Chapter Text
Tanjiro had not expected to see Uzui again, or at least not nearly as soon as he does. Leaving the entertainment district to it’s rubble, he had seen the Hashira turn his back, supported by his wives, and hobble away into the distance; bleeding, ashened, but still standing. The staff on hand were too busy fretting about the children to pursue him, muttering something about ‘inhumane’ abilities before lifting them to their respective rescue. He hadn’t expected a visit throughout recovery, and was certain that, with the whispering of Tengen’s retiring dicing from rumours into spoken acceptances, it was likely the last he would see of the sound hashira.
It had taken time for Tanjiro to be out of bed, and much further to be fully discharged. His sword replacement was delivered alongside an array of bitter, life threatening letters courtesy of Hotaru - he needed to thank him in person, provided he survived the encounter - and the unsurprising call came for a new mission. Zenitsu was gone before he’d had the chance to fully wake up, dragged crying to the mountains by other corp members, and while Inosuke had initially stuck around the hospital, he too was sent away early, leaving Tanjiro and Nezuko to embark alone.
He was called further into the rural growth of the forest, closer to mountainlands, and the terrain stank with such a familiarity that it almost hurt. While he was sure Nezuko would be sleeping, recovering from her own fatigue, there were moments of pause between creeks and glades where he would stop and narrate it to her as they went. Small, human things, the way the shrubs would hug the trees in a certain manner, or how the landscape evolved when the slope came. Memories of trekking coal down such similar heights, or of traps that had sent him barrelling down land so similar.
Occasionally, he couldn’t stop himself from speaking of home. It was always small details, reminders of their family embarking down the mountainside to a stream when the summer nights were warmer, or picking hosta flowers to press between cloth and rocks for preservation. His younger brother had sworn to make frames for them one day, if Tanjiro could trade the coal for the materials. Unkept promises from a lifetime ago.
“It’s a shame you can’t visit the Wisteria Grove, you should have seen it,” Tanjiro was saying, his voice light against the slow exhaustion of the climb, “That’s the first place we’ll go when this is over, yeah?”
Inside the box, the tell-tale ‘hmm!’ let him know she was awake, and he grinned behind him, given the strength to continue, “It’s a shame I didn’t get to see Inosuke there. He must have run off straight after training, but he’s so boisterous for a place like that, it would have been an experience. Zenitsu seemed so different back then, too. He’s much louder than I first judged.”
He realised as they climbed that the slope had flattened out faster than expected, especially with how insistently high his crow kept sweeping upwards. The view behind him stretched like a tapestry under a low-hanging sun, soon to set. Clouds in pink and orange swirled over streams, coating fields of rice and wheat in a wash of deep, rich colour. Lights were beginning to ignite in houses below, small pinpricks of yellow drowning each homestead in lights and deep shadows.
Tanjiro held his breath and ached, drawing in deeply. Chest hung. He turned his back and continued pacing.
With the rate of the sun setting, it was important to find a shelter soon. While he knew he could push onwards enough for the night, the journey to the peak of the mountain where the demon was last reported was still a long walk away, and he knew fighting unrested would be ill-advised with his last injuries. It wasn’t impossible someone had moved all the way out here, was it? After all, he’d lived on land not unsimilar for so long. Tanjiro raised his head up, sniffing for the sign of woodsmoke or hearth that could lead him on.
“Ah! I think I’ve found us somewhere, Nezuko!” Tanjro jostled her up his shoulders, pulling the straps, now filled with further resolution. They would be able to find a place by nightfall, he was sure of it. The smell took him further around the mountain, curving across the plateau, which thankfully shortened his potential journey in the morning if the demon stayed put.
He wasn’t expecting the building that grew from behind trees. On lands like these, small log houses or sheep holds would be typical, not the huge, encroaching mansion that seemed to rise from the earth. While most of it was built on the flat land, a back extension had been added that seemed to climb impossibly upwards, separate cabin-like structures jutting out of the mountain face. The magnitude of he building nearly urged Tanjiro away, daring to fight any potential demon that night over intruding, but when he came close enough to inspect, he saw the signature plant-face etched above the doorway of the home. Wisteria. A welcome sign for the corps.
“We really lucked out here, huh Nezuko?” Tanjiro said over his shoulder, stepping over the warmed grass towards the door. There were familiar scents hanging in the air that he couldn’t quite place against the fresh greens of the mountain, confused further by the bold, almost gaudy gems embedded across the archway to the door. Now where had he seen that before? He knocked gently then took a step back, leaving polite room for the residence.
Inside, several voices threw across the house, before the front door swung open, and Suma stood, staring down at him with wide eyes, blinking rapidly. The confusion sat a beat before a smile broke out, and she reached out to grip his shoulders kindly, “No way, Tanjiro? Tanjiro Kamadeo, did you come all the way to see us? Oh you are such a sweetie Tengen is going to be so surprised to see you!”
“It’s good to see you too! I’m so sorry to bother you, we were just looking for a place to stay for the night, but I would hate to trouble you especially with how much Mr Uzui did for me,” Tanjiro ducked his head politely, hesitant to step forward.
What could he say to him? How could he look at Tengen now, knowing if he had been smarter, or stronger, he would still be a Hashira? How could he sit and eat in their house with that hanging over him?
“Well look at this, I’ve got my own flashy guest here,” Tengen’s face appeared from somewhere behind Suma, wide-eyed but not uninviting, “Come right in, you’ve more than earned a spot at our table. Just don’t go telling me there’s another upper moon around you’re on the hunt for, got it?”
“Oh, of course not Sir,” Tanjiro said, ushered into the building by Suma. He could smell now a deep scent of tempura cooking in the other room, where the voices of Hinatsura and Makio drifted through from. Suma skipped ahead, dashing to find them, leaving Tanjiro to look up over the Hashira before him.
Here, he looked far less intimidating than he seemed months ago. His eye was no longer patched over, but deep scars ran from his eyebrow down his cheek, and the iris stared out at nothing, clouded over. He had his hand on his hip, while the other arm rested bandaged in a green, silken sling, pulled over a jewelled yukuta in deep ruby tones. Tengen’is loose hair slung over the shoulders of the fabric, longer but no less kempt than it was when they first met. His circular makeup had been drawn with less certainty, shakier hands patterning the print on his face. Tanjiro’s chest ached. He swallowed it with a smile.
“It’s good to see you again, Mr Uzui,” he said, inadequately, “I didn’t realise you had moved out here, I hadn’t meant to bother you.”
“Don’t tell Suma that, she seemed certain you’d made the journey just for us,” Tengen shrugged easily, leading Tanjiro through the halls, “I’ll get one of the girls to set up a room for you and your sister soon, although you’re lucky we forgot to plant Wisteria when we first moved in. Come by next summer and Nezuko won't be able to pass through.”
“I appreciate your hospitality either way,” he smiled in response, “It sure is a lovely place to move out to. The view from the climb was amazing!”
Tengen grinned, puffing his chest up as he did, “Not bad, eh? Hinatsura actually picked the location, said she likes watching the streams coming down the mountain when spring comes around. Got a way to go yet for that, though.”
“It’s really something, being on the mountainside. My family lived on similar land, the winters were tough, but the spring was always so refreshing,” He reminisced gently, toeing his way into a sizable dining room he was escorted to. Tengen offered a space to the chabudai, which Tanjiro happily obliged, before taking up his own position opposite. There was a deeply floral, camilla smell that held in the room as he sat down, propping Nezuko into her own space.
Tengen’s eye moved between him and his sisters box, propped against the wall of the room, and his words were delivered with a measured tact, “I’m sorry if being up here brings back old wounds. Demon corp don’t always come from tragedies, but I can’t help assuming you might have.”
Tanjiro’s gaze fell, looking down at his calloused hands, but before he could respond, Makio put her head around the doorway, smiling, “Well I’ll be damned the rumours are true, the demon slayer Tanjiro here in our humble abode.”
She flashed him a grin, before coming fully into the doorway, a tray of drinks in her hands. She placed it between them, and Tanjiro nodded a polite thank you, “It’s good to see you too Mrs Makio, have you been well?”
“Better than ever! Although it does get dull with less to fight up here, you need to bring your friends along for training sometime. I bet I can teach that boar-headed brat his way around a kunai,” her smile flashed teeth, and she straightened to look down at them both. Tengen wrapped his arm around her leg, pulling her closer to place a quick kiss on her hand, which she reciprocated with a rustle of the hair before breaking apart.
“I’m sure Inosuke would be thrilled to have such a strong fighting partner, he’s been getting tougher by the day,” Tanjiro wanted to gush, to relieve the levi in his chest he felt whenever he thought about Inosuke’s feats, but he restrained. Once again, he felt like all he could give was an inadequate summary, “It really is amazing to see.”
“No matter how tough he gets, I’ll take him down,” Makio bit back playfully, before kissing Tengen’s forehead once more and waving them a goodbye. Before she could disappear fully from view, she glanced back once more to Tanjiro, “Whatever this big grump says, know he’s happy to see you visit, okay?”
She winked, ignoring Tengen’s indignant squeak and leaving from view fully. He crossed his arms in protest, looking down at Tanjiro with a light, unserious frown, “Retirement seems to be getting to her. Still though, from the sounds of it that little weirdo with the mask survived, huh? Not bad for someone who got stabbed through the chest.”
“Yes thankfully he’s still okay,” Tanjiro held a warming cup in his hands, staring down at the liquid with a tentative smile. Slight, unintended words slipped out, “I don’t know what I would have done if he wasn’t.”
Tengen’s head tilted slightly, scrutinising him as he sipped his tea. There was a level of recognition in his expression, like he’d found what he was looking for somewhere in the burn of Tanjiro’s face. It felt odd, to be so deeply examined by someone he felt so indebted to, and Tanjiro began admiring his surroundings, seeking distraction. He saw in the corner to his side a black cabinet, adorned by incense and fresh red camila. The centrepiece was hard to discern from this angle, but it appeared to be the tip of a sheathed sword, held in white and red leather.
The hilt bookered upwards into the shape of a flame.
Tanjiro froze.
Tengen starred with him, a hollowness settled on his face that seemed ill-suited to his personality, “It’s odd, isn’t it?” As if the spell was broken, Tanjiro turned back to face him, “Seeing the sword without him holding it. It’s like seeing Giyuu smiling.”
The joke had no bite to it, and Tengen didn’t even dignify it with a huff as he held his gaze. His eyes reminded Tanjiro of his mothers, in the months after his father succumbed to his illness. When she thought none of them could see her quiet mourning.
As if on rotation, Hinatsura came to the door, far more gentle than the others had been. She carried a tray in each hand, and nodded as she slipped through the doorway, “We figured we’d give you space to catch up, but I brought through some tempura udon for dinner if you’re hungry.”
“You are my saviour,” Tengen smiled up at her, and she blushed at the flattery. He reached out, accepting each in succession, before she ducked down to whisper something in Uzui’s ear. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to be looking at Tanjiro, but he saw how the hashiras eyes flickered first to him, then to the sword across the room. His smile was gentle and unsettled when she whispered, and his reply was spoken to the room “It’ll be fine, I don’t mind. You ladies have fun without me for a while, alright?”
Hinatsura nodded, standing up and looking at their guest, “If you need anything at all don’t hesitate to seek one of us out, okay? Even if it’s just a break from demon hunting stories. Let us know if he tells the river demon tale too many times, it’s a favourite of his.”
“I’m being made a fool of. You all wound me so, so unflashy” Uzui deadpanned, earning a giggle, “You three have done more than enough, trust me with the rest, okay? Now go rest for the evening, I’ll come find you when I’m heading to bed.”
Satisfied, Hinatsura waved, collecting the old cups and heading into the belly of the house. There was a beat of silence before they lifted their bowls to begin eating, Tengen balancing his in the crook of his injured arm, clearly still adapting to only having one hand. Silence held out, a weight to the air that hung like a convict.
Tanjiro, for all his best efforts, couldn’t ignore the sword in his peripheral.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Mr Uzui, why do you have Mr Rengoku’s sword? Wouldn’t that have gone to his family?”
“You think his piece of shit dad deserves to get that back?” The words came out with more mirth than expected, even between mouthfuls of Udon. Tengen lowered his chopsticks with a sigh, his expression distant, “Do you know what being gay is?”
Tanjiro choked.
“Hey hey hey, careful there,” Uzui reached out a hand as fried shrimp spluttered into Tanjiro’s hand, his breathing laboured, “I’ll take that as a yes, then, on that reaction.”
“I’m so sorry Mr Uzui, that’s just not what I expected you to say there,” Tanjiro held his throat, wincing slightly, “I’m not really sure what you’re saying.”
He huffed, retracting his hand once he was sure the kid was alright, “You know, you can just call me Tengen, I’m not your superior anymore.” A pause. Levying the emotion. “This might shock you, but I’m not a man who cares to pick when it comes to partners. As long as they’ve got a flashy look and good personality, that’s all I’m really looking for.”
When Tanjiro continued to look uncertain, Tengen rested his chin on his hand and stared, head tilted to one side. He looked so human here, nails unpainted, face hardened from an age of mourning. Tanjro recognised the look in his eyes, at least, the tiredness that came in long nights, counting those you couldn’t save, “I had wanted to marry him, too. Kyojuro. He was as much my partner as Hinatsure, or Suma and Makio. I know he wouldn’t hold it against his dad in the end, but the thought of him being out there, not coming back home to us… I couldn’t bear it. Not when we were all meant to retire together, one day. The worst part of it all, I can’t even remember the last thing I’d said to him, when we last spoke. We had a couple of missions that kept us apart, it was probably something inconsequential, like stay safe. See you soon. If I’d have known-”
Tengen cut himself off, the hand on his chin now moved to grip his mouth, eyes closed. Regaining composure.
Tanjiro thinks of him in a blaze against the fires that lit up the entertainment district. All wildness and burning, one blade gripped his mouth, the other a frenzied sweep in his hand. He thinks of fear and mourning and uniform, and of heroes in bedtime stories. In armour, the knight rescues the princess. Tengen opens a blinded eye and Tanjiro’s chest aches so hard he thinks he might be sick.
“I won’t insult you by telling you what loss is like. You’ve been at this long enough to know. I thought I was ready, after everything I’ve seen. But Kyojuro was different, and I’m such a dumb bastard for thinking he wouldn’t be,” Tengen stared at his udon, now fully abandoned on the table between them. Tanjiro was barely picking at his own, desperately searching for something to say. Was this what it was always like? Being in love? Did it always have to hurt so?
When Rengoku’s possessions were set aside, there had been a silvered ring on a necklace chain amongst the effects. Five, shining gems, so garish the hospital staff had assumed there was a mix up in belongings. It was sent into administration, lost to bureaucracy. Would they have all married, in another life? If Tanjiro had been strong enough to fight Akaza, or if they’d taken down the train without needing Rengoku to waste his strength, would he be sitting here too, laughing with them, sharing tempura? Tanjiro’s fists clenched in his lap and he hung his head.
“I’m so sorry, if I’d had been stronger then-”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tengen cut him off, sighing, “It was an upper moon, and from what we can tell one of the highest too. You saw what that dirtbag in the entertainment district was capable of, there’s no way you could have done anymore. I’m sure Kyojiro wouldn’t want you holding it against yourself, either.”
No, he supposed not. Rengoku wouldn’t curse someone like that, it wasn’t in his nature.
Tengen swallowed hard. He hesitated, mouth hanging open for a second, before he finally spoke, “What was it like? When he… You know what I mean, right?”
There were thousands of things that could be expressed here. How Rengoku fought to save them, his constant insistence of the beautiful mortality; rejecting the proposition to become a demon again and again, screaming his humanity. How many people he had saved on the train. How he looked like a God incarnate, lit by the fire of his sword. His last words to his family.
“The sun was rising, and he was smiling,” Tanjiro said, simply.
The sun was rising. He was smiling. Tengen hesitated for a moment, before burying his face in his hand once more, “Of course he was. That damn happy go lucky fool. Please excuse me.”
The former hashira pushed himself up, abandoning half-touched udon and retreating away, leaving Tanjiro to the silence of the living space. He picked up his own bowl, fighting to finish it out of respect to his hosts despite the faded appetite. Despite Tengen’s levelled response, the room smelt of such grief it overcame the perfume of incense and tempura, stinging bitter in his nose. It stung his mouth and he put his bowl next to Tengen’s on the chabudai before pulling himself up, padding across the room to the sword's resting place.
It felt warm, in that corner. Had he set any expectations for Tengen’s homestead, it would have included great bejewelled furniture, loveseats in plush velvets and paintings hung in rococo frames. In here, the adorning flowers on the cabinet were the only splash of vibrancy, highlighting the sword. A warmth rose from the slow burning flame, smoke curled around the blade before disappearing, wrapping like a hand to hold the sword. Tanjiro put his hands together and bowed, breathing deeply the silence of the space. The last memories of the train intruding whatever thank yous and goodbyes he wanted to say. He felt his lip quiver and tightened, straightening up with a deep, heavy breath.
“We all miss him dearly, too,” Tanjiro’s head snapped around to see Hinatsura in the doorway, resting against the frame. Her arms were mostly crossed, but she pulled out a hand to wave lightly, “I saw Tengen leaving in a hurry and thought it was best to check in. Makio and Suma will be more than enough to keep him company.”
She stepped inside, not fully closing the distance but holding in the middle of the room. The smell of grief carried through on her, too.
“Did you - I mean were you all - you know,” Tanjiro’s words jumbled in his mouth, clunky. What was he trying to ask? Did his wives know he was dating a man? Did it matter? A deep set fear began crawling out of his throat, one he’d never been brave enough to say before.
“Did I know about Kyojuro?” She finished, lightly, “Of course I did, we all cared for him, although some of us in different ways. Why? Do you have a problem with it?”
“No! No, not at all! I’m so sorry if that’s what it sounded like, I didn’t mean to pry!” He waved his hands uselessly in front of him, flustered further by her laughing.
“I didn’t think you would, don’t worry. But you never know, it can be hard to open up about those things, I know Tengen hardly spoke about it to others even before we lost him,” Hinatsura sighed, dropped her hands uselessly, “I love Tengen dearly, we all do, and I know he loves us too. But it was different with Kyojuro. When we reached young adulthood, we were promised to each other, and while we all wanted to, it was hard to not wonder if we would have if circumstances were changed. But Kyojuro was different, outside of that tradition. He was the only person Tengen got to truly choose. And in turn, he chose us.”
Tanjiro looked back at the sword, the gravity of it weighing on him. To choose and be chosen. Love and be loved.
He felt uncomfortable in such unfamiliar territory. Outside of Zenitsu’s exhortation of marriage, relationships were hardly talked about between the trio. Inosuke seemed to have conflated Zenitsu’s dejection with the notion of dating, being under the impression it was always a one-sided spree of rejection. Tanjiro wasn’t convinced that had been corrected, even after meeting Tengen’s partners. His life had been veered off course so drastically, the idea of marriage hadn’t entered his peripheral. With a girl, like Kanao or Aoi? It was hard to picture. Or, maybe with a boy, like Tengen had mentioned? Definitely not Zenitsu, so, Inosuke?
What would he have done, if he’d died? What would happen if one day he arrived home to a manor, to two dented swords crossed and decorated on a shrine? Could he bear it? His face burned at the thought, a hand shooting up to touch his squeezing chest.
Hinatsura raised an eyebrow at him, but gave him the dignity to not pry, “It’s hard to not miss him. I’m sure you know what I mean, he was the best of all of us.”
Tanjiro felt his eyes sting, and bit down his own childishness. It felt selfish to cry now, in the face of someone who loved Rengoku so deeply. In a house steeped in the absence of his laugh.
“I… can’t imagine what it must feel like. I’m so sorry for your loss,” He winced, insufficient. She looked him over, before reaching across and ruffling his hair.
“Don’t let today fool you, it’s not all bad. Getting to know Kyojuro, getting to live here with Suma and Makio, for us to love Tengen, they’re the greatest privileges I have been given by this world. Every loss or victory, I would do it all again for them without hesitation,” Hinatsura smiled at him, “The moment I described one of my dresses as flashy was the day I knew I was too far gone.”
Tanjiro laughed gently, looking up at her kind eyes. The scent of grief coming so deeply from that of love, for what are they if not the same? He reached down to the table, picking up the cold bowls, “Thank you for coming to see me, and for telling me about Mr Rengoku. If you don’t mind, I’m going to see if Mr Uzui would want the rest of his udon, do you know which way he would have gone?”
It was an excuse and they both knew it. She walked him out into the hall, gesturing down through the building to a back entrance, “There’s a small, quiet grove out there, if you need a hand pulling the others off of him just shout my name, okay?”
Tanjiro nodded, excusing himself and walking out towards the garden. There were more decorations deeper into the building, ornate side tables and painted vases living closer to his imagination. He faltered only at the final exit, seeing Tengen’s blades mounted on a marbled backboard, chains loose and weapons secured over the archway.
This wouldn’t have happened if he’d -
Tanjiro opened the back door, stepping into the cold of the mountains. He’d been there longer than first expected, and the thick darkness of the forested area made it harder to navigate through the back area. When he looked up, he couldn’t see the definition in the trees around, or the structures built into the mountain face. Tomorrow, he’d begin his trek upwards, to find the demon that had been residing there. It was strange to think Uzui wouldn’t accompany him on the journey.
Picking over the grass and pebbles, guided by the dim light of the house at his back, Tanjiro made his way through, following a clear pathway that curved around the natural shape of the mountain. Voices, hushed but undeniably familiar, were rising through the darkness as he walked.
“And when Kyojuro finally slashed the damn thing's arm off, it split away and started growing into a separate demon! We’d never seen anything like it, so we knew any attacks that weren’t to the head would be futile. I wanted to just blunt force it, but Kyojuro thought there might have been a better way, so do you know what he did?”
“He thought to bind it!” Suma’s voice, sniffling. She must have been crying.
“Exactly!” Uzui confirmed, as if this wasn’t a story they’d heard a hundred times before, “And when he couldn’t find any ropes strong enough, he shouted at me to throw my weapon. I didn’t listen at first, but when it came down to the wire, I had to trust his call. And we managed to finally restrain its base body long enough to cut their head off. You hear that little Tanjiro? More than one way to take down a demon.”
Tanjiro flinched at his name, now close enough to make out the shape of all three, silhouetted against the moonlight. Tengen was sitting on a bench that overlooked a dip on the cliff, looking out as if he could see across the stretch of farmland below. Suma was crouched on the floor, but leant up and slung her body over his lap, while Makio was half standing, half perched on his good shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, but it sounds like a great story,” Tanjiro stepped closer, adjusting now to the dim light. The detailing on Uzui’s sling glinted when he breathed, “I just saw you still had udon left, and wanted to offer it before it went to waste.”
“I’ll have it if you don’t,” Makio jumped in, earning a barked laugh from her husband.
“Feel free. Tell you what ladies, you’ve all heard this story a million times, why don’t you take this and get warmed up again inside?”
“B-but we want to stay with you,” Suma wined, flinging her arms to grip his legs in a dramatism Zenitsu would be proud of.
“Hmm, but I’m sure Tanjiro has something else for me besides just noodles, isn’t that right?” He threw a look over his shoulder, expression unreadable, “C’mon. There’s plenty of me to go around later.”
Makio, whether it was from sensing the gravitas in the words, or from the chill set in her skin, began moving with no protest, moving around to put her hands under Suma’s armpits and lift her from his lap, “We’ll be waiting for you, alright Tengen?”
“I’d count on nothing less,” he grinned, before watching as the two girls started to head out. Something about the way Suma was pulled off, sniffling nose, cheeks wet with tears, made Tanjiro soften from familiarity, her hands reaching out to hold the bowls as she was hauled away. When they could hear the footsteps change from the pebbled path to grass, then wood, Tengen huffed fondly, moving across to one side of the bench to allow space for Tanjiro. When the younger boy sat down, Tengen wasn’t looking at him, continuing to watch out over nothing, “I’m sorry for leaving you earlier, and thank you. For telling me about what happened. We all got the basic report from the crows but it wasn’t the same. I’m sorry you had to watch that happen. All of you. But I’m glad he wasn’t alone too.”
A lot of demon slayers don’t have the privilege to say the same. The only eyes bearing down on them, those inhumane reflections of the demon towering over. Even the demon’s he’d seen, shredded down into monsters, cried alone when they died. The sun was rising, and he was smiling. The significance was not wasted on either of them.
“I’m glad I could do something for him. Mr Rengoku saved all of our lives, getting to be with him, and taking his last words back to his family… I hope it was enough,” Tanjiro gripped his knees. It wasn’t, he knew that. Tengen regarded him with a fond side eye.
“You did better than those three. Before your sister healed the poison, I couldn’t even deliver my last words with them talking at me so much,” Uzui laughed, shaking his head for emphasis, “They’re terrors, truly. Now that demons are mostly out of the picture, they’ll be the death of me.”
“Is it that bad?” Tanjiro frowned, but was given another laugh in response.
“Oh yeah, sure is,” Tengen replied, his voice light with revelry. With grief and love, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Tanjiro began picking at the threads of his trousers, mulling over everything he’d been told. It was that uncomfortable topic again, the one that made his mouth clamp, “Mrs Hinatsura mentioned that no matter what happened, she would make the same choices, because it was worth it. But… Mr Uzui, how do you know if it’s worth the risk?”
“Oh, huh,” Tengen halted, surprised by the kids sincerity, “as a hashira, a demon slayer or just in general?
Any of it, all of it. Tanjiro shuffled his feet, embarrassed, “I suppose… as a demon slayer? Or as a boy with… well…” His face contorted, flushed red. The words barely squeaked out, “Another boy, maybe?”
“Ha! I thought so earlier, well young Tanjiro, you’ve come to -” He cut himself off, hesitating, “Wait, please tell me you know more people than the yellow-headed napper and the boar-mask, right? It can’t be one of them.”
Tanjiro bent forward and buried his face in his hands, only for Tengen to take all the confirmation he needed, “No way, seriously? I can’t even think of which one is worse! Yeah sure they’re strong, but - well, if it’s Zenitsu that’s not the end of the world, he’s got some flashy style to his swordsmanship. Kamado, for all that is good in this life, please tell me it’s Zenitsu.”
“It’s…Not…” He mumbled out into his palms. He wasn’t expecting the bellowed laughter that followed behind him, feeling his face burn deeper, thankful for the cover the darkness allowed him.
“Oh my flashy prodigy, you are long past saving, nothing I can say will help you now,” Uzui laughed, his hand gripping his stomach, “I’ve completely forgotten what you asked me, wow. Insokue? Alright.
A hand landed on Tanjiro’s back and he looked up, spotting the grin on Tengen’s face, wider than he’d seen since his arrival. He wiped his face slightly, unable to cover the embarrassment, “I just… He’s not what people think he is, you know. He’s nice, or trying to be, in his own way. And I admire his strength so much, and… I… You know.”
Any further protest he had died in the air, and a firm pat on his back let him fall into silence. Once he’d stopped laughing, Tengen’s voice fell into a more serious demeanour, “It’s not easy, having to worry about dating and demon slaying at once. You need to be serious about it. And you need to know that a lot of demon slayers don’t get the ending I’m lucky enough to have. You want to go up against Muzan Kibutsuji, could you fight against him if Inosuke was there? What would you do if you turned around to see him fall?”
Tanjiro remembered Gyutaro, his blood art piercing through Inosuke’s chest. Right through where his heart should be. He’d been too adrenaline-filled to mourn, the pain and anguish catastrophic in his chest, his bleeding face pulled over to watch the bodies of his friends. Zenitsu under the burning rubble. Inosuke bleeding out, bleeding out, bleeding -
“But no one goes through life alone, no matter if it’s romantic, friendships, bosses who get on your ass. We all have someone by our side,” Tengen interrupted his thoughts, looking up once again into the night, “So on the other hand, what does being so afraid of love do for you? You deny something you’d really want, only to feel the same level of burden either way when something goes wrong. And, if anything goes wrong, as much as it feels like there shouldn’t be, there can be a life past them, too. Even if it hurts.”
“When I think about what I want from the future, it’s always my friends there, and my sister human again. I don’t know if I can see a life past that,” Tanjiro rubbed his hands together, finally aware of the brisk chill the night had brought in. Above him, a tapestry of stars, tucked like bedding around a full moon, “but then, this is assuming that’s what they’d want, to.”
“If I let myself think about a burning world, one where demons took over fully, and we were rushed to the end of the earth, I pictured the five of us back to back, weapons out. I thought I’d be the one to throw myself in front of them, keep them going. You don’t think about the space without them until you live in it, not really,” Uzui brushed his hair out of his face, sighing, “You’re a good kid, and a hearty fighter. I’ve seen people twice your age back down in fear from half the nightmares you’ve thrown yourself into. I’ve got no doubt that when it comes down to the wire, your friends would storm into that hellfire world with you.”
Zenitsu might do so sobbing, Tanjiro thought lightly, but he let the weight of it all sink in. To not end up alone, to keep those he loved safe, he would need to get stronger, surpass even the strength of a hashira. Thoughts that daunted him before now seemed to ignite his body, the perseverance of love and friendship lightening his shoulders. Even now, as they spoke, a demon was prowling above them.
“Thank you so much for your hospitality, but I have to go now!” Tanjiro leapt up, giving a quick bow before bolting towards the house to collect his sister.
“Hey now, where are you running off to?” Tengen called after him, “Brat! Come back here!”
Tanjiro couldn’t hear him, diving now through their residency, into the living room to sling Nezuko’s box over his shoulders and charge out once more. He heard her squeak as the room shook, and muttered out an apology before making his way back out towards the front door. What had he been sitting around here for, when there were people that needed him?
He made it out the door, barreling with such excitement his forefingers touched the cold ground outside, a runner’s start as he began hiking around the building. Pushing himself upwards. The crow above him soared freely, guiding him up the least steep routes, to where even at this distance the traces of their scent were beginning to pick up.
“What did I say, you brat?” A voice called, all bravado behind him, and Tanjiro slowed his run to look back, seeing the sprinting space of the former Hashira gaining on him. His yukata was tucked ungracefully like a top into his old uniform trousers, and he held a long, flamed katana in his hand, “If you think you’re taking a demon down on my own land without me, you’re sorely mistaken.”
Tanjiro couldn’t outpace him, but didn’t stop running, calling back, “I’m sorry, I just realised I couldn’t stay there when I knew there was a demon prowling so close by!
“And you think I could rest letting you roam alone up there? No way!” Tengen had all but caught up now, the effortlessness of his breathing style evident even in how he ran, “Besides, I can’t let myself get so out of shape a regular old demon can take me down, think about the ladies here!”
He had a feeling that Tengen’s wives would all but combust seeing him there, but it was too late to comment now. Tanjiro had seen Tengen’s resolve first hand. Despite how he could see the older pulling ahead, he never left Tanjiro behind, keeping pace to keep the demon corp to his left behind him. Covering his blind side. Tanjiro knew the level of trust placed even in that simple decision, and drew his sword as he ran; he wouldn’t allow for that faith to be misplaced.