Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

        The sun rose and the body of the Demon King burned in the morning light. His final, horrifying shrieks echoed through the valley, until all that was left was a pile of ash around the corpse of a child.
        Giyuu dropped his sword, panting, as cries of victory from the Demon Slayer corps echoed around him. He didn’t have long to be joyful though, as when he asked to see Tanjiro, he was met with Tanjiro’s mangled body. Missing an arm and bloodied, it sat hunched where Muzan had been.
        Giyuu ran forward and clasped Tanjiro's hand, still holding his sword. He cried and bowed his head, memories of the gentle, excitable child flooding back to him. "I've failed to protect you again," he sobbed, hot tears falling from his face. "I always receive protection from others. Forgive me. I'm sorry... Nezuko. I'm so sorry."
        The presence of Muzan still hung around the ash. Giyuu was too busy worrying about Tanjiro and just assumed that because of Muzan’s great power his presence persisted beyond his death. After a minute or so, however, his power still didn’t disappear.
        Giyuu had gotten up to tend to his wounds with the doctors when he heard a snapping sound behind him. Giyuu whirled around and saw Tanjro’s fist inches away from one of the kakushi’s face- Using the arm he was supposed to have lost. Giyuu sprang forward at incredible speed despite his wounds, wincing, and pulled the kakushi away before he was injured. He leaned over the kakushi, panting, his arm out in defense.
        Giyuu wheeled around to see Tanjiro bent over, panting. He lifted his head to reveal slitted, red eyes, and his mouth bubbling with froth. His clothes were stained with his own blood, and his red claws dug into the ground. Tanjiro grinned sinisterly, his mark spreading across his face, lifting a curled hand.
        “What… Tanjiro, why…?” One of the kakushi asked to no one, freezing up with shock, leaving space for Tanjiro to spin and swing his fist in their direction despite Giyuu’s cries to get back. Tanjiro missed however, his throw whistling just by their nose, as he was distracted by the sun cresting the hills. It coated the demon with its light, and a sickening scent of burning flesh, accompanied by a terrible sizzle filled the air.
        Tanjiro hissed and threw his arms in front of his face, roaring and growling with pain. The skin of his arms and face began melting and peeling, smoke rising from each burn.
        “Stop standing there and run!” Giyuu yelled at the kakushi still standing near Tanjiro.
        “But Tanjiro…” One kakushi protested, before another kakushi pulled them away and ran off.
        “Anyone still able to move, grab your weapons and get over here!” Giyuu called to the groups of people still receiving treatment and those who hadn’t noticed the commotion. The remaining fighters, namely Yushiro, Inosuke, and Zenitsu, along with kakushi stirred and inquired as to what had happened. “Tanjiro has been turned into a demon! Keep him under the sun and burn him to death! Kill Tanjiro before he kills anyone!” Giyuu yelled.
        Tanjiro peeled himself away from his curled stance and sprinted for the shade, but Giyuu hit him with his katana and sent him flying back into the light. Tanjiro roared once again, his face furled with pain, and Giyuu held him at sword point.
        The sizzling, however, slowed, and Tanjiro stopped roaring, his face softening to a neutral expression. The burns slowly faded, and Tanjiro went for another punch at Giyuu, this time hitting Giyuu in the jaw. A spurt of blood flew from his mouth, only furthering his extensive blood loss from the fight against Muzan. Tanjro went in for another hit, but was intercepted by one of Inosuke’s serrated blades. Giyuu coughed and squeezed his eyes shut, his head spinning from the lack of oxygen in his veins.
        “That’s the half and half haori guy! That’s our friend!” Inosuke yelled, getting in front of Giyuu to defend him.
        Zenitsu, supported by a kakushi, hobbled his way over, calling “Tanjiro!” but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Tanjiro on all fours, growling like a wild animal. A new mark appeared on Tanjro’s face, and he glared at Inosuke and Zenitsu, wiping his chin and grinding his teeth.
        “This can’t be real… Tanjiro… Nobody can fight anymore, we’ve all been worn down. This is too much…” Zenitsu said hopelessly. “What about Nezuko, Tanjiro?”
Tanjro ignored Zenitsu and charged at Inosuke, leaping from foot to foot. Inosuke blocked with his sword again. He knew what he had to do, but can’t stop memories of the kind, excitable boy from pouring into his head.
        “Tanjiro, stop!” Zenitsu begs, but his pleas go unanswered.
        Inosuke’s sword was inches from Tanjiro’s neck, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He sobbed and readied for the blow as Tanjiro reached for his face. But nothing hit.
        There came a loud thump and Tanjiro was thrown backward as someone pinned him down. It was Nezuko, turned human once again. She dodged a bite to her shoulder and held Tanjiro down, straining against his demonic strength.
        “I’m sorry.” She says, and Tanjiro slows. “I’m sorry for not knowing everything you went through. I’m sorry for making you carry the weight of everything yourself.” She started sobbing, her warm tears dropping onto him, her hands clutching his shirt. “Why do you people always have to suffer? Why are all the kind people out there working hard always the ones being trampled on?” Tanjiro stopped thrashing, breathing heavily, his mouth slightly agape. “Just don’t lose, Tanjiro. You're so close. You can’t become a demon. Let's go home, okay? Let’s go home.”
        Tanjiro began to stir once again, shoving Neuko onto her back, and began inhaling huge amounts of air, his claws digging into her flesh. Zenitsu broke away from the kakushi and ran towards the pair, attempting to wrench Tanjiro off Nezuko.
        “Stop, Tanjiro! It’s Nezuko! She’s back to normal! She’s human again! If you keep doing that, she’s going to die!” Zenitsu cried. “She’s calling for you right now!”
        “Stop!” Inosuke yelled, hitting Tanjiro on the head. He kept hitting him with his fist, yelling. “Stop going ‘grawr grawr’! Don’t hurt Nezuko! That’s not the kind of guy you are! You’re a sweet guy! Just go back to being normal!”
        Tanjiro began inhaling huge amounts of air again and stomped, cracking the ground and sending Inosuke and Zenitsu stumbling backward. Everyone was scattered by the hit and they started coughing and groaning. They all craned their head to see bone spurs and whip-like protrusions jutting out of his back. His spine looked as if it continued beyond his tailbone and swung behind him like some impossibly long, thick, bony tail.
        Tanjiro pinned Nezuko down once again, but seemed uninterested in seriously harming her. “Don’t lose, Tanjiro! …Tanjiro!” she calls.
        Tanjiro didn't hesitate though, and swung his whips and bone-tail in Zenitsu’s direction.
        “No!” Cried Giyuu, and performed a form of Water Breathing, deflecting the hits.
        “Don’t kill anyone! Tanjiro, I’m begging you!” Pleaded Nezuko.
        Tanjiro ignored Nezuko and finished inhaling air, releasing it at Giyuu in a giant ball. Giyuu dodged and it churned up huge amounts of rock and dust where he was standing. Tanjro readied for another shot, and Nezuko held her hand in front of his face in an attempt to block his shot. Zenitsu cried out, and her block did nothing except harm her own arm, blood and broken fingernails falling to the floor.
        “Stop doing that!” Nezuko sobs.
        A kakushi held Zenitsu away from dragging himself to where Nezuko and Tanjiro are. “No! Tanjiro, stop it! Get away from him, Nezuko!”
        Inosuke was trapped under rubble, Zenitsu was trapped under a kakushi, Nezuko was held down by Tanjiro, Yushiro was hiding from the sun, and Giyuu was running around throwing out water breathing forms when Kanao ran onto the scene. She was bleeding and limping, but held a syringe filled with wisteria antidote against demon cells.
        She ran into the fray, ready to hit Tanjiro with the antidote. “Stop, Tanjiro. Come back to us,” She said. “You mustn’t make Nezuko cry.”
        The syringe Kanao was holding was, however, struck by one of Tanjiro’s whips and shattered on the floor, the antidote spilling out. The smell of wisteria filled the air.
        Kanao went pale. Her heart thumped in her chest.
        But the smell, sickening to demons, caused Tanjro to stop in his tracks and maybe, just maybe, he’ll hear Kanao’s wish.

☆ • ⸻ ✦ ⸻ • ☆

        Tanjiro laid buried in his own mind, amongst the terrible wishes the Demon King passed onto him.
        Just faintly, he could hear his sister's voice, and he could feel himself moving.
        He was waiting for a hope like the wisteria antidote to come along when the sound of it hitting the floor pierced through his muffled ears.
        It was only a tiny sound, barely detectable, and yet it was perhaps one of the loudest he had ever heard.
        It sounded like his one chance breaking.
        His final hope at freedom, shattering into a thousand shards of glass.
        He wanted to run towards it, into the outside world, but couldn’t move an inch. The spirit of Muzan spun around him, holding him down, whispering into his ear, denying any chance of escape.
        And then the smell. The wisteria pierced the air, banishing the demonic presence, like a candle held to the darkness that is the Demon King. He could move. He could fight. And he would.
        He felt the hands of his fellow swordsmen supporting him, pushing the weight of Muzan off him. Tanjiro knew he wouldn’t be able to reach the flowers above, to truly reattain humanity, with the antidote gone. However it gave him the strength to at least grant himself freedom.
        After all, this wasn’t the true Muzan. This was just the coalescence of his desires and beliefs. He could throw them off, shake them away.
        The Demon King clung to him, trying to drag Tanjiro away again with lies. Lies about his sister, about his friends, about his mark, his family, himself.
        Tanjiro strained to peel himself away from Muzan, his friends names and support from both those alive and dead echoing in his mind.
        Rengoku. Mitsuri. Obanai. Shinobu. Giyuu. Himejima. Muichiro. Tengen. Sanemi. Senjuro. Murata. Genya. Nezuko. Inosuke. Zenitsu. Urokodaki. Aoi. Tamayo. Yushiro. Kanao.
        Slowly, painfully slowly, Tanjiro tore away from Muzan, throwing off Muzan’s beliefs and Muzan’s last chance at living on beyond his own death. He wade through the field of flesh, straining, dragging himself away despite Muzan’s many attempts to pull him back under the surface. He dragged on until he reached an empty patch and collapsed, panting.
        Now detached from Tanjiro, Muzan began truly crumbling, finally. Chunks of him textured like dust and small rocks fell upon Tanjiro’s face. Tanjiro couldn’t help but grin in an almost sinister fashion to see Muzan truly dying at last.
        Now all that was left was the lumpy, fleshy landscape, twitching, breathing, and beating, as if one giant organism. The mark of the King of Demons. Tanjiro wondered why it wasn’t disintegrating like Muzan did. He realized it belonged to the Demon King, not Muzan specifically. If he wanted to get back home, Tanjiro would have to take it as his own, disgusting a sight as it was.
        Tanjiro came to the edge of the plain. It reached for him, searching for a new owner now that its old one was dead. Even if he was never the same, if he could buy himself even just a little more time with his sister, with his friends, and with Kanao without hurting anyone, he would take the chance. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and jumped in. It happily received him, and Tanjiro fell through to the other side, where the light of the sun would, hopefully, be waiting.

☆ • ⸻ ✦ ⸻ • ☆

        After hearing Kanao’s words and inhaling the smell of the wisteria, Tanjiro paused. A twitch of emotion appeared, even if just for a moment, on his blank and feral face. Sadness, maybe, or realization. Either way, he stepped back from Nezuko and grimaced, clenching his jaw. Nezuko fell limp, thoroughly exhausted. Tanjro stumbled backward again and hissed, clenching his head, grabbing and pulling on his hair. He then collapsed completely, seizing up, straining each muscle in his body as if pulling on some imaginary force.
        Nezuko pushed herself up and crawled over to her brother, staring at his tightly shut eyelids, his bared fangs. His whips and tail thrashed, but never touched either one of the girls. Then Tanjiro relaxed, shrinking in size, his whips retracting, and he rolled over onto his back. He no longer looked in pain, but exhausted. His limbs and tail were splayed about and his chest gently rose and fell.
        Nezuko called everyone over to see what was happening with Tanjiro, though all of them acted exceedingly cautious, even scared. They still gathered around, more wanting to see their friend back to normal.
        Tanjiro stirred as they gathered around, and they all watched as Tanjiro’s eyes opened. They were still demonic in appearance. Some of the people gathered leaned back, tense, concerned he might not really be back in control. Tanjiro’s mouth opened slightly and pulled into a slight smile-sweet, not sinister, his eyes narrowing in the sunlight. A look of relief washed over his face at seeing the bright blue sky, the golden sun, and the stray leaf that blew through the wind. Perhaps most bright in his eyes, though, was his sister’s face, leaning over him. He was too tired to remember what he had done, so he simply rolled over into his sister’s lap and sobbed, like a small child. Nezuko jumped, scared, but when she saw his lack of hostility, hugged him with her uninjured arm.
        Everyone gathered around cheered, seeing Tanjro back in control.
        The rest of the day was spent tending to the injured and mourning their losses. Tanjiro spent most of the time asleep, and when he was awake, he acted in a childlike manner, similar to how Nezuko had acted as a demon. He mostly spent his time awake wandering around using the kakushi’s pencils to draw on walls, completely unaware of the trouble he had caused. They would just have to find a way to make him aware again in the upcoming years, most of the people there agreed.
        It seemed that once the dust settled, long, happy lives were in store for everyone who had sacrificed so much to defeat Muzan, even with the “Demon King” still around…

Chapter Text

I sit on a cushion on the ground of the living room, a book open on my lap. Rain drums on the window and the smell of tea drifts from the kitchen. I’d been living with my aunt, uncle, and cousin, Giichi, with Grandfather having recently passed, and now I’m back home with my grandma. I’ve been told this house was once the home of my great great grandfather, a skillful swordsman from a hundred years ago.r
The wall of the living room has multiple of my great great grandfather’s belongings hung, from photos to keepsakes, but most prominent is a katana mounted on the wall and an old, ragged haori of two different patterns on each side.
I set down the book I’m reading and stand up from the living room, walking over to the kitchen table where Grandma is pouring tea. I smell the strong scent of the green tea and take a cup in my hands. “Thank you,” I say, walking back to the living room and sitting on the ground. I take a sip of the still steaming tea and immediately regret it, the hot liquid burning my tongue. I yelp and set the tea aside for the time being. My grandmother laughs and sits next to me, clasping her own cup in her hands.
“Grandma?” I ask.
“Yes, Chiyo?” she answers, turning to face me.
“What kind of swordsman was great great grandfather?” I say, curious.
“He was a very powerful swordsman who fought demons," Grandma responds.
“Demons. Really," I say flatly, my curiosity fading.
“Yes, really,” My grandmother says, ignoring my change in tone. "The main reason to never go out at night. Man eating demons with inhuman eyes, fanged teeth, claws, and a thirst for blood. They were immortal, with special abilities, and burned to death after touching sunlight or by being beheaded with special katana called nichirin blades. That sword you see hung on the wall over there is one such nichirin blade,” she says, gesturing to the wall with the hung items.
“So… He was like a vampire hunter.” I cross my arms, still not believing my Grandmother.
“Sort of. He used a special breathing style to gain superhuman strength and agility, and learned a style of wielding his katana known as water breathing. I think you would have loved to meet him,” She tells me, a faint look of reminiscence on her face. “He was a serious, quiet man, but kind. He looked just like you. It’s a shame you didn’t inherit his last name.”
I remember that before being married my mother’s last name was Tomioka. It is a pretty last name. I wonder why my father didn’t take it.
I take my book and the tea, which has cooled, and drink it in silence with Grandma. I try to imagine what a “demon” would look like if they were actually real. I find what she told me confusing as my grandmother has never lied to me, even in her stories. I wonder if she really believes demons exist… crazy.
The sun starts to set and nighttime falls, the moon shining through the clouds. I’ve just finished dinner and walk to my bedroom. I flop onto the bed and take out my notepad and pencil, thinking of what to draw. I end up just drawing, letting my pencil decide what it wants to draw, but I find myself trying to imagine what a demon would look like if it were real. Sharp teeth like my grandma said. Perhaps slitted cat’s eyes… Red would be a more menacing color. Green for the jacket, to compliment…
“That’s an interesting interpretation.” My grandma says, appearing behind me a few minutes later. “They look a little more innocent than I think they would actually look.”
I yelp and frantically cover my sketchbook. “I’m just… trying to draw some monsters,” I say, blushing.
“From your reaction, I thought you didn’t like my story,” My grandma jokes.
“I liked it, I just don’t believe it’s true.” I turn my head away.
“That’s fine. Your great great grandfather fought so his children and grandchildren would think of demons as mere legends.” Grandma smiles, and I relax a little knowing that she doesn’t find my drawings weird.
I close the book and stand up, just remembering what grandma most likely came up here for. “Are we heading to the hill? To meet up with Grandpa?” I ask.
Grandma’s smile fades and she nods. “Yes, we are headed to pay respects to your grandfather,” She tells me, walking out of the room.
I follow Grandma downstairs and we both take the flowers for Grandpa as we leave, shielding them to keep them from losing any petals. We leave the house in silence and hike up the steep mountain slope in front of Grandma’s house. There are graves on either side of the path, but the clouds are low today, casting a mist over the path. I can tell that Grandma, while she keeps rather calm, is irritated by the mist, but I find the wet air strangely comforting.
Unconcerned, I move ahead of Grandma and go forward, wanting to reach Grandfather quickly, but find the fog thickens higher up the mountain. I turn to meet with Grandma, but I don’t see her.
“Chiyo!” I hear Grandma call, but the thick trees bounce the sound and I can’t hear where it is coming from.
“Grandma!” I call, feeling bad about disturbing the peace of those in the graveyard, but needing to make my way back. I turn and start running back down the hill to find her, and follow the path right.
“Chiyo!” I hear Grandma call again, quieter this time.
I stop and turn around, assuming I’m getting farther away with the sound being quieter. Dropping the flowers, I run to the other side of the path, straight this time. I run, panting, without much of an idea where I’m going. All the trees look the same and there’s no notable landmarks nearby. I hope to pass this section I don’t know and return to where I was, but I truly don’t know where I’m going. I slow to catch my breath and look around, realizing I’m really, truly lost. I won’t find Grandma at this rate; It would be better to stay in one place.
I curl up on the side of the path and bury my face in my arms, gasping the thin, moist air, and wait.

Chapter Text

       Night had already fallen before I decided I should get somewhere with a relative amount of infrastructure to wait instead. So now I’m back on the move, running across the path that has transitioned to dirt instead of concrete.
       I stop to catch my breath and find myself back in another grave site. I didn’t even know there was more than one on this mountain, and it certainly isn’t marked on any maps of the area. The graves look incredibly old, hundreds of years old at least, and worn away by time and the elements. Most are in the process of being reclaimed by the forest. I run again, my chest aching, and with each step my hope of finding my way back home fades.
       I’m running when something catches me in the corner of my eye. I almost miss it in the dim moonlight, but I stop to take a closer look. A set of graves right next to the path looks strikingly different from the others. While the graves are chipped and worn, the names rubbed off like the others, the vines and tree branches have been cut away, and the moss that would be covering the graves has been peeled off. Most striking though is a bouquet of incredibly beautiful flowers in front of each grave, each tied in a different color ribbon. They all look to be only a week or so old.
       The graves fascinate me, and I find myself pondering the existence of each grave’s flowers. None of the graves are large family graves, only individual graves, and the graves of important people would be placed closer to important locations or at least marked on the map. So whoever was in these graves has most likely been completely forgotten for decades, and yet someone left flowers.
       I shake my head and focus back on the main task: getting back to Grandma. I walk a few more feet, dodging the roots of overgrown trees and trying not to step on any of the cherries from the cherry trees scattered around the gravesite. The forest here is creepy. Just one step into the trees and you’re in pitch black darkness. It feels like anything could be hiding in the vegetation. I feel like a child afraid of the monsters under the bed, but can’t help but sweat, worrying something is watching. The rustling of the leaves around me almost sounds more like water than plantlife, with how strong it is.
       I’ve just turned to leave when I hear a twig snap behind me. I wheel around, scared and hopeful at the same time, but I can’t see anything beyond the darkness of the trees. Except… to the left of the path, a pair of red dots is bobbing up and down, accompanied by rustling, and then the dots disappear.
       I stand, breathing heavily, and back up, my eyes not leaving that spot. Then the leaves part and something ducks out. While I’m expecting some kind of wild animal, what I see instead is an especially small silhouette, probably no taller than 150 centimeters in height, clasping a new set of flowers similar to the ones already on the graves. An air of danger surrounds them like a shroud, freezing me in place. However, probably the most prominent feature was their bright red eyes, reflecting the moonlight such that they pierce the night like a blade.
       I yelped and fell backward, making the person standing in front of me stop walking, almost as surprised as I was to see me fall. The danger fades and their sharp gaze quickly softens, the glare dimmed, at the sight of me panicking, and while I’m still scared, my breaths slow.
       “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” They say, holding up a hand. Their voice is gentle but very quiet and raspy, as if they haven’t spoken in an extremely long time.
       “Wh- who are you?” I snap, still scared by their red, inhuman eyes.
       “My name’s Kamado Tanjiro,” They respond. “What’s yours?
       “Ch- Chiyo…” I say, relaxing for a moment.
       The main reason to never go out at night. Man eating demons with inhuman eyes, fanged teeth, claws, and a thirst for blood. For whatever reason, my Grandma’s story comes to mind.
       Inhuman eyes.
       I try to shut down the thought before it begins. I’m crazy for thinking that a demon could actually be in front of me! They aren’t real, and even if they were, my great great grandfather played a part in killing them all. But… they could be a kidnapper. My grandma has said there have been tons of unexplained disappearances on this mountain.
       I jump to my feet and run, dodging the cherry tree in the middle of the path, but can only make it so far before I trip over a root and collapse. After having ran for the past few hours, my legs are thoroughly exhausted.
       I strain to get back up, digging my feet into the soil, only to fall again after a few steps.
       Their hand lands on my shoulder. I panic harder, throwing their hand away. I’m not sure what they’re going to do, but I doubt a random person in the middle of the night putting their hand on your shoulder is a good thing.
       “Wait!” They say in their rough voice. “I don’t want to hurt you!”
       Their attempts to calm me down only scare me, since “I don’t want to hurt you” is what every potential creepy kidnapper says.
       I can’t run. They’ll just catch up to me. I do the next most, or maybe the least, sensible thing.
       Punch them in the face.
       They recoil, clenching their jaw, and blink. There is a bit of blood dripping from their nose, but the bleeding stops almost immediately.
       “Not gonna be taken away…” I mumble, not realizing I’m talking.
       “Wait… you think I’m trying to kidnap you?”
       I ignore what they say, punching them again in the gut.
       They grunt, dropping the flowers and curling their fingers. “Please wait!” They exclaim, raising their hands in surrender.
       I stop with my fist raised, breathing heavily. “What?” I bite.
       “Why do you think I’m going to hurt you at all?” They ask.
       I hold my fist in the air and pause. If I’m wrong and they are just a normal person, my explanation would sound exceedingly stupid. But I’ve already said they might kidnap me, so…
       “Because that’s what creepy people in the middle of the night do..?” I respond.
       “Creepy?” They rasp, gripping their stomach. “Didn’t realize I fit the bill.”
       Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course they aren’t a kidnapper. I sigh, lowering my hand. ”I… I’m sorry.” I turn my head away and grasp my fist. “I panicked.”
       They sigh, relieved, and bend down to pick up the flowers they dropped. They don’t make any moves to try to harm me, so I decide to help, since I’m the reason they dropped the flowers in the first place. I see each bundle of flowers is tied with a different color ribbon. One red with a flame pin, a yellow one, a blue one, and the largest bouquet, tied with a pink ribbon. I hand them the collected bouquets and they place them in front of their respective gravestones.
       “I know you told me, but I missed what your name was.” I tell them when they finish. “Remind me?”
       “Kamado Tanjiro.” They respond, turning to face me. “Yours is Chiyo, right?”
       I nod. I know they’re calm, but their red irises still scare me whenever they look at me.
       “Why is someone like you out here?” Tanjiro asks, gesturing toward the disheveled, overrun graveyard.
       My head snaps up as my main problem comes back to mind. “I got lost…” I mutter.
       “You must have been lost for a really long time for you to end up out here.” They say.
       “I didn’t know where to go and hoped to end up off the mountain by running.”
       “Where do you need to be to get back?”
       “Just the little neighborhood at the base of the mountain.”
       “I can take you back.” They say, holding out a hand.
       I stop and stare at their hand, contemplating whether I trust this person enough to take me back. It’s not like I have any other options, though, so I accept.
       I wave my legs, surprised, as they pick me up and lift me on their back. With just one step, they rocket into the dark trees with incredible speed, and we dive into the moonlit night.
       I have a hard time telling why, with how dark it is tonight, but I can see something about the appearance of Tanjiro- that is strangely comforting now that I’ve calmed down. Even after trying to punch him repeatedly.
       “How are you doing this?” I exclaim from behind, my arms wrapped around Tanjiro's neck.
       “Training,” they say
       “Like… at the gym…? How do you even know where you’re going?”
       “I’ve been out here a lot, so I learned how to get around." Tanjiro says, seemingly deep in thought. I try to follow their path so if anything else happens up here on this mountain I can find my way back, but Tanjiro is too fast for me to easily follow and map their movements.
       We break through the trees and Tanjiro’s feet scuff across the ground, leaving gouges in the mud. They’re panting from the strain, and I’m amazed they’re only panting after that speed.
       Tanjiro sets me down and I look around to see I’m back at the base of the mountain. The mist has long cleared up, and I see my grandma at the end of the path surrounded by police officers.
       I forget everything else and bolt forward, rushing towards Grandma with my arms outstretched. “Grandma!” I exclaim.
       “Chiyo!” Grandma yells, and whips around to embrace me in a tight hug. I cry and bury my face in her arms.
       “I thought I wouldn’t find you… don’t ever scare me like that again!” Grandma sobs, but is smiling, relieved.
       Once Grandma lets go, I turn to thank Tanjiro, but they’ve disappeared without a sound.
       Grandma starts inspecting me for any major injuries, but all she finds are some scratches and a lot of dirt. “I’m just glad you aren’t hurt…” she sighs. “You must be so tired… tell me everything that happened tomorrow morning.”
       I hug Grandma again, feeling terrible for hurting her so much, and we start to walk back home.