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The sun rises, and the Flame Hashira falls.
It isn't supposed to be like this. Demon slayers rise with the sun, the light illuminating the darkness that shields demons, and for a demon slayer to last until sunrise means that victory is almost guaranteed.
Even if the demons – pathetic, cowardly creatures that they were – somehow manage to run away, the real victory for demon slayers, for a Hashira, is to see the faces of all those he saved, untouched and unharmed, even if the Hashira himself is bleeding out right in front of them with no hope of being saved.
An honourable death, befitting a Hashira of the highest calibre, is dying with a smile, content in the belief that he didn't lose even if he already had a foot in the grave. Protecting those weaker than him, so that those weak children could one day rise up to be the pillars that saved innocent people.
Because that is the duty of a Hashira.
(Where was that sense of duty when you were sliding your blade through the neck of an innocent boy? Have you slain so many that you couldn't tell the difference between human and demon?)
Even now, Zenitsu almost can't believe it. The man who'd seemed so indestructible, so infallible, such a pillar of unending morality and unyielding justice– who protected five train cars all by himself–
But who falls to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut the moment the demon (Upper Three, his eyes are burned into his brain) rips his arm out and makes a beeline for the trees in order to escape the sun.
Coward, shameful coward. Just like Zenitsu himself.
A very useful coward, because Zenitsu's never been afraid of giving credit where it's due.
It seems like fate, like destiny, that this happens even though all his thoughts since meeting the Flame Hashira had been filled with despair, because how could he ever hope to overcome such strength? Strength that even Akaza had commended, and almost succumbed to?
(Zenitsu was going to never forget that name.)
(Keep your friends close, but potential allies closer.)
It's destiny, it's destiny because Zenitsu refuses to believe otherwise. Or maybe it's Tanjirou, the ever beautiful, ever pure angel who must have swayed even Fate herself to his side.
Even Fate must succumb to fate.
And Zenitsu thinks that it's fate, that the Gods themselves go out of their way to show him that even the most infallible man may stand in front of him as a crumbling pillar, because you cannot escape divine punishment.
You cannot escape the weight of your sins, Rengoku Kyojurou.
And you must atone for your sins with your life.
(Zenitsu closes his eyes, and for a single moment, allows himself to indulge in the thought that it's Tanjirou guiding them from above, above in the heavens because there is no other place for a soul as pure-hearted as his.)
But it's not enough.
Zenitsu has always been too greedy for his own good.
Right now, as Rengoku-san gives them a soft, triumphant smile, Zenitsu aches to scratch that smile off his face.
Claw his eyes out so he can't see the faces of those he protected.
(How was everyone here more deserving of protection than Tanjirou? How were two hundred insignificant people with no hint of kindness in their sounds and their eyes more worthy of living in this world than Tanjirou?)
The Flame Hashira may be as good as dead, but it doesn't matter when his last moments are going to be of contentment and relief.
(How did Tanjirou feel in his last moments? Was it terror, was it grief, was it rage? Zenitsu doesn't know. He and Inosuke never got to die side by side with Tanjirou, having fought bravely until their last moments.
He never got the chance to hear Tanjirou's heart beat its last.)
Zenitsu won't allow it.
Zenitsu will never allow it.
Atone for your sins with your life.
Atone for your sins with your honour.
Purposefully, his eyes track the man in front of them sobbing his heart out as Rengoku tries his best to comfort him, reassure him that he did his best and that Rengoku is going to die a Hashira's death, having fulfilled his duty to the end.
Murata.
The boy who was allegedly present with Inosuke, during Tanjirou's last mission.
(Who Tanjirou himself had protected, only to be denounced in his death.)
"I never knew, I swear, this has to be impossible!" Murata's voice quivers as he shakes his head in denial, "He seemed so kind– how could someone like him be carrying a demon?! There has to be some sort of misunderstanding, Kocho-sama!"
Shinobu-san's eyes betray nothing of the simmering rage and disgust that Zenitsu can hear in her heart as she smiles that angelic smile, so beautiful, so fake. So poisonous.
"Unfortunately, it is nothing but the truth, Murata-kun. All the Hashira can attest to that. But you don't need to worry– we've taken care of that situation, alright?"
Murata's shoulders sag in relief as if he doesn't know that "taken care of" means that the boy he fought alongside mere hours ago is dead.
"But I must ask.... You had been the one who was the closest to Kamado Tanjirou throughout the night, is that correct?"
Murata nods, because Inosuke had left with the Father spider demon and Zenitsu had never been with them in the first place.
(He should have been there.)
"In that case, did you perhaps glimpse any suspicious behaviour from him? Something that suggested that he might be hiding something?"
Murata's lips purse as he frowns thoughtfully, "I couldn't say for certain, Kocho-sama, he seemed too kind to possibly have a secret as heinous as that! But... he was protective of that weird box he carried around everywhere... And when asked about it, he said he was carrying something important, but refused to elaborate–"
Murata stops breathing, eyes widening in horror.
"Don't tell me... The demon was in the box...?!"
Shinobu nods sympathetically, as if she'd ever held a shred of sympathy for anyone in her shrivelled little heart.
At that confirmation, Murata just seems to sag despondently, eyes sliding close in resignation.
"A demon so close to me... It could have killed everyone. It's a miracle that I didn't bleed in front of it...." His voice trails off into a pained whisper.
"Tanjirou-kun, what were you thinking...?"
Shinobu's eyes sharpen at that, though her smile remains fixed. "I don't think he was thinking much of protecting people, Murata-kun. Truly pitiful, but love blinds us to what is right or wrong."
Her voice has none of the pity she claims to feel.
"But that is not an excuse to endanger people for selfish reasons! I can't believe I thought of that traitor as a comrade!" Murata suddenly pops up, fist trembling with righteousness, and Zenitsu fights the urge to yell at them, scream to everyone that's listening that Tanjirou was the furthest thing from selfish and a traitor.
That he cared about each and every person he met, cared so much that he was willing to die for them, and he wasn't the traitor that everyone thinks he was and you didn't even hear him out, didn't make an effort to understand–
"It's not your fault, Murata-kun– please stop blaming yourself for something that you couldn't have foreseen." Shinobu says kindly, and then her tone brightens, the slightest hint of a true emotion ringing through it.
"You don't need to worry about it now. All those who have committed sins must face punishment to make up for it."
And that's when Zenitsu knows.
Zenitsu knows what he has to do.
"He has atoned for his sins with his life."
Zenitsu falls to his knees, hitting the ground with a thud.
In the corner of his eye, he can see Inosuke tense up in concern. He's been trembling, clutching his swords with a white knuckled grip this entire time. To anyone else, it seems like he's stricken with grief.
Only Zenitsu knows that he's trembling with the effort of holding back his rage.
Zenitsu slides up closer to Murata, gently wrapping his arms around his body. Murata jumps at the sudden touch, before leaning against him and crying into his shoulder.
Inosuke is frozen. Zenitsu wonders if Inosuke can feel the hatred hidden into the crevices of his caring gesture.
"Murata-san," Zenitsu whispers in his ear, "It's okay. There's no need to hold back tears. It's only natural to cry at a time like this."
"B-but how–! How am I going to live up to Rengoku-san's legacy if I feel so helpless now!" Murata cries harder. "I couldn't do anything– I couldn't even stop that demon from escaping!"
"Stopping Upper Three from escaping would be quite an impossible feat, young Murata, but the fact that you tried is enough proof that you are a brave, strong slayer." Rengoku-san says softly, giving Murata a proud smile.
Zenitsu smiles, meeting Rengoku-san in the eye. Again, he has to give credit where it's due. Rengoku-san had protected them with everything he had, even if Zenitsu and Inosuke had been so stiff and cold to him and Murata, acting suspicious enough for the cheerful Hashira to notice.
It can be excusable this time. Tanjirou's... departure is still too raw, still too painful for them to be able to completely cover up their true feelings.
It's a good thing that the last witnesses to the cracks in their exterior are going to die tonight.
Zenitsu hums, rubbing Murata's back soothingly. "Rengoku-san's totally right. You don't need to worry about anything, Murata-san. Remember what Shinobu-san said?"
Inosuke's breath hitches, body stilling. And then he starts to walk towards them with the slow, purposeful strides of a predator.
Murata makes a confused half-noise, his brow furrowing.
"She did say that all sinners must eventually be punished, didn't she?"
Murata's eyes widen in recognition, familiar with that line of thought.
"That means Akaza will be punished too. That day will come, I'll make sure of it."
Rengoku-san gives him a warm, grateful look, along with Murata as resolve slowly bleeds into his eyes.
"We will make sure of it." Murata says with the quiet conviction of someone who doesn't have much to lose.
Much to lose but his life.
"That's right," Inosuke suddenly encourages, "Me and Zenitsu are definitely gonna help you get retribution, Satara!"
"It's Murata," Zenitsu half-heartedly corrects, even as he can't hold back the proud smile curling at his lips.
Look how much Inosuke has grown. Under grim circumstances, yes, but for a flower blooming in the shade without any help (without any sunlight), its very existence is proof of its undeniable strength.
(Like a wild flower growing tall, there's beauty in the way you live and thrive despite it all.)
Zenitsu turns to Murata, trying to convey belief and conviction that he doesn't truly feel.
"I have complete faith in you, Murata-san. I know that with your strength, you'll definitely kill Akaza, and this sword–" Inosuke almost reverently picks up Rengoku's sword, which had been buried in the ground in front of them, "–will be the one to behead that vile demon and avenge Rengoku-san."
Murata's eyes overflow with tears, warmth curling in his chest as his lip wobbles. He opens his mouth to talk, but Zenitsu cuts him off before he can say anything.
"And you must know," Zenitsu once more looks Rengoku dead in the eye, "that no matter what happens, Inosuke and I will stay by your side..."
Inosuke raises the sword like he's going to plunge it back into the ground, emphasizing Zenitsu's words–
"...Until your last dying breath."
The sword strikes down.
Blood that is not is own splatters onto Rengoku's face, and his smile freezes on his face as he registers the sword sticking out of Murata's chest.
Zenitsu smiles as the acceptance in Rengoku's eye turns to horror in the fraction of a second.
Murata makes a strained, gurgling noise as blood bubbles up and trails down his mouth, and Zenitsu burns the expression of pure betrayal into his mind, because he knows, he knows–
That this is what Tanjirou looked like in his final moments.
But Murata is only a cheap copy, a pathetic replacement who will never be able to live up to the real thing.
But even so...
"Thank you," Zenitsu chuckles, "you were a wonderful help."
"Y-you... you f-filthy trai-traitors–" Rengoku tries to cough out, but Zenitsu has no interest listening to a man who can't speak without choking on his own blood.
"Filthy traitors?" Inosuke tilts his head questioningly, the blood splatters on his body and his hand holding the sword buried inside Murata belying the innocent tone.
"How are we the filthy traitors when we've yet to lie about anything?"
Murata tries to trash against him, but Zenitsu wraps his arms around him in an intimate, comforting embrace.
"Liar," Murata rasps out, and oh dear, Zenitsu can hear his lungs filling up with blood, "Liar! I can't believe... I trusted...!"
"Now, now, Murata-san, you know that's not true," Zenitsu coos chidingly, keeping a cautious eye on Rengoku, who's still trying to summon the energy to move – if not to kill them, then at least to take Murata to a safe place – however fruitless that may be.
"We've done everything we said we will. We're still here with you, by your side, even as you're dying, aren't we?"
(And that's more than he could say for Tanjirou, who'd died alone and without relief.)
Murata elbows him viciously in the ribs, but Zenitsu can bear the pain so long as he gets to watch despair seep into Rengoku's eyes.
Even Upper Three had not been able to do that– make Rengoku give up.
"The crows..." Rengoku starts to say, "the crows... tell Oyakata-sama... You'll be punished for sure!"
The last sentence makes hope rise up within Murata's eyes, and Zenitsu takes great pleasure in swiftly extinguishing those last vestiges of hope.
"Of course, that's only if the crows are present to witness the punishable act itself."
Rengoku's breath catches as he tries to call out his crow's name, Murata desperately struggling to do the same.
"You said it yourself, Rengoku-san," the name pours out of his lips like liquid venom, "every kasugai crow reports to Oyakata-sama right after the demon is defeated."
And Zenitsu had heard all three of the crows, excluding Chuntaro, leave right after Akaza had ran away to relay the message of Rengoku's passing and call the kakushi.
"Your– your sparrow... Just because it cannot speak... Doesn't mean that it will..." Rengoku trails off as Chuntaro sits on top of Zenitsu's head with a soft chirp, the gesture itself conveying what Chuntaro couldn't with his mouth.
Murata deflates, the fight visibly draining out of him as everyone present hears the unsaid affirmation of where its loyalty truly lies.
Zenitsu reaches up with one hand to lovingly scratch its head, and–
Quick as lightning, Murata's wrist is caught in his hand as it shoots up to poke him in the eye.
Zenitsu tilts his head to catch Murata's eyes, shining with tears of misery and rage. He smiles crookedly as his thumb gently brushes against the weakening pulse in Murata's wrist.
"None of that, now, Murata-san," Zenitsu shakes his head disappointedly, "don't you think you're being pretty irrational?"
And for a moment he's struck by how disapproving he's being. It's always the other way around, always people scolding and chiding him, so it's a foreign feeling for him to be on the opposite end.
But then again, an executioner must make the sinner aware of what they are being punished for. Otherwise, how will they know exactly what they are atoning for?
Zenitsu takes his hand off Murata's wrist, only for him to catch both of Murata's hands in his own. He brings them together and intertwines them as if posed in a praying position.
"If you pray hard enough, you'll be forgiven for sure," Zenitsu assures him, and the words themselves would have been soothing if not for the mocking edge to his voice.
He looks at Rengoku disdainfully, lips curling up in a cold smile, "Him, on the other hand..."
Rengoku hadn't stopped struggling, not for a second, but the increased efforts had drained his remaining energy even faster. He'd slumped onto the ground, so far from the graceful Hashira who was supposed to die kneeling in front of his sword like a true honourable warrior.
Even his sword is tainted with the blood of someone he was supposed to protect. But then again, it wasn't anything new, not when this was the sword that had once sliced through Tanjirou's delicate human flesh.
Rengoku Kyojurou's last moments are not one of peace, of self-reflection on his regrets or his accomplishments.
They are not of his mother expressing her pride in his final act of selflessness.
Instead, Rengoku Kyojurou dies miserable, defeat and loss filling his heart as his remaining eye takes in the image of the person he was supposed to protect, laying lifelessly in the arms of the demon who had tricked them all.
When the Kakushi arrive, it is to the body of their most beloved Hashira sprawled gracelessly on the ground, lying in a pool of his own blood. The sobbing blond is holding his other black haired comrade, who has a sword sticking out of his chest, and both of his hands clutched tightly on the hilt of the sword.
The boar masked boy is shouting, tugging at the black haired man's hands to get them to let go of his grip. The blonde cries louder than ever, shouting back at the boar to call for medical help even though it's clear – even from a distance – that both men are long dead.
(It would be pitiful, if it wasn't so perfect.)
So long as the demon slayers know, Rengoku Kyojurou had died against Upper Three, protecting everyone on the train and his own subordinates.
All but one of his subordinates.
Murata had died after falling for Lower One's blood demon art, hallucinating being stuck in a dream and accidentally killing himself in real life. Inosuke, due to his boar mask, and Zenitsu, not having engaged personally with the train demon, had avoided that fatal aftereffect.
Before Zenitsu and Inosuke could stop him, he'd stabbed the sword into his chest with his own hands. Rengoku, unable to move due to his injuries, had been too late to save him either.
A desolate silence hangs in the air – the aftermath of the most ideal Hashira being unable to protect a single person, his comrade, being too bitter to talk about.
Zenitsu shudders, cries ceasing at last, and Inosuke's own ragged breathing and stifled sobs slow down as well.
With the smell of blood so heavy, an ever present memory tugs at Zenitsu's mind.
Warm red eyes, kind and beautiful, creasing with the pain that haunted his nightmares–
"Whenever happiness is destroyed, there's always... the smell of blood."
(This might be the only thing Tanjirou had ever been wrong about, because looking into Murata and Rengoku's eyes staring sightlessly at the sky above, Zenitsu knows that the feeling running through his veins is nothing but happiness.)