Chapter Text
Yoriichi spent most of his early life as something of a ghost.
He'd been adopted as a baby- nobody really knew what happened to his biological family, but it seemed he'd simply been abandoned. Initially, the couple that took him in were quite enthusiastic about the prospect. They were wealthy and didn't like to be bothered, and he was an unusually quiet baby. He didn't fuss or complain. He wasn't messy. All he did was stare at the world with wide, solemn eyes as the lady of the house held him and cooed to her friends how much motherhood suited her.
The enthusiasm diminished as he grew.
Yoriichi wasn't just a quiet boy, he was silent. He never spoke, never laughed, never cried. He didn't play with the other children in the village. The silence had begun to grate on the nerves of his family, with it especially irritating his father. The man wanted a strong, noble son. A silent, demure shadow was of no use to him.
Yoriichi couldn't help it. When his father tried to get him to hold a blade, something primal deep within his soul screamed. He saw his hands drenched in blood in his mind's eye. Feelings swirled with no context or origin. A terrible sorrow and regret permeated his being right down to his bones.
If he held a sword, he feared he would lose himself. Those feelings would overwhelm him and drown him until there was nothing left. So he refused.
When Yoriichi's mother began to show signs of a successful pregnancy, he knew it wasn't long before he was sent away.
By that time, the negligence had shifted to outright dislike. In particular, it frustrated his parents that he had never stopped referring to himself as "Yoriichi". They had picked a different name for him as a baby, but not once had he ever responded to it.
He felt a bit guilty about that, but it wasn't something that he could help. His name was Yoriichi. He'd always known that.
The day his mother gave birth was the day they declared he was to be sold.
They had a child of their own blood, now. They had no use for a spare.
He'd seen it coming, but even so, the revelation left him aching with a terrible sense of loneliness.
It was then that the old doctor found him.
Doctor Yukimura was a man who, upon first glance, seemed like nothing more than a humble traveler. But, with a discerning eye, discrepancies began to show through that front. The pack he wore on his back was too large and heavy for a man his age, yet he carried it with ease. His eyes looked cloudy with cataracts, and yet he never seemed to bump into anything. And, most relevant to Yoriichi's case, he seemed as though he would have no money on him, and yet…
His mother watched with wide eyes as his father counted through the shiny coins that had been handed to him. Unceremoniously, and without a single shed tear or even a glance in his direction, Yoriichi was thrust towards the man by his former parents.
His heart ached, but he said nothing, and silently followed after the old man.
Once they were a good distance away, the doctor turned to him.
"Well, you're free now. Go on, get out of here."
Yoriichi didn't move.
Doctor Yukimura looked unimpressed. "I know you can hear me, boy. Those two weren't worth it. Go seek your fortune elsewhere."
In his soft voice, Yoriichi finally spoke. "I have nowhere to go. May I come with you?"
The doctor stared at him for a moment, as though waiting for a punchline. When one never came, the old man's jaw dropped. "Come with- boy, what is it you think I do?!"
Yoriichi didn't falter. "You save people. I want to be able to save people, too."
"...Is that so?" The old man's eyes narrowed, not in suspicion, but in contemplation. "It won't be easy. I am not an ordinary doctor. I find and make my own medicine. I carry my supplies. I go where I'm needed, and where I'm needed tends to be dangerous and bloody."
Yoriichi simply nodded.
The old man stepped closer and looked him dead in the eye. "You'd better understand that it's not just disease that we battle against in this field. Demons are real, and they don't discriminate between who they slaughter. Being young isn't going to save you. Do you still want to go?"
"Yes, sir."
A momentary look of mirth crossed the old man's face, and he snorted. "Don't call me sir. Call me "Teacher" or "Doctor" or "you asshole", but sir makes me feel old, and I don't need any more reminders of that."
It was nearly imperceptible, but at that, a tiny smile warmed Yoriichi's face, and that lonely emptiness, at least for the moment, was filled.
Doctor Yukimura had not been lying when he said this would be backbreaking work. The exertion alone of carrying the heavy supplies at the pace the pair traveled at was exhausting enough. Compounded with the sheer amount of information that was being fed to Yoriichi- decades of experience, all being compressed into the mind of a preteen- it would have been easy to be overwhelmed. But Yoriichi never complained.
There was a part of him that wondered why physical labor wasn't easier. He didn't know why, but he had a strange, gut instinct that he should be stronger, but he just wasn't. It was a perplexing feeling, and had no basis in reality, so he forced himself to ignore it. If he wanted to be stronger, he would have to get there the same way everyone else did.
In the years they spent together, Doctor Yukimura taught him much.
Yoriichi learned about plants and herbs, things that could be ground and mixed into medicine to relieve all sorts of ailments. He learned how to perform surgery and reset bones. He learned how to sew wounds closed. He even learned how to handle childbirth, although he sincerely hoped he would never be in that particular situation.
Something about the specific scenario of labor was absolutely terrifying to him. The mere thought of it made his gut clench and roll with nausea. Yukimura laughed it off as him being prudish and frightened of intimate relationships with women, but Yoriichi wasn't so sure that was it.
The doctor also taught him about demons.
Apparently, Yukimura has been a member of something called the Demon Slayer Corps. He'd had a noncombatant role, but he'd still learned how to defend himself against demons.
The sun could kill them, as could certain types of poisons. There was also a type of blade that could do the trick, but they had no access to anything like that. Even if they did, Yoriichi wouldn't have been able to bring himself to wield it.
Doctor Yukimura was not a warm man. He was gruff and blunt, and struggled with showing affection. That combined with Yoriichi's wallflower tendencies meant that the pair were less than inclined to have heartfelt conversations or share emotions. But, even with their mutual inability to share words, they still showed care for each other in their own ways, like making the other's favorite foods when they had the time and ingredients for it.
Yukimura, upon learning Yoriichi's deep-seated fear of holding a sword, did not mock or bully him for it as his father once had. Instead, he honed his student's reflexes to a razor sharp point.
"If you can't hit them, at least make sure they can't hit you," Yukimura had reasoned.
It was during one of these sessions when the old man stopped him, a furrow between his brows.
"Boy, do you have any familiarity with a breathing form?"
Yoriichi, lost, had simply blinked in response. "Yes, I am breathing."
He received a light swat on the head. "I'm aware! I was talking about the breath forms that the demon slayers use. Apparently, you have no idea what I'm talking about, but those stances are unmistakable. Where did you learn such a thing? Surely not from those swine who sold you, those two were far too talentless for something like this."
Yoriichi shook his head. "I was just moving in a way that felt natural."
Yukimura hummed in response. "I see. Well, it's a strange coincidence, but there's no denying you have a gift."
After that, the doctor insisted Yoriichi begin learning something called Total Concentration Breathing, which he was to use as he evaded. The technique improved his strength and stamina dramatically. He still felt a strange instinct that he should be stronger, somehow, but once more he pushed the irksome notion aside.
One day, Doctor Yukimura declared that he would be passing away in a month's time, and the old man began to set his affairs in order. Yoriichi protested this, demanding to know how he could be so sure of such a thing, but a flick between the eyebrows silenced him.
"I know my body, boy. I can sense things within myself far more clearly than the average person. Besides, this was going to happen eventually." His gaze was uncommonly warm. "Not many have the fortune of knowing when their time is almost at an end. I will not disregard this gift."
The pair journeyed to the doctor's hometown, which he hadn't visited in years. There, Yukimura showed Yoriichi the sights. In particular, the old man was interested in a nearby peach orchard he had once frequented.
The owner of the orchard was a tiny elderly man with a peg leg and a similarly gruff personality to Yoriichi's teacher. It was unsurprising that they were old friends, and they were quickly invited in for tea and refreshments.
"You managed to snag a successor? You, of all people?" The man, who's name was Jigoro, cackled. "I'm amazed he didn't run for the hills and call you a demon like they used to back in the day!"
Yoriichi turned wide eyes towards his teacher, who snorted. "The slayers used to run from me," he explained, "when I came to treat them. Bunch of ingrates!" He slapped a hand on Yoriichi's shoulder. "Well, they don't have to wet their pants and cry anymore. This boy had a far gentler hand than I."
"Ho, was it your hand they were running from? You sure it wasn't your face?" Jigoro asked with playful rudeness.
"Ha! Well, he's much better looking than me as well, so again, nothing to worry about!"
When the laughter died down, Jigoro wore a thoughtful expression. "A successor, hm… perhaps it would be a good idea for me to find one as well. I'll admit, hearing that you'll pass on soon has me feeling rather motivated."
Yukimura downed his tea in one gulp. "Life doesn't last forever, my friend! If you'd regret not having one, then you know what you must do."
Doctor Yukimura died in his sleep with a smile on his face and Yoriichi by his side. The old man had left his pupil everything he owned, since he had no family. A letter left behind by the doctor instructed him to use the money wisely.
I know you, you soft fool, it read. I know damn well you won't charge money for your services if the patient looks like they can't afford it. So, consider this a safety net. Good intentions and a kind heart aren't going to keep your belly full and a roof over your head.
Yoriichi smiled softly. It was true, he had no intention of charging his patients money. He hadn't asked Doctor Yukimura to teach him out of a desire for wealth.
The old man's death left him very sad, but not in the same way that being sold had. The ache was bittersweet, warmed by fond memories and well wishes. Knowing in advance and having time to mentally prepare helped as well. As Yoriichi readied himself to depart the village, Jigoro stopped by.
"Take care of yourself, young man," the retired demon slayer instructed. "You seem like the type to burn yourself out for the sake of others. Just remember that you need to look out for yourself, too." Jigoro whacked Yoriichi's leg with his cane, causing the boy to stumble to his height. Looking eye to eye, he added firmly, "I told Yukimura I'd look after you in his stead. So, should you ever find yourself in a bind, return to my orchard. I'll be there."
With that, he was sent off with a wave and a basket laden down with peaches.
Three months after the death of Yukimura, Yoriichi encountered a demon for the first time.
He was treating a young man who had fallen from a tree when foraging for fruit to feed his family. The boy had no broken bones, luckily, but a large gash had been torn in his abdomen, and he was bleeding heavily from it. Yoriichi had just finished sewing the wound shut when he sensed something unnatural. It was like a tug on his sixth sense- an absolute certainty that something was wrong. Quietly, he handed a roll of bandages to the boy's mother, instructing her to wrap the wound and stay inside before he stepped out from the humble hut into the cool night air.
His exit startled the demon, who had been stealthily creeping forward as it made its way towards the door. Now caught, it drew itself up to its full, monstrous height. The hideous creature was maybe double Yoriichi's height, with grey blubbery skin and milky, bulging eyes. It licked its lips as it stared down at him. "Well, what do we have here? It isn't every day that a tender morsel simply walks up to me! Do you have a death wish, brat?"
"Please leave," Yoriichi tonelessly responded.
The demon's eyebrow twitched, and his amused expression shifted to one of annoyance. "Hm? What's wrong with you, you shitty kid? This is the part where you scream and run. And then I kill you."
"You're trespassing. Please go away."
A vein pulsed in the demon's forehead. "Are you broken or something?! Open your mouth and SCREAM!" With that, the demon lunged forward, clawed hand extended.
Yoriichi effortlessly ducked under its arm.
Further enraged, the demon wheeled about and charged again, only to be met with a similar result. Again and again the monstrous creature attacked, and without fail, Yoriichi danced out of its grasp.
Unbeknownst to the demon with its furious tunnel vision, the two fell into a hypnotic pattern. In a span of time that felt like minutes, hours passed. Unwilling partners in a dance of death, the demon endlessly lunged forward, unaware of the slowly lightening sky as it pursued its slippery prey.
Dawn broke, and the sun's rays crested the horizon.
The demon never even had a chance to consider retreating into the shadows as it disintegrated on the spot, its feet still moving until the very end.
Yoriichi, as though coming out of a trance, stumbled to a halt. He felt oddly overwhelmed, like he was on the cusp of unearthing an important memory. But even as he strained to reach for it, it receded, slipping away into a shadowed corner of his mind.
He was offered no time to dwell on the peculiar sensation. The family in the hut had seen everything, and they all but dragged him back inside, raucously cheering for his victory against the man-eating demon. Apparently the beast had been rumored to be terrorizing the village for some time now. While Yoriichi stubbornly refused to accept any payment for the treatment of the boy who'd fallen from the tree, he was much less successful resisting the passionate villagers. They had little money to give, but even so, ample amounts of dried meats and root vegetables were piled into his arms, and his threadbare hakama and kimono were eagerly replaced with a warmer set by the elderly village seamstress. The obstinate woman was an especially hard one for Yoriichi to say no to, with her domineering personality easily steamrolling over his own soft spoken nature.
"Take this too," she demanded, brandishing a dark red haori at him. "You said you were heading towards the mountain, right? It's cold there! Besides, this color is perfect for you, much better than all that dull black you favor."
Privately, Yoriichi found himself agreeing- the red was a nice color. But even so… "Let me pay for it. It was one thing for you to replace my old clothes, but I was not wearing a haori. I insist-"
"If you don't take it I'll throw it into the river! Put it on this instant!"
Thoroughly defeated by a tiny old woman, Yoriichi pulled on the haori. The fabric was indescribably soft and warm.
"Is that a smile I see?" The seamstress cooed. "That's all the payment I need, Doctor."
At the title, Yoriichi's felt a flutter of shock before his smile grew slightly wider.
Yoriichi wasn't fully certain why he had been drifting towards this mountain. It was a bewitching, irresistible pull- a strange combination of longing, nostalgia, and duty. He had learned through experience not to ignore that extrasensory perception of his, so he made no effort to resist the pull. In the village at the foot of the mountain, he made some inquiries about what might be the cause of his draw.
"Not much to note about the mountain," a gangly man mused when questioned. "But there is a family of charcoal sellers that live up there! Real nice people. The kids come here every now and then, especially the eldest boy. Those parents are lucky, having such cute and polite children!" The man then launched into a tangent about how much he would love to get married to a pretty gal and have a family of his own, and Yoriichi found himself wishing he had his teacher's ability to immediately extract himself from conversation.
He finally managed to escape the man after deftly turning down the offer to go drinking together. "I don't drink," he lied easily, and that was the end of that. He would never be able to brusquely turn conversations in his favor the way Doctor Yukimura had been able to, but at least he had mastered the art of telling little white lies. The practice had seemed immoral once, back when he never needed to speak and just let his teacher do all of the talking for him, but since he'd been traveling on his own, he learned that sometimes in order to avoid conflict, people needed to hear what they wanted to hear.
Just as the seamstress had claimed, the mountain was indeed quite cold. Clouds lay thick and heavy in the sky. It seemed that it was going to snow soon. As Yoriichi was busy trying to calculate how much time he had to reach his destination, he made a shocking clumsy blunder and stepped right onto the surface of a frozen puddle. Immediately, the thin ice cracked on contact, and both of his feet were plunged into icy water. He quickly retreated back away from the cold, but not soon enough. His tabi socks were soaked through and even worse, the strap of his sandals had broken. Yoriichi stared in amazement at his feet before a huff of self deprecating laughter escaped him. He must truly have been possessed by this mountain if he could make such an absent-minded blunder. Resigned, he tugged his waterlogged footwear off and stowed them in his bag. Barefoot it was, then. Fortunately for Yoriichi, the path was relatively smooth, even if it was a bit chilly. He briefly contemplated heading back down to the village, but he quickly dismissed the notion. Judging by how long he'd been walking, he was halfway there towards his destination. It would take just as long for him to move forward, so there was no point in turning back now.
The cold earth was slightly damp beneath his feet as he continued onward. Soon his breath left visible puffs in the air. The soft red haori was a blessing, and he tucked his hands into it gratefully. Eventually, he was able to catch the subtle scent of smoke, and he felt another heady rush of nostalgia. His pace quickened.
When the little house came into view, the feeling overwhelmed him to the point of bringing him to a standstill. He felt a desperate urge to take everything in, and so he did, absorbing the sight of the little house and the view behind it.
Some aspects didn't feel familiar to him, specifically when it came to the house itself. But still, the feeling persisted. Was it the view, then? His gaze shifted to look towards the horizon. He couldn’t tell.
Distantly, he was aware that he could hear voices from inside the home, but it wasn't until someone exited the residence and made a sound of surprise that he turned towards them.
The sight of the person before him made him feel as though he'd been punched in the stomach. If he'd thought that the land around him seemed familiar, that was nothing compared to the boy he was now looking at. Dark red hair, green checkered clothing, large wine colored eyes… he knew this boy, didn't he?
The boy's eyes widened as well, but the expression was one of concern, not recognition. "Are you alright?!" he cried, the volume of his voice making Yoriichi jump. Before he knew how to process what was happening, the boy was right in front of him, clutching at his arms and tugging him towards the home. "You aren't wearing any shoes! You must be freezing!"
Weakly, Yoriichi protested. "I'm alright, it isn't that cold," but it didn't seem like the boy was listening.
"Tanjiro? What's going on? Who's this guy?" A younger boy with a beauty mark was in the process of wrapping a scarf around his neck. It looked like he was getting ready to leave. Actually, now that he was paying attention, the boy who had dragged him indoors was in a similar state of dress. Had he interrupted something?
Contrite, Yoriichi held up his hands. "My apologies for disturbing you. You seem occupied."
"Not at all!" The boy (Tanjiro, if he'd heard correctly) said earnestly. "Well, that is, we are busy, but you aren't being a bother! There's no way we'd leave a traveler out in the cold. But…"
"Yeah, we gotta get going, though." The younger boy shrugged, looking apologetic. "If we wait too much longer, the storm might leave us stranded in town."
Yoriichi nodded in understanding and turned towards the door. Immediately, Tanjiro grabbed his arm again. "Wait!" The boy protested. "You can stay here while we're gone! Mother and my other siblings are out gathering food right now, but father could really use some company before we get back. Won't you please stay with him?"
Yoriichi cocked his head to the side, baffled at the flawlessly guileless expression. He genuinely couldn't tell if Tanjiro was just saying what he needed to hear to keep him inside, or if his father was truly lonely.
Certainly, this young man had to be a skillful manipulator… Doctor Yukimura would have been impressed.
Unable to do anything but obediently nod, Yoriichi was left waving goodbye to two fascinatingly familiar strangers as he was left alone in their house with their father.
...Stranger things had happened, he supposed.
Tanjiro, as he raced down the mountain with Takeo at his heels, wished that the day had played out differently.
Had he the time, he would have loved to stay and make the teenager who showed up with no shoes and a heavy, overlarge pack comfortable. Under any ordinary circumstances, the eldest son of the Kamado family would have dropped everything in an instant to brew some tea and swaddle the poor lost stranger in blankets. But, to his chagrin, this was not an ordinary day.
His father had fallen extremely ill.
Tanjuro Kamado had been sickly for quite some time. The illness had set in when Tanjiro was still young enough to be confused about what was happening- to wonder why Father wasn't giving him piggyback rides or racing up and down the mountain anymore. For whatever reason, Tanjuro had never been able to fully shake the ailment. There were good days and bad days, but ordinarily, the bad days only lasted so long.
But lately, that hadn't been the case. His condition was rapidly worsening. This morning had been the hardest one by far, with Tanjuro's face tight with pain and unable to eat anything as a cold sweat trickled down his brow. If something wasn't done soon… there was a chance he wouldn't make it through the night.
That was the cause of the current frenzied nature of the Kamado household. His mother and other siblings were hoping a hearty, healthy meal would do the rapidly fading man some good. As for Tanjiro and Takeo, they were in pursuit of the doctor who lived in the village at the mountain's base.
"Tanjiro?" Takeo called from behind his brother. In response, Tanjiro slowed down a bit so he could hear him more clearly. "Was it really a good idea for us to leave some wanderer alone with Dad? What if he robs us or something? It's not like Dad could stop him, in his condition…"
Tanjiro let a small laugh escape him. "I understand how it could seem worrisome. But it's okay. That guy's scent was very soft and gentle. There's no way someone like that would do us any harm!"
Takeo looked unsurprised, but relieved all the same. "I sort of figured. You aren't the type to gamble. I'm just-" his voice wobbled a little and he cleared his throat, doing his best to pretend his eyes weren't watery. "-just kind of worried, that's all."
Tanjiro's heart clenched, and he fought to keep his own voice steady. "It'll be okay. We'll tell the doctor what's going on. I'm sure he'll be able to help!"
He tried very hard not to think about the fact that the very same doctor hadn't been able to cure his father before- no one had.
He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t stand it. Even if Father couldn’t be cured completely, some medicines helped a little, at least! So he told himself everything would be okay and kept running.
They were met with devastating news.
Upon arriving at the village, sweating and out of breath, they made their way immediately to the doctor's residence.
With a sorrowful expression, the man's son told them that the doctor had passed away just three days ago.
With despair sitting hot and heavy in Tanjiro’s stomach like bile, he whispered his condolences. Takeo didn't say anything, overwhelmed with silent tears.
As bad as that was, that still wasn't the worst of it. Snow had already begun to fall as the siblings made their journey, but now the wind had picked up, too. The gusty conditions combined with the fresh, powdered snow meant that there was no way they could travel back home safely. Old man Saburo had all but dragged them into his home and scolded them for trying, telling them what they already knew to be true; even if their father passed away in the night, the two of them dying in a blizzard trying to reach him would be a futile and tragic end.
Even so, bitter tears rolled down Tanjiro’s cheeks when he hoped his brother wasn't looking. He could smell the misery and the salt from Takeo crying. He had to be strong for his little brother, he knew it, it just hurt.
At least everyone else was there with Father. Mother would know what to do, and Nezuko would look after the others. And maybe the presence of that traveler with the soft scent would help, too.
He just wished he could be there to say goodbye.
It was with heavy hearts and tired eyes that the duo trekked back home. Despite their poor sleep, they kept a swift pace; there was a chance that their father had pulled through the night and they could still spend a little more time together. But by this point, Tanjiro’s desperate optimism had faded. Even if he could keep it up, Takeo's nerves were frayed from stress, and it likely only would have made his brother angry by trying to pretend everything would be fine.
After what felt like an eternity of walking in silence, their home eventually came into view. Without needing to consult each other, they both broke into a run.
In their haste, they very nearly bowled over Nezuko, who rounded the corner holding a basket full of laundry. At the sight of them, her eyes grew wide and delighted.
"N-Nezuko-" Tanjiro stammered, completely caught off guard by the cheerful expression. He was not given time to finish speaking as his sister grabbed both him and Takeo and bodily yanked them into their home.
"Father! Tanjiro and Takeo are home!" She sang.
Tanjiro couldn’t believe his eyes. The scene before him was so wondrous and impossible that he even took a few tentative sniffs of the air and pinched himself, just to make absolutely sure this was no hallucination or dream.
His father was not only out of bed, he was sitting up on his own. He still looked ill, but there was color in his cheeks, and he looked like he had more energy than he'd had even before this latest relapse in sickness had hit.
How? How could such a miracle happen overnight?!
Tanjuro smiled at his sons and carefully set down his tea before opening his arms. The siblings wasted no time in diving into the embrace, still mindful of their father's thin frame. Tanjiro, unable to hold back his emotions any longer, bawled.
"We- we thought you'd be dead when we got back!" Takeo sobbed. "We thought we'd never see you again!"
"I know, I know." Tanjuro soothed, smoothing down their hair and kissing them both on the foreheads. "I'm so sorry I worried you."
"How?!" Tanjiro gasped as soon as he could catch his breath from how hard he'd been crying. "How is this possible? Father, I thought for sure we were about to lose you!"
His father smiled warmly. "It seems I have you partly to thank for that, Tanjiro." When Tanjiro simply looked confused, he clarified. "You told that young man, Yoriichi, to look after me, did you not?"
"I-I did, yes. But what does that…?"
"He's a doctor, Tanjiro!" Nezuko clasped her hands together. "The most amazing doctor I've ever seen! He made tea that cured father!"
Tanjuro chuckled. "Easy, my daughter. The doctor was clear that it would take much longer for the medication to fully eliminate the sickness in my body. There is still much to be done."
"But it's curable?" Tanjiro's eyes were huge. "If you keep drinking the tea, will you be well again?"
Tanjuro nodded, gaze warm. "So it seems. Truth be told, even though Doctor Yoriichi said it would take some time, I am already feeling much better." He raised his eyebrows jokingly. "Dare I say, I'm even feeling hungry! That medicine is horribly bitter, but it's so effective I have no desire to complain."
Tanjiro felt his eyes well up with tears once more. Before he could break down again, he was distracted by the rest of his family entering the home.
"Tanjiro! Takeo!" Hanako sang, running to hug them. "Isn't it wonderful? Father's up!"
"He's up!" Shigeru echoed, dancing around them.
From Kei's back, Rokuta babbled happily. His mother wore an expression that looked very much like how Tanjiro felt- a little overwhelmed, and filled with joy so raw and unexpected it was almost akin to disbelief.
Trailing behind the family was the silent, long haired wanderer that saved Tanjiro’s father's life. The doctor- Yoriichi, apparently- barely looked any older than he was, and yet…!
Tanjiro dropped to his knees and bowed until his head touched the ground. "Thank you, Doctor!" He cried. "Thank you so much for helping our family! I swear, as the eldest son, I will work to pay off any medical debts for as long as it takes! Even if it takes my whole life, I'll do it gladly! Thank you!"
To his surprise, the doctor didn't respond, and Tanjiro raised his head. Yoriichi's cheeks were flushed slightly, and he was holding his hands up in an anxious protest. "There is no debt to pay," he insisted in a voice that was as soft as his scent. "You owe me nothing."
Tanjiro gaped at him. Distantly, he heard his mother let out a fondly exasperated chuckle. "I insist!" Tanjiro's volume grew louder. "Let me repay you!"
Yoriichi looked almost panicked at his vehemence and peeked towards Kie as if seeking aid. Her quiet giggling bloomed into a full laugh. "It's alright, my dear. We have another way to show our gratitude that doesn’t involve you becoming an indentured servant."
"Jeez, big brother…" Nezuko teased as Tanjiro’s face turned red.
"As I said, my treatment will take some time," Tanjuro explained. "Yoriichi has requested that he supervise the process so that I don't regress or run into any complications."
Hanako chimed in. "So in the meantime, we're going to give mister Yoriichi the royal treatment! Extra food at dinner, super soft blankets, all that stuff!"
"There's no need for that," Yoriichi interrupted hurriedly. "I don't want to impose. I mean it when I say you owe me nothing."
Takeo made a face and raised an eyebrow. "Man, you guys don't talk alike, but you and Tanjiro are really similar, huh?"
Shigeru placed his small hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. "The Kamado family doesn't receive kindness without showing gratitude!"
Tanjiro rushed forward and took Yoriichi's hand in his own. "We'll take good care of you while you're here, Doctor! Please let me know right away if you need anything at all!"
"You're overwhelming him, big brother," Nezuko joked. "He's going to think you're strange."
"I don't mind! I mean what I said!"
Kie placed a comforting hand on Yoriichi's shoulder. "Forgive us for being overzealous, but it truly is no bother. We enjoy looking after others in this house. There is no greater joy than sharing the blessings we have given." She patted his cheek. "So please, don't apologize for burdening us. You are no such thing."
In the face of the unified Kamado front, Yoriichi had no choice but to bow his head in agreement. "Very well, if you insist," he acquiesced.