Archive of Our Own

The first time you’d ever eaten a mikan was when you were six and living at home with your mother in Kyoto. 

“What’s a mi-ka-n?”

“It’s a fruit. No! Don’t just bite it. The skin has to come off first. Here, give it back, and I’ll peel it.”

You watched your mother peel the little orange with the fingernail on her thumb. There was some dirt or gunk under her nail. You fixated on it helplessly because you were six years old and couldn’t do anything about it except to pointedly stare. But she didn’t notice. 

Little revenges from the heavens were the only recourse available for the six-year-old you. You put two wedges of mikan into your mouth at once, not expecting how juicy they would be. The juice squirted out, sailed through the air, and hit your mother’s right eye like the razor-sharp arrowhead shot from the longbow of war. As she wailed, fumbling around for a handkerchief to dab her eye on, you marveled at how sweet it tasted. 

“Mikans are delicious!”

So traveled your train of thought as Rengoku produced one from his sleeve and held it out to you this frigid December morning on his veranda. The veranda faced a courtyard turned into a silent winter wonderland. 

“Here, a mikan!”

“Thanks…”

Hesitant, you accepted the cheerful citrus fruit from Rengoku. He stared at you so hard that a layer of sweat broke out across your body, even though it was December. Snow had started to quietly fall from a light gray sky, blanketing the courtyard of the Rengoku house in delicate frost. It was so perfect that it could have been a painting.

You clutched the mikan quietly in your lap and watched the snowflakes settle onto a stone lantern in the distance. 

“Do you want me to peel it for you?” Rengoku stuck his hand out. You glanced up, trying to enjoy the silent moment, but he was interrupting it. You could almost see the thoughts playing in his head. His single minded goal was to get you to eat the mikan. He was going to watch you eat this goddamn mikan even if it meant he had to peel it and stuff it into your mouth, bit by bit. You raised your hands to your face to remove your veil, eyebrows twitching at the eager look he suddenly wore. 

“If I may ask, why do you look so excited, Rengoku-sama?” You knew why. You just needed him to explain it aloud. 

“Because I enjoy looking at your face, ____!” He didn’t even hesitate. “You have the best face I have ever seen.”

You knew this was the answer but it didn’t stop you from growing very warm all over, anyway. Unable to look him in the eye, you put the mikan into his outstretched hand and let him peel it for you. 

Which was a mistake, because instead of peeling it with his hand like a normal person, he took out a whittling knife from nowhere and skinned the little fruit in a single rapid movement. It would have been impressive if it hadn’t also smoked the poor little orange whole, a sudden flash of flame disappearing as quickly as it had appeared, but leaving behind a sad little thread of black smoke trailing up from the bubbling remains of what had been your snack. 

“.......”

Rengoku burst out laughing. 

“Maybe I have accidentally rediscovered one of Flame Breathing’s lost forms!”

He disappeared inside for a moment to get you a new one. 

You watched your breath rise into the stillness and thought about your cheerful companion. He occupied your thoughts more often than not lately. 

At first, you’d worried about him. He’d been so severely injured during the Infinity Train incident that the doctors had started to whisper that he wouldn’t be able to hold a sword ever again. While Rengoku hadn’t formally announced his retirement, everyone knew it was just a matter of time. 

The news weighed heaviest on his younger brother, Senjuro. Even now, he was shut away in his room, too depressed to come out. Normally, he would have become his older brother’s Tsuguko and then would have struck out to become a Hashira in his place. But he lacked the same talent and skill with swordsmanship his father and brother had. 

You had recommended him for a Kakushi’s veil, but his father hadn’t allowed it. 

To give him some credit, for as rough and unpleasant as Rengoku Shinjuro could be sometimes, he never insulted or used harsh words about Senjuro. You would have given him more credit, though, if he could hold back those sentiments about his older son. 

But it wasn’t proper for a Kakushi to get involved in the family affairs of any Demon Slayer, especially a Hashira. Rengoku Shinjuro deserved your utmost respect. 

“Oh, _____! Why do you look so glum? Are you cold?” Rengoku returned with a whole wooden crate of mikans under his arm. He set it down and the decisive sound it made indicated that it was heavier than Rengoku made it look. Eyeing it warily, you wondered why the doctors doubted that his strength wasn’t returning after all. 

“I’m a little cold,” you admitted. “But it wouldn’t be right not to watch the first snow of the year.”

He immediately draped a long and thick robe over your shoulders. 

“After this, let’s take a bath!” The playful smile he wore filled in the missing word, which was “together.” Stone faced, you bowed your head politely and worked on peeling a new mikan.

“The Master purchased a new car and it has a heater.”

“Haha! Too convenient!”

You ate the mikans together in awkward silence. You still owed Rengoku a response to an important question that you were too nervous to properly answer. Months had passed and the opportunity to give a proper reply had grown harder to take. The answer should have been just yes or no. But you had never been in love before and that was the question. Were you in love with Rengoku, or weren’t you? 

You snuck a peek at him from the corner of your eye. A snowflake settled onto his starkly black eyelashes, melting into nothing immediately. Even Rengoku’s eyelashes were warm. 

He felt you looking at him but he wasn’t the type to sneak a glance like you were. He turned his face to watch you head on, his glowing eyes and confident smile challenging you to put a thought into words. You wanted to look away but you forced yourself to face him, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. 

Did you love Rengoku?! Thoughts spinning frantically in your mind, you dredged up a thousand different reservations and excuses for why the answer should be no. 

Of course you liked Rengoku Kyojuro! He was kind and beautiful and strong. Albeit a bit weird.

But didn’t you just feel flattered by his attentions because you respected him? He was a whole-ass Hashira. Not a half-ass Hashira, either; he was scarily efficient at his job, always wearing an unexpected smile. The incredible Flame Hashira! You felt… honored. 

But why you? What could you possibly have to offer someone like Rengoku Kyojuro? You couldn’t think of a single thing you’d ever done for the man to make him love you.

You racked your brains but came up with nothing. You’d never been in love before, so you had nothing to compare this with. And since you had never been in love before, you were very afraid of fucking it up. 

You weren’t sure you could handle getting dumped one day by the Flame Hashira when you ended up being a terrible lover. 

Besides! He was the Flame Hashira! A Hashira! What business did you have with a Hashira?! You were just a weak little Kakushi.  

“Umm,” you said decisively. Decisive that you had no idea what to do. You could feel the warmth that radiated from his body, even through the thick robe draped around you. Without you noticing, he’d drawn close enough to you that if you moved just a little, you’d touch him. Or maybe it was the opposite. It would take only the smallest movement for him to touch you. 

The primal feeling in the core of your body would have kept you more than warm enough by this point. Even though it was so cold, your face sweated nervously. Rengoku seemed to be enjoying watching your reaction unfold. He didn’t blink, not even once. 

You finally made your decision.

“You’re really a great uh. Hashira. Hashira-sama. So cool. I’m moved.” The voice you barely heard coming out of you over the pounding of your own heart sounded dead. But Rengoku puffed up anyway, pleased with your words. 

It would be best to just turn him down gently.

“That’s why, uh, I…”

This was the best for both of you. Rengoku was staring at you so hard and you faintly imagined that he was willing your bladder to fill up because it felt uncomfortably full. 

“I must humbly…”

This was the best for both of you.

“Um.” You swallowed loudly, an intense humming trapped between your ears. 

“I must humbly decline,” you finally managed in a semi-whisper. “Thank you for your sincerity, Rengoku-sama.”

You folded yourself into a tight little bow that made you look like a pillbug, pressing your damp forehead to the floor.

This was the best for both of you. Strained, you forced yourself back up into a sitting position, trying to look confident in your decision but your eyes had filled with uncertain tears.

The door to the veranda snapped open and you jumped. 

Rengoku Shinjuro turned to you. His stubble looked really prickly. Looking at it made you feel itchy. This wasn’t your first meeting, but you hadn’t yet grown accustomed to him. He was always disheveled and smelled of stale booze.

“Who are you?” 

You jammed your veil and headpiece back on, reflexively folding yourself back into the smallest possible configuration on the floor. 

“Oh. It’s just you, Tokai. Huh… Never would have guessed you were a looker in there.”

You spluttered against the floor. These Rengoku people were so brazen! The younger started laughing and you ground your forehead against the floorboards. 

“Father, could you leave us alone for a moment? _____ was just in the middle of rejecting my advances!”

“I was not!” you retorted automatically, face still buried in the floor. You snuck a peek and found two pairs of staring, flame-colored eyes watching you intently. 

You were definitely being bullied. 

“Well then, don’t let me get in between you and what I’m sure is going to be a useful learning experience for you, son.” You heard the door slide shut again. 

“Uuuuuhh…” you sobbed. “My heart can’t take this any more.” You rolled over onto your side, imagining leaping over the courtyard fence and escaping forever. 

“Don’t worry, ____! I know you can do it! I’m here to support you!” Rengoku’s usual cheer had returned in full force. You peeled the veil away from your face again, defeated.

Something in you snapped and you stifled a laugh. Your stifled laugh turned into a full blown chuckle. And then, suddenly, you were cracking up, curled on your side on the floor. Tears streamed down your face as your nerves unraveled themselves, one by one. 

Somehow, Rengoku was the one who’d just gotten dumped but you were the one crying while he consoled you? You couldn’t help but to laugh.

“Haha!” Rengoku was laughing now, too, and he looked genuinely amused. Maybe he’d really just been teasing you and you were finally in on the joke. It was a terrible and cruel joke. But you’d rather be in on it than not. 

“So, I guess that’s that, then,” you said, rolling back over onto your knees. 

“What’s what when?” His smile was polite and he busied his hands with opening another mikan.

“About us.” Your face tensed. 

“Oh! Hm.” His smile widened.

“Can you explain it to me again?”

You had to force yourself to take a breath. 

“IhavetodeclineyourkindofferIamafraidyousee.” The words came out so fast they were stuck together into one big word. Rengoku tilted his head just barely to the side, the smile still stuck on his face in a way that made you assume he’d been born with it. 

“Well, it wasn’t an offer!” The look in his eyes as he regarded you was nearly predatory. “It was a request.”

“A request,” you repeated shakily. 

“Yes! A request.”

“IhavetodeclineyourkindrequestIamafraidyousee.” You repeated yourself, kind of. 

“Well, it wasn’t out of kindness!” The look in his eyes was definitely predatory. You gulped loudly. 

“Then… then…”

“It was because I am in love with you!”

You had a little panic attack. He was so close that your knees were touching. You started to cry again.

“I can’t,” you wailed pathetically. “You’re a Hashira and I’m just–”

“Just what?” He seized both of your hands, clutching them so tight that you couldn’t feel your fingers. 

“I’m just a Kakushi,” you finished. “You’re a Hashira! I’m a Kakushi! You’re perfect and strong and… and… incorruptible?! How would that even work?! I’m not worthy!”

“What?” He sounded genuinely confused now. And hurt. Finally, you’d touched a nerve.

“It’s the best for both of us,” you finally said. 

Rengoku fell silent. You snuck a peek at his face and found an expression of concern there you didn’t expect. He folded his sleeve over to wipe away the tears and sweat and snot that had started to drip from your chin. Gross. 

“You’re not worthy of what?” he said quietly, now looking thoughtful. 

Fresh tears flowed down your cheeks as you became acutely aware of how pathetic you were. 

“Your, uh… love, I guess…” The word “love” got stuck in your throat like a dry rice cracker.

“Because I’m a Hashira?”

You nodded. 

“And you’re a Kakushi?”

You nodded again.

“Well, if that’s the way you really see us, there isn’t too much I can do about it,” Rengoku immediately concluded, a small smile returned to his face. “But I do have an alternate proposal! Will you hear me out?”

You had no choice but to nod a third time. 

“If we defeat Kibutsuji Muzan, let’s be together!”

You gaped. “How does that change anything?” 

His eyebrows climbed up his forehead and you got the sense that you were supposed to be following but weren’t.

“Then, our work will be done and I will no longer be a Hashira! You will no longer be a Kakushi! And we’ll just be two human people, free to do whatever we want! Well, the truth is that is how we are now! But if you don’t see it that way, I can’t force you!” 

“But…” Your voice wavered. 

“Oh!” Unexpectedly, Rengoku turned very red. 

“Unless you don’t love me back…” Bashful, he finally lowered his eyes from you and you breathed, his warmth still so close that you could feel him on your skin.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say that you did not feel something for him. But it refused to be put into words because it was the best for the both of you. 

“Um.” 

“It sounds like I have a chance!” He beamed at you. 

You stared at him, bewildered. 

“How are your injuries?”

“Oh! Changing the subject! How adept you are, _____! I enjoy that part of you, too!” 

“Don’t mess with me,” you sobbed, unable to believe your own rudeness.

“Hm? I would never!” Rengoku started laughing and the sound filled the whole courtyard with ease. 

“I’m going home,” you said. You pulled yourself to your feet, giving Rengoku a cautious look. He hadn’t answered your question about his injuries. 

“If you want to see where my injury has healed, I’ll show you right now!” As if he’d read your mind, he started working his arms out of the sleeves of his kimono. “You can even touch it if you–”

You popped the door open and threw yourself through it before he could finish his sentence.

Snap. Door closed. Disaster sealed. You scrambled from the house, jamming your shoes onto your feet in a hurry. You only breathed again once you were securely in the car, the frozen steering wheel clutched firmly in your palms. 

You glanced back and forth to make sure the doors were closed and locked. 

“AAAAAA–” 

That night, you met up with the Demon Slayer, Ito Takahiro in the aftermath of his solo mission. He still wasn’t over his ex-girlfriend. He rambled on about the pain of his lost love as you tried to console the little boy he’d just rescued. It was going to be your job to escort him home. You wrapped him up in a shawl, trying to control his shivering. He wasn’t wearing anything warm. 

“My friend, there are worse pains in the world than losing your girl,” you hinted, patting Ito on the shoulder. The young boy he’d saved was starting to hyperventilate. You asked him if he was hurt anywhere. The answer was no. 

“Uhhhh…” Ito sounded doubtful. You shook your head, wishing he’d talk about something else. Anything else. 

“Looks like there’s another demon.”

You sighed, prepared for more of Ito’s rambling, before his words struck you. Your heart leapt into your throat. 

“Wait, what?!” You clutched the rescued boy to you. His name was Shota but you kept forgetting it right away. Ito clambered to his feet, his hand on his katana.

“We should run!” he shouted. And then, he was gone.

“Wow, screw you, too, Ito-san!” you shouted after him, hoisting Shota onto your back. He wasn’t heavy but you couldn’t run as fast as you wanted. You’d only stumbled three steps before you felt it, moist and stale breath fanning down and rustling the flap of fabric that covered the back of your neck. Shota clung to you tighter, his tears soaking into your uniform. 

This was it. You squeezed your eyes shut, your legs still straining under you as you heaved your way out of the alleyway, hoping to at least leave some evidence behind. Something seized the air right above you and you ducked, your neck yanking back as your headdress was plucked off your head, flying away into the darkness. 

Yelling incoherently, you did the only thing you could think of. There was no possible escape now. You grabbed Shota by the back of his collar and forced him off your back as you hit the ground with your knees, curling in to shield him with your body. Every muscle tensed up, preparing for pain. 

A flash of heat roared above you and a shriek pierced the frigid night. You gripped Shota harder since he was shaking so much that you were afraid he would somehow jitter himself out of your protective grasp. 

“Flame Breathing, First Form! Unknowing Fire!!”

You didn’t relax until the familiar smell of burning ash filled your nostrils. Ito crouched over you, his katana still drawn. 

“Flame Breathing,” you sighed, finally letting your death grip on Shota loosen. You sat back onto your rear and fished around in your pocket for a handkerchief. Dabbing Shota’s face with it, you noticed dark spots when you wiped. 

“You hit your face? Shit, your mom’s gonna be mad,” you cursed, rummaging this time for the bit of iodine you had. 

“You hit it when you dropped me,” Shota had the audacity to retort, frowning petulantly. You gave him a look that you hoped was equally petulant. 

“Come onnn,” urged Ito, sheathing his katana. “Tell me how cool I was!”

“No way,” you responded immediately. “We almost died!”

“How was I supposed to know it would follow you two? Don’t you carry a wisteria pouch?”

You stuck your hand into your pocket for a third time and turned it inside out.

“Looks like it fell out.”

Ito scoffed. “Not my fault, then.”

“Hey, I’m not the one with the title of ‘Demon Slayer’ here. I’m a Kakushi. I hide, you slay.” Even though you’d nearly died, your mood had noticeably lightened. Ito strained his face, trying to think of some good response. 

“Fine. But you still gotta admit my technique is pretty awesome.”

“Sure. It’s not your technique, anyway.”

“Hey!! I was gonna be the Flame Hashira’s Tsuguko, I’ll have you know!”

“What happened?” You were half curious. You scrubbed bright orange iodine all over Shota’s face. He spluttered in protest.  

“Er.”

“Ran away?” You gave him a knowing look. Rumor had it, all of Rengoku’s Tsuguko ran away. 

He just scowled at you. 

“Well, it didn’t make a difference being his pupil or not… After I went off on my own, I started getting stuck with him for every damn mission, so I saw him all the time, anyway.”

“I bet someone had a lot of fun, imagining you getting paired up with the master you ran away from for all of your tandem missions.” You stifled a grin. 

“That’s sadistic,” Ito quipped. “Wait… it wasn’t you, was it?!”

You laughed. “No, but if I was in charge of mission assignments, I’d probably do the same thing.”

“Ugh! All the Kakushi are twisted!” 

“Hey, watch it. We know where you live, Ito Takahiro.” You finished working on Shota’s face, which was now saturated with iodine. “Anyway, thanks for your help. You were cool.”

Even in the darkness, you could see him puff up with pride. 

You found your headdress and veil lying back in the alley you’d come from. No trace of the demon was left behind but you were still chilled from your near-death experience. You tried to tell your future self to get a new wisteria pouch. 

After that, you walked Shota back to his house in silence. Apparently, he was a sleepwalker. He’d only made it a couple of blocks from his front door. As you deposited him into the entryway of his house, you instructed him to wash his face before letting his parents see him. You guessed that he probably looked extremely orange from the iodine but it wouldn’t be that apparent until morning. Hopefully, it wouldn’t stain and leave him orange for life. 

Then, you disappeared back into the shadows from whence you came. 

At least, that was how it was supposed to look. 

You balled up your uniform and stuffed it into a wrapping cloth. When you emerged back into the bustling nightlife of Asakusa, you wore a simple indigo robe, your face on plain display, just like everyone else. The bloodied, iodine-stained handkerchief found its way into a charcoal brazier, your hand passing casually by the flame as if you’d just paused for a second to warm your cold palms. 

When you arrived back home for the evening, your entryway was littered with invitations. Ignoring them, you went to get ready for sleep. 

Despite the invitations that kept arriving, you didn’t dare return to the Rengoku house until you had no choice. A job. 

You glared at Kaname, the Rengoku family crow, as he summoned you to the house the next morning for “official Demon Slayer Corps business.” The way he put it made you realize that Rengoku wasn’t giving you a choice. 

You dragged your sorry self to his house and left the car running outside the gate. A sign that you wouldn’t be sticking around for too long. He met you at the front, clutching a small parcel. 

“Did you need a delivery made, Rengoku-sama?” you asked in a strained voice.

“Yes!” he replied immediately. To your surprise, he did actually have a job for you. 

“That’s a hand guard for a Nichirin Sword. I’d like it to be taken to the swordsmiths’ village. It’s said that only the Kakushi know where it is, so I must entrust it to a Kakushi I can depend on.”

Frowning, you stuck it into your pocket. 

“I don’t know where it is, either, but I can make sure it gets there. Probably. Any message to pass on?”

“Yes! It’s for a sword they are reforging for a Demon Slayer named Kamado. I hope it serves as a reminder to him!”

“Reminder?”

“A reminder to come and train under me sometime!”

“Oh…” All of Rengoku’s Tsuguko ran away. Whoever this person was, you felt sorry for him.

“Also, a reminder that no matter what happens, to set his heart ablaze, especially when he needs a light in the darkness.”

Wow. 

“Leave it to me,” you promised, knowing that only Rengoku could say something so grand and have it actually sound right. 

“I’ll, uh… be on my way, then.” You offered a small bow.

“Safe travels, _____!” He didn’t try to delay you in the slightest, exceeding your expectations. But somehow, it left you feeling lonely.

“Um,” you started lamely. He gave you a smile of complete and total patience. It kind of pissed you off. 

“Those mikans the other day were really nice. Thanks a lot for sharing. I’m sorry I didn’t thank you properly…” You meant that. You recognized that you hadn’t been a good friend that day. It wasn’t nice to leave a friend like that after trampling all over his feelings. Even Rengoku Kyojuro must feel sadness sometimes. 

“I hope we are still friends.”

“Of course we are, _____! I will always forgive you, so you mustn’t ever regret yourself!” 

You stared back at him, sensing a double meaning there. 

Maybe you’d turned him down but you still didn’t have the answer. Were you in love with Rengoku Kyojuro? Numb fingers reached up to unpin your veil and you leaned forward and touched your lips to his warm cheek to place a kiss there, feeling that you’d regret it if you didn’t. 

The moment your lips touched his face, you felt terrible for leading him this way and that, rejecting him, then doing confusing things like this. But you couldn’t help yourself because you realized at that precise moment that the answer was yes. You loved Rengoku back and even if it wasn’t proper, it couldn’t be helped.  

Trying to ignore the bewildered look that had developed on his face as you put your veil back on, you climbed back into the car and cleared your throat.

“Well, goodbye then, Rengoku-sama. I’ll be on my way now.”

“......”

You tugged your headpiece lower to cover your wildly twitching eyebrows.

“Please don’t look so confused, Rengoku-sama! You are making me think that I’ve crossed a line.”

“No! Any time! Cross the line any time, _____! I like it! Very good!” 

“I’ll be back soon.” 

“I’ll prepare another box of mikans!”

You already looked forward to it. 

The best way to deliver Rengoku’s package to the swordsmiths’ village was by transport chain. You made your way to one of the Kakushi’s logistics houses to volunteer yourself for one that would end up there. 

Assisting with a transport chain meant you would transport Demon Slayers from one point to another as they made their way to various secret locations. Since you only provided transportation for one leg of the journey, you would have no way of knowing where the Demon Slayers started or where they would end up. It prevented too many people from knowing where certain people were at a given time. 

Transport chains were used to get Demon Slayers to places like the secret Kakushi hospitals, the Nichirin swordsmiths’ village, and to the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters. You usually enjoyed when you got these jobs because they were easy. 

Later that afternoon, at the entrance to Hachioji Castle, you shut the car engine off and checked your pocket watch for the tenth time. 

They were late. 

When things like this happened, your mind leapt to a dozen different conclusions. Had they gotten kidnapped? Stopped by the police? Did the pickup on the other end not manage to show up? Had something gone wrong? 

One downside to working these transport chains was that you always had to go alone. It would have been nice to at least have Hosoi or someone to shoot the shit with. You fidgeted with the chain of your watch. It was almost twenty minutes past the hour. 

You heard them before you saw them. More like… heavy breathing?

“Wow, you’re heavy! We’re late! Here’s the next one!” A voice puffed up by the passenger side of the car. You popped the door open and a single person was unceremoniously dumped in. Chilly air invaded the warm cab and you shivered. 

“What’s the passphrase?” The Kakushi stuck her head in through the window. 

“I wanna eat eel,” you replied immediately, handing her a spare canteen. You did kind of want to eat eel. 

“Whew! Thanks! Have a safe trip.” The Kakushi jogged away. 

“Thank you! You worked really hard!” The Demon Slayer had a cheerful voice and his arm stuck out the open window as he waved after the retreating Kakushi who had dropped him off. Even though he was blindfolded and had his ears plugged, he settled himself into the seat. Somehow, you felt like you recognized him. 

“I’m counting on you, Kakushi-san!” he said to you brightly. Inspecting him more closely, trying to figure out where you’d seen him before, you noticed he was also wearing nose plugs. 

Weird. 

You started the car without a word. After all, it wasn’t like he’d be able to hear you.

It was less than twenty kilometers to the handoff point but the road wasn’t well developed, so you spent some time trying to work around the bumps. About halfway there, you realized where you’d seen this Demon Slayer before. He was the boy who had been at the derailed train incident where you and Hosoi had taken Rengoku from, on the brink of death. He still wore the same checkered haori, but this time, he carried a large piece of wooden luggage with him. 

It wasn’t like you could make any conversation, so you focused just on the road. Within the hour, you made it to the handoff point at the base of Mount Jinba.

“Passphrase?” You watched a male Kakushi approach as you cracked the window open. 

“I want a girlfriend!” 

“Yeah. But, really? Haha.” You stepped out to help your passenger out of the car and onto the next Kakushi’s back. 

“Yeah! But I have high standards!” 

You laughed again, adjusting the wooden luggage on the boy’s back so that it wouldn’t slip. 

“Thanks very much, Kakushi-san! One day, I want to ride in a car properly. It was so comfortable!” The young Demon Slayer waved in your general direction. You patted the back of his luggage. 

You could only picture his face one way, consumed with panic and despair, Rengoku bleeding out into the dirt right in front of him. A shiver traveled down your spine. 

“Can you deliver this along? It has to go to the endpoint for a Demon Slayer named Kamado. The sender is the Flame Hashira.” You put Rengoku’s parcel into the next Kakushi’s pocket. 

“Wow! A VIP,” he exclaimed. “I’ll make sure it gets there safely!”

“The message with it is that Kamado-san should come back to train soon with the Flame Hashira. And, uh…” You hesitated. 

“That no matter what happens, to set his heart ablaze, especially when he needs a light in the darkness.”

“Wow!” he repeated. You nodded with a grave expression behind your veil. 

“That sounds just like him.”

“I know, right?”

“So cool!”

You drove back into Tokyo, the familiar nervousness settling into your stomach again. Now you knew why. The image of Rengoku’s face wouldn’t leave your mind. You wondered what his fluffy hair would feel like to touch. 

No, bad.

You wondered how nice it would feel to be enclosed in his arms, pressed firmly against his beautiful, chiseled–

NO, BAD.

“Aaaaaghhhhh…” you wailed softly, thankful to be alone. You realized that you’d made a mistake. What were you going to say to him to make this all right? Your feelings seemed suddenly so clear to you that you were ashamed for acting so cold. Rengoku was always so good to you and you knew you needed to make it up to him. It was never right to saddle other people with your own indecision. You made a silent wish into the setting sun to become a more confident, decisive person like Rengoku was. 

When you pulled up, Rengoku had the front gate open before you had the chance to turn the engine off. Even though it was freezing outside, his kimono was hanging loose around his waist, draped over a pair of worn hakama. 

In other words, he was naked on top. Naked on top and holding a hatchet. A haze of heat radiated off his exposed skin, distorting the air around him. You stared, unable to close your mouth but also unable to manage anything but a tormented squeak. 

He laughed and helped you out of the car.

“Sorry for my appearance! Father spent so long in the bath that I needed to split more logs so Senjuro could have a turn!” Unfortunately, he put his arms back into his sleeves and pulled his kimono back up around his shoulders. You would have stopped staring by now if it wasn’t for the enormous scar that spanned half of his torso, the remains of the hole that had been punched clean through him by Upper Rank Three. You missed the fond smile he aimed at you as you gawked at it. 

“Want to touch it?” he offered again. 

“Doesn’t it still hurt?” You avoided his question smoothly. 

“Not at all!” He led you inside and into a small room, warmed by a squat brazier. A sliver of cold drifted in through the door, cracked open to let out the smoke. You seated yourself at his invitation and immediately removed your veil and headpiece. 

A crate of mikans sat at the ready. He peeled one, this time with his hand. There was a bit of dirt under the nail on his thumb. You felt a pang of deja vu as he handed you half of it. Careful to contain the juice, you put a single small wedge in your mouth. It was delicious.

“Yes! These mikans are extra delicious this year!” Rengoku exclaimed, his voice so loud that you were sure Senjuro could hear him from the bathtub. 

“They’re really good,” you agreed, trying to summon even half his vigor but only succeeding in sounding like you were about to cry. 

You weren’t going to be deterred by your own misgivings this time. 

“I’ll peel us another one!”

You had to be honest. You owed it to him.

“I love yOU!”

Your voice cracked at the end and you couldn’t stop the fact that you were suddenly weeping and you almost peed a little but you said it!

You did it! 

Alright! Your ears filled with a curious ringing noise but you imagined it as raucous applause. 

Congratulations, _____! You finally, finally said it. 

The door to the little room snapped open and you leapt out of your skin. 

“Hey, Kyojuro, you left the stove lit–”

SLAM.

Rengoku shoved the door shut in his father’s face, staring at you with eyes so wide that you could see the whites all the way around. Holding it closed with his bare heel shoved into the door track, he looked comical. You could hear his father’s footsteps shuffling away. He was muttering something. You stifled a laugh. 

“Really?!” 

“Yeah… Sorry for being so confusing about it. I hope I didn’t– no, sorry. I suck.” You sighed, trying to put away your formalities. “You must be confused. I’ve never been in love before, so I guess it makes the two of us confused.”

Slowly, Rengoku pulled his foot out of the door track. The leg of his hakama had shifted up, revealing a finely muscled calf. You tried not to admire it but failed. But he gave you such a gentle smile that you weren’t sure where to look because he was so beautiful that it made your heart stop. 

“You’re my first love, too, ____!” 

“No way,” you replied immediately, starting to peel another mikan with unwarranted aggression. 

“Why would you think I’m lying?” Rengoku had three peeled mikans on the floor in front of him now. No one was eating. No eat. Only peel. 

“I don’t know! You just seem so sure of what you are doing?” You peeled more rapidly still, five peeled mikans now available for anyone who wanted them. 

“I have no idea what I am doing!” Rengoku’s voice was still confident. He grinned and peeled another in a single swift motion. Six mikans. 

“I don’t know either,” you sobbed. “But I’m just glad to be here eating mikans with you right now, Rengoku-sama.”

“It’s Kyojuro!” he reminded you helpfully. 

“Kyojuro…”

He brightened up immediately. 

“Kyojuro, we should eat some of these…”

Peels littered the floor and there were a dozen opened mikans in little piles between the two of you. 

“Yes, we’ll eat them,” he agreed. “But first…”

He brought his face to yours and for the second time ever, he kissed your lips. But this time was totally different. You’d never felt so warm in your whole life. If you weren’t cautious, you felt as though you would be consumed, like a dry leaf disappearing into the fire. But would it be such a bad thing?

You wrapped your arms around him and he held you so tightly that you weren’t sure where you ended and he began. His mouth tasted like citrus from the mikans. His hand traveled down your back and you shivered from the contact. 

Afraid to go any further, you broke the kiss and opened your mouth to say something, but he leaned into you again and you felt his tongue run between your parted lips in a way that really made you really doubt again that you were his first love. 

His lips found your throat next and settled there, so gentle that your eyes filled with tears for the millionth time, every muscle tensed with anticipation. 

“Re-Rengoku-sama,” you breathed, squeezing your eyes shut. “Kyojuro. Sorry. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“... Hm?” He leaned back from you, taking in your overheated, harassed expression.

“Well, at least this part of you is honest with your feelings!” He laughed. 

You shoved a whole mikan into your mouth to keep yourself from losing more of your composure. 

Kyojuro slid the door open to the veranda. Cold air invaded the room but it had started snowing again. As you chewed, juice went everywhere, so you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

Watching you intently, Kyojuro’s eyebrows knitted as you scrubbed juice and the remnants of his kiss from your lips. But he just reached out with a callused hand and buttoned your collar closed. Somehow, it had come undone. You looked down bashfully and swallowed your half-chewed mikan whole. 

Outside, snow drifted quietly into the frozen courtyard. A misty moon hung in the sky, glowing through the thin clouds. 

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” He wasn’t looking at the moon at all, though. He only looked at you. As his eyes flickered at you in the milky glow of the moonlight, you could only manage to hold his gaze and wish the moment wouldn’t ever end. 

“... There are eleven mikans still to eat,” you found yourself replying stupidly, ending the moment you wished would last forever. But luckily for you, he wasn’t about to let you change the subject again. 

Drawing you into his warm chest, he pressed his lips to yours once more, his warmth invading you, inescapable. Even though the doors were open and the winter cold sucked all the heat from the room, you couldn’t even feel it. 

“Kyojuro…” you dared to whisper into the little space between your faces as he pulled away for just a moment. Admiring him fiercely, you could scarcely believe he was yours. 

But the truth was that he had been yours for a while yet, you, the unsuspecting captor, just a little Kakushi. He was a whole Hashira, so powerful and important that he could almost be forgotten, a presence so hot and omnipotent like the sun that rose every morning and set every night. 

It had been a long time since you'd given much thought to the coming of the New Year. But, nestled comfortably in Kyojuro's arms, you found yourself already looking forward to it.