinobu answers neutrally. “And I do appreciate your help, Kanroji-san.” She turns her head and lifts her chin to Kanao. “Come. We have a good day of walking ahead of us.” Kanao falls into step behind her, while Kanroji matches her pace and occasionally bumps shoulders. (Or as close to it, because the Love Pillar is unfairly taller than her.)

Kanroji provides a running commentary, even as they’re running half-speed through a sparse forest on the trail of a deer-like demon in the area. She smiles without an ounce of malice, even as she relieves the demon’s head from it’s shoulders. The Love Pillar’s sword is especially eye-catching. It weaves around her like an extension of her limb, flickering and snapping with a whip-like crack that resounds through the trees. For a moment she’s beautiful -- and terrifying, in a way that Shinobu finally understands why Oyakata recruited a girl like her.

The illusion is momentarily ruined after she sheathes her sword, or attempts too, and twists it around into a half-turn shape, giggling under her breath. Shinobu raises an eyebrow at her.

Their trail comes to a fork: two demons with different goals, heading off in opposite directions. One leads deeper in the forest, probably hoping to catch a traveler into the denser trees and brush. The other leads towards the nearby town they passed from the road.

As time is of the essence, she sends Kanao and Kanroji for the demon in the village. Shinobu plans to take her time scouting out the other demon in the woods and approach it. With any luck, she’ll catch it off guard as it will underestimate her abilities -- like so many demons before it.

“Ah, what a shame,” Kanroji comments. “I won’t get to see more of you fighting!” Then she adds, hopefully, “But maybe more again, soon!”

Shinobu says nothing, and addresses Kanao instead. “Eliminate the demon before it reaches the town. Stay close to Kanroji-san and listen to whatever she tells you to do,” she tells Kanao at their departure. “Take the lead -- your eyes are better than hers. Stay alert.” Kanroji nods heavily, forehead scrunched up with concentration. Kanao blinks, acknowledging her orders. Good. Shinobu trusts Kanroji’s swordsmanship and Kanao’s training. The two of them will be fine.

The Love Pillar leads the way to the village down the decently well-travelled foot path to the right, vanishing into the inky blue background of night with a bounce in her step and a gust of laughter. Shinobu goes left, where the shadows grow deeper and murkier the further she ventures into the woods. The moon over her head offers little assistance with how thick the forest grows.

Waiting for her in the underbelly of a fallen tree, the demon strikes while her back is turned. But she is faster, the blade already cutting through the demon’s neck and severing it from the body before it realizes what happened, ever smiling.

She hates smiling. If Kanae were alive, she would smile in her place and Shinobu would be free to scowl and curse and be generally unpleasant without guilt. She wouldn’t wear the distant, placid smile she fronts like a mask that wears thinner and thinner with every year. This is the truth behind her smile: the only manageable attempt to keep a piece of Kanae in her life -- that peaceful, non threatening expression.

Kanae was one of a kind. Shinobu is nothing like her.

She never feels that buoyant sense of calm that uplifted Kanae and the attitudes of everyone around her. Shinobu doesn’t possess Kanae’s even-tempered spirit; like the cool, slow trickle of a stream unfurling down the mountainside. Shinobu is the full rush of a current, bracketing against rocks and trees and forcing them out of her path. She is the snap of wind, cracking against siding and houses and biting with the cold winter chill. Shinobu grinds her teeth with anger and dreams in shades of red.

If Kanae’s spirit was like the glow of gentle embers at dusk, Shinobu is the whole forest on fire and she burns.

“Ooh,” Shinobu murmurs, unsympathetic. She bends down to inspect her work and taps her finger to her chin. “It’s rude to attack someone from behind, don’t you know?” The demon gurgles, spitting blood between it’s clenched teeth. “Ah, sorry. I forgot you can’t hear me. How unfortunate for you.” Freed from the demon’s body, the head opens its mouth and lets out a desolate shriek, eyes twitching and bulging. The body shudders and succumbs to the thread of poison sinking in from the edge of her blade.

Shinobu enjoys watching them writhe and scramble for purchase with claws on the ground, seeking relief from the wisteria burning through their demon blood. She enjoys watching them disintegrate; there one moment, gone from the world in the next with nothing left but a faint trail of ash. She enjoys -- and this is not something she is proud of, yet -- killing demons.

If Kanae were alive, she’d say she’s wrong to enjoy death in a manner like this. She’d say it’s wrong to take pleasure in watching something die. She’d say it’s still something worth being mourned, something so pitiful and desperate as this demon is.

Shinobu rolls the demon’s head over with the tip of her blade and presses it’s still screaming face into the soil, muffling the noise. Kanae isn’t here. Kanae isn’t alive to make those judgments of her. Kanae isn’t alive to say anything to her anymore.

The forest thins out again as she treks back to the main path she diverted from before. She hears Kanroji’s laughter before she catches sight of her white haori glowing pale and ghost-like under the moon.

“Ahh! Shinobu-chan’s returned too!” Kanroji’s figure deflates, releasing all of her tension at once. “Good, good, congratulations on completing another successful hunt!”

Shinobu dips her head in thanks. “The same to you, Kanroji-san.” She inspects Kanao with a cursory gaze and turns her attention to her. “Alright?” The question is open but it should prompt Kanao enough to alert her to any injuries not visible from first glance.

Kanao’s eyes glitter in the moonlight, wide and swelled; so vast and deep Shinobu’s never quite found a way to reach inside and pluck free whatever lies behind it. She opens her mouth and answers, “Yes.” Her voice is soft, a whisper of breeze through tall grass.

“Then we continue.” Shinobu nods to Kanroji. “We’ll reach Fujikasane by morning.”

On part of Shinobu’s own negligence, she doesn’t realize Kanroji is limping until they’re near the familiar walls of the slayer base. She blames her inattentiveness on making sure the wisteria is properly secured and ready for delivery at her estate. Kanroji lags behind the last few kilometers, claiming exhaustion from a long night of travel. Iguro passes them, having returned from his own scouting, and stops. Shinobu frowns a little, wondering what about their return gives him pause, and realizes he’s looking at Kanroji.

The Snake Pillar shoots her a nasty two-toned glare and marches up to Kanroji. Shinobu’s behind the cart and unable to hear their conversation, but she hears the sound of her name and an accusatory sound from Iguro. She dismisses Kanao and tells her to bring the rest of their supplies back to the Butterfly Estate and winds around to the two Pillars.

“Is something wrong?” Shinobu asks, genuinely, frowning again at the undeserving glower Iguro sends back at her. Her gaze drops to Kanroji’s leg, dried blood clinging to her side now on full display in the sunlight. A second smear of blood on her arm the same side as her leg, above her elbow, where the white gives way. “Oh, Kanroji-san, what happened?”

“I tripped!” Kanroji doesn’t seem too upset about it. “While we were gathering wisteria -- it’s really not a big deal,” she assures Iguro, who seems disproportionately bothered by her injury. Kaburamaru hisses in agreement with the Snake Pillar’s discontent.

Shinobu frowns. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Iguro narrows his eyes at her, silently demanding why didn’t you notice? Shinobu smiles unpleasantly at him return.

“I’m really fine, Obanai. Shinobu-san was busy collecting wisteria, and it doesn’t even hurt!” Kanroji explains. She beams at Iguro, taking his hand and patting it with gentle ease. “Your concern is appreciated, but it’s really alright!”

“You should see someone to clean your wound.” Iguro says. Kanroji waves him off and repeats her earlier assurances.

This continues for several more rounds. They could stand in the middle of the road and probably go back and forth until the sun goes down and while Shinobu is patient, she’s not that patient. “Come to the Butterfly Mansion,” Shinobu decides. “Someone from my staff will treat you there. I will accompany you.” After reassuring Iguro that yes, she’s fine, Kanroji falls into step with her and walks the short path to the mansion. Despite her injuries Kanroji bounces with unbridled energy that, in Shinobu’s exhausted state, she’s somewhat overwhelmed and unwilling to deal with.

“I really am fine,” Kanroji protests, as Shinobu peels away her white haori and frees her arms from the clinging torn fabric. “I don’t want to trouble you, Shinobu-san.”

Replying with a small hum, Shinobu gestures for Aoi to take over in her place. “No trouble.” Rising, she pats the arm of the chair beside Kanroji and takes her leave. “I’ll make tea. Come down whenever you’re ready.” Aoi’s ensuing arguments with Kanroji echo as she reaches the other end of the hall. For some reason this brings a small, unconscious twist of her lips.

Downstairs in the comfort of her kitchen, she stirs the leaves and strains them from the purple-green leaved pot. Her tea collection is small, and it’s not often she has guests to make tea for. Kanroji didn’t say if she favored one tea over the other, so Shinobu selects one of her lighter white teas.

While the water boils she collects cups for each of them. Most of her sets are used for medicinal purposes. The others are pushed into the back of the cabinet, porcelain wares cracked and veined by age and use. Some cups are hiding on the top shelf, with the intent of keeping them out of reach; those are where Kanae’s favorite tea cups lie. Those are where those fragile cups and memories made their final resting place, along with any other kitchen ware that struck Shinobu with too many mixed emotions. She doesn’t touch those.

Shinobu takes the bronze-gold rimmed set from her dishware. It’s the last set of matching cups she owns, the others lost or broken or borrowed somewhere along their lives. She waits for Kanroji to return and sits in the hall, rubbing her fingers against the warmth in her cup. With great activity, Kanroji makes her presence known with wide arcs of her arms and bounces into her kitchen.

“I made tea,” Shinobu interrupts, before Kanroji has a chance to open her mouth. “Come sit. You should rest your leg.”

Kanroji pouts and visibly deflates, but she shuffles over to the timber-hewn chairs and table, sitting gracelessly in the other offered stool. She takes the tea Shinobu offers her, murmuring her thanks and blowing on the steam. Her shoulders are bare, having removed the upper sleeves of her uniform, leaving only the lower parts of her top. The white linen wrapped around her bicep looks secure and properly treated. It was as Kanroji said -- not severe, and clearly not giving her too much pain.

But it settles Shinobu’s guilt to know Kanroji’s injuries were treated by her staff, a reassurance she didn’t realize she needed until she sees the evidence before her.

Shinobu waits until she finishes her tea and nods, allowing Kanroji to continue. “Thank you,” Kanroji begins. She locks eyes with Shinobu and, in an act of great courage Shinobu does not expect, she beams and wraps her hands around Shinobu’s thin wrist. “For the tea. And bringing me here -- and for letting me accompany you! I’m glad I got to see you fight, I know it probably doesn’t seem like a lot to you -- but it does to me!” Shinobu wonders how someone with her radiant innocence could ever be convinced to join the slayers. She realizes she never really asked, because there must be history behind Kanroji’s fanaticism around finding a husband.

Unwavering, Kanroji shakes her down to her roots with a clean straight shot of appreciation. “Thank you, thank you, Shinobu-chan.” Her expression falters at the small flash of disdain that fills Shinobu’s face. “Ah, sorry. I know you don’t--!”

“You’re welcome, Kanroji-san.” Shinobu’s interruption surprises even herself. “It really is no trouble. And I should be thanking you, for your assistance. The Wisteria Houses will surely express their gratitude to you as well.”

For some reason, Kanroji grins at her words like Shinobu’s granted her a special reward. Shinobu smiles too. She feels pleased, oddly, but she can’t pin down the reason why. The thought dances out of reach, eluding her practical reasoning and disappearing over the horizon.

“There’s no need to sound so formal with me, you know.” Kanroji offers. “I have a very pretty name, it would be a shame to waste it! And I consider you very close to me, Shinobu-san.”

“Of course.” Shinobu straightens. The stool under her shifts and rocks forward a little. “We’re friends.” Somehow it comes out sounding more like a question.

Quick to reassure, Kanroji agrees with a smile, “Of course we’re friends.”

Returning to her tea, Shinobu smiles into the rim of her cup. “Indeed we are. Mitsuri-san.”

The light returns. Kanroji’s face transforms, her smile peeking out like the sun between clouds; for a moment, Shinobu forgets about the heat from her forest that never stops burning and remembers what it’s like to simply be warm.

While there aren’t any actual rules in the Demon Slayer Corps against befriending the other pillars there is one lasting, permanent ideal drilled into each of them: don’t get too attached. Or maybe that’s Shinobu’s own rule out of self-preservation, but really, to form any sentimental relationships is simply unwise with their lifestyle.

Shinobu accepts this. Kanroji is her friend. So be it. She won’t become overly attached. She won’t think about the matter more than necessary. She won’t be so foolish as to fall prey to the same mistake twice.

Or at least that’s Shinobu’s plan. But these problems crop up, one by one, starting smaller and growing larger. Shinobu tries to account for each of them and doesn’t make the connection between them until later. By then, it’s far too late to understand the significance of Kanroji’s presence in her life. Too late to take back Kanroji’s original request.

The first problem is this: Kanroji is too kind.

Not that it’s a bad thing. Shinobu’s eye twitches sometimes after Kanroji showers her with too much verbal affection, but she survives these rare instances no worse for wear. The problem stems from Kanroji’s inherent kindness for everything. It’s hard to trust in natural kindness after all memories of it are scourged and wiped away by blood and fire. It’s hard to look at someone like Kanroji and not point out the obvious differences between the two of them.

That kindness isn’t unique to humans. Kanroji loves animals, even dogs -- which Shinobu reflects as a personal betrayal -- and anything that’s interesting or catches her eye. Even demons, although Kanroji performs her duties as any other Pillar. She isn’t overly kind to demons, but she stands out among the rest of them with her untouchable charm.

As for killing demons and enjoying it -- Shinobu knows there’s something wrong with her. At least her sadism is shared among the other slayers, who all range between different levels -- Shinazugawa existing on a tier of his own -- of blood-boiling hatred for demons.

With the exception of Kanroji, who doesn’t appear to take any satisfaction from their deaths. Her sword is a flash of mercy in battle, cutting through demons necks like one might cut through fresh dough. When she fights, she fights only for the sake of protecting everyone else. The Love Pillar and herself truly only have a few things in common: being women, and slaying demons.

How can she be friends with someone when they are so different?

But Kanroji seeks to remedy that as well, leading to today’s involuntary skills lesson: baking. She sorts through her emotions while Kanroji sorts through her cabinets for flour and sugar. Confusion is the first emotion she settles on. Shinobu tries to explain this, tentatively: “There’s plenty of food in the dining hall?”

“But I wanna make --” Kanroji says something that she doesn’t understand, even though she’s close enough that she should make it out. “-- and I think it’d be fun! I only ever see you when you’re leaving for scouting, and I miss spending time with you.”

Shinobu, hesitantly, makes a second attempt. “And your proposal is to make…?”

“Honey pancakes,” Kanroji repeats. “With -- homemade butter.” She whips open another drawer by her hip and tosses something that looks like a towel. “Here, put this on. Unless you want flour all over your uniform?”

Shinobu raises an eyebrow but refrains from commenting. She takes the coverall apron and slides out of the way, letting Kanroji gather the rest of her ingredients. Unlike Shinobu, Kanroji is only wearing a blossom pink yukata with yellow petal trim.

Stark contrasts, the two of them together, standing side-by-side in Kanroji’s kitchen. Shinobu feels herself shrink inside her own kitchen, keeping her touch light and distant on the counters as though to avoid disturbing an invisible line of dust. Memories of Kanae are too deeply steeped into the wood, the flooring, even in the wood stove. The house the Love Pillar occupies is smaller, hosting only Kanroji and the occasional kakushi who sweeps by to clean.

Kanroji retrieves her cups for measuring a thick plate of metal to scrape away the extra flour. Shinobu holds the bowl, her hands curving to meet Kanroji around the side. Kanroji smiles and says, “I think we should be a little mean and keep the pancakes for ourselves. Just this once -- no need to share.”

“I won’t say anything if you don’t,” Shinobu hums, tilting to bowl to help Kanroji pour in the rest of the sugar. A plume of flour erupts from the center where she didn’t stir and paints a thin papery coat of dust. Kanroji giggles, spilling more flour over her hands and creating another cloud of flour. Shinobu brushes the flour from her hair, aware of Kanroji’s frantic motion stilling beside her.

She pulls her bangs from her face and stops. “Don’t you need to add something else?” Kanroji nods, quick, as if dismissing another thought. Refocused, she pushes the bowl back into Shinobu’s hands and goes to retrieve the water she set aside earlier.

Kanroji whips the batter into shape with apparent ease. The chalky mess from before turns smooth. The chopsticks in her hand tap the edges of the bowl as she beats in three eggs and salt. Shinobu tries (fails) to keep her eyes from wandering over the flex of her muscles and pay attention to Kanroji’s words. Of course she ends up staring more at Kanroji’s mouth as she talks, which also isn’t doing her any favors.

“I like using honey syrup,” Kanroji explains, her lip caught between her teeth as she determinedly pours one layer of batter after another onto the hot pan. Shinobu finds her gaze fixed on the slip of her tongue as she focuses intently on the pan. “I’m sure I have enough left for the two of us. Uh, here. You can flip some if you want. Try it out! It’s fun!”

Shinobu takes the smooth metal handle of the pan and tests the edges of the pancake with her own chopsticks. Then, mimicking Kanroji, flips it in a wide arc and catches it back. Smiling, she turns back to Kanroji.

“What?” Shinobu demands.

Kanroji’s focus drifts away, but even that looks forced. The Love Pillar mutters, “Um, nothing. Just...surprised.” Shinobu narrows her eyes. “You make it look so easy! Are you sure you haven’t made these before?”

“Cooking is a science,” Shinobu defends. She hands the pan back to Kanroji and picks up the steaming pancake between her chopsticks and delivers it onto the waiting serving tray. Then she lifts the bowl and pours another layer of batter for the next pancake.

“So it is,” Kanroji agrees breezily. “I shouldn’t be surprised, though! Shinobu-chan is so talented, of course she’s a natural cook too!” Shinobu flicks batter at her.

Kanroji cooks enough pancakes for a small army, but Shinobu is well-adjusted to the overwhelming number of plates stacked with food. Most of it will go to Kanroji anyways.

Aided by Kanroji’s directions for the extra dishware, Shinobu sets the table for the two of them on Kanroji’s table. Kanroji finishes the rest of the batter by making an extra-large pancake and dumps the tray in the middle of the table. She sits down on the cushion beside her, exclaims “Tea!” then rises again and paces back into the kitchen. “Tea! I forgot tea!” Shinobu follows her. “I don’t know what kind of tea you like,” Kanroji flutters with anxiety. “But I have some extra black tea in my stores. That is, um, I -- if you want to try.”

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” Shinobu assures her.

Her expectations are met and more than satisfied by the impromptu meal of sweet pancakes. The following week, Kanroji bursts into her kitchen with a new food she’s craving and force-feeds Shinobu her leftover samples.

“Do you cook often?” Shinobu asks her. “You seem like you’re familiar with a lot of recipes. But you usually eat in the dining hall.”

“The dining hall has more food, obviously! And my kitchen doesn’t have enough room to supply me for a full week.” Kanroji presses a hand to her chest, like she’s offended by the thought. “I’d be starving myself all over again!”

Her brow raises. Shinobu sees the opening thread in that innocuous comment and pulls it free. “...Again?”

“Um, I mean! Well you see, there was -- my marriage, which, er --and then...” Kanroji stammers, eyes wide, but eventually she tells Shinobu in bits and pieces of her life before the slayers. Shinobu, a dedicated scientist at the core listens patiently, understanding, and records this into her memory.

After Kanroji finishes, Shinobu reviews the new information and adjusts her study of everything she knows about the Love Pillar. She finds herself...at a loss of words. Does she comfort Kanroji? Does she apologize for asking? Instead, Kanroji speaks for her: “Thank you for listening to me.”

Nodding, Shinobu replies, although Kanroji didn’t ask, “I appreciate your trust in sharing with me. And things are -- things are better for you here, yes?”

Kanroji’s smile is an answer in itself. Shinobu doesn’t forget her words either, and changes her behavior accordingly. As both Kanroji’s friend, and an accomplished physician in her own right, she understands both what is said and left unsaid.

Following that conversation, for the first time since making their acquaintance, she enters the Kanroji estate on her own whims. She enjoys the brief flash of surprise that flashes across the Love Pillar’s face, eyes wide, mouth frozen around her name. It’s nice to reverse their roles for a change. “Have you eaten yet?” Shinobu asks cheerfully, but her tone threatens consequences should the response be negative. “No? I see. Then let’s go out to dinner together, Kanroji-san.”

In the following months, with encouragement from Shinobu and the other medical staff, Kanroji’s weight and muscle mass fills out accordingly. She draws more and more stares. Her uniform is adjusted four times to accommodate her changing musculature. Shinobu wonders -- briefly -- if it bothers her, but Kanroji’s smile is wider and brighter than ever. She dismisses that worry. If Shinobu’s own smile is satisfied -- or, daringly, pleased -- that is surely coincidence.

In the few instances her sister genuinely irritates her they are few and far between, and never prolonged. They’re generally involving something Shinobu deems unwise or otherwise contradictory. The matter of issue: Kanae wants to take Kanao to the market today. Shinobu responsibly berates her, reminding her not to overstimulate the poor girl, but Kanae only waves her off with a laugh.

“She told me she wants to come!” Kanae dismisses, weaving laughter in and out of her argument. She tugs the sleeve of Kanao’s yellow-blue kimono and straightens the wide belt around the middle. Patting her head and smiling, she urges, “Didn’t you, Kanao?”

Kanao blinks at her, pale grey eyes unfocused and far away, and nods slowly. Shinobu huffs, acknowledging defeat. “Fine! Fine.”

Although it pains her, she admits there’s some respect for wisdom to come from her sister’s impromptu planning. Kanao’s expression remains unchanged, but her hand opens and closes in the air as they’re passing a small booth selling pork buns. Kanae bends over, stooping to meet Kanao’s eye level and gently asks, “Would you like me to buy you one, Kanao?”

Kanao blinks. She blinks several more times. Kanae doesn’t repeat the question, instead turning and pointing to the booth where the uncooked buns are lined in rows. Kanao opens her mouth and says, “Yes.” Then she hesitates and adds, “Please.”

“Ahh, then you get an extra treat for being so well-behaved and polite! Such a good girl, very good.” She turns to Shinobu and croons. “You see, Shinobu? Some time outdoors is good for a young girl once in a while. Best to get her plenty of sunlight and water, or I fear my tiny sprout won’t grow! Isn’t that right, my dear little blossom?” Kanao’s expression doesn’t change, but Shinobu senses she’s pleased at the extra attention. Kanae happily pats her head and continues explaining the importance of applying gardening techniques to child rearing, laughing and teasing Kanao as she retrieves her purchases.

“Fool,” Shinobu mutters, to her sister’s resounding glee. Repeating her earlier directions, Kanae stops in front of any booth or table that catches Kanao’s wandering attention. She drops low and asks the silent girl “do you want this?” and lets her take all the time she needs to respond. Some people strolling through the market make odd eye contact or faces at their crouched figures. Shinobu shoos them off with a threatening glower.

She loses track of Kanae for a moment between making her own purchases at the pharmaceutical stand, but her momentary panic abates. There. Tall and bright, her sister’s glowing white-green-pink haori. She never could lose her sister, not here, not in any crowd of any size. It was, truthfully, near impossible to miss her colorful broad shouldered style and her elegant stream of dark hair. Kanae was special, in that way. Shinobu often compared herself to a shadow, and her sister was a beacon of light. A worthy pillar.

Having fulfilled her task of letting Kanao explore the market, Kanae gathers their purchases into the worn leather shoulder pouch and they embark together to return home. All along the way, Kanae treats Kanao with sugary desserts she purchased at the booth on their way out.

“Too much sugar is bad for children,” Shinobu chides.

Kanae clicks her tongue, disappointed. “Ah, sure! Too much of anything is bad for a person! But I think Kanao has certainly earned all the sweets in the world. She’s such a cute girl, I can’t imagine anyone would deny her that.” Her gaze turns to Shinobu and, grinning wickedly, crows, “Not even you, Shinobu. I know you’ve got a soft heart somewhere in you!”

Shinobu offers her a lour expression. Her sister’s giggles tremble with joy. “You worry me, Shinobu, you frown so seriously! Your face might get stuck like that one day if you’re not careful.” Shinobu frowns deeper, emphasizing her disagreement.

An overdramatic sigh from Kanae. “Ah, promise me you’ll find a nice husband someday to make you smile, won’t you?” she teases, as the familiar path to the Butterfly Estate limps into view. Shinobu elbows her hard enough to make her wheeze. She determines Kanae’s question is not worth the dignity of a response.

Kanae clears her throat and loudly corrects, “Oh, yes, my apologies. Promise me you’ll find a nice wife, for your older sister’s sake.” Shinobu glares at her and pushes gently between Kanao’s shoulder blades to urge her forward. Kanae, unbothered by the delay she’s causing, continues, “Whatever lovely lady you marry -- whoever she is -- she’ll have to be very special to put up with you being so cross all the time!”

“I am not cross,” Shinobu defends hotly, which defeats the point of her argument. This, too, goes ignored.

“But not too soon,” Kanae considers. “You’re still a little too young for marriage.” Shinobu narrows her eyes and glowers. “And you have to wait to find the right person of course. Only the best for my little sister.”

“Stop talking about stupid things like that,” Shinobu snaps. She comes to a stop at the edge of the long road and taps Kanao’s shoulder to let her know they’re stopping. “Who cares about marriage!”

“Well, marriage is hardly the most important, silly girl,” Kanae replies patiently. “It means nothing if it doesn’t come from love.”

“You’re crazy,” Shinobu mutters. “Who has time to worry about things like that.”

Tutting, Kanae answers, “Maybe not now, but one day. I hope you find someone very special, sister. Someone who will love you, truly, and honestly. You should only marry someone who loves you completely for who you are.”

“Fool,” Shinobu repeats.

Ignoring her once more, Kanae turns to her other side and asks, “Right, Kanao? Listen to me, yeah? You’ll know what I’m talking about when the time comes. You’ll know.”

Silently, Kanao watches them argue with steady unblinking eyes. There’s an emptiness in them that scares Shinobu, and even when she voices as such to her sister she’s steadfastly ignored. Don’t you worry, Shinobu, Kanae promises her. One day, with the right motivation, Kanao will bloom for all of us to see. You’d be surprised, my dear sister. The world is still full of miracles and all kinds of possibilities.

It’s unsafe! Shinobu retorts. A person can’t go through life never being able to make their own choices. It’s dangerous! This girl can’t even feed herself. She’ll sit there and starve with her stomach aching with hunger and waste away unless someone tells her to eat!

Ah, you’re going to have so many wrinkles with all the worrying you do. Kanae replies. You and I could never hope to understand what Kanao’s lived through. She’s wrapped up inside a little cocoon to stay safe for now. But when she’s ready, she’ll emerge as beautiful as you and I. And no amount of arguing or rationalizing could sway her sister from it.

So frustrating, this sister of hers. Kanao doesn’t seem like she’s going to respond, so Shinobu reluctantly bites. “I’ll know what?”

“You’ll know what I mean,” Kanae lifts her chin, a little defiant, as though proving herself through confidence alone. “It’s something you’ll understand one day, if you’re very lucky.”

Shinobu scowls.

“Oh, my silly Shinobu,” Kanae teases, her voice rising and falling, singing a tune only for herself. “Silly, silly, silly. Remember to listen to your wise elder sister more often, yeah? I won’t be around forever to teach you these things!”

“Hah! Like what!” Shinobu scowls.

Kanae sticks her tongue through her teeth, still smiling, and waits for Shinobu’s ire to retreat before she continues. “Like flirting, of course. Really, little sister -- however will you find someone to marry if you can’t even be a little nice?” Shinobu studies her face, frozen on the detail of her sister’s upturned lips, and realizes Kanae’s mouth isn’t moving.

Her sister continues, her voice echoing from somewhere else, “Well, hopefully you won’t have to worry about that for a while longer. And you’ll have me to help you!”

Shinobu feels the words “Oh, shut up,” on her lips. She can’t say them. Instead, she whispers, her voice cracking, “Kanae--!”

She wakes up. She remembers. She wipes her face dry and goes about her day in the usual ways. The dream is pushed away, and Shinobu spends an extra hour at her sister’s shrine in aching silence.

“You promised you’d be around,” she tells her sister, knowing her pleads will be met with silence. “You promised you’d help me.”

She wipes her face again; stands, and goes back to work.

The second problem is this: Shinobu doesn’t really know how to be friends with Kanroji.

She thinks she had friends in her past life. She doesn’t remember their names or their faces, or how she acquired them, but she thinks she had them. The sensation of laughter in her throat, a girl’s giggle like the ringing of small bells, a smile with the face too faded to recognize the features except the gleaming of teeth.

She doesn’t ask Kanroji whether she benefits or loses from this odd relationship they share. Part of her fears the answer is as she suspects: that Kanroji doesn’t find value in Shinobu as a person -- only as a common bedfellow in the same tragic set of circumstances with which to pass the time and talk to.

Part of her hopes she’s right. Everything for her -- for her future, or what’s left of it -- would be easier if Kanroji gave up. Kanroji never does. She marches her way into Shinobu’s space like she’s made it her own. She pushes and pulls and shoves and drags Shinobu along and entangles her life around her, making them unmistakably intertwined.

Upon further reflection, Shinobu realizes Kanroji’s presence comes with a degree of inevitability. No matter how it tormented her at first -- no matter how much she tried to push her away -- there’s no unattaching Kanroji from her side even if she lifted her sword and tried to cut her own arm away.

She thinks Kanroji knows this too, but she can’t be entirely sure. She’s constantly guessing or making assumptions about what Kanroji’s thinking and frequently winds up being wrong.

“The new kids are sure interesting, don’t you think?” Resting her chin on her shoulder, Kanroji peers over to look at Shinobu’s work. She drapes her other arm over Shinobu, radiating contentment. A little smug, too, because Shinobu can’t push her away without disturbing her delicate ink. Shinobu stills her hand across the map she’s drawing and dispels the warmth radiating over her arm from where Kanroji’s warmth makes contact. “I like their energy, so much fun! Exciting! Especially that brother and sister. The Kamado siblings, yes? Don’t you think? Shinobu-san?”

Yes, Shinobu muses. The topic of interest this week. If slayers were to gossip -- which they do, often, if not discreetly -- this would be the highlight of every rumor circle. The Kamado siblings. Shinobu isn’t sure what to make of them so far, but they have Tomioka’s favor and that rarely bodes well for anyone involved. Especially Tomioka himself, because he’s an idiot. For their sake (and everyone’s sanity), Shinobu stepped in and took them under her responsible care while they recovered. The older brother fell unconscious shortly after arriving at the Butterfly Estate. The sister, Nezuko, allowed Aoi and her staff to treat her minor injuries, but refused to leave her brother’s side.

There’s also the matter of the sister being a demon. However, that is a matter of discussion for another day. Even if Nezuko already passed the trial set by Oyakata, and she witnessed the results with her own eyes, Shinobu remains reasonably wary of a demon housed under her roof.

But Shinobu also knows, as exciting and ever changing their lives already are, that something is different about them. To have four slayers; including their Water Pillar, two upper ranking slayers, and their retired teacher stand and pledge Kamado Nezuko’s unstable demon form as a trustworthy asset to the slayers! And a demon that is capable of denying itself, even going so far as to reject human blood -- marechi, too -- is something that flew right over Shinobu’s expectations. It’s unheard of.

On the outside there isn’t anything overtly remarkable about either of them. Upon closer study, she recognizes many (dangerous, terrifying) possibilities. Kamado Tanjirou with his unique abilities and black sword bearing ill omen on his future. Kamado Nezuko and her underlying demonic state, all while holding an umbrella in one hand and a demon slaying sword in her other. A sword dipped in contrasts, opposing styles to the other, in the shade of flame and water.

Oyakata’s fascination with them makes perfect sense to her. As he said -- there’s something different about the two of them…

“Don’t ignore me!” Kanroji pouts. “Come on, Shinobu-san. Let’s spar. I haven’t had a chance to spar with you in forever!”

Kanroji pulls at her sleeve. Shinobu ignores her, adjusting the grip on her brush and lining a new set of characters. Withdrawing, Kanroji settles behind Shinobu’s seat and fiddles with the well of inks and brushes laying in the work chest.

Shinobu thinks about replying, sure, let’s spar, before she dismisses the idea. A very bad (yet tempting) idea. “I hope Sabito returns soon,” Shinobu says instead. She bites her cheek and curses inwardly, realizing she’s admitted defeat. “I don’t want to babysit Tomioka’s problem children. Somebody with good sense needs to help me out around here.”

“Oh, is that it?” Kanroji teases. “And the rest of us are not responsible enough! Hmph! Is that why you snatched those new students out from under him?”

“I only thought it would be beneficial for the injured parties to receive proper medical attention,” Shinobu deflects. “The Butterfly Mansion is the logical choice.”

“Logical,” Kanroji repeats, adopting a mock-serious tone. She curls into herself, tapping her cheek with a pensive expression. “Of course. We’re so lucky to count on the Insect Pillar and her brilliant mind!”

“A recurring flaw among my fellow pillars includes a lack of strategic thinking,” Shinobu offers innocently. “I decided to save time.”

A bright gale of laughter from Kanroji. “Kya! So mean! Shinobu-chan is such a bully!”

Shinobu rests her brush after the next character, cursing inwardly at the realization she’s too unfocused to finish her work or her next line of writing. “Kanroji,” Shinobu says, in that forced cheery tone she uses when she wishes to end a conversation. “Unless you have some urgent matters you need my help with, I really must ask that you--”

Booing away Shinobu’s attempt to dismiss Kanroji from her quarters, Kanroji tugs on the edge of her mat. “It is! Very urgent! You must come at once. If you don’t, I might die--” Shinobu glares. “--of boredom!” Kanroji tacks on hastily, properly admonished.

“Hm,” Shinobu intones, fixing her with a baleful look.

She still needs to complete her records regarding the status of the other new slayer. She’s sure he will make a full recovery, but the spider’s poison needed to be documented. Later. She will have time. She returns to her writing, but she finds her focus abandoned in favor of Kanroji’s earlier musing.

The Kamado siblings didn’t come alone. There’s the boy who crossed death with deadly spider poison. There’s also the boar-mask slayer, his windpipe crushed and so much internal bruising that Shinobu doesn’t understand how he bears it in silence. Probably because he can’t make any noise at all.

Final selection bears only six new slayers for the year. Shinobu thinks, maybe if this war were not filled with children on the battlefield, their numbers would not shrink like water drying in the middle of a sun-beaten desert. She counters with the thought, if only there were others. The older slayers earned their retirement. For whatever the reason may be, the younger generation survives more attacks and joins the corps carrying the weight of loss of their families and friends. She is one of these children bred from the circumstances of a war that began long before her time and, heavens willing, might end someday.

Six slayers. The Wind Pillar’s odd younger brother among them. Kanao at her side, as always, a fully-fledged slayer fresh from the mountain trial. The lightning slayer sleeping off his recovery from poison in her recovery suite. The boy with the boar mask. The brother and sister, one of which is a demon...

“Shinobu-chan.” Kanroji’s breath tickles against her ear.

Snapping upright, Shinobu corrects her posture and leans away. “I really must finish my work. Surely, there must be someone else who can entertain you while I’m busy?”

“You’re no fun!” Kanroji whines. “Shinobu-chan.” Shinobu glares down at her paper and resumes writing where she left off. “Hmph! I’ll go bother Obanai. You’re boring me.”

Shinobu says nothing after Kanroji stumbles back into her quarters, later in the same evening, dropping down onto the mat beside her and groaning. “You’re not mad at me, are you?” Kanroji finally asks. “I just want to know if I did something to offend. You’re so like -- far away --” her hands flap to emphasize the distance. “-- these past few weeks. Is something wrong? Did I do something? Shinobu-chan?”

As cold as Shinobu comes across, she isn’t heartless. She sighs and answers, “No, Kanroji-san. I’m not mad at you. You haven’t done anything wrong.” Far from it, Shinobu thinks dryly.

“Then we’re still friends?” Kanroji asks hopefully. As if a few weeks of Shinobu’s frigid, forceful separation could ever change that. As if that would be all it took to dismantle everything else between them. It isn’t Kanroji’s fault at all.

“We will always be friends,” is Shinobu’s sure reply, even though her heart twists a little at her own words.

“I’m glad,” Kanroji says, all dimples, her twin mole marks stretching under her eyes. The lamp oil burns thinner as the hours pass into the night. Shinobu doesn’t kick her out of her rooms, despite threatening otherwise.

“You may come back tomorrow,” Shinobu insists half-heartedly. “But it’s better you sleep in your own rooms -- there is a reason you have them, yes? Come back tomorrow, Kanroji. You’re exhausted.”

Kanroji pouts. “Really? Or will you send me away again?”

“Tomorrow,” Shinobu vows, and it isn’t technically a lie if she means it at that moment, but also knows she has no intention of following through. Kanroji narrows her eyes like she knows Shinobu is lying. Shinobu blinks innocently back.

Kanroji leaves. Shinobu drops her head to her work table, sighs, and thinks very hard about not thinking about Kanroji or the demon across from her room at all.

She checks up on her patients in the medical quarters and contents herself with a day of re-organizing her supply cabinet. Winter will come quickly, and it’s better to overstock than to wait anxiously for slow deliveries. She takes it upon herself to check on the spider poison victim and the beast slayer, who seem none too thrilled about resuming training.

Kanroji, alternatively, takes it upon herself to befriend the Kamado siblings as well, lifting their spirits under her broad shoulders. Shinobu watches her carry the younger Kamado sister, the girl’s body hanging off Mitsuri’s bicep like she’s weightless. The older brother, Tanjirou, more or less accepts his younger sister’s eccentric mentor and trusts Mitsuri to keep his sister safe. Not that Nezuko is fragile by any means, with her changed constitution.

From Kanroji’s accounts, she also attempts to befriend Shinazugawa’s younger brother with limited results. Shinobu is unsurprised, knowing Sanemi’s personality, that his brother is of the same prickly-sort.

She also knows from Uzui’s retelling that Genya seemed too flustered to say a word, storming away from Kanroji with steam practically pouring out of his ears. Shinobu is also unsurprised at this, because from her own experience she knows the Love Pillar’s charm is somewhat, ah, overwhelming at first meeting.

Beyond Kanroji’s pursuits of friend-and-or-mentorship with the newest slayers, Shinobu sets her sights elsewhere. Tanjirou seems content to pursue a split-training course with Makomo, Sabito, and Tomioka. (Shinobu often interrupts Tanjirou's training to challenge Tomioka, enjoying the satisfaction of pushing his face into the training mats with his cheeks kissing the bottom of her sandal. Sabito enjoys these spontaneous matches the most, judging by his laughter.) Among the newer slayers, Zenitsu is an interesting tangential addition. He doesn’t appear to know anything besides the first form of breath of thunder, and he is skittish and easily crumbles under pressure. Not an ideal training partner for Kanao.

The other, however.

“GET BACK HERE! I’LL KILL YOU!!!” Inosuke screams. He is very…well. Loud. Among other things. The beast slayer, at least, isn't directly opposed to training under her watchful care. Kanao tolerates him, too, which is an added bonus.

“Oooh! You have another little shadow, dear Shinobu!” Kanroji coos, upon seeing Kanao and Inosuke trailing diligently behind her at the training grounds. “It’s good you are connecting so well with the young ones. They really need a good mentor like you!”

“Indeed,” Shinobu smiles. Nezuko is curled up, clinging to Mitsuri’s back, with both her arms wrapped around the Love Pillar’s neck. The young slayer blinks at her slowly, evidently exhausted from training. Her brother carries the folded umbrella under his arm beside her. She’s lucky. The afternoon is overcast and Nezuko is able to stroll outside unattended. “You too, Kanroji-san.”

“Shinobu…” Kanroji coos, twirling and fluttering her eyelashes. Shinobu squints suspiciously at her dramatic change of tone. “Shinobu-chan,” Kanroji repeats, emphasized with a hip check. Nezuko swings dangerously close to falling, but she recovers at the last minute and hugs her mentor tighter. “Are we not so close that you still refuse to drop the formalities?” She winks and tuts, her voice light. Flirty. “Have we not surpassed such titles already? Ah? Shinobu?”

Why, Shinobu thinks despairingly, as a strange feeling pulls deep in her stomach, why did she ever allow someone like Kanroji to sneak up on her like this?

Shinobu ducks away at the open, daring expression on Mitsuri’s face. Turning on her heel, she leads herself back into the training center. If she were less controlled, she is sure she would flush. This urge -- that awkwardness she feels when she catches Mitsuri’s gaze in a certain light -- is a recurring problem for Shinobu, but Kanroji appears to remain unaware. Thankfully.

She proceeds as normal. Kanroji invites her to dinner, laughing and sharing tales about the newer slayers, and Shinobu accompanies her and is content. Subdued, perhaps, but content. The days follow in similar fashion. Kanroji approaches her and Shinobu either dismisses her or flees moments into their interaction for peace of mind.

In the evening, Kanroji returns again. She allows Shinobu to work in quiet for an hour, dozing on the chair Shinobu set up specifically for her to use while she’s working. It’s after Shinobu clears away her worktable and finishes replacing the ingredients she gathered that she speaks.

“Shinobu?” She’s always so cautious. Shinobu hates when she quiets her voice like this. Shinobu is the one with the soft voice, but she earned this voice after everything she’s lived through. Shinobu’s voice never used to sound quiet but pain and grief have worn her down like water over stone. Kanroji is loud and bright. She shouldn’t force herself to be quiet for anyone or anything.

Shinobu glances at her and shoves her on the shoulder, once, hard. Kanroji blinks up at her. “Fool,” Shinobu mutters, but that breaks open Kanroji’s face with a brilliant grin.

“Ah, you’re finally acting normal again,” Kanroji comments. She sounds relieved by it. “I don’t know what’s going on with you!” Then she narrows her eyes and orders, “Well, I didn’t like it! So don’t do it again.”

“You’re speaking nonsense.” Shinobu deflects, but she takes the seat next to her and holds out her hand. “Come. You’re tired.”

“Am not,” Kanroji insists, even though she leans forward into the curve of Shinobu’s neck and leaves her head there. Her hair smells like peaches. And sweat. Shinobu wrinkles her nose. She leaves Kanroji where she is.

“Get up,” Shinobu tells her. “You should bathe. And rest.”

Kanroji retorts, “Shinobu-chan’s so mean. She should be nicer to her friends. Telling them they smell! Unbelievable!”

“Up,” Shinobu commands again. Kanroji ignores her and pushes her head closer into her neck and takes a -- is she smelling her? -- deep breath. “Kanroji.”

Unmoving despite her demands, Kanroji giggles and makes a point of sniffing, again, pointedly. Then, to Shinobu, she demands, “Let me braid your hair.” Shinobu decides, at least, this will force Kanroji to sit upright again, so she leans back on command. Kanroji moves her like a doll, spinning her to face the back of her stool and starts carding her fingers through her hair. Her nails scrape delicately at the base of her neck, drawing a shiver from Shinobu.

"Shinobu-chan always smells so nice," Kanroji murmurs dreamily. She pulls Shinobu’s hair from one side and forms a loose, low hanging braid. It will certainly fall out by the time she retires for bed. "Like wisteria at full bloom under the moonlight…"

Shinobu raises a brow, not that Kanroji can see it. "Is that so?"

"Like rainfall on a clear night," Kanroji assures. Far different from the older Kamado sibling’s remarks about her. Are you angry? Ah, well -- you smell...like anger, Tanjirou told her. She imagines how that must smell to him; smokey and sharp, a burning scent. Why do you always smell so angry, Kochou-san?

Kanroji finishes the last braid and taps Shinobu’s shoulder to face her again. "How romantic," Shinobu quips, turning around. "You should consider becoming a poet."

"Hm," Kanroji taps her finger against her cheek, tilting her head as she does. Nodding solemnly, she decides, "I will consider your idea."

She says it with such seriousness that Shinobu can’t control the smile that slips out, or the teasing note of her voice. "Verdict?"

"I think I’m far better at slaying demons. And I wouldn’t want to leave you here all by your lonesome!" Kanroji grins, neat pink gums and a glowing smile. “Can you imagine? No, it’s far better I stay and kill demons. I’m rather good at it, don’t you think?” Shinobu’s chest...tightens, for lack of a better word.

“That’s good,” Shinobu says weakly, realizing several problematic emotions stirring within her. The thought of Kanroji leaving grips her with something akin to panic. Very problematic. “I mean -- if you left, we’d probably see each other far less. So. That’s good. That you’re not leaving.”

“Oh, never! I’d never leave you, Shinobu-chan!” Kanroji sweeps her into a hug, both arms coming around her shoulders. Shinobu’s breath is knocked out of her, leaving her lungs burning and her stomach clenching with...

She’s so strong, this girl.

Shinobu’s hands come around to encircle her as well, and even as small as she is, for a moment she feels -- full. That empty grief is forgotten. That angry fire stops burning. For a moment, she’s just a girl hugging Kanroji and laughing and feeling alive. How lucky she is, to have a friend like Kanroji, and for a moment she feels like her heart could leap out of her chest.

She will consider this reaction later.

Which she does. She puts in a respectable amount of effort into doing so! She tries meditation -- which isn’t one of her strong suits, in all fairness -- with minimal success. The thought of asking Himejima crosses her mind and is swiftly discarded.

Inspiration strikes on the second day of mulling over her thoughts about Kanroji. Tea. Her best thoughts often come accompanied by tea. She drinks a lot of tea, glares so heavily at the ugly curtains in her work room that she wonders how it is that they don’t spontaneously catch fire, and then drinks even more oversteeped tea. It’s bitter, and only adds to her irritation.

Tanjirou stops into her office with Nezuko, trailing behind him with her closed umbrella. A welcome distraction from everything else circulating in the well of her mind. Shinobu smiles at the both of them, grants Tanjirou a jar of her fast acting burn cream for Nezuko’s accidental sunburn, and sends them on their way. Her smile drops the instant they leave her supply room.

Kanae would know what to tell her. She’d listen to Shinobu complain at length about all the things weaving into her defences that keep knocking her over and she’d wave it all away with a smile and a wise reassurance. Missing her sister doesn’t solve any of her problems, however, so Shinobu turns to the next best thing.

“Ahh,” She drops down in front of Kanae’s shrine on her knees and presses her forehead into her hands. “Spare your younger sister some strength, will you?” She lights the incense and sits in silence, awaiting a response that never comes.

Still keeping to her earlier oath (Not Getting Too Attached), she finds herself swept up in another painful revelation. Kanroji is a very good friend to her. But Shinobu is...distant, cool at best; not sure how to fit in, an odd shape trying to align itself with something as beautiful and bright that is shaped like Kanroji.

Shinobu isn’t so sure she can say the same about herself. And Kanroji is really too lovely, too nice, to say anything to her about it. A good friend would probably...feel bad and do something about that, right?

Shinobu reasons to herself that there are other slayers she can talk to. If she goes about it practically, she can find answers elsewhere.

“You say you’re unsure how to reciprocate your friendship with the Love Pillar,” Makomo repeats, as though clarifying the intent of her question.

Well, when she says it like that, it sounds incredibly stupid. Shinobu quickly determines this was all a mistake, and shakes her head with immediate dismissal. “Nevermind,” she starts, only to find herself trapped under Makomo’s intent gaze.

“If it’s a question of friendship, there is no shortage of close bonds among the slayers.” Makomo holds up her hand, swiveling her wrist to indicate that Shinobu should hear her out. “You will find many different answers depending on who you ask.” The Water Pillar tilts her chin and smiles magnanimously, a sight which Shinobu immediately distrusts. “Why don’t you ask one of the slayers you’re mentoring? I am sure they would be eager to help.”

Shinobu squints at her. “I suppose that is...reasonable.”

An hour later, she realizes she’s been duped. “Kochou-san! Kochou-san! Kochou-san!” Tanjirou hollers as he runs directly for Shinobu’s figure at the door. Inosuke sprints behind him, barreling towards them at full speed. Behind him, Kanroji’s head swivels at the sound of Shinobu’s name. She breaks into a grin.

Shinobu, on the other hand, scowls. “Of all…!” Shinobu says aloud, spinning on her heel to exit the building as swiftly as she came. She makes it four steps before she’s caught by a small, firm hand at her shoulder. In low tones, Shinobu hurtles her demand at Makomo under her breath, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Having successfully halted Shinobu’s retreat, the energetic party of two assault her with a barrage of questions and requests regarding their training. Most questions revolve around the trials each Pillar assigned, like ‘how does one restrain the force of a waterfall into soft spring rain?’ -- Makomo’s trial, Shinobu surmises -- or ‘are you willing to be reborn, shed your skin and grow stronger?’ -- Iguro’s, obviously -- and so forth.

“I tried wiggling on my stomach for a while, but I still don’t understand the Breath of Serpent at all!” Tanjirou informs her.

“And I don’t know what it means ‘to become unyielding and righteous like a rock’ either!” Zenitsu complains. Inosuke interrupts to call him a ‘weakling’ and receives an elbow from Tanjirou.

“But I’ve made a lot of progress with Breath of Water,” Tanjirou continues, undeterred by his failure. “And Nezuko is learning a lot about Breath of Love from Kanroji-san, and we both want to learn about Breath of Flame, so we are excited to train with Rengoku-san next! There was this really cool thing Makomo-san taught me that works best with other slayers --” Makomo nods encouragingly. Shinobu smiles delicately, her brow twitching at the sudden onslaught of a surprise double-wielded headache. “-- and it was amazing! Insouke was like SWISH! And then I was like -- WHOOSH! Kyaaa! Pow! Don’t you think, Kochou-san?” Tanjirou concludes, eyes glowing with enthusiasm.

Somewhere else in the room, Zenitsu emits a loud whine of irritation. Inosuke huffs and puffs with eager, unrefined energy. “That sounds wonderful, Kamado-kun.” Shinobu agrees faintly. Her misfortune grows as Kanroji finishes her last set of routines and jogs over to join them.

“Oh, Shinobu-chan!” One of Kanroji’s hands pulls back her messy braid and shakes loose the strands hanging in front of her face. She’s a flattering shade of pink all over, flushed from her workout. “What brings you to the training area today?”

Shinobu glares at Makomo. “I was stopping by to...check in. On--on your -- on their training.” She cringes. “Well, that’s -- that’s -- er, everything looks to be in order. Good work. I’ll be on my way now.” She would have already done so, but Makomo’s hand digs in between her shoulder blades and pushes her deeper into the entrance.

Makomo smiles with a warmth that Shinobu doesn’t feel. “I believe Kochou mentioned she was looking forward to sparring with you.” Shinobu clenches her loose fist into a closed, tight one.

“Traitor,” Shinobu hisses, vicious, as she passes Makomo. Kanroji pulls her back through the doorway, practically glowing with joy.

Thankfully, her inevitable confrontation with Kanroji is offset by the other occupants in the room. “Kanroji-san,” Nezuko chimes in. “Can you please braid my hair now? Like yours, I want my hair like yours. Please?”

Makomo remains at the door, observing as though reminding her earlier suggestion, If it’s a question of friendship, there is no shortage of close bonds among the slayers. Shinobu scowls and makes her decision.

With Kanroji distracted by Nezuko’s impatient demands to braid her hair, Shinobu strolls past Tanjirou (as casually as she can) and asks, (again, very casually), “May I ask you a question?” She glances back at the door, but Makomo is waiting like she knows Shinobu is ready to bolt again. So she remains, hovering. Shinobu glares and silently, spitefully, curses.

“I’m pretty sure you just did.” Zenitsu answers for him. Shinobu’s gaze passes over him and sends her best murderous intent at him through her eyes alone.

“It’s not a personal question,” Shinobu clarifies quickly. “Think of it as -- continuing your education through, er, learning from the experiences of others. Like you have learned from your trials with the other Pillars.”

“Of course, Shinobu-san!” Tanjirou replies eagerly. “I’m not sure how much help I can offer, but--!”

Shinobu lifts her hand to curb the errant train of Tanjirou’s enthusiasm. She purses her mouth and considers her next words carefully. “How do you...have friends.” That’s not her most articulate. She tries again, because if she’s going to try for anyone, she’s going to try for Kanroji. “I mean how would -- how do you determine what you do with friends. What makes a good friendship?”

Tanjirou, at least, has the decency not to laugh, which is more than can be said for Zenitsu. Shinobu sets an internal reminder to reschedule his training with Shinazugawa because he clearly hasn’t learned enough from the Wind Pillar. And what a painful lesson that will be.

“It depends on the friend!” Tanjirou says, which is probably something he thinks is helpful, but not in the way she’s looking for. “Some things you do with one friend you wouldn’t do with another, yeah?”

Frowning, Shinobu redirects her question. “Well, I suppose -- if you were to explain that. How would you describe it. A...closer friendship, that is.”

“Challenge them to a duel!” Inosuke offers loudly. “Fight them!”

“No, Inosuke,” Tanjirou says, but he laughs.

“Fight them!” Inosuke insists. “Only if they prove to be a worthy opponent! They have to be strong enough to keep up with you!”

“That’s not really how friendship works...” Tanjirou tries.

Inosuke huffs. “Yes it is!”

Zenitsu scoffs, “You don’t even have any friends, Ino--” but Tanjirou pelts him in the neck with one of the rubber balls they’re practicing with for reflex training. Zenitsu isn’t able to dodge it in time, so he receives both a welt and the accompanying embarrassment of failure.

“Friends appreciate different things,” Tanjirou continues, ignoring Zenitsu’s despairing wails on the other side of the mat. Inosuke cackles and taunts him again. Shinobu and Tanjirou ignore him as well. “Some friends like when you cook for them. Or maybe they enjoy cooking for you? Food is an important part of relationships, I think.”

Satisfied from humiliating Zenitsu, the beast slayer returns and winds back into their conversation. Inosuke snorts, “If they make you food, then you have to eat it fast to show you appreciate their work. And if you have food together, you have to finish your food first and prove your superiority!”

Shinobu already knows not to challenge Kanroji to any variety of food-eating contests. That does not, by any means, deter others (Inosuke) from attempting. The others who attempt (Inosuke, again) fall low on the podium. Inosuke isn’t a gracious loser either. Kanroji at least finds his reactions entertaining.

“I see.” Shinobu says tactfully, reviewing Tanjirou’s words and sidestepping Inosuke’s altogether. Kanroji likes cooking, and sharing her cooking with Shinobu. Perhaps she’s worrying over this for nothing. She’s already fulfilling her friendship duties without realizing it.

“If it’s a friend friend, then you should try to equally share time doing what you both enjoy. Or at least pretend to, to make the other person happy.” Zenitsu adds, which is the only good advice to come out of his mouth, likely ever.

Shinobu considers this too. She doesn’t recall a time she ever invited Kanroji to do anything -- as their relationship functions on the opposite understanding. Kanroji is the one usually barging into her rooms and pulling her off for a Kanroji Approved Adventure. “...so, what if --” She glares at Zenitsu, who looks far too pleased to see her uncomfortable like this. “-- this is related to your training, of course -- but what if that’s already been done? I mean, what if it’s, ah, not working. Or you feel like you’re not getting closer, that is. If it feels like --” Shinobu frowns. Reconsiders that urge to do something -- something missing -- from her relationship with Kanroji. “-- it feels...different? Like something is missing.”

Zenitsu squints at her and drops the wooden staff he’s practicing with. “Then are you sure they’re a friend friend?”

What does that even mean, Shinobu thinks, and deliberately keeps herself from saying that part aloud. She glances over at Kanroji to make sure she’s nowhere near this conversation. “I’m unsure of what it is you’re implying.”

“OooooooOOOoooooooh,” Zenitsu says knowingly, at the same time Tanjirou says “oooOOOh?” and Shinobu decides that she’s done with this conversation.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” She keeps her tone and expression deliberately flat. If nothing else, she can rely on her cooly composed exterior. “Keep up with your training.”

“What about a break!?” Zenitsu whines. “I feel like my arms are going to fall off!”

“If they do, please let me know.” Shinobu answers frigidly. “I’ll be sure to reattach them so you can continue.” The despairing sound Zenitsu makes is satisfying enough to forgive him for his earlier grievances.

Shinobu hopes to slip out of the training room while Zenitsu and Inosuke make Loud, Annoying Noises and steal Kanroji’s attention away from her earlier task. She scans the room: Makomo is blessedly gone. Shinobu makes for the door, only to stop short with another interruption. Nezuko stands in the middle, blank-faced, but her eyes are filled with questions. “Yes, Nezuko-san?” Shinobu asks, and prays this isn’t a long conversation.

“I overheard you talking with the boys,” Nezuko explains. The boys, she says, like family. Her gaze flickers once over to the three of them, mid-brawl, and focuses back to her. “You were asking about friendship. Like what it takes to make another person happy?”

Shinobu murmurs, “ah,” and gestures for her to finish.

Which she doesn’t, at first. Instead Nezuko looks at Shinobu for a long moment, long enough for Shinobu to feel self-conscious, waiting. Her eyes are pale and red; but there’s a warmth inside of them that is purely human. Finally, Nezuko says, “I believe there’s a different question in your heart, Kochou-san.”

“Er,” Shinobu says, not bothering to hide her surprise. Nezuko blinks back at her; once, twice, then wordlessly trots happily back over to her brother. Shinobu stands there wondering, again, why she’s surrounded by so many confusing people when a hand comes to her elbow. She turns quickly to identify the owner. It’s Kanroji. Of course. Who Shinobu is (not avoiding! definitely not!) trying to keep a safe distance until she’s resolved whatever mixed up, terrible things she’s feeling.

“Shinobu!” Shinobu smiles weakly instead of replying. “Spar with me!” Kanroji demands, and like all the times before, Shinobu finds denying her isn’t a possibility at all. Shinobu pretends not to notice Zenitsu and Tanjirou dragging Inosuke out of the training room, Nezuko tailing behind them.

She doesn’t hate sparring with Kanroiji at all. Far from it -- Kanroji is one of the best trainers, especially for teaching reflexes and adapting to another person’s battle spirit. She’s lively. She’s strong. She’s skilled. She’s…

Kanroji pulls her next punch and giggles at Shinobu’s shocked expression, who expected the blow, and pulls back with too much force. Her back hits the mat.

...she’s distracting! Shinobu scowls. The third time her chin hits the mat she privately reminds herself to find an appropriately tasked item of revenge for Makomo. Vindictively, she thinks stink bugs in her sheets would be most appropriate. She’s sure she has some in her specimens cabinet.

“You’re distracted,” Kanroji notes, which is an all-too-obvious observation.

“You’re talking too much,” Shinobu counters, and catches her by the ankle. She twists Kanroji, who at the same time grabs Shinobu’s waist because her flexibility is nothing to scoff at, and sends them both spinning onto the mat. Her legs are tangled in Kanroji’s arms. They both fight to free themselves for a minute and fail. Kanroji laughs and laughs.

Nursing their own bruises side to side on the mat, Shinobu apologizes first. “You’re right. I -- I had something on my mind.”

“I had noticed,” Kanroji teases, nudging with her shoulder against Shinobu. Her hair is falling out of her braids even more than before. “What could be so troubling to our dearest Insect Pillar, I wonder?”

Shinobu stares at her. She doesn’t realize she’s smiling until Kanroji laughs again and pokes her cheek. “Well! Haha, it can’t be too bad, since you’re smiling about it!”

That, of course, makes her stop immediately. Kanroji whines “awww,” like she’s a child being denied a toy. Shinobu glowers at her. “What about it!”

“You were!” Kanroji sticks out her tongue. “I saw it!”

“Hardly a rare occurrence, surely.” Shinobu reminds her dryly, frowning. “You’ve seen me smile before.”

“Ahh, but Shinobu-chan really is very pretty when she smiles like that,” Kanroji strokes her loose braid between her fingers. “So cute.”

Shinobu’s brain fretfully circles around the question like the last dredges swept into a drain and then stops thinking entirely. Kanroji crawls back into her space and pokes her cheeks. Her thumb catches on the bottom of Shinobu’s lip as she traces the soft skin there. “I like when you smile,” Kanroji says, her voice brimming with surety and delight. Like she’s confessing something special. Lower, she continues, “Your real smile. When you stop smiling for show, I mean. Sometimes you really smile! And it’s such a pretty smile. It always surprises me! Very beautiful.”

Shinobu swallows, which takes a surprising amount of effort. Her mouth shouldn’t feel as dry as it does. And yet. “You flatter me, Mitsuri-san.”

Kanroji laughs again, low, her other hand loose from her hair and plays with the tips of Shinobu’s butterfly pin. “Oh? That’s all?”

“And you’re lovely company. As always.” It takes far more effort to take her eyes off the involuntary twitch and flex of Kanroji’s forearm as she retracts her arm. She finds herself remembering that girl she met first: ashamed of her own incredible strength. But no longer; Kanroji bloomed and learned to love her strength, her magnificent form as one of the most physically powerful people Shinobu has ever met. Which she has no shame flaunting now.

“Shinobu?” She realizes Kanroji replied somewhere after her last response and grew concerned at her lack of response. Kanroji’s breath is warm and sweet like the peaches outside her estate. Her skin is warm, too, a little tacky from the cooling sweat from her earlier training. She’s beautiful. That urge returns -- that feeling so deep and so wide it fills her up, body and mind, and Shinobu realizes it’s want. She can’t think of the last time she’s wanted anything so strong, possibly ever, in her life.

“Um,” Shinobu says intelligently. She can’t bring her eyes away from Kanroji’s face. Her eyes behold flecks of gold and green; the buds of blossoms, before they burst open in spring.

Kanroji’s breath catches. Shinobu keeps staring, trying to think over the sound of her heart in her ears, and fails spectacularly at forming anything approaching coherent.

Tomioka walks into the training room entrance and stops mid-sentence. Kanroji snaps back to her senses first and she pulls back at the sound of advancing voices. “-- away, Makomo was supposed to meet us at --” Sabito walks into Tomioka’s back, looking over his shoulder to see what could be so terrifying to make Tomioka freeze like so, and promptly lets out a loud gale of laughter. Tomioka’s curious gaze sweeps over the two of them and he blushes. “-- the -- o-oh. H--hello? Kanroji-san. Kochou-san. Uh -- are you using this room?”

Shinobu wishes she could die on the spot. Unforgivingly, the universe is not so kind to grant such an exaggerated spur-of-the-moment request.

Kanroji squeaks and, in a show of grace, trips in her efforts to escape their embrace. Her legs are still tangled between Shinobu’s, which certainly does not lend credibility to the negative response Shinobu makes at Tomioka’s question.

Kanroji flees, blushing and stuttering in a swirl of color. Shinobu has far more control and thick skin. She doesn’t run. Although she can’t ignore the way her flesh pricks with irritation, moments away from catching fire. She is also, unfortunately, trapped. Sabito lounges against the door frame with every intent of drawing more embarrassment from her.

Sabito’s mouth curls. “You seem like you’re really getting along with the Love Pillar now, aren’t you? When’d the two of you get so close?”

“Shut up.” Shinobu snarls, because she doesn’t like him. She used to tolerate Sabito in particular, but her opinion of him never increased because he’s always attached to Tomioka. The two of them together are surely not improving her favor of them individually by any means.

“What do you think, Giyuu?” Sabito asks. Shinobu pretends not to see him snake a hand around Tomioka’s waist and pinch his side. Tomioka’s expression doesn’t change, but his ears flush to match the color of his haori. “I heard from Makomo that someone’s having relationship issues with the Love Pillar. Do you think we should offer our Insect Pillar some…” His grin turns wolfish. “...advice?”

Shinobu recovers enough to form words. “I can kill you both and make it look like an accident,” she answers, sugary sweet. Sabito cackles (bastard!) and takes Tomioka’s hand, waving it like a victory flag.

Tomioka bows apologetically for both of them, knowing Shinobu is not one to make an empty threat. “Er -- sorry for interrupting you.”

Shinobu cocks her head to the side, eyes closed; the image of unaffected, innocent disinterest. She summons that pleasant, unperturbed smile that’s gotten her out of a fair share of awkward encounters. “Interrupting what?” She thinks, offhandedly, Tomioka would make a nice permanent decoration in the training room flooring.

“I only meant --” Tomioka doesn’t get the chance to bury himself further because Sabito, ever dutiful, drags him out by the back of his haori.

“I meant it!” Sabito calls back, jogging away before Shinobu can put her plans to destroy him in action. “If it’s advice you want, all you have to do is ask!”

“Asshole!” Shinobu returns cheerily.

In the end, Shinobu breaks down and ends up asking him anyway. While she hates to resort to asking for help, she deduces there aren’t many other people she can ask. Makomo is a traitor, and Sabito is the least likely candidate to cause problems. Except: “Why is he here?” Shinobu scowls at Tomioka. “I told you this was -- just to stay between us!”

Sabito chuckles. “How could I expect to offer my full advice without my other half to help me out!” Shinobu thinks she could pinch him in the neck before he catches on. Or stab him with something unpleasant. She has some toxic needles in her med pouch that could tranquilize a mountain boar. She’d certainly be punished for violating many, many slayer codes, but it’d be worth it.

Scowling, Shinobu says, “That doesn’t mean you had to invite everyone you know!”

“Well,” Sabito considers. “When it comes to stuff like love, you really need to take all the advice you can get.”

Shinobu recollects herself and makes quick work of fixing the immediate flaw in his statement. “I didn’t say anything about love,” Shinobu corrects. “I’m only asking because I’m, ah, unsure. How to proceed correctly. Or where I should focus in areas of improvement.”

Sabito pats her shoulder as though he’s trying to console her, except it comes off more patronizing than anything else. “The sooner you move out of denial the sooner you can reach acceptance.” Shinobu’s eye twitches. “I mean, you made it this far, you should be proud! That’s pretty good!”

“Your tenacity is admirable,” Himejima agrees tearfully. “The Love Pillar will be sure to appreciate your efforts, as I respect your bravery to seek help despite your discomfort.” Which is one way of putting it.

“Yes! Your passion for Mitsuri-san is incredible!” Rengoku agrees. He looks to Tokitou, who offers absolutely no assistance from his blank expression. “Don’t you think, Sanemi? Does Shinobu-san’s passion not stir your emotions at all?”

“No! Why did you assholes bring me here? Who gives a shit about any of this!?” Shinazugawa growls, and for once, Shinobu wholeheartedly agrees with him.

“It’s super manly to support your friends,” Sabito suggests unhelpfully.

“You’re doing a whole lot of talking and very little answering.” Shinobu swiftly redirects back to her original question. “What is it that I should be doing, about -- about this?”

Sabito jumps at the opportunity to be obnoxious and says, “Follow the answer in your heart, of course!” The vein in Shinobu’s forehead pulses threateningly. He quickly discards that advice and more seriously affirms, “I don’t know? Maybe you should just ask Mitsuri-san. I’m sure she would be understanding.”

“Yes. I believe the advice my father would offer you is ‘man up,’” says Uzui.

“Exactly! You heard him, act like a man -- !” Sabito crows, which is then swallowed by an “--ACK!” after Shinobu politely punches him in the stomach.

Tomioka offers no indication he’s been listening at all, but his face turns pensive and he says, “It sounds like you’re overthinking this, honestly, Kochou-san. You like her, and she clearly likes you...I’m not sure I understand your issue?” Shinobu decides he also deserves a good punch in the stomach for acting so flippant about her moral crisis.

Makomo intervenes before further violence breaks out. “I don’t believe that is the question Shinobu-san has requested of us.” Shinobu glares at her too, because she hasn’t so long as forgotten the training room incident. Stink bugs, she remembers. Big, smelly stink bugs.

“Oh?” Shinobu raises both brows to display her deep and unrepentant skepticism. “And what, exactly, is your suggestion?”

“Perhaps you should take on the Love Pillar’s trial,” Makomo answers breezily. “‘What is the meaning of love’…indeed. It will certainly strengthen your relationship with Mitsuri-san if you can solve it.” Like that isn’t the most horrifying, disastrous, unreasonable idea of them all.

Shinobu balks. “Absolutely not.” Why did she bother asking them in the first place! These are certainly the craziest people she knows!

Most unfortunately, there is a rather small supply of normal people around her. Her options were too limited to begin with. A fatal error on her part for ever believing something useful would come out of this.

“Then answer my question for the Trial of Flames!” Rengoku interrupts. “‘What is it that sets your heart ablaze?’ Find your answers with an honest and fiery heart!” Shinobu puts her head in her hands.

“Take my advice instead,” Uzui offers diplomatically. “The best thing to do is get married! Skip over the other boring relationship steps, you’re only wasting time. I did it three times, you know, and I think it solves most -- if not all -- problems in life.”

I’m surrounded by crazy people, Shinobu thinks again, and says, “What!?”

“If you like another person so much, then --” Uzui begins, but by then she’s already stopped listening. That’s it! She’s found it! That’s the end of her patience! Shinobu stands up and storms out of the training pavilion. She glares at anyone who dares meet her eyes as she crosses the grounds. The younger slayers scatter at the sign of her vengeful billowing butterfly haori.

Crazy people! Shinobu repeats to herself. Ridiculous! She’ll figure it out on her own, then.

Another trait she doesn’t share with Kanroji that clearly denotes this is fated for disaster: opinions on gossip. Shinobu is largely indifferent. Kanroji loves it. With that, Kanroji finds many friends who share her curiosity. Shinobu’s mouth puckers with a bitter taste as Kanroji crawls into Sabito’s side of the table at the first signs of entertaining news. “You’ve got that funny smile, Sabito! What happened! What happened?”

This, Shinobu despairs, does not bode well.

Whipping his peach toned hair back-and-forth like a dog climbing out of a bath, Sabito proudly announces: “We’re blessed once more, Mitsuri-san! Another blessed courtship has started among the slayers! Young love always triumphs!” Shinobu chokes and spits out rice all over her tray. Kanroji returns her attention for a second to ask if she’s alright. Shinobu takes a long sip from her tea and motions for her to continue without her, glaring Sabito into submission across from her.

“Well?” Kanroji begs. “Come on! I wanna know!”

“Ah, ah,” Sabito taps his jaw. “It’s impolite to talk about others personal matters, for one.” Kanroji pouts. Shinobu calculates exactly how far she’d have to stretch to kick him and summarily realizes she’s nowhere near enough to pull that off. Damn it all.

Sabito grins like he’s entirely aware of this. Bastard. “But, as long as you don’t tell anyone else, I suppose…” Kanroji’s face lights up once more.

“Kya! I’m so excited! Who is it! Who is it?” Shinobu wonders how much of a fuss it would make if she smacked her head against the table -- hard enough to induce temporary unconsciousness. The answer is: a lot, probably, which is the only reminder strong enough keeping her impulse control in check not to do just that.

“Well,” Sabito chuckles. “You know the Kamado siblings -- Tanjirou -- asked me for courting advice, if you would believe it. He said because he took confidence from Giyuu and I.”

Shinobu tries to reign in how eagerly she slumps with relief, fails again, and decides it’s hardly worth the effort.

Kanroji eagerly jumps at the dangling hook. “Tanjirou!? Oh! And?”

“I said he should be upfront and direct for the best results,” Sabito continues, failing to stifle his laughter. “So do you know what he did?”

Kanroji wiggles in place, failing to contain her excitement “Oh! Oh?”

“He decided to be very direct,” Sabito’s barely-held together composure breaks. “And suggested they go to the onsen together, of all things, hahaha! Genya’s face was unbelievable! I really thought he was going to challenge Tanjirou to a duel right there. It was incredible!” Shinobu shakes her head. Kanroji covers her mouth with her hands and sputters out her own rising laughter.

“Well, it all worked out in the end at least. I think Sanemi really hates me now,” Sabito chuckles. “If he didn’t hate me enough already!”

“Wait until he hears about Inosuke, then.” Shinobu mutters. Sabito smirks. Kanroji quirks her head like she’s not sure what to make of that comment.

Sabito grins. “I can’t wait!” He sounds far too excited about the thought of a future whalloping session. Right, crazy people, Shinobu reminds herself.

Shinobu picks up her tray and goes to sit at the next table, far enough away from Sabito and Kanroji’s continuous streams of useless information sharing. Rengoku dips his head at her once, then holds out his bowl like he’s suggesting she try it, and proclaims, “Tasty!”

At least Rengoku won’t start gossiping with her like a bunch of old widowers. He’s far more likely to talk about topical (and sometimes mystifying) areas of discussion. There are more important things to discuss besides romance among the younger slayers. For example: Oyakata’s newest orders come down with newer, stranger requests. Logically, Shinobu knows he usually has a reason for making demands of them. Sending the Pillars out into the Corps and into the lower ranks for training? Reinstating the Pillar Trials? An interesting, but clearly effective approach. Specialized training, on the other hand, is not like the rest.

She frowns as Rengoku reviews this information. “I’m not sure I understand why we are teaching new forms to slayers who have already trained under one form,” Shinobu confesses, after they’ve cleared away their bowls. “It seems...counterintuitive to their training, does it not?”

Rengoku nods, then stops, and considers. “I thought so too, at first. But we must trust Oyakata-sama’s instructions. I see much potential for growth among the ranks should it work as he proposed.”

Shinobu raises an eyebrow, an open invitation. “There are some newer slayers with sword fighting styles we can’t accommodate for,” Rengoku taps his nose. “For example, the Kamado siblings. Our greatest strength right now will come by improving our slayers individually.”

“I see,” Shinobu says, mulling over his response. “For example, if a slayer were to be trained in a style that doesn’t perfectly suit them, they may discover a preferred style this way.”

Rengoku nods with enthusiasm. “A novel idea, yes!”

“And the Kamado siblings…” Shinobu pauses, longer. “...there is much to learn from them, I think.”

“Yes! Their unique situation is only the half of it. We understand so little. It would make sense to encourage our understanding of it.”

Shinobu muses on this further and later, dares to ask Kanao, “Would you like to learn a new breathing form?” and is summarily surprised that Kanao doesn’t hesitate to answer, “Yes. I would.”

“Oh,” Shinobu says, not entirely successful at hiding her surprise but attempting to show her support all the same. She hesitates before tentatively broaching, “Did you have one in mind?”

“Breath of Insect.” Kanao says firmly, which means she’s already thought about the matter and made a decision. Shinobu only needed to ask. “And I want to learn about wisteria. And crafting poisons, and science. Everything you can share about medicine. I want to learn everything you’re willing to teach me.”

Kanao blinks as though surprised when Shinobu drops her hand to her head and smoothes the top of Kanao’s hair. She’s grown so tall. She’s taller than Shinobu, now, and that makes her heart ache for a different reason. “Ah, of course.” Shinobu agrees easily. “I will teach you. Ask, and I’ll tell you.”

“Inosuke would like to learn as well.” Kanao adds, her words rushing together like she’s afraid if she doesn’t get them out now she won’t get them out at all. “He told me. But he doesn’t know how to ask. He wants to learn.”

“Certainly,” Shinobu says, and tweaks the corner of Kanao’s butterfly pin, teasing. “If he wants, I will teach him too.”

Gekkabijin flowers are beautiful and prized for their rare qualities. Queen of the Night; a flower that blooms only once a year under moonlight. Kanao’s smile is just as exceptionally pure and precious, unfurling with joy and blooming brightly with promise.

As though prophetic, Rengoku’s words trigger a new branch of study requested by Ubuyashiki. Shinobu tempers her expression before she enters his offices, unused to such personal interaction. “I would like you to study Kamado Nezuko’s blood,” he explains, his honey-warm voice measured. Shinobu knows this is not a mere suggestion.

Bowing, Shinobu inwardly curses herself having not thought of it sooner. “I will endeavor to learn as much as I can. Thank you for this great learning opportunity, Oyakata-sama. My findings will be recorded and delivered to you as soon as possible.”

Ubuyashiki returns with that knowing, contented smile that quells her nerves. “I look forward to hearing your reports, Shinobu.” She lowers her head and bows again. “And -- soon, I hope -- there is someone I would like you to meet to aid you with your research.” Fine, yes, she is self aware enough to know her entire head snaps up with unabashed interest. Who would Oyakata have found and trusted without revealing this person before? Unless it was someone he recently discovered, and was merely being cautious about introductions. Unfortunately, her answers remain out of reach because Oyakata amends, “...but that is a discussion for a later time.”

Shinobu nods, and says nothing, even though she burns with more questions.

“I have another request to make of you,” Ubuyashiki transitions quickly with purpose. “You are welcome to decline,” Which is never a good sign, Shinobu thinks. “But there are --” Unseeing eyes flicker vaguely skyward. “-- strange reports coming from Orochi Valley. Even the kinoe I’ve sent have not returned, and I fear there is something dangerous, and very unusual there. I would like to send you to investigate and find whatever demon is responsible.”

Bowing, Shinobu agrees. “Of course. I’ll depart immediately.”

Pleased, Ubuyashiki finishes, “I’d like you to take Mitsuri with you. You are a competent slayer in your own right, of course -- but I would feel more assured that you went together.”

Shinobu’s heart stutters for a moment. This man’s praise is so odd, yet soothing, like a warm blanket passed over her shoulders. “Yes. Certainly. We’ll return within the week.” He seems satisfied by that response. Shinobu waits to be dismissed and leaves, as promised, directly for Kanroji’s estate.

Most investigations in larger towns rarely go smoothly. From experience, the most problems are encountered before any sense of trust or relationship can be established. Orochi Valley is not exactly a thriving community or obstructly remote, but they’re far out of the way and have never heard of a Wisteria House or the network of demon slayers. So easily, Shinobu forgets normal people are naturally suspicious of discussions regarding the supernatural. She and Kanroji are kicked from three separate tea houses while probing for information about suspicious deaths and disappearances.

“Why are you asking terrible things like that!?” One owner yells, threateningly waving an empty tray like he’s prepared to throw it. “You’re crazy people! Get out!” Wisely, Shinobu doesn’t argue with him and exits as promptly as she came.

The night is young; but the deeper the sun sets, the chances of them finding a lead before darkness sets in is swiftly drawing closed. Shinobu sighs. A family walking back to their house pauses from the other side of the street, the children gaping and pointing at her and Kanroji’s strange attire. The mother glares at the slayers and pushes her children along, clearly wary of their unknown uniforms and the clear line of Shinobu’s sword at her waist.

“Kya, this suuuucks!” Kanroji groans miserably. She’s had marginally better results -- flirting, Shinobu determines -- some answers out of locals but they’re still fumbling around in the dark for clues. “Bad luck again!”

“For now,” Shinobu tells her. In contrast, Shinobu miserably has nothing to account for her efforts. Her face wasn’t as kind or pleasant as Kanroji’s. Someone like Tanjirou would be well-received in a place like this, but unfortunately he’s not at their disposal for this task. “Perhaps we were too hasty. After all, we are strangers here. The people here have no reason to trust us.”

“I know,” Kanroji puffs. “But we don’t have time to be patient and be nice. Don’t they realize they’re in danger?”

A stroke of luck falls upon their path from the outer dwellings. Quite literally, from a small child who scurries out of their hiding spot and runs directly into Kanroji.

The child glances between her and the Love Pillar, their swords, and hurriedly tugs Kanroji’s wrist towards the lower houses at the edge of the settlement. They are not left asking questions for long; she meets the face of a worn elderly woman who takes one look at their swords and ushers them into her house.

“My daughter,” the woman pleads. “You are here for the demon? It lies beyond the forest. There are others here, very sick. Please, help her. Help us.” The boy who led them scowls and hides behind her legs. The victim’s son, she guesses. There’s another man, who introduces himself as another son, likely the woman’s brother.

A quick examination of the woman’s daughter reveals the immediate issue. Poison. Not unlike the spider poison she treated Zenitsu and countless other slayers for. The woman’s breathing is shallow and her skin is pale, greenish and sickly around her joints. Her flesh burning to the touch, but dry. Shinobu purses her lips. If her skin is dry with such a fever, she is clearly dehydrated if she can’t sweat out the illness.

Her patient wakes, briefly, but she only mumbles a few incoherent words and returns to delirium.

Shinobu flips open her medicinal tin. Steady, nimble fingers sift through her supplies. Shinobu carries this box of trusted treatments with her for such ailments. “Here,” Shinobu offers the elderly woman a tincture of ground wisteria and other blood-cleansing herbs, as well as procured leaves for vitality. “This should help.” The woman’s fingers, bruised with old deep purple-blue veins, gratefully wrap around hers and take the offering.

“My son in law left to seek treatment for her but he has not returned,” the elderly woman adds on with her farewell. “I fear if he ventured into the forest beyond, he will not. There are others here, all sick. If you can help, we will be forever grateful to you.”

Kanroji parts ways to draw more answers from the wary village people, but with the elder woman’s prompting they slowly stutter out more witnesses. Shinobu moves from house to house, gradually lessening the weight of her tin as her supplies are shared with the ill villagers.

Hours later, she learns the woman is dead. The woman’s younger brother races out of his house to declare her loss, wailing, demanding answers. Kanroji lets out a soft sob, stifled quickly by her own hand.

Shinobu frowns. “That’s impossible. I made that medicine myself -- it’s meant to dilute the poison from the bloodstream.” Kanroji wraps her fingers around her elbow, comforting, but Shinobu insists, “That can’t be right. She -- it was too fast. No poison works that fast.”

And, Shinobu’s heart weighs heavy, what of the other villagers she treated? If her poison couldn’t help that woman, then what of their fate?

“This one does. It was too late,” the elderly woman assures her gently, though her expression aches with grief. “We knew her death was a likely possibility. The third day is...not even our best healers could do anything for the others, but I’m grateful you came. You soothed her suffering, clearing her blood a little. I’m sure if you arrived earlier, you could’ve saved her. Don’t blame yourself. The others have already shown great improvement. I am forever indebted to you.”

Shinobu nods, but her frown remains, falling into thoughtful silence. Kanroji meets her eyes and they make the same wordless conclusion.

“Tell your people to take shelter,” Shinbou warns the elder. “It is dark, you will not be safe if you remain here. We will go into the forest and find whatever has done this.” A nod, accompanied by an elder’s blessing, and they depart for the woods. Night sinks in. Kanroji remains her watchful, oddly quiet companion the further they venture into the unknown. It is rather odd. Lacking her usual remarks and cheerful interludes, the forest air seems unexpectedly dense. As though even the trees are holding their breath.

Crouching to observe the pattern of broken branches and impacted earth, Shinobu settles onto her knees and peels away the damp leaves for inspection. Heavy footprints in the loose dirt. Strange. She rises and looks left, then right. Someone was in a hurry to reach the end of this forest pass.

“Why are you so quiet?” Shinobu asks, at last. It’s of urgent concern to find whoever was stealing away the people from the village, but Kanroji’s subdued nature worries her as well.

Kanroji says nothing, then: “You never told me about your sister, Shinobu.” Shinobu turns and looks, unsure of the decidedly heavy weight in her tone. She waits.

“I...I knew she died,” Kanroji begins carefully. “but I guess it was thoughtless of me to assume it was before you became a slayer. That’s not it, is it?”

Shinobu sighs. She asks carefully, guarded, “And? What have you heard, then?”

“That she loved you. Very much.” Kanroji shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have asked, but I was curious about you, and you -- you never seem to like talking about such things. You never offered. So I assumed that you stayed because she died before. I never thought you’d...”

Want something so terrible like revenge, Shinobu finishes for herself, and flinches. Kanroji shakes her head. “I guess I just realized, I always talk about myself. But sometimes I feel like I don’t know a lot about you. It makes me kind of sad to think, you know? And then I remembered the first time we met, and why I told you I became a slayer, and -- well, I feel awful, Shinobu-san. I don’t know if you can forgive me, but I am so sorry.”

Shinobu blinks, feeling a lot like she's in freefall. Like she stepped off a stair and her foot missed the step. “I -- excuse me, what?”

“You must think me so simple with a desire like that,” Kanroji answers regretfully. “My reason for becoming a slayer is so -- pathetic, compared to yours.”

Shinobu shifts. The ground under her palms cools with the retreat of daylight. “I never judge anyone for their reasons to join the slayers. Anyone who helps rid the world of demons will never be looked down on. We are all equals in our ambition. We are all the same in that respect.”

“Still…” Kanroji’s voice drops to almost a whine. “I can’t believe you let me talk like that! All excited to find a husband. While you -- after...your sister--” Her voice drops. “It makes me feel lame in comparison to you, Shinobu-san. You’re always so cool.”

“Well -- don’t. Think that way, I mean.” Shinobu offers helpfully. “I assure you, even if it bothered me, I have long forgiven you. It’s not your fault. As you said, I never told you anything about my sister.” Genuinely, “We’re slayers. That’s who we are. That’s all that matters.”

“For now,” Kanroji says, reluctance staining her usually gleeful features. “But what about after?”

Shinobu stills. Half of her frozen as she processes Kanroji’s question, the other half of her instincts flaring with suspicious awareness. That unmistakable wariness that human intuition offers when someone is watching. A warning. They’re not alone. “...After what?”

“After there’s no more demons,” Kanroji says, like this is a certain thing. A world without demons. A world without a need for slayers. “What will you do then, Shinobu? Hm? Shinobu-san? Hey, are you listening?”

Had she been paying attention to Kanroji’s words, maybe Shinobu would reel at the world-shifting perspective of demons not existing. Instead, Shinobu hears the warning crackle of movement from the trees above and snaps into battle.

There is certainly a demon in this valley. Shinobu pushes Kanroji clear out of the demon’s sudden lunge, jaws wide and fangs gleaming with oozing venom. Rearing back, the demon rises on his lower body, slithering upright. The scales gleam deep black and yellow, sickly gold and bronze in the low light offered over their heads. If Shinobu were to guess, observing from the safe distance she and Kanroji have taken, she would remark it’s size to be about the length of three men. Maybe two of Himejima laid head to foot.

“...That’s one big snake,” Kanroji notes, her eyes full-moon platters. An understatement, for sure. Shinobu raises a judgmental brow at her. “Alright, yes, I’m focusing!”

“Aim for the head,” Shinobu advises, unnecessarily. Kanroji’s earlier solemnity melts into a radiant smile. Shinobu leaves her hand on her hilt, ready to be drawn should the situation require her attention.

“And be careful,” Shinobu adds, although too quietly for Kanroji to hear as she’s already charged in. If Shinobu is especially lucky, she will be able to capture some of the serpent’s venom for later study. For now, she takes her place among the outcropping of trees and observes.

A snap of air, Kanroji’s blade whipping through the air fast enough to slice it. The snake’s neck cleaves easily to her powerful strokes and sends the large head tumbling into the soil. Shinobu lets out a small exhale. Oyakata’s concern, while well-placed, was thankfully -- and ultimately -- unnecessary. It’s a shame their arrival was so delayed. But clearly this demon was no match for a Pillar, and as for the fates of the lower ranked slayers who never returned…

Kanroji’s gasp splits her concentration. Shinobu’s sword unveils itself in a flash of movement and charges in after her.

From the snake’s gaping neck, a tall woman emerges in a kimono woven in the same gold-black scales. Her eyes are slitted, burnt orange and red, and her hair unfurls in streams of flickering pale fire. “More offerings?” The demon asks. Her forked tongue peeks out between her lips, curled in a curious smile; pale flesh stained in blood. “Oh, I simply can’t resist. But how is a demon supposed to keep her figure if you foolish humans keep wandering in?”

“What the fuck,” Kanroji demands, apalled. A succinct, if not entirely eloquent summarization of this unexpected turn of events.

“Well,” Shinobu ventures. “How very...interesting.”

“She doesn’t look like an Upper Moon,” Kanroji whispers. “But she -- you can feel it, right?”

“Yes,” Shinobu hesitates. “A more cautious approach this time, perhaps.”

Kanroji meets her eyes and grins. “I’ll take right if you take left.” Shinobu nods and dashes in the opposite direction.

The demon doesn’t appear to have legs, the end of the kimono fades into distinct scales and a sliver of a tail. Whatever the large snake was -- an illusion, or some sort of shield -- it isn’t physically attached to her. She also proves to be annoyingly fast-moving and capable of avoiding their attacks. On one such swift retaliation, Shinobu’s ankle catches on an unseen root or dip in the soil and falls with an ungraceful sprawl. She rises to her knees and stands with a scowl, her sword still steady and ready to strike in her hand, but the demon merely laughs and retreats. It clearly likes to play with its food.

Also, as Shinobu unfortunately discovers, the large snake was preferable to lots and lots of little tiny snakes. Which there are many of. Everywhere. The small black snakes are nuisances, and serve to distract more than anything else. A merciful flash of her blade severs them into ash. From what she understands of snakes, the dark solid-toned scales don’t indicate any degree of dangerous or venomous qualities.

The yellow snakes, though small, pose a different, far more dangerous and present problem.

Despite the demon’s power, it really is no match for two hashiras. Over her earlier surprise, Kanroji corners it with her flexible blade wrapped around the demon’s pale throat.

Shinobu scans the ground in search of the hissing and spots a yellow serpent, no longer than a hand width long, sliding among the fallen leaves. It’s path is clear.

Her heart leaps to her throat and she chokes out, “Mitsuri!” Kanroji turns, alarmed, but Shinobu’s already unsheathed her sword and nicked off the small snake’s head before its jaws close on Kanroji’s bare skin. Her ankle twinges, disapproving of moving so quickly after a sprain.

Kanroji flexes her arm and pulls the sword tight. The demon’s head rolls free with a choked cry. Shinobu gratefully adjusts her weight to her other foot and sheathes her sword.

“Thank you,” Kanroji says, returning her own sword to its sheath.

“Of course.” Shinobu returns genuinely, although a little stiffly. For such a relatively short fight, she feels unfairly exhausted.

Shinobu wraps her ankle with a roll of linen while Kanroji investigates the surrounding area. She returns with a solemn shake of her head. Shinobu tentatively tests her treated ankle and, satisfied, follows her deeper into the forest. Kanroji reveals her discovery near the well of the valley, a den carved into the stone. Relieving her white haori, she wraps the fallen blades within the fabric, mindful of the sharp edges. The best she can offer without a proper burial.

Shinobu sighs. Regret won’t bring back their fallen companions back to them, but she will ensure they receive honors and a burial -- not a proper one by any means -- upon their return to the estate.

Kanroji nods. They retrace their path to the village. The first vestiges of dawn break over their heads through the leaves as they walk slowly, shoulder-to-shoulder, wordlessly, too many heavy thoughts and voiceless burdens between them to share.

Kanroji is granted a feast of honor for slaying the demon terrorizing the village. The village elder gracefully offers her public thanks and offers them a bountiful display of gifts of which Shinobu politely declines her share. Kanroji is offered one of the merchant’s sons, if she so wished to marry. A rich family. A husband who would see Kanroji’s strength and be grateful for it. It was her strength that saved their families, after all. They would never disrespect the slayer who freed them from certain death. They would be honored to have someone like her protecting their village. Kanroji might feel accepted for the first time among those outside the slayers.

Shinobu should feel happy -- for Kanroji, for the townspeople -- but she lingers outside the festivities and scowls, her stomach churning with ill-ease.

The elder offers her house for the following night, and Shinobu is too exhausted to decline kindness. There isn’t any crow, or any news from the Corps, so she considers herself on temporary leave for another night. Tomorrow is tomorrow. She’ll deal with it then.

Their housing is old, a little damp and stale, but their borrowed bedding is comfortable enough. Shinobu is used to sleeping in far more uncomfortable places, but sleep proves irritatingly difficult and out of reach.

Evidently, from Kanroji’s sighing in the futon beside her, she isn’t the only one finding sleep evasive.

Kanroji rolls over again and sighs. After a moment of deliberation, she sighs again, and begins wiggling her futon closer to Shinobu. “Are you awake?” Kanroji asks quietly, not loud enough to wake the hosts but quiet enough for Shinobu’s hearing to pick it out over the sound of the wind beating the windows outside.

“Yes,” Shinobu replies, after a beat. “It is very late, you know. Is something wrong, Kanroji-san?”

“It is late for you too,” Kanroji replies, a hint of teasing in her voice. “And I feel like I should be asking you that, Shinobu. Did someone at the festival offend you earlier? Your scowl was so deep I thought your face might get stuck like that forever, hahaha!”

“I --you -- your face might get stuck like that forever,” Shinobu retorts, which definitely isn’t her strongest comeback ever.

“Ah, I see,” Kanroji says, and even though they aren’t facing each other she hears the smile in her voice. “I suppose it might.”

Shinobu sighs, unconsciously imitating Kanroji’s obvious earlier disturbance. “Well? Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or should I start guessing? And I warn you, I am very bad at guessing.”

That sobers Kanroji’s light hearted teasing back into silence.

“I was thinking,” Kanroji says. “About this village. Marriage. And about what you said -- about the people we were before we became slayers. I realized something really silly, probably.”

She takes a deep breath. “Before when I -- I used to wish I wasn’t so strong, to be more like you,” Kanroji says gently. “I wanted so desperately to be weak -- to find a husband who would be stronger than me. That’s why I joined the slayers. Men are so against the idea of marrying a woman who can easily lift anything.”

“Men are insecure,” Shinobu says, with an edge of humor. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with the faults of others.

“Except here in this town,” Mitsuri adds wistfully. “The people here love me. They think my strength is so cool. That’s all I ever wanted.” To be accepted. To be loved. Shinobu’s heart -- always aflame, burning -- quiets to a low hum, and breaks a little at the melancholy note in Mitsuri’s words.

“That’s --” She can’t force herself to say the words. She swallows.

Softly; her voice rounded and light like her voice when she talks to little animals, and children, like she’s trying not to scare them off, Kanroji prompts, “And?”

“...It’s surprising,” Shinobu chooses her words carefully. “That you wanted to be more like me. I never thought anybody would want to be so delicate. To be...weak. I’ve never wanted to be like this. I wanted to be like --” Shit. Damn it. Damn it all to hell.

Honesty isn’t Shinobu’s favored companion. Sure, she is deliberately honest, more often out of cruelty, and it seems deeper than betrayal to repay Kanroji’s own kind honesty with something like an insecure lie.

“I wish I wasn’t so weak.” Shinobu’s eyes slip shut. Sleep is out of the question now. “Not like you. You’re so strong. I wish I had your strength, Kanroji-san.” No use pretending she didn’t say them.

She hears Kanroji shift. “And I was wrong.” Kanroji says. “To want that. It’s foolish to want things you can’t have -- things that don’t make sense, isn’t it? But I did anyway.”

The confidence returns to Mitsuri’s voice when she continues, “But I don’t need a town to love me. Or the people in it. I have the slayers now.” She sits up. “And I have you, right, Shinobu?”

Shinobu allows herself to smile and pushes all her other emotions out of reach. This moment is for Kanroji’s reassurance, not her own. “Yes. You have us, Kanroji-san.”

Kanroji hums. “And I don’t think of you as weak,” her tone is far more serious and heavy with sincerity. “I never thought of you that way. From the moment I met you, I knew you were very strong, Shinobu. In all the ways that really matter.”

Shinobu doesn’t have to force a smile. “Thank you. That is very kind of you to say.”

“It’s true. You know I wouldn’t lie to you, Shinobu-chan?” Shinobu snorts, not out of disbelief, but at how quickly Kanroji flits between teasing and heartstopping sincerity.

“And like I said, I don’t need a town to love me. Or a husband.” Kanroji decides. “Although I -- I wonder if I should consider it more. A year ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated. It’s not everyday you receive an offer to be wed.”

Fighting down that falling-sinking-heavy pressure in her chest, Shinobu agrees airily, “Yes, I suppose.”

“Well? Do you think I should reconsider?” Kanroji asks. Shinobu frowns. There’s a pointed quality to that question, but her mind is too tired to parse out why it sounds different. “Their son is rather handsome, and the family is nice. I think I could be happy.” Shinobu says nothing. “Mhm? Shinobu-chan, did you fall asleep?”

“No,” Shinobu avoids her gaze, although she can’t be sure where Kanroji is looking in the dark room. Hopefully not at her. “I’m awake.”

“And? Do you think it’d be alright?”

“It’s your marriage, Mitsuri.” No amount of reserved composure can keep out the exhaustion in her voice. “It should be your decision to make, not mine.”

“But I’m asking for your advice, Shinobu-san. Would you marry him?” Then she pauses and says, “Well -- not the merchant’s son, I mean -- but if you were in my place, would you do something like that?”

It’s both easier and harder to form this reply. “No. I wouldn’t.” If Kanroji hears the cold, detached quality in her voice, she would understand it was time to drop the subject.

In a display of rare stubbornness, Kanroji pries the next response out of her. “Why not?”

“You should only marry the person who loves you completely for who you are.” Shinobu answers carefully. “My sister --” Her voice catches, even though Kanae’s loss is nothing new. But she aches, even when she doesn’t remember why it hurts. Her sister’s death clings to her and sinks sharp teeth into her old scars and pulls. She quickly clears her throat and continues, “-- my sister Kanae told me that. She said -- you just know that kind of thing, when it happens.”

Murmuring, Kanroji replies, “That is good advice. Your sister sounds like she was very wise.” She pauses, as though rolling the question over in her mouth, “But how will I know?”

“Know what?” Shinobu asks, before she can convince herself to roll over and end the conversation there.

“The one who loves me completely,” comes Kanroji’s soft reply. “How will I know if this person loves me? I may be the Pillar of Love, but I can’t see what lies in the hearts of others.” As though an afterthought, she adds, “I’m not even sure I know what lies in my own.”

“Ah,” Shinobu intones. She turns onto her other shoulder, realizing it places her even closer and face-to-face with Kanroji. Flinching would give her the definite wrong idea. So would turning back around. Too late to retreat, she swallows again. “I understand. I -- I am sure you will know...when it happens. They will tell you. If you are a special person in their heart, they will let you know.”

In the dark, close proximity grants her full access to the Love Pillar’s honest features. Kanroji’s mouth twists. “And what about you, Shinobu-san?”

Frowning, Shinobu fails to see how that’s relevant to Kanroji’s original question. She echoes, “What about me?”

“What special person is in your heart?” Kanroji clarifies. Shinobu’s heart thumps with that painful flutter-fall feeling from before.

“There is nobody,” Shinobu replies quickly. “I don’t have one.”

“Oh, I see.” Kanroji’s voice thins. “I didn’t mean -- I didn’t mean to -- to presume. But for a moment I thought --” Falling even quieter, “-- it sounded like you were speaking from experience.”

Silence falls between them, thick and heavy like the humid summer air. Enough time passes that Shinobu is convinced the Love Pillar fell asleep and rolls back over. “I wasn’t,” Shinobu lies.

Kanroji’s reply is even softer. “Then I hope one day you will know.”

The third and final problem, Shinobu realizes with dread, is that she doesn’t want to be Kanroji’s friend at all.

Well.

Not quite like that.

She wants more. She doesn’t want to be just Kanroji’s friend. She wants to curl up into Kanroji’s space, she wants to be allowed to comfort her, and hold her, and play with her rabbit, and listen to her talk about anything and everything. She wants to kiss her until she forgets how to breathe; she wants to press her mouth to every corner of Kanroji’s smiling face. This wanting isn’t new, but the depth of it surprises her.

Shinobu reflects, too late, there was no stopping this from coming. There was no stopping this at all.

Unsurprisingly, her dreams don’t release her so easily after such a force-shattering realization. She dreams of Kanroji’s room, a small white bunny leaping out of her hands, fleeing before she can wrap her fingers around it’s pale thin body.

From the twin shadows under their eyes in the morning, Shinobu makes the correct assumption that neither of them slept well through the night. Her head pounds ungratefully under the direct glare of broad daylight, and each step on her twisted ankle sends jolts of lightning frisson pain up her leg. A headache and an injured leg, however, are hardly the worst injury she’s ever acquired. When she returns to the Butterfly Estate she will rest and have her ankle properly treated. It is of no concern, despite Kanroji’s quiet hovering concern and offers to stay another day.

It isn’t until mid-afternoon, long after their departure from the village, that Shinobu makes another startling realization. This one is thankfully less emotional.

Her headache pulses threateningly as her mind draws a new conclusion from her symptoms. Kanroji already noticeably slowed her pace at least four occasions, but even at her slowest crawl Shinobu knows she couldn’t catch up to her in her present condition.

“I…” Shinobu licks her dry lips. Her body shivers with chills, despite being in direct sunlight. “I -- I hold on. Mitsuri. Slow down.”

Kanroji turns, only two paces ahead, and pales. “Ah! Shinobu, oh my heavens, you’re -- what’s wrong with you?”

“I think…” Shinobu rests her first and middle finger against her own wrist. Her pulse radiates, weak and moving quickly. “...I think. I think I’ve been poisoned.” She enunciates each word clearly, her mind tepid and calm despite the dire circumstances.

Kanroji takes the news far less gracefully. “WHAT! How -- how could that! That snake!” Her face scrunches with anger, a new expression on a face like hers. “That snake!” she spits, like a curse.

“Yes,” Shinobu agrees faintly. “We should -- we should get back. To the Butterfly Estate.” Foolish, she chides herself. She should have anticipated that either herself or Kanroji might be inflicted with that strange poison from the village. “I don’t have any -- I’m out of supplies. I’ll be fine, as long as…I -- I have to...” Forming words grows too difficult to finish her thought, not that she remembers what she was trying to say. She steadies her hand on her side, the other to her head in a useless attempt to banish her headache, and realizes somewhere between one blink and another she’s on the ground. Kanroji’s face fades, her voice far away as though shouting from a great distance.

“...Mitsuri,” Shinobu manages. Kanroji’s eyes flicker over her, but if she replies it’s too muddled for her feverish mind to translate. She closes her eyes. She’ll tell Mitsuri -- something important, she thinks -- in a moment. First she needs to rest. She’ll...tell her later.

The next two days are a haze of half-delirious, half-cloudied spots of vision. Somehow Kanroji carries her back to the Butterfly Estate and Shinobu, in a rare moment of lucidity, demands to be brought to her workroom. There’s no time for exchanges of gratitude; Shinobu banishes her almost immediately once Kanroji proves to be more of a distraction than aid. She’s concerned, yes, but Shinobu has work to do.

“Right,” Shinobu tells her empty workroom. “You’re the master of poisons. You can definitely figure this out.” She squints at the row of vials in front of her, lined with her own blood. Or is it blood? She doesn’t think blood is supposed to look that color.

She mixes wisteria and dried herbs, the same as she mixed for her patients at the village. She frowns. That -- that doesn’t look right either. She sniffs, coughs, and puts it back down. What did she put in this? It certainly doesn’t smell like wisteria. Her accusatory gaze lands on the glassware housing the “wisteria” and sends it sprawling off her desk.

The sound of breaking glass draws Aoi to her room, as Shinobu rummages through her stores in search of -- she doesn’t know, but it’s something -- it has to be here. She has the most well-stocked medicine cabinet anywhere on the compound. Why can’t she find it?

“It’s here, I’m -- I know it’s here,” Shinobu murmurs. Her mouth seems oddly reluctant to obey her demands to speak.

“What is it?” Aoi asks, sounding desperate and -- frightened? “Shinobu-san, what are you looking for?”

“It’s the -- it’s…” The woman’s face flashes over her. Open sores, blood. Blue-green bruising along her fingers. Her own throbbing ankle, swollen beyond relief. She scowls and pulls herself upright, dizzy, and accepts defeat with a slump back into her chair. “I have to…I -- ah...”

Her head aches, beating a ruthless rhythm of misery. She focuses on Aoi and tries to explain herself, but Aoi is gone and it’s Kanroji standing in front of her, mouth moving soundlessly. Kanroji’s face, worry etched onto a face that should only ever be smiling. Shinobu doesn’t know when or how she found herself on her bed, but she’s suddenly horizontal and tilting her gaze to look up at Kanroji.

Every ounce of her strength surges into her arm. She lifts her hand to Kanroji’s cheek, cupping the curve of her skin and tracing her lower finger along her jaw. Kanroji says something to her, lost in the air between them. Her face fades away, deep red staining the corners of her lips. An inkwell overturned, growing and spreading. Kanroji’s familiar features are lost, replaced in the haze of horrors. The day her life ended for a second time.

“No,” Shinobu tries to turn her head, but she’s caught in it, already swept away into the swell of her memory. “No. Not -- please, not -- no!”

Blood drips between Kanae’s pale lips. Shinobu is no longer in her bed, staring down the distance of her sister’s sprawled limbs and bloodied body. “Shinobu,” her sister calls. Shinobu’s heart stutters, her body moving before she can think. Moving with reckless abandon, dropping to her knees and skimming the skin of her knees. Kanae calls her name again, spitting blood between her teeth. Shinobu shushes her, encouraging her to save her strength.

“You’ll leave, won’t you?” Kanae begs. “You’ll go live a normal life. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, Shinobu. Forget about the demons. They’ve already taken everything from us. From our family. But not you. Never you. Promise me you’ll give this up.”

Shinobu sobs out, “I can’t. I can’t.”

“It’s alright,” Kanae soothes her, because her sister is far better -- far stronger -- than she is. Even though Kanae is the one laying in her arms, choking between one breath and the next (which might be her last). “I know. It’s alright...alright.”

“I’m sorry,” Shinobu struggles to focus on her sister’s face. Her eyes sting, her vision blurs, and she scrubs her face to clear it away. “I’m sorry, Kanae.”

Kanae doesn’t have enough energy to argue. “Hold onto me. Stay with me.”

“Tell me,” Shinobu insists, clawing desperately for her sister’s other arm. “This demon. Tell me. I will find it. I will kill it.”

Kanae’s lips part. “No, Shinobu…”

Her hands squeeze Kanae’s loosening grip. Even as weak as she is, it would bruise Kanae’s skin from the force behind it. “Tell me.”

“The demon,” her sister whispers weakly. “The demon is...”

(Not even in the darkest corner of her mind did she wish she’d died like Kanae that day. No; if Kanae lived, everything would be right in the world. Given the chance, she would gladly, happily exchange her fate.

If Shinobu died saving her sister, it would be a good way to die. If she died avenging her sister, it would be acceptable. If there is such a thing as an honourable death, that would be it.

If only; if only.)

Kanae’s warm eyes dim and the light in them falls far away. Her sister’s blood turns cool and tacky between her fingers. Shinobu’s heart continues beating strong and evenly despite the feeling of every breath weighing so deeply, as though the pressure could crush it between her ribs.

She reaches out; closes Kanae’s eyes, which slide shut with no resistance. They do not open again. Shinobu closes her own eyes and succumbs to the sweet call of blank, empty relief. Her own death seems far less dramatic. Not a large affair at all, which is probably for the best. She’s prepared for this day, although not quite under these circumstances.

She dies angry. She dies with a tight, hot coil of injustice around her lungs and thinks this isn’t fair. She dies with shame, her thoughts blurring into a helpless, I wasn’t strong enough.

Ah, she thinks, as her thoughts slide away into nothing. What a waste.

Needless to say she’s surprised she opens her eyes, alive, to Kamado Nezuko’s determined expression peering down at her.

“...You’re alive,” Nezuko says after a beat of mutually wary staring, like she can’t quite believe it herself.

“Yes,” Shinobu agrees wearily. “It appears I am.”

Nezuko keeps staring. Shinobu shuts her eyes, exhaustion pulling her under, but not before she says, entirely honest, “Thank you.”

The following week Shinobu spends recovering, Kanroji is strangely absent from the present company. The other Pillars pay their respectful visits and wish her a good recovery. Shinobu insists she’s fit for service, but Oyakata sends his regards by crow and acknowledges her return after an uninterrupted week of rest.

Strangely, even the Snake Pillar winds his way into her company. The visit is shared in uncomfortable silence, until; “She really likes you,” Iguro says, apropos to nothing, his mouth pinched like he’s swallowed something bitter. He doesn’t sound angry, but he sounds -- resigned at this revelation. “It would be foolish of you to...eh, offend her with your insensitivity.”

Shinobu stares at him. “...I see.” He nods like he’s made some grand gesture with those mystifying words, and thankfully doesn’t make a return visit.

Sabito visits with Makomo in an attempt to entertain her while she’s bed-bound, but it is Tomioka who asks, “Are you alright, Kochou-san?”

Shinobu raises her brow. She’s sure she doesn’t make the most imposing figure right now, but she thinks she could be roused for a duel or two. Aoi wouldn’t approve, but Kanao’s sufficiently distracting her at the moment.

“Physically? Yes, I am cured of...all the poison within my body.” Sourly, she notes, Nezuko’s cure-all had some interesting, unexpected (and not entirely welcome) effects on the condition of her body. Not that she can be sure; it’s entirely possible the snake venom cleared out the secondary substance without her knowing. That’s a problem for another day; a day where she is allowed out of this awful bed and back to work.

“That’s good,” Sabito says, and damn him, he actually sounds like he actually cares. Shinobu doesn’t have the energy to glare at him either. “And...not physically?”

“I --” Shinobu clenches her hands under her sheets. “-- pardon?”

“You know,” Makomo interrupts conversationally. “The Love Pillar was most concerned with your recovery. Perhaps when it is appropriate, you should pay her a visit.” She doesn’t say it like it’s a suggestion. “I am sure she would be grateful for your company.” Before Shinobu can formulate a proper reply, of which she would demand ‘Then why doesn’t she visit me?’, the three of them are swept away by Aoi’s unmerciful doctoring.

Makomo is never one to make light statements, though. Shinobu convinces Aoi and her staff to release her a day early, with promises not to return to active duty and lots of rest. She is not above bribery either. Upon release her feet make their own journey and her first destination is odd but not entirely unexpected. She hovers by the training grounds, where Tanjirou offers eager and honest exclamations about her swift recovery.

Passing the other slayers, who also offer polite greetings and inquiries about her return, Shinobu bites down on her own impatience. She can wait. Even as urgent as her heart races in her chest, it’s not life or death. She can afford to wait.

The peach trees await her with warm welcome, leaves curling with the turn of the season. Kanroji doesn’t answer her door, so Shinobu makes her way along the outer stone path and towards the rabbit hutch. Mimi sniffs, interested in the visitor but ultimately loses that interest once she fails to retrieve treats.

Mitsuri is sitting on the porch when she returns, expectant and beautiful. She’s wearing her uniform, but her haori is folded on the wood beside her. Her expression flickers between a wide range of emotions -- relief, joy, concern, fury -- the last of which Shinobu finds unfitting on her face, and without justifiable cause.

Shinobu walks over, her steps light and careful on account of her weakened state, and Kanroji only says, “I’m glad to see you out. You must be feeling better?”

Anger -- not anger, either -- flashes through her. Kanroji didn’t visit her while she was recovering, after all, and she can’t be sure of what she saw in her fever-induced visions either. “Yes.” Shinobu answers, clipped.

Kanroji nods, as if she expected that response. She offers no answers either, nor excuses. Shinobu stands to leave, and for a moment Kanroji stills her hand on Shinobu’s inner elbow with her face open and accepting, but no words pass between them either. Shinobu leaves; with each step her unhappiness sets in. That feeling of missing a step on a stair sitting heavy and discomforting in her stomach, missing something, but not knowing what to call it by.

This time, it is Kanroji who draws away. Her visits grow in distance and length, her exchanges even more stilted and too uncomfortable for mutual conversation. She closes herself off, building a shaky wall of empty invocations.

There are no more hunts together. Kanroji does not sit beside her at dinner. Kanroji doesn’t invite her out to try a dish at a new restaurant. Kanroji is no longer a disturbance in her workrooms. She doesn’t offer cooking lessons, or an exchange to spar. At conferences Kanroji meets her eyes but passes over her like she’s not really seeing her.

Kanroji has other friends. Kanroji has other people in her life that deserve her attention. Kanroji has her own life to live -- a life without Shinobu.

She isn’t unhappy, clearly. She seems happy. She doesn’t look like she minds -- nor misses -- Shinobu’s presence at all.

Shinobu decides; it’s better. Not to know, not to ask. Shinobu returns to hunting alone, taking her meals in the Butterfly Mansion, training her long hours in her workroom, pouring over her research and tests with Kamado Nezuko’s blood and airing long arguments carried over crows and letters with Tamayo, the demon scientist in Shinobu’s reluctant acquaintance. She has plenty to keep her busy. If she catches herself sometimes, her hand frozen as she staunchly pushes down that feeling of missing something, she remains steadfast. Missing Kanroji is not logical -- of course, because Kanroji hasn’t really gone anywhere -- but she finds she misses her all the same.

Kanroji doesn’t share that loss, so Shinobu decides it’s time to move on.

Which would be fine, really, except she catches Kanroji staring at her sometimes; like Shinobu is a line of a poem she is trying to understand, a piece of a puzzle she hasn’t figured out how to fit together.

Tentatively, carefully, Shinobu approaches her in the dining hall. She hesitates over the empty seat beside Kanroji and meets her eyes, dares herself to ask, “Can I sit here?”

Kanroji’s answering smile is full and bright, like nothing’s changed; but really, that statement couldn’t be more patently untrue.

She invites Shinobu back into her circle at the table, laughing and joking and only ever allowing glimpses of their past to flutter between them. Phantoms of whatever it was they had, now stumbling a step out of reach, trying to take hold of an offering hand that’s already pulled away. An old sense of duty, this friendship of theirs. Shinobu knows neither of them are obligated to pretend otherwise. But she keeps pretending, going through the motions, and Kanroji keeps her reasons to herself.

Not to say they aren’t friends; Kanroji still smiles and shares pleasant words. They’re simply...different. Caught in between. If Shinobu were to admit to foolish shortcomings, she would confess she hopes; maybe, one day, they might forgive whatever gap has opened between them and allow the edges that define them to meet again.

It’s worth it, to see Kanroji’s smile again. Not always directed at her, but -- close enough. Kanroji seeks her out on one cool spring evening, after the winter of silence and cold interactions has faded, and shares her a warm, steaming bean bun up on the roof of the training pavilion. It’s overly sweet, too much sugar and not entirely satisfying, but she smiles and thanks her, because it’s enough.

It’s enough, Shinobu assures herself. It will have to be enough.

The crows bring orders to the south. Shinobu is warned through passing exchanges that she won’t be the only Pillar or slayer to venture into the demon’s territory, but she thinks nothing of it. There are eight other Pillars; statistically, unlikely, that the hunt crosses paths with the same person with their heart set on avoiding her.

Something in her stomach -- unclenches, for lack of a better term, when she catches sight of a white haori. Whether out of relief or a sense of forbearance; as though to say, finally. The wearer is too far away to make out any other details, and for a moment she finds herself foolishly hoping it’s Sabito’s, but the reasonable part of her confirms the tell-tale movement of a skirt.

“Ah, Shinobu-san,” Kanroji greets her, smiling. Shinobu squints, warily trying to determine whether the delight in her face is forced and fails to draw a firm conclusion. “It’s good you’re here! I’ve heard many strange things are happening here. We’ve got our work cut out for us, hah!”

Shinobu doesn’t know what to make of the strange happenings. The few witnesses remaining in the settlement aren’t forthcoming with too many details, but it’s made abundantly clear that the demon -- however it is -- doesn’t seem tied to any particular form. Strange, Shinobu decides. Definitely...strange.

Kanroji accompanies her to the meet-up point. In such a large area of ground, the demon could evade for an indeterminable amount of time. Two such groups already attempted and failed. The group is much larger now; besides Kanroji and herself, the rest are all slayers of various ranks. Kanao is among them, accompanied by Tanjirou, Nezuko, and Sanemi’s younger brother.

Dusk retreats, deepening the shadows into full darkness. Shinobu determines a rough grid of the area and divides it among the slayers. She pairs off the lower ranks with a partner while she and Kanroji oversee. She takes the west side, where the sleeping population lies thickest. If the demon is anywhere -- assuming it hasn’t already fled -- it will likely be there.

The slayers nod, observing their orders and start along their routes.

“I wish you good hunting,” Shinobu offers to Kanroji, as is customary and polite. Good luck.

“Be careful,” Kanroji replies, her mouth twisting. Disapproval? Shinobu isn’t sure. A flash of movement as her fingers brush the inner side of Shinobu’s thinner wrists. Comforting, yet tinged with Kanroji’s own anxiety; a farewell of sorts, hoping for an uneventful and safe return. Shinobu puzzles over the reaction as she walks deeper into the shadows.

The hour passes without event. No signs of the demon. No warnings or signals from the other slayers that they’ve encountered trouble. Shinobu sighs and abandons her route, diverging onto the currently un-tasked area of her grid. With the limited number of pairs, she had to assign some routes with scarce patrols.

Nothing there, either; at least, not at first.

Something catches her eye -- the flicker of an all too familiar patterned haori that gives her pause. She decides to ignore it. Then a second time, and that grabs ahold of her attention. Coincidences are unlikely. She follows down the deep shadowed alley where she saw the first. The flutter of retreating steps, even as the owner fails to hide behind the retaining wall in time.

“Kanao,” Shinobu calls out. “Is that you? You aren’t supposed to be here.” Kanao’s shoulders hesitate over the gap of stones. “Go back to your -- hey!” Kanao’s outline fades away, running deliberately in the opposite direction.

Strange, Shinobu repeats to herself.

Kanao disappears from one line of the gridded alleys to the next. Shinobu slows her pace and spots another flicker of familiar colors, as though startled, slipping through the doors to a darkened inn. Shinobu follows through the gate and into the courtyard, eerily quiet despite the late hour.

She pushes open the door and blinks away dust, scanning the room for warning signs. The door shuts quietly behind her, acknowledged only in a creak of aged wood. Sour air wafts through the shallow breeze from the floor above.

No figure suddenly emerges from the shadows. Shinobu keeps her hold tight on her sword, ready to be drawn, and turns directly into Tanjirou, similarly wary with wide eyes in the dark room.

“Tanjirou-kun,” Shinobu greets, her knuckles whitening against her hilt. Tanjirou startles, looking around as though surprised to see her. “I suppose you have a good explanation for being here. Have you seen Kanao?” His side is oddly bereft, missing -- ah. “Is Nezuko with you?” Tanjirou’s face is oddly blank, no recognition of the name. Shinobu’s stomach churns with unease. “Where’s your sister? Did something happen on the other side?”

Tanjirou frowns. “There’s --” His response falls short of complete. Within the next breath, Shinobu draws her sword and aims for his neck.

Clever; the demon is either fast or well-prepared for a sudden attack and her strike meets empty air. She spins around and lifts her sword to the next flicker of movement and freezes.

“It’s not polite to attack someone while speaking,” Kanao -- not Kanao, the demon -- tells her. “Or is the Insect Pillar without manners?” It’s Kanao’s face, her voice, but her eyes are lacking depth. Her smile is too fluid. “Are you?”

Shinobu glares. “No.”

The face of her tsuguko melts, as fast as ice disappearing under direct heat; she transforms. “Did you miss me, dear?” Mother asks. “How about this one?”

“No,” Shinobu repeats.

The smile shifts, becomes beautiful and sharp. Mitsuri holds out her hand, reaches, and touches Shinobu’s jaw. Tilts her head up. “What about me? Ah, I saw this girl. She’s here, isn’t she? The one your heart belongs to? I do hope I find her -- I wonder what people she would see. You, perhaps?”

Shinobu grinds her teeth. She lifts her sword up to the demon’s neck, where she knows Mitsuri’s neck runs smooth and alive, and presses.

“Ah, or maybe this one?” Kanae smiles.

Against her will, her sword wavers against the demon’s neck. Trembles. “You have no right,” Shinobu snaps.

“I have every right,” the demon replies. Kanae’s hand reaches out, careful of the edge of the shivering blade, and takes her hand. Twists the sword out of her fingers and grins. She’s too numb to react. “Oh? I really thought you’d put up more of a fight.” It kicks her sword away, out of reach, the flash of metal disappearing into the disquiet shadows.

I thought so too, Shinobu thinks. She can’t move, swallowing suitable shame that of course, it’s a demon wearing her dead sister’s face that finally unmoors her.

Kanae’s face fades away, indistinct in the shadows, and out of her flesh a new creature takes shape. Bloodstains trickling from the top of his hair, smiling, maddeningly at ease. From his side he draws his weapon; two glittering fans, a striking reflection in the low light.

A demon, her sister said, blood trickling down her jaw. With bloodstains on the top of his head.

The demon smiles.

He always gives a carefree smile. And speaks in a calm, gentle manner...

Shinobu tries to remember how to breathe. She thinks she is, but the longer her lungs burn, the more she’s sure she’s forgotten.

His weapons...are...a pair of sharp fans.

When Shinobu dreams, or allows herself the dark fantasy of imagining the demon who murdered her sister, she imagines this face. Hard lines and a cruel mouth. She imagined, if she ever succeeded in hunting it down, this demon would be it. It’s exactly like her nightmares. This is the face of the demon she imagines slaughtered Kanae.

Yet she knows it’s not.

“Who are you?” she demands.

“Not who you’re looking for, clearly,” the demon replies, who the longer she looks at it, she’s sure it isn’t the demon of her sister’s death. It’s form is too malleable. Not whole. Not completely present. “But I’m allowed my fun, aren’t I? Ah, you really made it too easy. You were too distracted to notice the smell, hm?”

The smell, Shinobu remembers. The sour air. Not stale, like she would expect from a building of this age. No -- sour. Whether pheromones, or some other form of demonic power, it’s trapped her. She’s so stupid. Even if she faced her sister, she wouldn’t have frozen like that. She would’ve been angry. She wouldn’t have hesitated.

The demon holds her jaw and sharp teeth press into her shoulder, breaking through her flesh as she stands there, berating herself and unable to think.

Stupid. So foolish.

No, Shinobu growls, forcing herself to action. No demon deserves to gain strength from her death. She shoves the demon’s face away and runs, hands seeking familiar cold metal. Any reflection. The hilt. Anything.

Pain blossoms from her side. Faster, she urges her uncooperative limbs. Move faster. You’re stronger than this. You’re a Pillar, for heaven’s sake. Move!

She thinks of Mitsuri and that warm, full feeling in her stomach that she couldn’t name. She thinks of Kanao. She thinks of Inosuke, and Aoi, Tanjirou and Nezuko, these odd and orphaned children who gave her something she never thought she’d have again. Her small close staff, the slayers she trained and once trained alongside, the other Pillars, these members she hadn’t even realized filled in the missing gaps where her family was torn away.

Something to believe in. Something a little like hope.

Iron in her mouth; blood. Her shoulder burns, where her life force sheds away, as do her chances of winning.

Too late, she realizes; too late.

She knows better than to wish they won’t mourn her, but that is to be expected. Even slayers must mourn those who departed, especially so young, as they are. As she is, too, young and angry and bitter.

(She hopes it isn’t any of their young faces who find her body, whenever it happens. She hopes to spare them some of the grief. She hopes they don’t cry.)

Entirely detached, playing the role of some distant observer over her own body, she watches rather than feels the demon lift her up by her neck. Squeezes her throat until she wheezes and gasps for air that she can't receive. Her hands claw, scrabbling along the demon’s wrists, unable to make purchase. Her vision flickers, all the colors slipping away, her heartbeat in her ears.

I’m going to die, Shinobu thinks, and then with full irritation, again. What a waste. What a waste!

Shinobu keeps her eyes open. She will die here, alone, afraid, but fighting until her last breath. She will watch her death come upon her on certain terms. She won’t look away. She will face all the terrible things waiting for her at the end.

She remembers. Kanae. The spark of shame in her throat builds along with the pain, and realizes she couldn’t keep either of her promises; to live a normal life, nor to kill the demon who ended her sister’s life.

She should think of something happy. These are her final moments, aren’t they? She should think of something to be remembered by. Dying with honor is out of the question. Kanae died with Shinobu clutching to her, not strong enough to keep her from slipping away. It is right Shinobu should die thinking of her sister, hoping somewhere or someday their spirits might be reunited again. She should die thinking of her sister’s smile, a pleasant untouched memory before she too slips into the dark.

Too late, she thinks.

All she has is the memory of her sister’s voice in the distance, calling her out of the crowd, a flash of white - no, that can’t be right, her sister’s haori was never white -- and the sound of her name from a desperate owner; “Shinobu!”

Mitsuri, she thinks, wondering if it’s the last remnants of her consciousness cruelly giving her some desperate faith that she should hold on. She’s so tired. Forgive me, Kanae, she murmurs, and fades.

Shinobu wakes with a start, her heart clawing back up her throat, and summarily accounts for her surroundings. First, the empty inn is trashed. Second, the room is swarming with slayers and medical staff. Third, her young troup of personally trained slayers lie in wait at the (barely recognizable) entrance and scurry around like nervous mice.

The last thing she takes notice of is where she is. She’s sitting on a medical cot and her head in Mitsuri’s lap. She collects her thoughts, taking stock of the ache in her shoulder and the hot-sharp pain in her side. The pain dulls, as though hidden behind a smoke curtain. Dampness seeps in through her uniform. Shinobu blinks and realizes it’s tears -- Mitsuri’s tears. Mitsuri is crying; not loudly, or theatrically, like the few times she’s watched the Love Pillar moved to tears.

No. By all accounts -- she’s motionless. Holding Shinobu’s hand and glancing up at her with wide eyes. Shinobu’s heart slows, stutters, and resumes it’s breakneck pace.

“Shinobu,” Mitsuri says, her voice breaking with relief. Shinobu watches her lips form her name and thinks...very hard. Her ears ring. “Ah. Shinobu-san. You’re awake.”

Ignoring her (obvious) concussion, Shinobu nods and winces, her throat protesting even a swallow. “Yes.” Her shoulder doesn’t appreciate the movement either. She raises her first of many questions: “Why are you here?” How are you here is probably a more appropriate question. If Mitsuri followed the orders she received, she should be on the other side of town.

Shifting guiltily, Mitsuri answers, “I came back for you.” Her lip wobbles. Shinobu’s adrenaline spikes again, which is a relief because by the time it fades she will be in a considerable amount of pain. As though threatened by that very thought, her side pulses ungratefully with burning pressure. “The Kamado siblings helped me find you. I thought -- I thought we were too late.” I almost was, she doesn’t say.

“Very noble of you,” Shinobu says, overcome with a wave of exhaustion that would knock her off her feet if she were standing. Somehow, she finds the strength to smile.

Mitsuri demands, “Why are you smiling? You -- you! I’m so angry at you! Don’t smile at me, what is wrong with you?”

“I feel fine,” Shinobu insists. “Why are you angry?”

Mitsuri sputters. “Why am I -- do you even know! You almost died! I am so angry with you -- and you don’t even care! Do you know how -- no. I guess you don’t.”

“Mitsuri,” she starts, only to be smoothly interrupted by Mitsuri’s resounding huff.

“Last time,” Mitsuri says, her voice breaking unevenly in the middle. “Last time you almost died -- and I was -- I was so angry at you. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I was.” She still sounds angry for someone using past-tense. “For -- for refusing to ask for help. For just -- giving up! Do you have any idea,” she demands. “How much I -- I couldn’t handle it. You being hurt. And I realized I -- I couldn’t do it. I had to -- I couldn’t do it, Shinobu.”

Shinobu meets her gaze, steady, and asks, “Then why did you come back for me?”

Mitsuri’s hands tighten around her wrists, then relax. “I felt -- I was so afraid that something would happen to you,” Mitsuri confesses. “It’s why I disobeyed orders. But I knew something was wrong! I knew somehow! I’ve never -- I felt something. Something so strong. I can’t begin to describe it. Ah, Shinobu, are you sure you are alright?” Mitsuri’s arm is warm and secure around her. Shinobu thinks she is very alright.

Mitsuri continues, entirely unaware of everything snapping into place in Shinobu’s mind. “I was so worried, seeing you there and I couldn’t -- it was so terrible,” Her voice wavers. “That demon was -- it was… I saw you. Not you, I mean, but it became you. And then I really saw you, lying there, and I thought, you might really be dead -- it felt like I was -- I felt so -- !” Mitsuri chokes, her lips fluttering as she tries and fails to form the rest of her sentence.

“Like what,” Shinobu asks, not asking a question at all.

“Like -- like something really awful!” Mitsuri covers her face with her hands. Shinobu thinks she should feel bad, seeing her so overwhelmed to tears, but Shinobu can barely feel let alone think anything over the sound of her blood pounding in her ears. Almost dying would do that to a person, she muses. Her heart remembers those brisk moments leading up to her almost-death, trembling and racing against her chest.

Mitsuri stops crying long enough for Shinobu to pull her hands away from her face. “I don’t think I can be your friend anymore, Shinobu-san,” Mitsuri confesses. Her eyes are still wet and shining. She’s beautiful. Nevermind the dust in her hair, or the blood on her cheekbone dripping down onto her collar. Shinobu feels dizzy staring at her, counting the seconds between her breaths in her head and wondering about that deep stirring in the pit of her stomach.

“Mmn,” Shinobu murmurs. Her hands tingle, little shocks of electricity from where Mitsuri’s fingers are wrapped around her own. Body alight like it is close to burning, bursting into vivid flames. Shinobu thinks, as long as she has Mitsuri’s hand around her own, she could live with that. “Me neither.”

“You don’t sound so sad about it,” Mitsuri accuses. “But it’s true! I can’t do it!”

“I see,” Shinobu replies, unable to shake the light, dizzy feeling in her head. It must be the way Mitsuri’s looking at her, looking at her with an expression like -- like --

“I think my heart might burst,” Mitsuri curls her hands around Shinobu’s cheek and Shinobu thinks, oh. Oh. “I think I -- oh, I think it really will. It always feels like I’m -- I always think about you. I don’t know what I would do if you were really hurt. What does that mean? What do you think, Shinobu? Is that too -- is that too forward? Does that sound too--mpph!” The last of Shinobu’s self restraint falls apart and she pulls herself upright, one hand pulling Mitsuri by the neck and guiding her gently until their mouths meet. Mitsuri’s lips part in surprise, her arms weaving around Shinobu’s back and locking her in place.

Mitsuri’s eyes are wide when she pulls back. She’s almost scarlet with how deeply her cheeks are blushed. She’s beautiful. How it took her this long to realize that charming, stirring emotion wasn’t at all what she expected. Shinobu dares -- hopes -- and cups her hand against her cheek. She marvels at the heat she can feel under her palm. The racing pulse under her fingers, alive, so very alive, full of life.

“I think I love you,” Shinobu says, sincere, like she’s unraveled a long-hidden secret. Strong and delicate and precious -- everything that is this girl in her arms.

“You think you love me?” Mitsuri pauses, but the tremble in her voice gives her away. Her hands, wrapped in Shinobu’s, squeeze with a force shy of bruising. Not that Shinobu cares about that at all. “Are you unsure?”

“I am in love with you,” Shinobu smiles at the visible tension melting from Mitsuri’s shoulders. How could she have missed this before? She doesn’t know that either. Maybe another near brush with death was all it took to clear the path in her mind that glows with that swelling, unwavering emotion she couldn’t name before.

Eyes bright and full, Mitsuri presses, “But are you sure?”

You’ll know, Kanae promised her once. It’s something you’ll understand one day, if you’re very lucky.

Shinobu tightens her fingers around Mitsuri’s and squeezes. Realizes: she is lucky. Far luckier than she ever gave herself credit for. “I am,” she promises. “I really am.”

KOCHOU SHINOBU [INSECT PILLAR]
REPORT ON “THE MEANING OF LOVE” TRIAL & CONCLUSION
RECORDED BY THE DEMON SLAYER CORPS. ARCHIVE CENTER OF LEARNING

“You will know when you’ve found it.
And once you have, you must hold it tight and never let it go.”