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After the defeat of Upper Moon demons 4 and 5 by Tanjirou, Nezuko, Genya, Tokitou, and Mitsuri, the injured were taken to the Butterfly Mansion for medical attention.
Miyato was fucking exhausted. Most lower-rank demon slayers had to deal with a demon about every 1.5 months, typically because they got injured or there weren’t any missions to assist in their areas. Hashiras focused on higher-level demons, strategizing, investigating, and patrolling. Miyato didn’t know what Tanjirou and the rest of those kids were on to be thrown from one high-ranking demon to another, but ever since that bastard Uzui retired, Sanemi had pushed him further into his own personal hell.
He was making Miyato complete his 50-demon kill count by the end of the year and become a Kinoe because "the pillars were unstable." When Rengoku passed away, Sanemi had gone to Oyakata-sama before Miyato could even prepare anything and requested a nonstop flow of missions to be sent “his tsuguko’s way.” Uzui's retirement just put more pressure on him. In the last 3 years, he’d gotten 33 kills, 11 a year, which used to mean something. Now, he'd been expected to kill 17 more demons quick as possible, lest he be the next tally on Sanemi’s list.
Which, Miyato had finally completed after 7 brutal months. He heard the news about what had happened at the Swordsmith’s village and decided to head to the mansion, using the opportunity to see everyone again and finally rest.
He arrived at noon, two days after getting the news. By that time, it had been six days since their departure from the Swordsmith Village.
Coming into the Butterfly Mansion, he was immediately crushed into hugs from the butterfly girls. It had been the longest time he’d been away from home, and the rushed letters he’d sent didn’t do justice to just how much he missed those butterflies.
The trio cried as they hugged him, then eagerly tried to pull him along to tell him everything that happened while he'd been gone, like just earlier that day, Genya had been heroic after an upset Demon Slayer was throwing stuff around. After Aoi wiped her tears with a smile, she immediately began fussing over his condition, insisting he change out of his uniform. He then pulled Kanao into a tight hug and teared up when she hugged him back. Shinobu expressed her relief that he was safe and told him how proud she was of him. She also might've added with a scary smile that if Sanemi kept him away for so long again, she'd make him regret it.
After the warm reunion, Miyato made his rounds to check on everyone and get updated on their status.
Tanjirou was still unconscious, covered in the typical cuts and bruises, and his foot was badly injured, though it seemed it would heal fine. Nezuko had been up and wandering around in the sun with Kanao since her arrival, which was great! Were it up to Miyato, he’d already classify her as human. Although he was concerned about the concept that a demon could conquer the sun.
Apparently, Genya had been in perfect condition due to eating a demon and gaining its regenerative abilities? He’d have to ask more about that later. And Mitsuri had been fine after some much-needed rest and triple dishes of every meal. Poor Aoi.
Tokitou had suffered from severe poison intake, but it was almost fully out of his system; he appeared more exhausted than anything else.
For the first time in a while, he was allowed a moment of distraction. As the sun began to set, Miyato sat outside in the garden, cross-legged against a tree with a journal on his lap. He held his brush and wrote light words onto the page, the ink balanced on his knee. The words flowed from him, drawing him into worlds far away and different, much different.
A door slid open and closed in the distance. Soft steps muffled by grass approached and stopped right before him, catching his attention. He turned his head up to see Tokitou standing over him.
“Tokitou-kun?” Miyato set his brush down in the ink. “Hi,” He said with a surprised smile.
Tokitou’s hair was tousled, and his byouin pajamas looked slightly disheveled from bed rest. He looked down at him and then at his book.
“What are you writing?” Tokitou asked, tilting his head at the book, trying to read the upside-down words.
Miyato patted the book with some blotting paper before shutting it closed. He cringed at the thought of smudged words as he put it in his leather satchel.
“Just working on some stories.” He flicked the brush to remove excess ink, sealed the travel-size ink well, and placed it in his pocket.
He glanced back at Tokitou, who was still looking down at him with a tilted head.
“About what?”
Miyato’s eyes crinkled in a smile. His childlike curiosity was always endearing.
“Most are short fiction. They all feature the same characters.” He stood up, brushing grass off his hakama. “Takes place in another world and time, not too far off from this one. I’m just trying to figure out how to string it all together.”
Most times, he would’ve taken any opportunity to ramble about his stories, but he was more concerned with the weary-looking Hashira in front of him.
“Why aren’t you in bed? I hope you aren’t thinking of going on missions yet.” He said with a raised brow.
“I can’t sleep.”
Tokitou stated, looking at Miyato expectantly.
“Oh,” he replied, blinking. “Why not?”
“I’ve got my memories back.”
Miyato’s eyes widen at that. From what Shinobu had told him, Tokitou had amnesia. He’d never known much about Tokitou’s upbringing, nor why he became a demon slayer. Though he doubted Tokitou had known that himself.
And as cruel as it was, maybe it was for the best. Most demon slayers, especially Hashiras, didn’t have pleasant pasts.
A boy who became a Pillar in two months and continually forgot everything couldn’t have had an easy history.
Miyato took in a breath.
“Do you… want to talk about them?”
Tokitou looked a bit startled by the offer. They stood in silence for a few moments before Tokitou spoke up again.
“No.”
“Oh.”
He fidgeted with the brush in his hand.
Miyato didn’t know where to go from here.
Tokitou had come to him and asked him about his writing, said he couldn’t sleep, and revealed he’d regained his memories but didn’t want to discuss them.
They trained together a handful of times, given his connections, but Miyato hadn’t anticipated that Tokitou would seek him out for conversation. He found himself at a loss, unsure why Tokitou was still standing there, waiting.
Tokitou continued to look at Miyato, tapping his foot as if expecting something more.
Why was he looking at him like that? What was he supposed to do about his memories or his-
He stilled the brush in his hand, feeling like an idiot.
“Ah- sure.”
Obviously, people went to Miyato with their sleeping problems. Tokitou wasn’t the first to seek the Dream Breather’s help, but it was the Mist Pillar’s first time coming to him.
He patted at his pockets searching for something, then felt it.
“This should help.” He held out a small sachet filled with his own concoction of dried lavender and other herbs. “Sleep with it near your pillow.”
The corners of Tokitou's mouth slightly curled upwards, almost a smile. He reached for it and took it gently into his palm as if it were precious.
Tokitou bowed his head before heading off.
“Good night,” Miyato called out as Tokitou was leaving his getas on the engawa. He slightly turned back to him, giving a small nod in acknowledgment before the door clicked shut behind him.
Miyato bit his cheek, looking at the closed door.
Tokitou coming to him for the first time after regaining his memories likely meant they weren’t good. He didn’t mind helping others with such things; after all, the creator of dream breathing, having noticeable dark circles under his eyes, was telling.
The gruesome sights they were all subjected to were not to be taken lightly. Iguro might scoff at the notion, but Miyato knew Mitsuri’s constant request for two sachets wasn’t coincidental.
He’d built a bit of a reputation for making those “miracle” sachets, as Mitsuri would say. It had started as a jest when someone asked if he could do something about their insomnia, and it just so happened that he had much experience with calming herbs. He didn’t mind it; it made him feel useful and gave him something to do with all his herbs.
Even then, he wished he could do more.
Miyato stepped away from the tree for an unobstructed view of the sky. He removed his ombre blue haori, folding it into a makeshift pillow before lying down on the grass. The cool earth beneath him offered a soothing distraction. As the vibrant orange of the sunset faded to deep black, he remained outside to wait for the stars.
With his brush in hand, he pointed toward the sky, tracing the outlines of constellations as if drawing them in the air. He stayed like that for almost an hour, stargazing, before finally heading inside.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
When Muichirou stepped back inside, he slid into the indoor slippers provided and headed back to his room. Some people were still awake, running errands and taking care of other patients, so he tried to be quiet. He took the small pouch Hoshino had given him and brought it up to his nose, taking a cautious sniff. The strong scent hit him immediately, causing him to recoil and almost choke on the intensity.
Muichirou had honestly forgotten who Hoshino was until he heard his voice during the earlier check-up. He then remembered that Shinazugawa had been lacking the constant chatter that used to follow him around, chatter from someone who reminded him of a rabbit.
He wasn’t entirely convinced that herbs would help, but Kochou had recommended asking Hoshino for one of his sachets when he came around. She claimed they had calming properties and that almost everyone used them to help with sleep.
Since regaining his memories, grateful as he was to recognize his family’s faces once more, he’d been plagued by visions of his brother, armless, rotting, and infested by maggots. Those haunting images had led to more than a few nights of restless, nightmare-filled sleep. Every night since, he’d woken up gasping, crying, and covered in sweat.
Before, he couldn’t recall ever having dreams. He’d just closed his eyes, drifted off into pitch black, and then woken up. Maybe his memories of dreaming had just been lost, and he’d forget before he even opened his eyes again.
He slid the door to his private quarters open, assigned to him due to his Hashira status; well-earned benefits, he'd say.
Stepping closer to the hospital bed, he collapsed belly-first onto it, exhausted, the metal frame squeaking beneath him. Flipping onto his back, he stared at the ceiling, as he’d found himself doing quite often those past couple of days.
He’d prefer sleeping on a futon, though he wasn’t sure that would help with his recent restlessness. Tugging at the blankets, he pulled them over himself and placed the sachet on his pillow, keeping it far enough not to suffocate him but close enough to smell the herbs filling the area.
He waited for sleep to find him, taking in the floral sweetness and a touch of woody warmth that made his body feel heavier. Whether it was the total 9 hours of sleep he’d gotten in the last six days (not counting when he'd been passed out) or the dried herbs making him drift off, he couldn’t say. He just hoped for a dreamless night.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Miyato woke up well-rested, without his crow tugging at his collar to rush off to yet another mission. However, the loud crow perched on his open windowsill remained, delivering the news that Shinobu had headed to the village nearby and that he could feel free to stay a while longer and take over her responsibilities while she was out.
He sighed, realizing that she had, as usual, waited until he arrived to make her exit. He was supposed to meet with Sanemi right after accomplishing his mission, but he wouldn't mind avoiding him for a little longer, even if just to be petty.
He headed to the kitchen to prepare a brew of tea for everyone. Being picky about his tea, he’d only drink it if he’d made it himself, and having worked at a tea house in his youth, no one complained when he took over.
Aoi was busy preparing most of the meals for the dining hall: a pot of steamed rice, bowls of miso soup, dishes of grilled fish, pickled vegetables, tamago yaki, and lightly seasoned fresh vegetables.
He stepped into the kitchen, gave her a brief pat on the head, and moved toward the untouched pot of boiling water left for him. As he stepped up to the pot, he noticed a bowl of furofuki daikon set aside.
“That one’s for Tokitou-sama. He seemed to be having a rough time, so I asked him what his favorite food was. He said furofuki daikon,” Aoi said nonchalantly.
Miyato huffed a smiled at her seemingly indifferent tone, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”
He wondered how Tokitou had slept last night. He hoped the sachet had helped, although it wasn’t a magical remedy.
Miyato gathered the roasted tea leaves, savoring the comforting, earthy aroma as he measured out the needed amount.
With the water already boiling, he carefully poured it into a kettle to cool slightly.
When the water had cooled to the right temperature, he added the hojicha leaves to the teapot and poured the hot water over the leaves, releasing their nutty fragrance.
Hojicha didn’t need to steep for long, as the roasted leaves quickly infuse the water with their rich flavor. He carefully poured the tea through a strainer into a serving pot.
Satisfied with the result, he filled several small cups, arranging them neatly on a tray and leaving one behind for Tokitou.
With the tray in hand, Miyato headed to the dining area, the food following soon after.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
From the darkness, Muichirou could hear the sound of rushing water and feel a cool breeze against his cheeks.
He blinked the darkness away, revealing a rushing river surrounded by the falling leaves of late ginkgo trees. His hair and the sleeves of his flowy uniform danced in the wind, alongside a peaceful floral scent.
He sucked in a breath. Everything looked just as it had all those years ago.
The river, just a short walk from his home, was surrounded by trees and had a large boulder to the side of it.
He walked towards the boulder, which had seemed much bigger when he and Yuichirou were kids. Before his mom fell ill, before his dad slipped off a cliff, before he failed to protect his brother.
Back when Yuichirou would smile alongside him. They’d see who could climb the boulder quickest. Yuichirou always reached the top first and then extended a hand to pull Muichirou up. Now it took no more than one hand to get himself up.
He sat to the right of the boulder, just as he did when his dad hunted for fish, or his mom washed their clothes while his brother sat next to him. He ran his hand over the smooth rock beneath him; it was familiar.
Home. This was home. How could he ever forget?
“You better not make this a habit.”
Muichirou’s eyes widened at the sound of that voice. His head snapped to his left, and there was Yuichirou, still 11, clean, and alive, sitting next to him and gazing off into the distance. Muichirou’s breath caught in his throat when Yuichirou turned to meet his gaze, cyan eyes mirroring his own.
“Don’t you have better things to do?” Yuichirou flicked him on the forehead.
Only the sounds of rustling trees answered his question. Muichirou remained silent, gaping at his brother’s presence.
How…?
His brother, his dear brother, was next to him. How?
How could his hair flow in the wind, brushing against his skin?
How could he speak in that voice, that tone so uniquely his?
How could he sit here next to him?
Yuichirou tilted his head and then rolled his eyes. “Why bother coming if you won’t-” He was cut off as Muichirou pulled him into a tight hug, holding Yuichirou‘s head beneath his chin.
Yuichirou put his hands on Muichirou’s chest, trying to push him away, but Muichirou only tightened his hold. He opened his mouth to complain but fell silent as Muichirou’s tears began to fall onto his hair.
“I’m sorry,” Muichirou cried, pressing his face into Yuichirou’s hair.
Please, God, Yuichirou, forgive him.
Yuichirou hesitated for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around Muichirou’s torso, hugging him back.
“Shut up.” Yuichirou’s voice wavered.
Muichirou kept his cheek pressed down as he ran a hand through Yuichirou’s hair, from black roots to cyan tips. Yuichirou continued, “You’re alive. That’s all I wanted.”
The autumn wind combated the sun’s warmth on them. Muichirou felt a final squeeze around him as his surroundings started feeling foggy. He looked down at Yuichirou, who gazed up at him with a pursed frown and crinkled brows.
“Live a long life.”
The darkness enveloped him again.
Onii-chan?
Muichirou’s eyes fluttered open, sensing another’s presence nearby. The faint warmth of sunlight filtered through paper windows, casting a gentle glow over the room.
Muichirou turned his head, blinking groggily at the presence entering the room. Squinting against the light, he saw the figures of three small girls wheeling in a tray of food.
“Good Morning, Tokitou-sama!” the butterfly girls chimed in unison.
He winced at the volume as he propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze shifting between their faces and the food tray.
It had been a dream.
Fully sitting up now, he pulled the blanket down to his lap. He turned to look at his pillow to see Hoshino’s sachet laid exactly where he’d put it the night before. He grasped the sachet, the flowery scent taking him back. The image of Yuichirou’s face lingered like a gentle echo.
He looked back at a tray being unfolded over his lap.
“Aoi-san made your favorite!” the girl with pink butterfly clips said cheerfully.
Muichirou looked down at the food on his lap and, indeed, among the dishes was furofuki daikon.
He still felt dazed as he tucked the sachet into his pocket.
Had it really just been a dream?
He could still feel the tips of Yuichirou's hair on his fingers and his weight around him.
And his voice- It had been so long since he’d heard it.
Yuichirou had seemed healthy. Was he happy now?
Had he been waiting for him?
“Tokitou-sama?”
Muichirou startled towards the direction of his name. The girls looked at him, concerned, likely because of his zoning out.
“Are you okay?” called the girl with green.
Muichirou blinked slowly, still feeling disconnected from reality. His mind was clouded with lingering fragments of the dream, and everything around him felt distant.
“I’m fine.”
His eyes drifted down to the meal before him, and he picked up the chopsticks. He brought a piece of the furofuki daikon to his mouth, the flavor savory and slightly sweet.
“What’s my condition?” he asked.
“Miyato-sama said the poison should be fully out of your system; you can start rehabilitation training now,” one of the girls answered.
Good. He’d been stuck in this room for too long. Truth be told, he probably could've left four days ago, considering he'd already visited the swordsmith village again, but he came back for convenience's sake since he still had to do check-ups.
He only had one person in mind for training.
“How’s Tanjirou?” He asked, swallowing a bite of food.
Blue butterflies answered, “Tanjirou-san is still unconscious, but we think he'll be up soon!”
Muichirou’s lips curved into a faint pout. He wanted to train with Tanjirou, especially after he’d succeeded in beheading the Upper Moon 4. But more than that, he simply wanted to see him again.
He’d just had his first dream since his brother was killed 2 years ago. The first one, since he’d remembered his past, that wasn’t absolute torment. It hadn’t even felt like a dream; it was more like his brother had visited him.
If it hadn’t been for Tanjirou, he never would’ve gotten his memories back. He wanted to thank him.
He blew on the tea before taking a sip. It tasted nice.
Well, he supposed he could wait around until Tanjirou woke up.
His thoughts were cut short by Ginko’s loud cawing outside the closed window. “Emergency meeting! Caw! All Hashira’s immediate presence required!” The girls yelped and stumbled into each other at the sudden noise.
So much for waiting.
With a rushed final bite of his food, Muichirou shifted out from under the blankets and tray. The trio quickly rearranged the remaining food on the trolley and rushed out of the room, their footsteps fading down the hall.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and moved towards the dresser where his new uniform lay folded. The bluish-black material was steamed, and its gold buttons polished. After dressing swiftly, he grabbed his katana and headed outside.
Once outside, he spotted Hoshino, who was haphazardly throwing on his haori and adjusting the yellow-lavender butterfly clip on his hair. They fell into step beside each other, their crows circling overhead as they both sprinted towards Headquarters.
Why had Hoshino been called along? Whatever the emergency meeting was about, Muichirou suspected it would involve a lot more than just a simple briefing.