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The Demon Slayer Corps were somewhat ruthless. If you die, you die. If you’re injured, keep fighting. If you lose someone close, it’s just life. You can’t go back and change the past. If Obanai could, he would.
He’d make sure that he’d escaped earlier. He’d pay attention to the eyes and the feeling that he drowned in at night all those years ago. He wouldn't have been so selfish, allowing his family to be devoured. Most of all, he’d make sure someone like Mitsuri would never have to risk her life in battle.
It was a challenge every day. Going out, fighting, risking life and limb, wondering if the sun would come and just end it all. The night became his least favorite thing. In a word, he hated it. The moon didn’t provide graceful serenity, it provoked the fear of death. It was his punishment, his atonement. It was hell and Obanai Iguro deserved every second.
“Iguro!” Her voice was like bells chiming in the gentle wind.
“Kanroji,” Obanai bowed his head in acknowledgment, “Nice to see you.”
She smiled, her presence illuminated the surroundings. He was on his way to the Wind estate, visiting Sanemi for training. Pain-in-the-ass Tomioka would be there too, he always was. “Where are you heading off to?”
“I’m going to visit Shinazugawa for training. You’re welcome to come.” He could imagine Sanemi’s reaction.
‘Hah? What the hell is Mitsuri doing here? Was she invited? Not that she’s unwelcome- but who the hell invited her?’
‘He’s upset that he doesn’t have enough food prepared for Mitsuri-san.’ Tomioka would supply without anyone asking. He’d be right of course. He and Shinazugawa had a sort of… understanding.
“Oh, no no. Thank you, Iguro. I was just wondering! Ubayashiki-sama assigned the two of us on a mission! Just wanted to let you know in person! We’re to leave for a shoreline village within the next 48 hours. See you!” and she was off.
She was too good for this world. He knew that, many did.
---
The sun rose from behind the mountains, Muzan crumbling to ash. He couldn’t see it, but the warmth and cheers were more than enough to know. He was holding Mitsuri in his arms, her body wet and sticky from blood.
“Iguro, don’t die. Please don’t die.”
“What about you? I don’t want you to die either.”
“In our next life, please, can I ask to be yours?”
Iguro felt a warmth bubble in his chest. Maybe it was the blood. It didn’t matter. “Sure,” he smiled, “Sure, if you’ll have me.”
“Thank you… Iguro. You make me so… happy…” Mitsuri’s body slumped in his arms.
Tears spilled down his face, mixing with his own blood. “You make me happy as well…” he felt himself drift off to a darkness, atonement at last.
---
He was short for a man. His hair was straight and long and always messy in some way or another, so it was tied into a low ponytail. Germs were everywhere, and women were disgusting. Maybe he was allergic, so he wore a mask.
He was born with heterochromia, a condition where the iris is multicolored, or in his case, he had two different colored eyes. Yellow and blue.
She was strong for a woman. Her hair unnatural, pink and green. She wore a bright smile on her face and loved the color green and sakura mochi.
She was born with a strong build. She looked normal, her figure everything a woman could want for a body, but she was immensely strong. Physically. She could wrestle a bear and win (probably).
They were opposites. Over and over, every circumstance and outcome, they weren’t the same in any particular way. They weren't the same and yet, they were identical in love. Unfathomable, true, raw, and unfiltered love. Love that had brought five wonderful children into the world who were each raised with the same love and care they had for each other.
It was simple, it was happy, it was perfect, and the two of them wouldn’t trade it for the world.