Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It all started with a memory.

Kamado Tanjirou recalled the gentle snow fall that graced the world with its frost, embedding the ground with white powder that created a trail of footprints wherever he went.

Kamado Tanjirou remembered frail and bony, yet warm hands gently stroking his wild burgundy hair in a repeated motion which lulled him into complete bliss.

But Kamado Tanjirou certainly remembered the words that left his mouth as he asked his father; “Why do you help others more than you help yourself?”

Tanjirou’s father glanced down, his face breaking into a soft smile.

“What do you mean by that?” The older man replied calmly, his tired crimson eyes not leaving his son’s.

“Today, when we were in town, you chose to help those people load their own cart, when you shouldn’t be straining yourself, you could get hurt.”

A chuckled escaped from his father’s weathered lips, soft and genuine.

“Because, it’s the right thing to do, my son. Sometime you must help others before you help yourself. When you do that, then those you’ve helped will return your kindness, and pay it forward. Which leads to a constant cycle of goodwill, do you understand?”

Tanjirou did not want to admit to the man that he did not, but his father could tell from the perplexed look on the boy’s face, he was still having trouble wrapping his head around the idea.

“So, you should help strangers, that way they’ll be nice to you?” Tanjirou asked slowly, which caused his father to laugh again, this time it being much more vibrant and full, which turned into a weak coughing fit.

Tanjirou sat up in worry, but his father held up a withered up and muttered, “I’m alright.”

He took a steadying breath and continued, “Not only strangers, you can help the people you love as well.”

Tanjirou tilted his head slightly, “Like how you and mother love one another?”

The man nodded then added, “That’s true, but love isn’t just romantic. You love me and your mother, don’t you?”

“Of course!”

“And all of your siblings?”

“More than anything,” Tanjirou replied, shaking his head, eagerly. 

“Well, that love is different than the kind your mother and I share, but that doesn’t make it any less special or true. You shouldn’t help people for the sake of looking for something in return, you should help people because it’s simply the right thing to do.”

Tanjirou nodded in response, “That makes sense.”

His father held out his arms and Tanjirou crawled into his lap, as he felt a gentle kiss placed atop his hair.

“I love you, father.” He giggled as his father’s arms were wrapped around his small body.

“I love you as well, Tanjirou.” The older man replied quietly, as the two watched the sun dip into the earth, its colors painting the sky, as snow continued to cover the world in gentle frost.

Kamado Tanjirou memories then began to fade, drifting once again toward the deepest depths of his consciousness.

He vaguely wondered why he was thinking of such a mundane memory now. He was sure that the conversation between him and his father took place years ago, so why did apart of himself feel as though it was important to remember?

Tanjirou eyelids slowly cracked open, as if they had been sealed shut for ages, to find himself staring up at a plain wooden ceiling. 

A weak groan rolled off his tongue as he swallowed, his throat feeling as hoarse and dry as a piece of firewood.

He also found that because his neck was so stiff, he wasn’t able to turn his head completely to the side. 

Tanjirou glanced around the room, hoping for some clue about his whereabouts, when a cheery voice cut through the silence like a swordsman’s blade.

“Looks like someone is finally up!” The voice then erupted with boisterous laughter, causing to Tanjirou to flinch slightly as a result.

“Apologies! I did not mean to frighten you, young Kamado.”

Tanjirou had finally caught eyes with the man who was speaking to him, his fiery hair was unmistakable.

“R-Rengoku-san!” He smiled weakly, which was greeted by Rengoku’s own grin in reply. 

“Good morning, young Kamado!”

Tanjirou tried to sit up, but instead, he felt a sharp pang on pain erupt from his side.

He hissed lightly as firm hand gently pushed him back down into a resting position.

“None of that now, you’re under strict orders from Kocho-san to not overdo it for atleast another two weeks or so. You’ve been out for nearly two months! We were afraid you were never going to wake up again!”

“Two months?” Tanjirou felt his stomach drop with unease.

Tanjirou stared at Rengoku, noticing the eyepatch covering one of his eyes, the man must’ve realized why the boy was staring and he laughed, “This?”

He tapped the eyepatch lightly, “It’s nothing to worry about! Your wounds were much more serious than my own.”

Although Rengoku words were said playfully, Tanjirou couldn’t help but feel in underlying emotion being conveyed through them.

Tanjirou’s nostrils flared with a horrible stench seeping into his nose. It was sour and stale all at once, twisting around Tanjirou’s head making him feel dizzy from the smell.

He glanced around, wondering where such a prominent and nauseating scent came from. 

“Young Kamado? Are you alright?” 

Rengoku asked, it seemed to cause the smell to grow immensely. Tanjirou looked up at Rengoku, whose face was pulled into a tight smile.

An idea slowly crept into the boy’s head, like a serpent slithering it’s way though a field of grass.

Was Rengoku-san angry at him?

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking those thoughts away and replied, “Apologies, Rengoku-san, what did you say?”

The man paused, and then his smiled widened once more, yet the scent did not diminish, “I was simply explaining your friends whereabouts! That boar-headed lad and the boy with yellow hair are currently out on separate missions. But I do believe they’ll be returning within the next few days. While your sister is resting in another wing of the mansion.”

Tanjirou looked up, the thought of his sister made his heart sqeeze, “Can I see her?”

“You would need to ask Kocho-san, but as of right now, she’s away. Although, she should be back by nightfall.”

Tanjirou was too dazed, too tired, to answer in a coherent manner. 

His vision swam, causing him to only see blur of reds and yellows and oranges in front of him until his eyes could manage to focus.

“So, my friends are all alright?” He asked quietly, and Rengoku nodded in response.

He exhaled, feeling as a weight was lifted off his chest, “What a relief. And I’m glad that you’re alright, Rengoku-san.”

Before Rengoku spoke again, he paused, his one working eye staring down at Tanjirou so intently, it made the red-eyed boy want to squirm under the attention, “I’m glad as well!” He replied, “It was an easy recovery!”

Tanjirou’s eyes grew heavier once more, 
coaxing him to drift back to sleep, but something continued to nag his mind.

He could feel Rengoku’s burning stare as he turned to face the man, staring him right in the eye.

“You smell angry, Rengoku-san,” He stated, timidly.

For an instant, Rengoku looked surprised, but the expression disappeared so quickly, Tanjirou believed he must have been hallucinating.
 
“Impressive! I had no clue you were able to pick up the scent of others’ emotions!” Rengoku laughed again, sounding much more forced.

Tanjirou’s mind wandered away from Rengoku’s voice, the smell coming off his increasing tremendously, it was rotten and vile. 

Tanjirou felt as though he could get sick from the stench alone, he searched his mind for reasons why Rengoku would be angry. 

Was he mad at him? 

Or perhaps at Upper Moon Three who had escaped?

The Upper Moon… Tanjirou thought slowly, his eyes widening.

His memories came rushing back as if a flash flood had washed over him, pulling him back to that night.

Tanjirou watched in helpless horror as the memory unfolded, vivid and merciless. Flashes of light burst through the night like lightning, red and blue hues colliding, bleeding together, until they became almost blinding. The roar of battle filled his ears, deafening and chaotic, drowning out everything but the pounding of his heart.

He could feel it all over again, the grime of dust caked onto his skin, the suffocating weight of grime in the air, and the sharp, burning sting radiating from the wound along his side. His clothes had been torn and stained with blood, the fabric clinging to him like a second skin.

Fear had wrapped itself around his chest, tight and suffocating, constricting his every breath. It wasn’t just fear for himself, but for Rengoku-san, for the others, for what might happen if he couldn’t move, if he couldn’t fight.

He remembered the moment he forced himself off his knees. His limbs trembled beneath him, weak and sluggish, but the terror coursing through his veins propelled him forward. Step by unsteady step, he dragged himself toward the heart of the battle, every inch of his body screaming in protest.

The searing pain in his side flared hot and sharp, nearly buckling his knees, but his instincts were louder. The next moment burned itself into his memory like a brand: his body lurching forward on its own, fueled by nothing but raw panic, shoving Rengoku-san out of harm’s way.

And then—pain. Blinding, overwhelming pain.

Blood filled his mouth, warm and metallic, dripping down his chin as his lungs strained for air that wouldn’t come. His vision blurred at the edges, the world spinning wildly, yet he remembered every sound, every heartbeat, every gasp.

It all came rushing back now, as if a dam had suddenly cracked and the water began rushing through.

He remembered the fear.

He remembered the pain.

He remembered everything.

Tanjirou felt the color drain from his face, his skin turning pale and cold as realization sank in. Without thinking, his trembling hands drifted to his abdomen, fingers pressing over the bandages hidden beneath his clothing.

The first thought that crept into his mind was the question, how was he alive?

Tanjirou felt his breathing become ragged and shallow, without noticing, his fingertips began to tremble.

“Are you alright, Kamado?” Rengoku asked, much more quietly than before.

Tanjirou managed a stiff nod, swallowing the lump in his throat as he forced his voice steady. “Yes, I’m fine.” 

Ignoring Rengoku’s earlier warning, Tanjirou pushed himself upright, wincing as his hand instinctively pressed against his side.

Rengoku’s sharp gaze didn’t miss his unease. His fingers brushed against the hilt of his sword, his expression unreadable.

“Since you are awake, perhaps you should get something to eat. Are you hungry?”

Tanjirou, thankful for the change of subject, nodded eagerly. “I am!”

Rengoku laughed, “I’m not surprised! I’ll have young Kanzaki make you something to eat, she’ll want to monitor your vitals as well. And once you are recovered enough to train, you will officially become my Tsuguko. This is, If you still wish to accept my offer.”

Tanjirou smiled broadly, and replied, “Yes, of course!”

For a moment, the horrid musk of anger waned, being replaced by the scent of pride and compassion.

Tanjirou’s smile widened at the change… but when Rengoku’s eyes met his directly, the sharp, sour musk returned.

The boy’s smile faltered, replaced by a thin, tense line. He hesitated, mouth parting as he fought to ask the question pressing against his tongue—but his body betrayed him. Exhaustion swept in, heavy and unrelenting, his eyelids drooping despite his best efforts to stay awake.

As he slumped deeper into the bed, Rengoku continued, unaware that sleep had already claimed him.

The boy opened his mouth, wanting to ask Rengoku the reason why he seemed angry, but he felt his eyelids become heavy and hard to lift.

At the feeling, Tanjirou slumped down deeper into the bed as Rengoku continued, “Spekaing of your training, I believe we’ll start with some basic conditioning to get your body back up to its normal strength. As I said before, Kocho-san said it should only take a few weeks for you to recover.”

He turned away and lifted up a spare chair from the corner, placing it close to the bedside.

“My training is no laughing matter, though. Did you know that almost everyone quits after the first week?”

He laughed wholeheartedly, “What do you think, young Kamado? Do you believe you’ll be able to last longer?”

Rengoku finally turned toward the boy, only to find him fast asleep, his breathing slow and steady, the lingering tension melted away by exhaustion.

The smile softened on Rengoku’s face, but the faint, bitter undertone of anger never fully faded.

Chapter Text

The bitter scent of anger clung stubbornly to the halls of the Butterfly Mansion, as if Rengoku’s very presence had left an imprint on the estate, a lingering pressure that refused to fade, even in his absence.

Tanjirou noticed it every time the door creaked open, every time footsteps echoed down the corridor. It wove through the air like billows of smoke. 

He sat propped against the headboard, eyes drifting toward the window, watching the gentle sway of the garden beyond the glass. The vibrant green of the trees, the soft ripple of wind brushing against the leaves.

I just want to breathe fresh air… he thought, shoulders slumping with quiet frustration.

But the dull ache pulsing through his body, the tightness of his bandages, and the constant fatigue kept him shackled to the bed. No amount of stubbornness could undo the damage that had been done.

Three days had passed since he’d awakened from the coma, and yet, it already felt suffocating.

His gaze drifted from the window as his thoughts returned to yesterday's conversation with Shinobu Kocho. Her words lingered more than he cared to admit.

 “Well, Tanjirou, other than your abdominal injury, your body is almost completely healed. That being said, you shouldn’t push yourself too far the first few weeks.”

Shinobu explained, her voice airy and light, contrasting the damp and heavy air in the estate. Tanjirou nodded and replied, “Thank you, Shinobu-san.”

“It’s a miracle you survived the blow at all,” She added. “From the information Rengoku-san had written in his report, when you pushed him out the way, the demon must have been surprised, letting his fist slip and only slightly grazing your stomach instead of impaling you.”

That didn’t surprise Tanjirou in the slightest, the Upper Moon had intended to kill him at the beginning of the fight. He was sure that he only survived due to a mishap on that accord.

“Your injury will most likely scar, but that’s a fate better than death, I suppose.” Shinobu smiled, handing Tanjirou a cup from his bedside. “You’ll need to drink this medicine once a day, it’ll help with the aches and pains.”

Tanjirou took the cup gingerly and said, “Thank you very much.”

“Rengoku-san will also have you on a strict training regiment, so I’ll make sure to tell him not to strain you too much during the beginning stages.”

Tanjirou nodded and replied, “Thank you, again.”

Tanjirou’s eyes shifted to the small table beside his bed, where a neatly folded piece of parchment rested. His brow furrowed slightly. He didn’t remember seeing it there earlier.

With a quiet, strained grunt, he stretched his arm out, the motion pulling uncomfortably at his healing side. His fingertips brushed the parchment, drawing it toward him.

He unfolded the letter and read what was inside.

Tanjirou,

I heard you just woke up, how’s Nezuko-chan doing? Have you seen her? Can you tell her I say hi? Tell her I’ll be back soon! This mission is torture! I was assigned to this old fishing town where a bunch of old people have been disappearing, it’s terrifying! I wanna go home.

Oh, and feel better.

From,

Zenitsu

Tanjirou chuckled weakly as he finished reading the letter. At least, Zenitsu seemed to be alright, he didn’t mention Inosuke, so they must be on separate missions like Rengoku mentioned before.

There was a light knock against the door and Tanjirou called, “Come in!”

Sumi, Naho and Kiyo peered in through the cracked open door. “Hello, Tanjirou!” Naho hummed, followed by Kiyo, who asked, “Feeling better?”

Tanjirou nodded earnestly, “Much better!”

Sumi smiled, carrying a tray, “That’s great! We have some tea for you if you’d like!”

Tanjirou inhaled deeply at the scent of the tea, thankful for the refreshing and delicious smell.

“Yes, please!” He said, the grin on his face widening.

Sumi carefully handed him the cup, and he blew on it gently, taking a small sip.

The taste reminded him on his mother’s own tea, of how he would watch her boil the water in awe, believing it to be the greatest innovation known in mankind.

He remembered when Takeo didn’t blow on his tea, taking a big swig of it, and burning his tongue.

Both Hanako and Shigeru couldn’t contain their laughter as he raced outside and shoved his face into a pile of snow, muffling his screams as he yelled, “Damn it, that’s hot!”

Which resulted in their mother scolding him for his language, but a smile peeked through her pale lips which became a gentle laugh.

Tanjirou loved his mother’s laugh, how soft and quiet it was.

He missed hearing it.

“Tanjirou?” A voice asked slowly, pulling him out of his fantasy.

“Sorry?” He looked over at the butterfly girls, who shared a look of worry on their round, childish faces.

“Did we make you upset?” Kiyo asked, tilting her head. “It’s just… you look sad.”

“Oh!” Tanjirou gasped. “No, no. I’m not sad, I promise. I was just thinking, thank you for the tea.”

Despite his attempts of making the girls feel better, they still seemed unsure.

“How about this, when I’m allowed out of bed, how about we all have a big picnic outside? It’ll be so much fun.”

Sumi was the first to break into a laugh, “And we can make your favorite dish!”

Naho nodded excitedly, bouncing on the heels of her feet, “We can also have Aoi join us, and maybe Rengoku-san if he’s around!”

The mention of Rengoku caused the revolting smell to rush back into his nose, making him cough slightly.

“Are you alright, Tanjirou?”

Kiyo asked, in which Tanjirou replied quickly, “Yes, I’m fine!”

Kiyo turned back to the girls and they chatted away, leaving the room.

“Bye, Tanjirou!”

“We’ll see you later!”

“Bye-bye!”

Tanjirou watched fondly as they left the room, his weak smile lingering for a moment. But as the door clicked shut behind them, the warmth on his face faded, replaced by a deep frown.

His eyes drifted to the window. The soft whisper of wind beyond the glass pulled at him, tempting him with the promise of fresh air and clear skies. Without another thought, he threw the covers aside and slowly turned his body so that his legs dangled off the edge of the bed.

The wooden floor was cool and smooth beneath his bare foot as it touched down, sending a faint shiver up his leg.

With a sharp inhale, Tanjirou pushed himself upright, his muscles protesting and his healing side twinging with pain. His legs wobbled beneath him, but he pressed forward, determination outweighing the trembling in his limbs.

Step by careful step, he made his way toward the window, each breath growing more labored, his body already winded from the short distance.

Finally, he reached the window and leaned heavily against the frame, his palm bracing himself as his eyes lifted to the sky. The cerulean expanse stretched wide and endless above him, dotted with drifting, white-edged clouds.

For a moment, he simply breathed, letting the cool morning air wash over him.

A faint movement caught his attention, a raven perched in the nearby tree, pecking idly at the bark. Its feathers shimmered under the late morning sun, sleek and dark as polished obsidian.

The sight tugged at his heart. It reminded him of Nezuko, her long, flowing black hair catching the sunlight as they walked through the woods together. The ache of missing her settled heavily in his chest.

Shinobu had promised that once he was well enough to move around, he’d be free to visit Nezuko as often as he liked. But that likely wouldn’t be for at least a few more days.

Tanjirou rubbed his fingers together absentmindedly, taking a deep breath of the crisp air, letting it fill his lungs. As he exhaled, his mind wandered, drifting home to Mount Kumotori.

The memory wrapped around him like a blanket.

The air was sharp and brittle there, the cold turning his breath to visible clouds. Snowflakes clung to his lashes as they drifted down in delicate spirals.

He chuckled softly at the image of Hanako launching a snowball at Takeo, sparking an all-out sibling war that raged for hours. Rokuta, ever the cautious one, had wisely retreated indoors the moment the snow started flying, snuggled safely in their mother’s arms.

Their father stood at the doorway, his sharp red eyes gleaming with quiet amusement as he watched the chaos unfold.

Tanjirou remembered the heavy, calloused hand gently patting his head as they all trudged inside, cheeks flushed pink from the cold. The warmth, the love—the simple, perfect comfort of home—filled his chest like sunlight.

A wistful, sad smile crept across his face. The ache of longing settled deep in his ribs, sharp and familiar.

The raven shifted, its beady black eyes turning to meet his. There was no visible emotion in those dark orbs, yet Tanjirou felt something, something strange and oddly grounding. A quiet understanding. An impossible, wordless empathy.

He nearly laughed at the ridiculous thought—a bird offering him more comfort than most people had managed—but he couldn’t look away.

In that moment, with the raven watching him and the sky stretching endless above, the rancid stench of anger that haunted the estate faded into the background.

He didn’t know—or care—how long he stood there at the window, but the dull ache in his legs and the weakness spreading through them told him it had been far too long.

Still, for the first time in days, the air felt light.

Then a voice announced, “Young Kamado!”

Tanjirou yelped, stumbling back and causing the raven to fly off in a panic.

He attempted to regain his balance but it was vain, he squeezed his eyes shut, preparing to hit the floor.

But the impact never came, Tanjirou slowly opened his eyes to find calloused, yet warm hands catch him by the shoulders, propping him up from behind.

“Rengoku-san!” He sputtered out, causing a howl of laughter from the flame-haired man.

“You should be more careful! Your injuries still need time to heal.”

“I’m sorry,” Tanjirou muttered softly, his gaze falling to the floor as his words hung between them.

Rengoku offered a reassuring smile in response, but it did little to mask the potent stench of anger that thickened the air around them—a sharp, bitter presence that Tanjirou could almost taste.

The older man’s hands remained firmly on Tanjirou’s shoulders, steady and grounding, though the boy could feel the strength behind them.

Without a word, Rengoku gently turned him, guiding him back toward the hospital bed. His grip was careful, but there was an undeniable firmness in the way he directed him.

Tanjirou’s cheeks flushed faintly with embarrassment as he allowed himself to be eased down onto the bed once more.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Rengoku-san,” he added, his voice quieter now, tinged with uncertainty.

But Rengoku only chuckled, his expression brightening, though the lingering tension never fully left the space between them.

“I must say, I’m impressed!” He declared with his usual warmth, his hand briefly ruffling Tanjirou’s hair. “Most people can’t even stand for several days after injuries like yours.”

Despite the underlying heaviness in the air, Tanjirou couldn’t help but smile faintly at the praise, though the unease still prickled at the edges of his chest.

Rengoku pulled the forward the forgotten chair he had sat in during his last visit.

He said, “Once your injuries are not a hindrance to your mobility. We shall head over to my estate for training!”

This caught Tanjirou’s attention, “Your estate?”

“Yes!” Rengoku nodded, “It’ll be difficult for the both of us to go back and forth for training, wouldn’t you agree?”

For some reason, It had never crossed Tanjirou’s mind that he would be staying with Rengoku, or that he even had a mansion of some sorts.

“I suppose so,” Tanjirou concluded, shrugging slightly.

Now that he had truly thought of it, Tanjirou hadn’t had a home of some sorts since he lived with Urokodaki during his training.

But for the rest of his journey, he had always been traveling.

Tanjirou supposed he could call the Butterfly Estate his place of residence, but it was more of a hospital than a house.

He looked up at Rengoku who continued, “The Flame Estate is actually where both my father and little brother live as well! I’m sure they look forward to meeting you.”

“Oh, you have a little brother?” Tanjirou asked, his interest piqued.

“Yes! His name is Senjurou and I believe he’s just a bit younger than you, I’m sure you two will get along! He’s awfully shy though.”

Tanjirou beamed as the scent of anger was being replaced with love.

His smile grew at the thought of his own brother, Rokuta who was also known for being quiet and timid as well, always clinging to Tanjirou’s leg and holding his hand or yukata.

“What about your father?” Tanjirou wondered, “What’s he like?”

The smell sour slightly, but not with hate or anger like Tanjirou first assumed. But almost melancholy and compassion, but with a vague whiff of resentment as well.

“My father is…” Rengoku paused, collecting his thoughts. “He lost his way for quite a long time, but he’s learning how to find it again.”

Tanjirou nodded in understanding, “I see.”

Rengoku cleared his throat, his voice booming, “Now with that all settled, I’ll be off. I’ll return to see you again in about a week or so.”

“Rengoku-san,” Tanjirou added before the man turned to leave.

“Yes?”

“I was just wondering if my sister and my friends will be accompanying me to your estate.”

“I already informed my father about your sister and her… situation.” Rengoku explained, using his words carefully. “And he was written a letter from Oyakata-sama which has given her immunity.”

Tanjirou sighed a breath of relief, “And Zenitsu and Inosuke?”

“They are welcome as well!” Rengoku chirped, crossing his arms.

“Thank you again, Rengoku-san.” The fire-haired man froze then turned slightly face to Tanjirou, when he caught the boy’s gaze the scent of anger seeped into the room.

“Goodbye, young Kamado.”

A gentle summer breeze blew through Tanjirou’s hair, making it fly back in the wind.

Naho, Kiyo, Sumi and himself were sitting down in the gardens, passing around tempura, rice balls and tea.

“This is so much fun!” Kiyo giggled, taking a sip of her tea. “We should do this more often!”

Naho smiled, which caused Sumi to nod. “Tanjirou, I heard you’re getting discharged from the Butterfly Mansion soon, right?”

Naho asked and Tanjirou replied, “Yes! By next week.”

Tanjirou had finally been able to visit Nezuko who greeted him with an embrace and Tanjirou reciprocated those feelings through tears.

The two siblings hugged until daybreak which caused Shinobu to scold Tanjirou for staying up into the early morning hours.

He munched quietly on a rice ball as anxiety prickled his neck with unease.

Rengoku would be back soon to bring both he and his sister to his estate, both Zenitsu and Inosuke were still out on their missions.

Well, Inosuke had returned to the Butterflh Mansion for just two short days, being whisked away after he crow informed Tanjirou that he had another mission.

The red-eyed more was more than just confused when the bird had appeared to him and not Inosuke himself, but the reason became clear after the boat-headed boy began chasing around his crow, attempting to eat it the moment he laid eyes on it.

After a bit of persuasion, Inosuke finally agreed not to eat the bird in exchange for tempura for his travels, and he was off once more.

The thought of staying at the Flame Hashira’s estate, being shrouded in the retched smell of anger nauseated Tanjirou.

“Sorry, I’m late.” A voice ripped through the silence, causing Tanjirou to turn and find Aoi standing above him.

“Oh! Hello, Aoi!” Tanjirou greeted as she sat beside him, carefully balancing a platter in one of her hands.

“Hello, Tanjirou, I have your medicine for today.”

“Thank you very much!” He replied, taking a swift gulp of the sickeningly sweet liquid.

“I’ll make sure to prepare some more for you before you leave.” Aoi answered, smoothing out her skirt as Kiyo handed her a cup of tea, which she took tentatively.

The girls and Tanjirou began to happily chat about the shining weather and the flowers when something caught Tanjirou’s eye.

The raven from the other day sat atop the same tree as it did before, as if he continued to watch over Tanjirou.

He scoffed at the idea, it was certainly a different bird than the one he had seen before.

It must have been.

It was strange for Tanjirou to have his uniform on after nearly three months without it.

He slipped on his checked haori and readjusted it so it felt more comfortable against the fabric of his clothes. It was early, very early in the morning.

So early that the sun hadn’t even reached the horizon line. Tanjirou had found himself pacing around the perimeter of the estate for belay an hour, preparing himself for the journey ahead.

He had no clue how far Rengoku’s mansion was and wanted to get used to walking long distances again, so he began to walk circles around the Butterfly Estate over and over again.

He glanced up at the sky, becoming a mixture of hues swirling around one another.

Before becoming a Demon Slayer, Tanjirou would never notice small details like the colors of the sky shifting and changing, or the way the leaves seem to circle each other in an constant dance until the wind stopped blowing.

But after all his training, he became more aware of not only his surroundings, but what those surroundings entailed.

Things as simple as a butterfly finding its way onto a flower, or a row of ants crawling on the ground, forcing him to be mindful of where he steps.

Although others might believe that this kind of thinking would be a hindrance, he found it to be almost a present.

It was as if he learned to cherish every day, every moment, and every memory he had as a blessing he was gifted.

Tanjirou rubbed the area of his stomach where he was wounded, he was thankful to be alive, to be breathing and standing as the sun rose.

The fact that he was alive was a gift he was given and meant to cherish. So why did he feel so unworthy of it?

“Thank you for everything!” Tanjirou bowed deeply to Shinobu, his voice brimming with sincerity.

Shinobu’s lips curled into a gentle smile as she patted his shoulder.

“It was my pleasure,” She chimed, her tone airy but kind.

Tanjirou adjusted the straps of Nezuko’s box on his back just in time for Sumi, Naho, and Kiyo to rush forward, wrapping their small arms tightly around his waist.

“Promise you’ll come back!” Sumi exclaimed, clinging to him.

“Yeah, you have to promise us!” Naho added, her brows furrowing in determination.

“Please, Tanjirou!” Kiyo pleaded, her eyes wide and shining.

Tanjirou chuckled softly, kneeling down so he was eye level with them.

“I promise,” He said with a warm smile, placing a hand over his heart. “I’ll come visit.”

The girls beamed at his reply, satisfied, and finally stepped back, their faces glowing with excitement.

Aoi approached quietly, a small basket in her hands. She held it out to him, her gaze turned to the side.

“Here’s your medicine,” She muttered, avoiding his eyes. “Make sure you take care of yourself.”

Tanjirou accepted the basket gratefully.
“You too,” he replied, beaming at her.

Aoi glanced at him, flustered by his bright smile, before quickly turning away.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have chores to finish.” She turned back toward the mansion, pausing only briefly. “I’ll send word about Inosuke and Zenitsu when there’s news.”

“I appreciate it,” Tanjirou called after her, waving. The three girls flanked Aoi as they disappeared back into the mansion.

“Good luck with your training, Tanjirou,” Shinobu said with a final, knowing smile before turning and following them inside.

Tanjirou lingered for a moment, glancing back up at the Butterfly Mansion. With one last deep breath, he turned toward the front gate where Rengoku stood waiting.

“Good to see you, Rengoku-san!” Tanjirou greeted brightly, jogging up to the man.

“And you as well, young Kamado,” Rengoku replied, nodding in acknowledgment, his golden eyes full of energy.

“Are you ready? It’s a bit of a journey to my home,” Rengoku warned with an encouraging smile.

“Yes!” Tanjirou nodded enthusiastically. “I’m ready.”

“Excellent,” Rengoku declared, turning to lead the way. But after only a few steps, he glanced back with a teasing grin.

“I believe this is a perfect time to begin your conditioning, don’t you think?”

Before Tanjirou could respond, Rengoku broke into a light jog down the path, calling over his shoulder.

“I’d start moving if I were you!”

Tanjirou’s eyes widened for a moment before a laugh escaped him.

“Uh—yes, sir!” He picked up his pace, his legs still stiff but willing, pushing himself to catch up with the Flame Hashira.

And so, with the faint musk of simmering rage trailing faintly in the air like smoke, Tanjirou trailed behind, following the musk of rage as a guide.

The Rengoku Estate was much smaller than Shinobu’s sprawling Butterfly Mansion, but Tanjirou wasn’t particularly surprised. After all, the Butterfly Mansion doubled as an infirmary—it made sense for them to need more space.

But what the Rengoku Estate lacked in size, it made up for in quiet grandeur.

The building sat low to the ground, its roof tiled with dull blue shingles that glinted softly beneath the setting sun. A sturdy white wall enclosed the estate, guarding the quiet space within.

By the time they arrived, the sky had begun to fade into hues of pink and orange, and Tanjirou was breathless from the journey. They had needed to stop more than once along the way—Tanjirou’s recovering body still easily exhausted.

Rengoku motioned for him to follow inside, and Tanjirou trailed behind nervously, clutching the straps of Nezuko’s box, his heart thudding softly in his chest.

“Father! Senjurou!” Rengoku called out as they stepped into the entryway. “I’m back.”

Moments later, a boy appeared from around the corner, no older than fourteen by Tanjirou’s guess. He bore the same golden eyes and fiery hair as Rengoku, but his features were softer—gentler.

The boy held a broom in one hand, his face lighting up with a smile at the sight of his brother.

“Aniue! You’re back!”

He rushed over eagerly but paused when his gaze landed on Tanjirou. His eyes widened in recognition, and he quickly stepped back, bowing politely.

“Oh! You must be Kamado Tanjirou. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Tanjirou raised his hands, flustered.
“Ah, please, you don’t have to bow—and just call me Tanjirou.”

Senjurou straightened, nodding with a shy grin. “Of course! My brother’s told me all about you.”

Rengoku laughed warmly and ruffled his younger brother’s hair. “Let’s find Father, shall we?”

“He’s in his room—I’ll go get him,” Senjurou offered before hurrying off down the hall, broom forgotten.

Tanjirou shifted the weight of Nezuko’s box on his back. “Rengoku-san, is there someplace Nezuko can stay?” he asked, glancing around.

“Of course,” Rengoku replied, his voice cheerful but brisk. “Let’s move quickly.”

He guided Tanjirou down the hall to a quiet room with a futon and a tall, packed bookshelf. The curtains were already drawn, casting the space in soft shadows.

“Thank you,” Tanjirou breathed, gently setting the box down onto the futon. He placed the basket Aoi had given him beside it.

“You can come out whenever you’d like, Nezuko. I’ll be back in a bit.”

A quiet hmph of acknowledgment came from inside the box, and Tanjirou smiled faintly.

When he stepped back into the hall, Rengoku was waiting patiently. Together, they made their way toward the front, following the direction Senjurou had taken.

As they rounded the corner, Tanjirou’s eyes landed on a tall man standing in the hall. His hair was faded to a dull, worn shade of red, his features sharp and weathered with lines of age and fatigue. Though the resemblance to Rengoku was undeniable, this man’s presence carried none of the warmth.

“Father,” Rengoku greeted, his voice steady, “I want you to meet my Tsuguko—Kamado Tanjirou.”

Tanjirou straightened, suddenly self-conscious beneath the older man’s scrutinizing gaze. Shinjurou’s eyes swept over him with thinly veiled surprise, though his face remained impassive. Then, unexpectedly, he stepped forward and extended a hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kamado.”

Tanjirou accepted the handshake gingerly, the man’s calloused palm rough against his own.

“You as well, sir,” Tanjirou replied, his tone polite but uncertain.

Senjurou appeared once more, smiling warmly. “I’ve prepared some tea. We can sit on the engawa if you’d like.”

“It sounds wonderful, Senjurou!” Rengoku replied, already crossing the space in two confident strides.

“Lead the way.”

Tanjirou made to follow, but a firm hand landed on his shoulder, halting him mid-step. He turned, surprised, to find Shinjurou’s sharp eyes fixed on him, a shadow of something unreadable lurking behind them.

“Is… something wrong, sir?” Tanjirou asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I want to speak with you,” Shinjurou said simply, removing his hand but keeping his gaze locked onto Tanjirou’s.“Alone.”

Tanjirou’s heart skipped slightly, uncertainty prickling at his skin.

“About what?” The boy asked cautiously.

Shinjurou's eyes narrowed faintly.
“Tell me, have you ever heard of Sun Breathing?”

Chapter Text

Tanjirou awkwardly shifted in place, struggling to find a comfortable position on the floor as Shinjurou stared him down with quiet intensity.

The older man sat across from him, arms loosely folded, his eyes sharp and unwavering. The silence between them stretched long enough that Tanjirou finally cleared his throat and asked, “What exactly is Sun Breathing?”

A flicker of surprise, subtle yet noticeable, crossed Shinjurou’s face as he replied, “I would’ve thought you’d at least have a vague understanding of it.” He leaned forward slightly. “What breathing style do you use?”

Tanjirou rubbed his cheek in thought.
“I mostly use Water Breathing, but… my style’s changed. I’ve started using my family’s technique called Hinokami Kagura.” He paused, glancing up. “Well, it’s actually a ceremonial dance, but I’ve adapted it for combat. That’s actually why I wanted to speak to Rengoku-san in the first place… because he uses Flame Breathing. But…” Tanjirou hesitated, recalling Shinobu‘s words, “It’s not the same as Fire Breathing.”

Shinjurou’s brows furrowed.

“Fire Breathing?” He echoed.

Tanjirou nodded as he replied, “I know Flame Breathing should never be confused with Fire Breathing. That’s what I’ve been told.” His hand drifted to his chest as he gathered his thoughts. “But… I still don’t really understand the difference. So… what is Sun Breathing?”

Shinjurou exhaled slowly, as if reciting words etched into his memory.

“Sun Breathing… it’s the original breathing technique. The very first breathing form ever created. The foundation upon which every other style—Water, Wind, Stone, Flame—was built. No matter how far they’ve branched, they all trace back to Sun Breathing.” His eyes narrowed as they drifted to Tanjirou’s forehead. “And those destined to wield it… they bear a mark. A red mark, just like the one you have.”

Tanjirou instinctively reached up, fingers brushing over the familiar scar on his forehead.

“You’re wrong, Shinjurou-san,” He said softly, shaking his head. “I wasn’t born with this mark. It… it was just a scar I got when I was a kid. And then… during Final Selection, it changed into what you see now.” His gaze softened with quiet pain. “My father… he was born with a faint mark though.” Tanjirou’s hand clenched over the fabric of his haori, his voice growing quieter. “But… that means I’m not the person you’re talking about. I’m sorry.”

Shinjurou’s sharp eyes lingered on him, the silence heavy with unspoken emotion. Tanjirou braced himself, expecting to be scolded, ridiculed, or dismissed. But the man only stood and turned away.

“Wait here,” Shinjurou instructed, his tone unreadable.

Tanjirou sat still, unsure of what to expect as his eyes wandered the room. It was sparse—just a futon, a small bookshelf, and a sword mounted on the wall, its sheath gathering dust like it hadn’t been touched in years.

Shinjurou returned moments later, carrying a small stack of worn books. He sat back down, sliding them across the floor to Tanjirou.

“These are the Flame Hashira Chronicles,” he explained. “It’s where I first learned about Sun Breathing.”

Tanjirou bowed his head politely and opened one of the books—only to gasp as his eyes fell on the shredded, torn pages.

“I… I don’t understand,” Tanjirou muttered, looking up in confusion.

Shinjurou’s expression darkened, and for the first time, his voice wavered.

“Did Kyojurou ever tell you… what a terrible person I’ve been?”

“What?” Tanjirou’s eyes widened. “No, of course not!”

A dry, humorless chuckle escaped Shinjurou. “He should have.”

Tanjirou tilted his head slightly, a mix of concern and curiosity on his face.
“Why?”

And then, it hit him, a wave of emotion so thick it made his chest tighten. The scent of overwhelming grief, old and heavy, filled the air around them.

“I’ve been a selfish, useless father,” Shinjurou admitted, his voice low, almost hoarse. “When I discovered the truth behind Sun Breathing… when I realized my ancestors’ legacy… it broke me. And then… when my beloved wife, Ruka, passed away…” He trailed off, a sharp exhale slipping from his lips. “I fell apart. I drank. I lashed out at my sons. I told them they had no talent, that they weren’t worthy of our family’s name. I became a monster.”

Tanjirou’s heart ached with the weight of his words. For a moment, Shinjurou looked up, and Tanjirou swore he saw the shimmer of tears in his eyes.

“But when Kyojurou came home, alive, despite nearly losing his life… it woke me up.” Shinjurou straightened his shoulders, his voice steadier now.“It made me realize what I’ve become. And though I don’t deserve it… I’ve been trying to change.” His gaze softened, raw and vulnerable. “It’s been two months. I’ve been sober… or trying to be. It’s a long road. I know it doesn’t undo the past, but…”

“You still want to try?” Tanjirou finished for him, offering a small smile.

Shinjurou nodded slowly, and for the first time since they met, the sharp lines of his face eased with quiet gratitude.

“You’re trying,” Tanjirou said softly. “No matter what anyone else says… that matters more than you think.”

A faint scent of relief, tinged with cautious hope, drifted from Shinjurou as he replied,
“I’ll do my best to restore those chronicles for you… there might be information that can help you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Tanjirou waved his hands modestly, words pilling out quickly. “I… I don’t even know why you’d want to.”

For the first time, Shinjurou’s lips curled into a faint, genuine smile. “You seem like a good kid. Besides… you saved Kyojurou’s life. I owe you more than I can repay.”

Tanjirou flushed with embarrassment, shaking his head quickly. “Please, don’t thank me… really, I… I don’t deserve it.”

Shinjurou studied him for a quiet moment, then stood, his expression unreadable but no longer so cold.

“Come on. Let’s go find Kyojurou and Senjurou. They’re probably wondering where we’ve disappeared to.”

“R-right!” Tanjirou jumped to his feet, following close behind, his mind still spinning with the revelations.

When Tanjirou and Shinjurou rejoined Senjurou and Rengoku on the engawa, the atmosphere was nothing short of awkward.

Much like his father, Rengoku’s sharp, uncovered eye never once strayed from Tanjirou, tracking him with quiet intensity that made the boy shift uncomfortably under the weight of the gaze.

Tanjirou sipped his tea in an effort to distract himself, only to flinch slightly when Senjurou broke the silence.

“So, Tanjirou,” The younger brother asked curiously, “What breathing style do you use?”

Tanjirou quickly focused on Senjurou, grateful for the shift in attention.

“Oh, Water Breathing,” He answered. “Though… I’ve been using my family’s technique too. It’s called Hinokami Kagura.”

“I see,” Senjurou nodded with a soft smile, seemingly satisfied. He took another sip of his tea, then set the cup down and stood.
“Well, I should prepare dinner. Excuse me.”

As he moved to leave, Shinjurou rose as well. “I’ll help.”

Senjurou blinked in surprise.“That’s alright, Father,” he replied quickly, almost flustered. “You don’t have to, I can—”

But Shinjurou was already heading inside, leaving Senjurou with little choice but to follow.

“I’ll call you both when it’s ready,” The younger boy added, glancing back at Tanjirou and Rengoku.

“Thank you, Senjurou!” Rengoku called after him with that familiar, booming enthusiasm, his smile broad and warm.

“You’re welcome, nii-san,” Senjurou replied before disappearing down the hall with their father.

The silence that followed lingered far too long for Tanjirou’s liking. He tried to busy himself by sipping at his tea again, but the quiet made every movement feel amplified.

“Young Kamado,” Rengoku said suddenly, his voice firm, slicing through the silence like a blade.

Startled, Tanjirou choked on his tea, coughing softly as he set the cup down.

“Y-Yes, sir?” He replied cautiously, eyes wide.

Rengoku’s bright eyes studied him with rare seriousness, the usual warmth dimming beneath the intensity.

“If my father says anything less than kind to you,” Rengoku spoke slowly, deliberately, “I want you to inform me immediately.”

Oh.

“Oh!” Tanjirou quickly waved his hands, trying to dismiss the concern.

“No, no, it wasn’t like that at all! He just… he just asked about my breathing style, that’s all.”

For a moment, Rengoku’s usual smiling facade faded, his expression hardening at the edges, shadowed by concern and something else. But he said nothing more on the matter.

“I see,” He replied simply, the smile returning, though not quite as bright as before.

Tanjirou turned away to stare out the garden, looking at the different flowers growing upon the walls.

He was never good at remembering their names, not like his sisters Hanako and Nezuko.

Every spring, when the flowers had a chance to break through the snow and bloom, the two would pick at many as they could and press them in a book.

They would drag him along, trying to get him to remember each floras name.

“Tanjirou,” Hanako whined. “It’s not that hard, even you can remember!”

He laughed, “I’m sorry, Hanako.”

Nezuko’s giggled, “Don’t worry, nii-san. I’m sure you be able to remember one day.”

“Peonies,” Tanjirou breathed weakly.

“Pardon?” Rengoku asked, tilting his head.

“The flowers,” Tanjirou answered, “Their peonies.”

“I see,” Rengoku stated. “They’re quite beautiful.”

Tanjirou thought of his younger sisters, smiling, laughing, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Yes,” He whispered. “They are.”

Tanjirou’s calloused hands gripped the wooden katana tightly, so tightly his knuckles turned bone-white.

Across from him, Rengoku stood tall and steady, his unwavering smile lighting up his face.

“Well done, young Kamado!” The Flame Hashira declared, voice booming with encouragement. “Now, come at me once more.”

The wind caught Tanjirou’s earrings, the hanafuda charms whipping back as he launched forward, feet kicking up dust across the training yard.

Their blades met with a sharp crack, the force of it rattling through Tanjirou’s arms. Rengoku easily pushed him back, following up with a calculated, precise swing toward his side.

Tanjirou barely managed to parry the strike, his muscles straining as he countered with his own slash.

“That’s it!” Rengoku’s voice was rich with praise, his smile widening. “Push forward!”

Tanjirou's sharp eyes narrowed, his gaze locking onto the subtle opening at Rengoku’s midsection.

There. That’s my chance!

He sidestepped quickly, muscles coiled like a spring, and jabbed low toward Rengoku’s exposed side.

But before the strike could land, Rengoku twisted gracefully, his training sword sweeping through the air with practiced ease. The wooden blade knocked Tanjirou’s sword clean from his grip, the force sending him sprawling to the ground with a solid thud.

“Ugh…” Tanjirou groaned, rubbing the back of his head, frustration prickling beneath his skin. “Damn it… I was so sure that would work…” he muttered, barely parting his lips.

Rengoku’s hearty, thunderous laughter filled the air, pulling Tanjirou from his thoughts. The Flame Hashira approached, sunlight catching in his fiery hair.

“It wasn’t a bad strategy at all, my boy,” Rengoku praised warmly, reaching down to clasp Tanjirou’s arm and pulling him upright with ease. “But you must focus on making your speed outmatch your opponent’s reaction. That’s the key.”

Tanjirou opened his mouth to argue—easier said than done—but he caught himself, settling for, “Right, Rengoku-san.”

The Flame Hashira let out another booming laugh, giving Tanjirou’s shoulder an encouraging pat.

“Do not worry, Kamado! I will help you reach that goal—and many others!” He straightened, stretching his arms before declaring, “That’s enough training for today. Rest up, you’ve earned it.”

“Yes, sir!” Tanjirou bowed deeply, ignoring the dull ache blooming along his side as he straightened.

He rubbed his ribs absently as Rengoku continued, a faint but familiar scent lingering faintly in the air—rage.

“I have something to attend to at the Butterfly Mansion,” Rengoku informed him, picking up his haori and draping it over his broad shoulders. “I’ll be away for today and most of tomorrow.”

Tanjirou perked up.“Oh, would you like me to come along?”

“There’s no need,” Rengoku shook his head, the corner of his lips curling in that same reassuring smile. “I won’t be long. Take this time to rest… though I expect you to continue your conditioning.”

“Of course!” Tanjirou replied with a determined nod.

Rengoku gave a final wave and turned on his heel, disappearing down the path that led toward town.

The moment his figure faded from view, Tanjirou’s shoulders slumped, the forced smile on his lips slipping away.

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since he’d moved into the Rengoku Estate, and not once had the lingering scent of anger dissipated. It clung to the air like smoke—faint, but ever-present.

And worse… there hadn’t been a single response from Zenitsu or Inosuke.

Tanjirou stared down at his empty hands, calloused fingers curling into fists as quiet worry gnawed at his chest.

Tanjirou, feeling as though he was just standing idly by outside, made his way into the house.

He hadn’t oftenly walked through the halls alone, Rengoku would mostly be by his side, chattering about his training and whatnot.

Shinjurou hadn’t spoken to him much since the first encounter, just giving the boy passing remarks and even once gave him a tip of how to grip his sword, which improved his accuracy tenfold.

The man was probably sleeping, or reading, Tanjirou noticed he does those two things a quite often. But he also saw him tending to the gardens one day, focused on a certain type of flower Tanjirou couldn’t name.

None of the Rengoku’s seemed to mind when Nezuko wandered about after hours, just looking around the house and even rolling in the grass, staring up the stars, kicking her legs in boredom.

Tanjirou’s eyes drifted toward a door he hadn’t opened since his arrival at the estate. Curiosity nudged him forward, and he gently pushed it open, peering inside.

There, sitting cross-legged on the tatami mat, was the youngest Rengoku—Senjurou—completely absorbed in a book, eyes peeled towards the pages.

“Hello, Senjurou,” Tanjirou greeted softly.

No response.

“Uh, Senjurou?” He stepped inside, lightly tapping the boy’s shoulder.

Senjurou startled with a small yelp, straightening as his head whipped around.

“Oh—Tanjirou!” He exhaled, snapping the book shut. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Tanjirou smiled as he sat down beside him. “That must be a pretty good book—you couldn’t take your eyes off it.”

Senjurou chuckled, his face flushing faintly. “Reading’s really my only hobby, so I tend to lose track of everything else when I do it.”

“Only reading?” Tanjirou tilted his head, pushing a loose strand of hair from his face.

Senjurou shrugged. “I also think music is interesting… but we don’t have any instruments here. So, I’ve been teaching myself to read sheet music instead.”

He reached over, grabbing a neatly folded sheet of paper. Tanjirou leaned in, marveling at the carefully written notes and symbols.

“Wow…” Tanjirou breathed in awe. “That’s amazing, Senjurou.”

Senjurou’s cheeks reddened, and he ducked his head shyly. “I… don’t think so, but… thank you.”

A comfortable pause settled between them.

“You know your brother left, right?” Tanjirou asked eventually.

Senjurou nodded. “Yes. He stopped by here on his way out—he said he’d be back by tomorrow night.”

“He told me the same thing,” Tanjirou replied, relaxing his shoulders. “Is your father still here?”

Senjurou shifted uncomfortably, gaze drifting to the floor as he nodded. “Asleep… I think.”

Silence lingered for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, Senjurou broke it, his voice softer than before.

“My father’s… gotten much better than how he used to be.”

Senjurou’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The early stages of his withdrawal… those were the hardest.” His grip tightened around the book in his hands, knuckles turning white. “During those first few weeks, he got even more agitated… more aggressive. Yelling. Cursing. Breaking things. Plates, cups—anything he could get his hands on when he couldn’t find sake.”

Tanjirou sat quietly, listening as Senjurou’s gaze drifted to the floor.

“After another week or two of that… I got used to the outbursts.” His lips quivered slightly. “Nii-san made sure he didn’t hurt himself… helped him when he’d throw up dinner he couldn’t keep down.”

Senjurou's fingers relaxed slightly, though his shoulders remained tense. “I’m surprised you didn’t see him at the Butterfly Estate… he’s been going every week for check-ups.”

Tanjirou rubbed the back of his neck, offering a sheepish smile. “I was unconscious most of the time… recovering.”

Senjurou let out a quiet chuckle. “Right, I suppose so.” His expression softened, the faintest trace of hope surfacing in his eyes. “After a month of being sober, nii-san and I made his favorite meal… and he smiled.” Senjurou’s lips curved faintly, bittersweet. “That was the first time… the first time I saw him smile.”

A silence lapped between the two boys.

“It’s been almost four months,” Senjurou continued softly, “and… he hasn’t yelled at me. When we talk… he speaks slower now. He pauses more. But I can tell—he’s really listening. Not just… hearing words, but listening. I can see it in his face.”

Tanjirou placed a steady hand on Senjurou’s shoulder, his gaze steady. “I’m glad.”

Senjurou sniffled quietly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. His voice cracked. “Nii-san used to tell me stories about him. How… vibrant he was. How kind. How alive. For so long… I didn’t think I’d ever get to see that side of him.”

Another tear fell. Senjurou wiped it away quickly, a faint, shaky breath escaping him. “I… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive him. Not completely. Not for what he put nii-san and me through. But… I think I’m ready to move on. If not now… then someday. I’m sorry that seems silly.”

Tanjirou gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, studying him quietly. Senjurou wasn’t like his older brother—he was softer, quieter, more cautious—but beneath it all, Tanjirou recognized the same quiet fire of determination Rengoku carried so proudly.

“You don’t have to forgive him,” Tanjirou said gently. “And you shouldn’t forget what he did. But… it’s not wrong to want to move on. It’s good, actually.” His expression softened. “Just… remember what happened. Learn from it. Carry it with you—but don’t let it weigh you down.”

Senjurou let out a shaky laugh, his eyes still glassy. “Easier said than done.”

Tanjirou smiled. “True. But not impossible.”

Senjurou smiled back, small but real. “Not impossible.”

The morning sunlight filtered weakly through the paper windows, casting a soft glow over the low table where breakfast sat. The three of them ate quietly, the only sound was the faint chirping of birds outside and the clink of chopsticks against bowls.

The silence stretched on, heavy and awkward, until finally, Shinjurou spoke.

“I think I’ll go fishing today.”

Senjurou paused mid-bite, glancing up. “Oh? How come?”

“It’s been a while since we’ve had fish,” Shinjurou replied, gaze focused on his bowl. “And I think it should be as fresh as can be.”

Tanjirou brightened, trying to ease the lingering tension. “That’s a great idea, Shinjurou-san!” He said earnestly, nodding.

Shinjurou grunted softly. “I’ll need to catch a lot,” he muttered under his breath.

Tanjirou tilted his head, confusion blooming in his chest.

Why would he need to catch a lot of fish?

But before he could ask, Shinjurou’s eyes flicked between him and Senjurou.

“Would you two mind coming with me?” Shinjurou asked, almost cautiously. “I might need some help.”

“Oh! Of course,” Tanjirou exclaimed, setting down his chopsticks. “Though… I should warn you… I’m not exactly the best fisherman.”

Shinjurou waved a hand dismissively. “I just need help hauling the net.”

“In that case, I can definitely help!” Tanjirou replied, smiling, before glancing toward Senjurou—who looked visibly hesitant.

“I… I don’t know, Father. I still have chores to finish today—”

“I believe your chores can wait for a few hours,” Shinjurou interrupted, though his tone wasn’t harsh. In fact, it was almost unsure. He paused, a long breath filling the room. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Another beat of silence passed.

“But…” Shinjurou continued quietly, eyes softening just a fraction, “I’d like for you to come.”

Senjurou’s expression wavered. His shoulders tensed, eyes flicking down to his untouched rice. For a moment, he looked torn between duty and discomfort, but after a deep inhale, he finally nodded.

“Okay.”

Tanjirou hadn’t wandered much around Rengoku’s hometown until now. It was bigger than his own quiet mountain village, but still small compared to the bustling city where Lady Tamayo and Yushirou lived.

As they walked through the streets, a few people waved in passing. Others whispered quietly when they spotted Shinjurou walking by, their eyes flicking between him and the direction of the bar—the opposite direction of where he now strode.

If Shinjurou heard them, he didn’t show it. His face remained impassive, gaze fixed ahead as he pressed forward, and Tanjirou couldn’t pick up a change in his scent. Senjurou followed quietly at his side, staring down at his feet in awkwardness.

They eventually reached a large wooden dock that stretched out toward the glistening water. An older man leaned against a post, weathered hands resting atop a cane. When his eyes landed on them, he tipped his straw hat back for a better look.

“Well, as I live and breathe… Rengoku Shinjurou.” The old man’s voice was rough, but familiar warmth laced his words “Haven’t seen you down by the docks in years. Taking your boys fishing, I presume?”

Shinjurou nodded slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hello, Yamada-san. Yes. You got any boats available?”

Yamada straightened with a grunt, stretching his arms. “Couple of fishing boats down that way should do you some good.” His eyes shifted toward Tanjirou and Senjurou, bright with amusement. “Need any nets or tenkara rods for the young ones?”

Shinjurou held up his hand, displaying his own fishing rod. “Just two more.”

The old fisherman chuckled slightly. “Alright then. I’ll see what I can scrounge up. I’ll toss in some bait for cheap, too. Go ahead, pick whichever boat you fancy—we’ll settle prices after.”

“Thank you.” Shinjurou gave a small wave as Yamada disappeared into the nearby shed. As the old man disappeared from sight, Shinjurou turned his attention towards Senjurou and Tanjirou. “Come on, you two.”

The old pier creaked beneath their feet as they walked down, sunlight glinting off the water’s surface. Tanjirou offered a friendly wave to a few fishermen unloading their catches for the day.

They stopped beside a modest wooden boat, worn from years on the water but sturdy enough to do the job.

“This one will do,” Shinjurou muttered to himself, then announced to the boys. “I’ll be right back.”

As his father wandered off, Senjurou quickly turned to Tanjirou, his voice low and hurried.

“Do you know how to fish? At least the basics?”

Tanjirou shook his head, a sheepish grin creeping onto his face. “Sorry, no. I never really got the chance.”

Senjurou deflated exponentially, his shoulders slumping. “I was hoping for a few pointers before we went out. I heard Father used to take nii-san fishing all the time… I’ve only gone once with him. But… I mostly just watched. I was too nervous to try myself.”

Tanjirou smiled gently, patting the younger boy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. My father was always too sick to take me fishing, but I remember going a couple of times with a neighbor when I was little.”

Senjurou’s expression didn’t fully lift, so Tanjirou added brightly, “Besides, it’s not like the fish know what they’re doing either. We’ll figure it out together.”

A soft chuckle escaped Senjurou, and his posture relaxed just a little.

“Thank you, Tanjirou.”

Tanjirou grinned. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

It was not, in fact, fine.

The moment Tanjirou stepped onto the boat, nausea twisted in his stomach. The gentle rocking of the water sent his world spinning, in a sudden, disorienting way.

“Are you alright?” Senjurou asked in a low tone, concern flickering across his face.

Tanjirou nodded weakly, clutching his middle. “Yeah, totally fine—” He slapped a hand over his mouth, barely stopping himself from gagging.

“Senjurou, Kamado,” Shinjurou called from the other end of the boat, unaware of the happenings on the opposite side. “Let me show you how to hook the bait.”

Shinjurou then scooted over awkwardly and began to demonstrate. “First, you lay the fishing pole down on a flat surface like this…”

The two boys leaned in as he worked, his large hands surprisingly steady. When he finished, he handed the rod to Tanjirou. “Here, take this.”

Tanjirou accepted it, unused to the weight. It was much lighter than his sword, the little bobber at the end bobbing with the boat’s movement, rocking back-and-forth with the small ripples.

Senjurou stood beside him, offering a nervous but encouraging smile.

“Kamado,” Shinjurou began, stepping up next to him. “To cast your line, apply gentle pressure right here,” He tapped the area lightly, “Then, like swinging a sword, lean forward and release.”

Tanjirou nodded and thought to himself, That seems easy enough.

He leaned back, then lurched forward. The translucent fishing line zipped through the air and hit the water with a satisfying ripple.

“Well done,” Shinjurou nodded. “You ready to try, Senjurou?”

The younger boy shifted nervously but gave a determined nod. He mimicked Tanjirou’s movements, and with a small grunt, released his line. It didn’t go nearly as far, but Shinjurou smiled all the same.

“Nicely done, Senjurou.”

“But—” Senjurou began to protest, but his father raised a hand to cut him off.

“So it wasn’t perfect. It’s alright. You’re leaning, both of you are.” Shinjurou reassured him, voice surprisingly soft. “You know… the first time Kyojurou tried casting his line, he used so much force the whole rod flew right out of his hands and into the water.”

The man chuckled, eyes distant with memory. “Full of adrenaline, he jumped in after it. Forgot he barely knew how to swim at the time. I had to dive in after him. Ruka nearly had both our heads.”

The chuckle grew, rough and raspy at first… but then it deepened into a loud, vibrant howl of laughter.

The two boys froze, stunned by the sudden sound.

For a moment, all Tanjirou could think was how much Shinjurou’s laugh sounded like his eldest son’s.

Beside him, Senjurou let out a quiet, “Pfft—” Barely stifling a giggle.

Tanjirou’s wide smile bloomed naturally, the infectious laughter pulling at his own chest. The nausea forgotten entirely, he joined in, laughing until his sides ached.

The three of them laughed for what felt like forever, until the boat rocked gently beneath them and their laughter faded into warm, comfortable silence.

Shinjurou cleared his throat awkwardly. “Ahem… Right, then, back to fishing.”

The two boys exchanged smiles, nodding.

Then, Tanjirou felt a sharp tug on his line.

“Hey! I think I’ve got something!” He exclaimed, eyes wide and brimming with excitement.

Shinjurou quickly moved to his side. “Alright, reel it in.”

Tanjirou cranked the reel, taking a cautious step back to steady his footing. But in his excitement, he yanked too hard—far too hard.

His footing slipped, the world tilted—

SPLASH!

Tanjirou surfaced a moment later, sputtering, hair dripping into his face.

“Kamado!” Shinjurou called from the boat. “You alright?”

Tanjirou wiped water from his eyes and shouted back, “Yeah! Did I catch something?”

A small fish flopped onto the deck of the boat—only to immediately wriggle free and plop back into the water with a splash.

“Seriously?” Tanjirou deadpanned, still gripping the rod.

He swam toward the boat, where Senjurou took the rod from him and Shinjurou leaned down, hauling him back aboard by the arms.

Thankfully, Tanjirou had left his haori back at the Flame Estate. Now he only had to worry about his soaked uniform, which—if he was lucky—would dry under the hot summer sun.

“Maybe we should try using the net instead,” Shinjurou suggested, pulling one from a hidden compartment in the boat.

“Good idea,” The two boys agreed, voices overlapping as they shared a laugh.

“I can’t believe we didn’t catch a single fish!” Senjurou groaned, slapping his forehead with an empty hand as they walked back onto the dock.

“It’s most likely my fault,” Shinjurou admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “We should’ve gone out early in the morning. That’s when they bite.”

“Sorry we couldn’t catch anything…” Tanjirou apologized for what felt like the seventh time since they got off the boat.

“I already told you not to worry about it,” Shinjurou replied with a short wave of his hand.

“And… thank you for the fishing pole. I promise I’ll pay you back—”

“It’s fine,” Shinjurou cut him off, glancing his way. “We could use an extra at the house. And when we go fishing again, you’ll need it.”

Tanjirou couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips when Shinjurou said again.

He shifted uncomfortably in his still-damp uniform, the fabric clinging to him with every step.

“I’ll hang it up later tonight so it dries by tomorrow,” Senjurou offered casually.

“Thanks!” Tanjirou grinned, grateful.

“I’m sure there’s a stall selling fish somewhere if we still want it for dinner,” Senjurou added, scanning the busy docks. “Let’s take a look—”

But then he hesitated, glancing back at his father for permission. “Can we?”

Shinjurou shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

Senjurou’s entire face lit up as he grabbed Tanjirou’s arm. “Come on, I’ll show you the best spots in town!”

“Senjurou—” Shinjurou started, but his son was already pulling Tanjirou down the dock, weaving through the thinning crowd.

Tanjirou couldn’t help but chuckle, a bright, carefree sound escaping his lips as he imagined Shigeru dragging him through their old village, hunting for any excuse to have fun.

The two slowed their pace, and Tanjirou’s eyes drifted across the street, curiosity sparking as he noticed people installing wooden beams and hanging paper lanterns.

“What’s everyone setting up for?” Tanjirou asked, adjusting his grip on the fishing pole.

Senjurou glanced around and smiled faintly. “Oh, that? Every year our town holds an end-of-summer matsuri to pray for a good harvest that'll last through the winter. There’s food, games, music… I haven’t gone since I was really little.”

He pointed toward a cluster of food stalls being set up. “See? Some vendors start early—try to get a head start and earn a bit more money.”

Tanjirou’s gaze wandered, catching sight of a small boy walking alongside what he assumed was his father. In the boy’s hand was a small cup filled with something bright and colorful.

“What’s that kid holding?” Tanjirou asked curiously.

Senjurou followed his line of sight. “That? It’s kakigōri—shaved ice with syrup. Why?”

“Oh… I’ve never seen that before,” Tanjirou admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, still holding his fishing rod.

“You mean… you’ve never tried it?” Senjurou exclaimed, eyes wide.

As they finally caught up to them, Shinjurou raised an eyebrow. “Tried what?”

“Tanjirou’s never had kakigōri before,” Senjurou explained, pointing toward the boy’s treat.

“Never?” Shinjurou echoed, genuine surprise flashing across his face.

Tanjirou nodded, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “My village didn’t have stuff like that.”

Or maybe we were just too poor to afford it, Tanjirou thought to himself, though he kept the words hidden behind his polite expression.

Shinjurou reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wad of bills, about 1500 yen. He held it out toward Tanjirou.

“Here. You two should get some.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—” Tanjirou started, but the subtle whiff of annoyance drifted from the older man, cutting his protest short.

“Just take the money,” Shinjurou ordered firmly, already reaching for the fishing rod.

Reluctantly, Tanjirou accepted the yen, handing over his fishing pole in exchange.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it.” Shinjurou looked away, expression unreadable. “Just… do me a favor and get strawberry syrup.”

Tanjirou’s eyes brightened, that certainly was the least he could do. “Of course!”

Senjurou pointed down the street. “There’s a stand just over there.”

“Lead the way!” Tanjirou grinned.

As promised, he ordered his kakigōri with strawberry syrup, while Senjurou opted for green tea syrup and sweet bean paste. The two boys walked away, cups in hand.

Senjurou was already digging into his treat. “Try it!” The younger boy urged.

Tanjirou took a cautious bite. The coolness melted instantly on his tongue, followed by the sweet, vibrant burst of strawberry.

His eyes widened. “It tastes like snow… but better!” He exclaimed, grinning ear to ear.

“So you like it?” Senjurou asked, laughing softly.

Tanjirou nodded rapidly. “Uh-huh! It’s one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. I wish Nezuko could try some…”

“Maybe we can get some for her another day,” Senjurou offered.

“Great idea!”

They chatted happily as they made their way back toward Shinjurou, who stood waiting with both fishing rods slung over one shoulder and a large bucket of fresh fish in his other hand.

“Looks like we’ll be having fish after all,” Shinjurou remarked. “We’d better head back if we want to beat Kyojurou home.”

As they fell into step beside him, Tanjirou tilted his head curiously. “Um, Shinjurou-san… is there a reason you wanted me to get strawberry syrup?”

For a moment, Shinjurou was silent, so long that Tanjirou wondered if he hadn’t heard him. But then the older man replied, voice low and almost distant:

“It was… Ruka’s favorite.”

Tanjirou’s steps slowed slightly. The quiet lingered between them until Tanjirou finally spoke, voice soft but sure.

“You loved her a whole lot, didn’t you?”

Shinjurou’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t deny it. His voice, rough but honest, slipped out in a quiet mutter.

“I did.” A pause. “I do.”

Tanjirou thought back to Shinjurou’s laughter earlier—the rare, full sound of it—and imagined Ruka hearing that same warmth once.

A gentle smile pulled at the corners of Tanjirou’s mouth. “I bet she loved you a whole lot too.”

“Hey, Shinjurou-san,” Tanjirou began slowly, setting his chopsticks down as he glanced toward the unused plates on the table.

The older man looked up from his fish. “Yes?”

“Is Rengoku-san planning on having guests when he gets back?” Tanjirou asked, tilting his head toward the extra place settings.

“You could say something like that,” Shinjurou replied simply, returning to his rice without elaborating.

Tanjirou glanced over at Senjurou for some sort of hint, but the younger boy only shrugged silently, just as clueless.

Before Tanjirou could press further, the front door slid open and a familiar voice called, “We’re back!”

We’re? Tanjirou thought, raising an eyebrow and leaning to get a better view of the entrance.

Loud, boisterous laughter echoed behind the speaker, though the second voice’s owner was still out of sight.

“Who knew bug-eyes had such a big house!” the laughing voice teased.

Another voice followed immediately, groaning in exasperation, “Could you be any more annoying?”

“Not as much as you!”

“Shut up!”

“You shut up!”

A wide grin spread across Tanjirou’s face as recognition clicked, glad to hear the bickering, “Zenitsu! Insouke!”

Chapter Text

At the sound of their names, Zenitsu and Inosuke abruptly peeled away from each other, both locking eyes with Tanjirou.

Zenitsu was the first to react, rushing over and tugging at Tanjirou’s haori sleeve, panic written all over his face. “Tanjirou, tell this idiot to shut his mouth!”

“You shut yours!” Inosuke barked back, fists clenched.

“You first!”

Tanjirou glanced over his shoulder at Shinjurou and Senjurou. Senjurou simply watched the exchange in wide-eyed curiosity, while from Shinjurou, Tanjirou caught the faint scent of simmering agitation.

But then—Shinjurou exhaled slowly, and the sharp edges of his anger softened.

“Alright, that’s enough, you two.” Tanjirou raised both hands, voice gentle but firm.

Zenitsu and Inosuke huffed in unison, clearly unwilling to concede, but mercifully falling silent.

Tanjirou grinned. “I can’t believe you guys are here.”

Senjurou rose awkwardly to his feet, clearing his throat as he shifted from foot to foot. “Um… hello. You must be hungry.”

Inosuke wasted no time, practically barreling toward the younger Rengoku.

“Hell yeah, I am!” He plopped down beside Senjurou, yanking off his boar mask and immediately digging into the food like a starved animal.

Shinjurou sputtered out his tea at the sight of Inosuke’s face, but didn’t say anything else in reply.

Zenitsu groaned in embarrassment, smacking a hand to his face before making his way over more composedly. He washed his hands, sat opposite Inosuke and Senjurou, and muttered something about "manners" under his breath.

Tanjirou turned to head back to his seat, only to be stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Hello, young Kamado!” Rengoku’s voice boomed warmly. His remaining eye sparkled with its usual fire. “Surprised to see your friends?”

Tanjirou nodded quickly, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes! Thank you for bringing them.”

“It was my pleasure.” But then Rengoku’s smile faltered, his brow creasing ever so slightly. His gaze trailed down to Tanjirou’s uniform, the fabric still faintly damp. “Why is your uniform wet?”

Tanjirou glanced at Senjurou and Shinjurou, both sporting small, knowing smiles.

“It’s… a long story,” Tanjirou replied, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Rengoku tilted his head, visibly confused, but chose not to pry. “Alright then.”

Just then, Tanjirou’s stomach gave a loud, insistent growl.

Rengoku laughed heartily, all traces of concern vanishing. “Let’s eat!”

After dinner, Senjurou eagerly showed Inosuke and Zenitsu around the Rengoku estate—but neither of them seemed particularly interested.

Inosuke interrupted after nearly every sentence, bombarding Senjurou with new, unrelated questions.

“What’s that room? What’s that smell? Where do you keep the swords? Do you wrestle bears here?”

Zenitsu trailed behind, groaning in exasperation. “Will you please shut your mouth? You’re embarrassing all of us.”

Tanjirou chuckled softly as Zenitsu tugged at his sleeve.

“Hey, Tanjirou, where’s Nezuko-chan? I haven’t seen her yet,” Zenitsu whispered urgently, wide-eyed.

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Tanjirou replied, “You can see her after Senjurou finishes the tour, alright?”

Senjurou, overhearing, gave Tanjirou a grateful, silent Thank you, mouthing the words with an awkward smile.

Tanjirou returned the smile, giving him a reassuring nod before turning back to his impatient friends. “Let’s keep walking.”

Though they grumbled, Zenitsu and Inosuke agreed, following along for the remainder of the tour.

When they finally stopped in front of Nezuko’s room, Senjurou paused, visibly nervous.

Tanjirou the. said, “Okay, before you go in, promise me you won’t be weird—”

His words were wasted.

“Nezuko-chaaan!” Zenitsu cried dramatically, sprinting past him and sliding the door open with wild enthusiasm.

Inosuke, sparked by the energy, bolted after him. “Outta my way, yellow idiot!”

Tanjirou chuckled as Senjurou hovered awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

“You haven’t properly met Nezuko yet, right?” Tanjirou asked gently, giving him a pat on the back. “Go say hi.”

Senjurou gulped nervously, but nodded. “O-Okay…”

They stepped inside to a predictably chaotic scene.

Zenitsu was already clutching Nezuko’s hands, eyes brimming with tears. “Oh, Nezuko-chan, I’ve missed you so much! My missions were horrible—horrible! I thought I was going to die! If only you were there to comfort me—”

Nezuko tilted her head, a curious hmph escaping her lips, her large eyes blinking sweetly.

Before Zenitsu could continue his dramatic rambling, Inosuke shoved him aside with zero hesitation.

“Minion!” Inosuke announced proudly, hands planted firmly on his hips. “Your lord has returned from battle!”

Nezuko’s turned her head, staring at Senjurou intently, his cheeks becoming pink at the attention.

Tanjirou gently nudged the younger boy forward and he greeted her quietly, “Hello, I’m Senjurou.”

Tanjirou felt almost ridiculous for not introducing Senjurou to Nezuko properly, he had been staying at the Flame Estate for weeks!

Not to mention, they were the same age, both fourteen, although in her normal form, Nezuko was taller than the smallest Rengoku by an inch or two.

Zenitsu huffed, crossing his arms as Senjurou stood next to Nezuko, and Tanjirou could tell he was contemplating how to greet her.

Nezuko reached out her hand and gently patted Senjurou’s unruly hair, and when she retracted her hand, Senjurou felt the area where she had touched.

Zenitsu was near livid at that point, his face flushed red, but before he could get a word in, Inosuke suddenly grabbed Senjurou and shook him by the shoulders, causing the boy to yelp.

“You!” Inosuke declared with wild eyes, “You shall be my newest minion!”

“Uh—okay,” Senjurou stammered, trying to steady himself. “How about I show you two your rooms?”

“Yes! I demand it! Lead the way!” Inosuke laughed maniacally as he bounded ahead.

Zenitsu grumbled, clearly reluctant to leave Nezuko’s side, but he begrudgingly trailed behind the other two boys.

As Tanjirou said goodbye to Nezuko, Shinjurou appeared down the hallway, watching as Senjurou was practically dragged away.

“Kamado,” Shinjurou said carefully, “Senjurou will be alright, won’t he? I mean, tomorrow morning, I won’t find him tied to a tree in the garden because of that boar-headed boy, will I?”

“No, no, of course not!” Tanjirou assured him, though he paused, thinking. “I’ll still make sure.”

“Thank you,” Shinjurou replied with a relieved smile. “Would you mind giving me a hand in the storage room? I need to move some things, and I might have some spare yukatas for your friends that I need to find.”

“Of course, Shinjurou-san!” Tanjirou said eagerly.

Shinjurou nodded and led him through the hallway.

“Say,” Tanjirou asked casually, “where’d Rengoku-san go?”

“To sleep, I hope,” Shinjurou answered, though Tanjirou caught the faint scent of worry lingering in the air. “For the past few weeks, something seems to be bothering him.”

“What makes you say that?” Tanjirou asked, concerned.

Shinjurou pointed to the area beneath his right eye. “It’s barely noticeable, but his eye twitches—it’s been like that since he was little. It’s even harder to notice now that he wears an eyepatch.”

“I see,” Tanjirou said quietly. Then, after a moment, he asked, “Shinjurou-san, do you think Rengoku-san is angry at me?”

“Angry?” Shinjurou raised an eyebrow. “Why would you think that?”

Tanjirou tapped his nose. “I have an acute sense of smell. I can even tell how people feel, and whenever Rengoku-san is around me, the scent of anger is so strong it’s almost unbearable.”

Shinjurou was silent for a moment before replying, “I don’t believe Kyojurou is angry at you. But the best way to find out is to ask him yourself.”

Tanjirou did not dare to catch the man’s gaze as they came upon the storage room.

Shinjurou, with a heap of effort, opened the door. The storage room was dusty and dark, not even the moonbeams outside helped to illuminate the area.

Shinjurou lit the andons, which faintly glowed as Tanjirou walked around in wonder, swatting away the a cobweb in the corner.

“Good grief, I haven’t been in here in ages.” Shinjurou spun around slowly to take in each corner of the room. “Kamado, check those boxes over there, I’ll look here.”

He pointed to the far right corner and Tanjirou nodded in reply, making his way over towards them.

He kneeled down and opened the first box, which contained nothing but books and old papers.

He reached over to a smaller box and opened it carefully, but its contents caused Tanjirou to scrunch up his eyebrows in confusion.

“Hey, Shinjurou-san?” He called, chin was greeted with a response from the man, “Yes?”

“What’s this?” Tanjirou held up the strange item in hand.

“What? You’ve never seen a comb before?” Shinjurou deadpanned, but it was phrased with a playful tone.

“No, no. It’s just… I’ver never seen one so intricately crafted before.”

Shinjurou came closer, the scent of nostalgia seeped off of him.

“I remember that…” He mused, running a hand through his hair.

“Was it Ruka-san’s?”

“No, it was actually a gift for me,” Shinjurou explained, causing Tanjirou to blink in surprise. “For you?”

“Back when I was still a Hashira,” Shinjurou began softly, “I saved a little girl from a demon. She had nothing to give me in return. Even though I told her no payment was necessary…”

He smiled gently. “All she had was a comb—her most precious possession. I told her I couldn’t accept such a gift, but she refused to take no for an answer.”

Tanjirou carefully handed the comb back to him. The paint was worn, but each flower was a delicate shade of pink.

“She said I should keep it, to think of it as a good luck charm.”

Shinjurou paused and looked up at the red-eyed boy. “Why don’t you give it to your sister? It’s not like it’s doing any good just sitting here.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t—”

Before Tanjirou could finish, Shinjurou gently lifted his hand and pressed the comb firmly into his palm.

Tanjirou swallowed thickly, as if a stone had settled in his throat. “Thank you, Shinjurou-san.”

“You’re welcome, Kamado.” The flame-haired man straightened, shifting gears. “Now, let’s find those yukatas.”

“Right!” Tanjirou smiled, slipping the comb carefully into his pocket as they continued the search.

After a moment of silence, Tanjirou tried to ease the mood with some small talk. “I believe Senjurou was hoping to go to the festival, and Rengoku-san would come along. Would you like to come as well?”

Shinjurou hesitated. “I’m not sure. The festival will probably be full of alcohol. I don’t want to risk losing the progress I’ve made over the past few months.”

“Just think about it,” Tanjirou urged gently. “You deserve to have some fun.”

“Maybe…” Shinjurou muttered. “I’ll give it some thought.”

Knowing that was the best answer he’d get, Tanjirou nodded and lifted the lid off one of the boxes. “I found them.”

Shinjurou leaned over to take a look. For a moment, his hand hovered over Tanjirou’s shoulder, as if weighing something. Then, with a small smile, he patted the boy lightly and muttered, “Good job, kid.”

“That’s it, I’m dying. I’m dead.” Zenitsu announced, dropping the practice sword and flopping down to the ground with a sigh.

“Technically, you can’t be dying if you’re already dead,” Tanjirou pointed out, which was met with the furious glare of the yellowed-hair boy.

“You just a bunch of weaklings!” Inosuke huffed. “I could do this in my sleep!”

“I’m sure you could, Inosuke.” Tanjirou replied, nodding thoughtfully.

Rengoku’s laughter echoed throughout the garden.

“Up you get, we still have a bit of training left for the day!” Rengoku hoisted Zenitsu much to the boy’s contempt.

Needless to say, Rengoku was an incredible swordsman, even while attacking his blind spot, he managed to effortlessly dodge the attacks and parry with his own.

Tanjirou rushed forward, and Rengoku swung at his on instinct. For the first time since their training had begun, Rengoku gave off the scent of fear. Without meaning to, he struck at Tanjirou’s stomach and the boy gasped, falling forward onto the ground.

“Kamado!” Someone yelled, “Are you alright?”

The burgundy-haired boy clutched his side, gritting his teeth, ignoring the dizziness he was experiencing.

“I’m…” He swallowed. “…Fine.”

Zenitsu and Inosuke were crouching down on both sides of Tanjirou, while Rengoku was in front of him.

On shaky legs, he got to his feet, and sighed.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, looking up at Rengoku. In which the boy was met with a smile, “Not to worry!”

But Tanjirou watched his right eye, and though it was barely noticeable, he saw it twitch.

The boy stifled another cough when the scent of fear was replaced with fury.

“I do believe that’s all today,” Rengoku announced, “Please, excuse me.”

The man left without another word, so Zenitsu chirped, “Senjurou asked us if we wanted to go into town and go food shopping. You wanna come?”

“I would, but Shinjurou-san and I are heading to the Butterfly Mansion for a check-up.”

It had officially been one full month of staying at the Rengoku a few days ago, which meant Tanjirou was due for a checkup from Shinobu soon.

Inosuke booed at the idea, but Zenitsu shrugged.

“Come on, you idiot,” He said to the boat-headed boar, which launched a bickering session between the two.

Tanjirou rubbed his side, a strong feeling of overwhelming sadness taking hold of him.

He wiped the off of his hands then rubbed his eyes so stop any tears from forming.

Tanjirou looked up, hoping to see the raven he had seen nearly a month ago.

He waited.

But no raven came.

Tanjirou and Shinjurou made their way back from the Butterfly Estate.

“What did Kocho-san say about your injuries?” Shinjurou asked, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“She said I was almost completely healed!” Tanjirou exclaimed, “How about you?”

“She said I was doing well, the worst of the drawbacks are over, all that I’ll experience is minor irritability for another month or two.”

“That’s good. Do you still want to drink? Like do you ever feel like you need to?” Tanjirou asked and Shinjurou thought for a moment then replied, “Honestly? Not really. Sure, there are times I think it might just be easier to pick up a bottle of sake and drown myself in it. But i’ve seen how that ends, and I don’t ever want to experience it again.”

Tanjirou smiled, “I see.”

“Oh, and about Sun Breathing, I just wanted to tell you I’ve started to repair the Flame Chronicles, but I haven’t found any information that you haven’t already heard.”

Shinjurou took his hand out of his pocket and ran it through his hair, and Tanjirou said, “It’s alright. I’m not too worried about it right now.”

Shinjurou was quiet and then he said, “I think I will be going to the festival with the rest of you.”

Tanjirou’s face broke into a grin, “Really? Well, that’s great! I’ve never been to a festival before, but Senjurou’s told me all about it! There’s games, and food, and there’s going to be this floating lantern thing.”

“The festival is in two days, I believe.” Shinjurou added, his eyebrows scrunched up in thought. “So that means we’ll have to get a lantern for Kyojurou, Senjurou and I, one for both the Agastsuma and Hashibira lads. Plus one for you and your sister…”

Tanjirou whipped his head in the man direction, “You mean she can come? Are you sure?”

The man nodded, “Maybe just keep her in that wooden box of yours for the first half of the night, just to be safe.”

“Of course!”

“Also for our next fishing trip, I think we could…”

Shinjurou’s words fell deaf to Tanjirou’s ears. Instead, his smile widened and he couldn’t help but feel light as air as he made his way back to the Flame Estate.

“Come on, you three,” Shinjurou called from the doorway, poking his head in. “We don’t want to be late.”

Tanjirou slipped his haori over a fresh, plain white yukata, Zenitsu following suit.

“Are you seriously gonna wear the boar’s head to the festival?” Zenitsu drawled, rolling his eyes.

Inosuke cackled, slinging it over his head. “Hell yeah, I am!”

Zenitsu muttered something under his breath—an insult neither Tanjirou nor Zenitsu caught—as Inosuke bolted out ahead.

“Hey, are you okay? You seemed kinda down this past week,” Zenitsu asked softly, glancing at Tanjirou.

Tanjirou looked away. “What do you do when you think someone’s mad at you?”

“Well, I usually get down on my hands and knees and beg forgiveness,” Zenitsu said with a sheepish grin, then added more seriously, “But why don’t you just ask them?”

Tanjirou groaned. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

“Then do it!” Zenitsu urged. “What’s there to lose?”

“A lot,” Tanjirou muttered, but Zenitsu either didn’t hear or chose to ignore it.

“Come on, Shinjurou-san will get mad if we take too long. The guy kinda scares me.”

Tanjirou laughed. “I’ll be right there, just need to do something first.”

Zenitsu shrugged and left the room, while Tanjirou rummaged through his closet for something that would fit the occasion perfectly.

Tanjirou wouldn’t lie—he felt overwhelmed.

There was a buzz in the air, lanterns glowing warmly from every corner, casting a golden light on the streets.

He felt himself gravitate toward his friends, clutching Nezuko’s box tightly.

“Wow,” he breathed, eyes wide with wonder.

Inosuke’s head snapped back as he laughed giddily and ran off into the crowd.

“Hey, slow down!” Zenitsu groaned, chasing after him.

“Meet back here in an hour!” Shinjurou called, and Zenitsu waved in response.

Senjurou tugged on his father’s haori sleeve—it looked like Rengoku’s but instead of flames, it faded from yellow to orange, to red.

“Come on, da—” he started, then caught himself. “I mean, would you like to go play some games?”

Shinjurou smiled fondly. “Lead the way.”

Senjurou beamed happily and pulled his father into the crowd until they disappeared from view.

Wait a moment… Tanjirou counted silently.

Zenitsu and Inosuke were gone, Senjurou and Shinjurou too—that made four.

We started with seven, counting Nezuko. So that means…

He glanced over at the one-eyed man, who had remained silent through the whole conversation.

Tanjurou chuckled weakly. “So, what are you planning to do, Rengoku-san?”

The man hummed thoughtfully, crossing his arms. “I think I’ll stay with you!”

“Oh, you really don’t have to, sir. I didn’t want to bother you.” Tanjirou held up his hands to which the Rengoku laughed, yet the stench of anger overcame the area.

“Nonsense, I can’t leave you and your sister alone.”

Knowing he’d never win an argument against Rengoku, the boy nodded wearily, “Okay, Rengoku-san.”

“Wonderful! What shall we do first?” He asked, taking Tanjirou by the shoulder and guiding his through the crowd.

Tanjirou glanced around, “Maybe we get something to eat?”

“Fine by me!”

“Okay,” Tanjirou smiled, “Maybe… there?”

He pointed to a food cart, a delightful smell wafting through the street, so sweet it could almost counter the horrid scent Rengoku gave off.

Almost.

“Excellent choice, my boy!” The man cheered, and as they made through the crowd, Tanjirou couldn’t help but notice curious eyes look at Rengoku.

The boy supposed it couldn’t be helped, he was large, fiery man with a eyepatch, of course people would think he was a little odd.

Tanjirou was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice when Rengoku was tapping his shoulder, “Hm?”

“The man asked if you would like any to eat,” Rengoku explained and Tanjirou suddenly felt awkward.

“Oh! I’ll just get whatever he’s having,” He decided and the old man shrugged.

Tanjirou reached into his pocket, planning to spend the money he had but Rengoku held up his hand.

“It’s all covered,” Rengoku said and when Tanjirou was about to object, Rengoku’s smile tightened and the boy’s protests faltered.

“Uh— thank you, Rengoku-san.,” He mumbled numbly, as Rengoku paid.

Something’s wrong… Is he still mad at me? Or is this something new? Even if it’s true, why was he even anger in the first place? And if he’s angry, why doesn’t just tell me? Why is he pretending to be nice?

Unless…

Tanjirou’s stomach dropped, He’s gonna get rid of me.

That was it, Tanjirou was sure, the man despised him and was about to tell the boy that he would no longer train him.

This act was just to let him down easy.

Tanjirou staggered back as the man turn back around, “Young Kamado? Are you alright?”

“…Fine…” He mumbled, “I’ll be… I’ll be back. One moment.”

If Rengoku replied, Tanjirou did not hear, he spun on his heels and dashed away in a panic.

A quiet spot, yes, that’s what he needed. A quiet place to collect his thoughts and calm his mind down, he was being dramatic, Tanjirou assured himself.

Tanjirou ran to the edge of the town, where the difference in energy was evident.

It was quiet, and barely any people were around, Tanjirou sighed in relief.

He sat down at a bench, placing Nezuko’s box beside him.

Tanjirou chewed his nail, and his foot hit the dirt ground repeatedly.

This is because of what happened on the Mugen Train, how could I be so stupid? I got in the way of a Hashira’s duty, I’m sure Rengoku-san could have handled the demon, why did I have to get myself involved?

Tanjirou face-planted himself, when a voice asked, “Kamado?”

Tanjirou turned his head to find Rengoku staring at him warily, the rancid scent never fading.

“I was looking for you, why did you run off? It wasn’t the brightest thing to do,” The man joked, his laugh echoing.

“I don’t believe Kyojurou is angry at you. But the best way to find out is to ask him yourself.”

Tanjirou took a deep breath, and he stood up and turned around, so that he was directly facing Rengoku.

Finally, Tanjirou mustered the courage he’d been holding back the entire time.

“I’m sorry!” His voice cracked as he dipped his head into a bow, eyes fixed on the ground. “I’m so deeply sorry for ruining everything. I let that Upper Moon get away! I understand if you don’t forgive me.”

He braced himself for a shout, a scolding—expected the scent of anger to rise tenfold.

But instead, the anger softened, shifting into something quieter, more somber.

“Young Kamado,” Rengoku’s booming voice lowered as he stepped closer. “I am not mad at you.”

Tanjirou looked up, disbelief washing over him. “Yes, you are. You must be. I can sense your anger. I’ve felt it since I woke up from my coma.”

Rengoku knelt down and gripped Tanjirou’s arms firmly. “Kamado, I am not mad at you,” he repeated.

Tanjirou’s voice faltered. “Then… why could I smell anger on you?”

The man’s gaze softened as he looked at him.

“I’m angry that I couldn’t help you,” Rengoku explained quietly. “I let a child take a nearly fatal blow for me, and I just stood by and watched. I’m angry at myself, not at you.”

Tanjirou felt the words come from far away, muffled like through a tunnel. He felt light, like he might float away, but the gentle squeeze on his arms grounded him.

“Then why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want you to carry the burden of my anger,” Rengoku admitted. “Though, that didn’t quite work out.”

Tanjirou let out a weak chuckle and tried to wipe the tears from his red eyes. The tears kept coming, streaming down his cheeks despite his efforts.

“So, you’re not mad?”

Rengoku released Tanjirou’s arms and stood up straight again.

“Far from it,” He said with a soft smile. “I was worried, every time we trained, that I might injure you. I thought giving you space was best. But I was never upset. Do you understand that I’m not angry with you?”

Tanjirou nodded, barely able to speak. On impulse, he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Rengoku.

At first, the man stiffened, but then he relaxed, returning the embrace and rubbing Tanjirou’s back gently.

The warmth radiating from Rengoku reminded Tanjirou of his father.

Pulling away, Tanjirou wiped the last of his tears. “Thank you, Rengoku-san.” His smile was met with a genuine grin.

“Now, what’s with all the gloominess?” Rengoku teased. “This is your first festival—you should be enjoying yourself!”

Tanjirou wiped away a lingering tear. “Hey, Rengoku-san?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think Nezuko could come out of the box? Please?”

“I don’t see why not!” Rengoku beamed.

Tanjirou hurried over and opened the box. Nezuko poked her head out and stepped fully into the room.

Rengoku’s eyes caught her hair.
“Her hair—”

“Senjurou helped me,” Tanjirou said proudly. “It was difficult, but I think it turned out great!”

Nezuko’s hair was styled in an up-do, just like when she was human, but held up with something new.

“The comb is from Shinjurou. I thought it would be perfect for today.”

Rengoku muttered softly, “I haven’t seen that in ages.” He walked forward and patted Nezuko’s shoulder. “It suits you.”

Nezuko’s eyes widened, and she let out a soft hmph of approval.

Rengoku laughed warmly. “Well then, what are you waiting for?”

It seemed odd it admit, but Tanjirou was having fun.

He had found it strange, to say the least. Why, he hadn’t had true fun since his family has passed on.

But here, he felt hismself at ease, the tension in his shoulders ceased and he felt relaxed.

Tanjirou made sure Nezuko stayed close to him, holding her hand the entire time.

Rengoku was a master at the tossing games, and Tanjirou watched in awe along with the other participants as he won each round he played.

They ran into Shinjurou and Senjurou and began to walk throughout the town with them, when Tanjirou heard Shinjurou mutter to Nezuko, “The comb looks very nice.”

Nezuko’s reached and patted his shoulder, at the impact he paused, but then smiled warmly.

Tanjirou glanced at Senjurou and his older brother, who both were beaming as well.

“Alright, let’s find the other two then make our way to the lantern lighting,” Shinjurou suggested and they were off once more.

It wasn’t hard to find Inosuke and Zenitsu — especially when they were arguing with a vendor.

“For the last time, kid, you’re not getting a prize. You didn’t win,” the man said, waving his arms emphatically.

“Not true! I beat him, which means I won!” Inosuke insisted, chest puffed out. The vendor rolled his eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you won the game. You’re supposed to hit the bottles,” the man explained.

“I’ll hit your face!” Inosuke shouted, stepping forward aggressively.

Zenitsu quickly grabbed Inosuke by the arms, holding him back. “Calm down, idiot!”

Shinjurou groaned loudly, “One moment.”

He stomped over, grabbed both Zenitsu and Inosuke by the collars, then turned to the vendor. Their conversation was lost in the roar of the festival crowd.

The vendor pointed at Inosuke, face red, while Senjurou watched closely and whispered, “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“No clue,” Tanjirou said, glancing at Rengoku. The flame-haired man shrugged in response.

After a tense moment, Shinjurou’s expression darkened. The vendor bowed his head as Shinjurou pulled Zenitsu and Inosuke along with him.

“Alright, let’s go.”

The man released the boys’ collars and pushed forward, followed by his two sons.

“So… what happened?” Tanjirou asked once they were out of earshot.

Zenitsu whispered, “Well, at first Shinjurou apologized for our behavior, but the guy called us freaks. Then Shinjurou got angry and just walked away.”

Tanjirou tilted his head, saying softly, “Huh.”

Zenitsu shrugged. “I honestly thought the guy couldn’t stand us.”

Tanjirou laughed, “The best way to find out is to ask him yourself.”

The square was packed with people, each holding a lantern of their own. The paper lanterns, already lit, were passed around gently, casting a soft, warm glow.

Tanjirou held his lantern close, both to himself and to Nezuko. He took a deep, slow breath, inhaling the comforting warmth. Then, a firm, warm hand rested on his shoulder.

He glanced over. Rengoku wasn’t looking at him, but at the lantern in his hands—his father’s and brother’s.

Zenitsu, holding a lantern as well, was unusually quiet, watching the flame flicker with a calm focus that felt out of character.

Inosuke, though not holding a lantern himself, darted his eyes back and forth at the countless glowing lights above.

Tanjirou whispered softly, “Goodbye.”

He squeezed Nezuko’s hand and lifted his paper lantern into the black, hazy summer night sky.

The Rengoku family followed his lead, then Zenitsu, and many others after them.

Soon, there were more lanterns drifting in the sky than Tanjirou could possibly count.

The glowing lights shrank as they rose higher, the distance between the group and their lanterns growing wider.

Even Inosuke was silent, his eyes wide with awe and wonder at the sight.

Tanjirou sniffled quietly; his grip on Nezuko’s hand tightened.

The pressure on his shoulder grew stronger too, a silent reassurance.

He looked at Rengoku, who finally turned to meet his gaze, a genuine, warm smile lighting his face.

Senjurou peeked over, sharing his brother’s grin, while Shinjurou’s eyes stayed fixed on the lanterns as he held Senjurou’s hand.

Zenitsu and Inosuke shuffled closer, quietly shushing one another as they fell into a rare, peaceful silence.

Tanjirou glanced around at his friends, then down at his stomach—his wound no longer ached. There was no pain, only peace.

Tanjirou couldn’t help but feel a surge of profound joy when finally, the scent of anger in the air no longer lingered.

Chapter Text

Tanjirou woke in a daze, cracking open his eyes, which felt stiff and swollen, as if they'd been sewn shut.

Rolling onto his side, he found himself staring at the plain ceiling above.

This feels familiar, he thought weakly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Golden sunlight crept through the windows, filling the room with a soft, warm glow.

With a groan, Tanjirou pushed himself upright, wiping at the corners of his eyes, where a faint, stinging sensation lingered.

I must’ve been crying, he realized, memories of the festival flooding back—how much had built up before, and how everything had finally unraveled in the best way.

The exhaustion of it all had left his body sore, his muscles aching from the weight of stress he'd been carrying.

But now… now his body felt lighter. He exhaled deeply, only now noticing how tense his shoulders had been.

Looking down at himself, he realized he hadn’t even changed out of the clothes he wore yesterday.

With a soft chuckle, he opened the drawer and slipped into his uniform, silently reminding himself to thank Senjurou for folding and putting it away.

Careful not to disturb anyone, Tanjirou poked his head out into the hallway, glancing both ways before tiptoeing across the polished wooden floors.

Stopping at the door beside his, he peeked inside, eyes searching for Nezuko’s box.

Relief settled over him at the sight—she was still tucked safely away from the morning sun, fast asleep.

With a small, content smile, he quietly closed the door and continued down the hall, stepping out onto the engawa.

Tanjirou closed his eyes, basking in the gentle morning sunlight as it warmed his skin and cast a soft glow around him.

“Morning, Kamado.”

The low voice startled him slightly, and he turned his head to find Shinjurou standing nearby, stifling a yawn as he adjusted the sleeve of his yukata.

“Oh, good morning, Shinjurou-san!” Tanjirou greeted cheerfully, but the older man winced at the volume.

“Too early for that much noise… I need my kōhī,” he grumbled, rubbing his temple.

Tanjirou laughed softly, lowering his voice. “Sorry… Did you have a good time last night?”

A fond smile tugged at Shinjurou’s lips, and he nodded. “I did. Senjurou and I played a few games… It’s been a while since I’ve seen him smile like that.”

Tanjirou’s smile brightened. “I’m really glad.”

Shinjurou made his way to the deck, patting the spot beside him. “Sit.”

Tanjirou complied, settling down next to him, the wood warm beneath them.

There was a pause, filled only with the soft chirping of birds and the distant hum of morning activity.

“Did you talk to Kyojurou?” Shinjurou asked, his voice low but sincere.

Tanjirou nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

A brow lifted. “Was he mad at you?”

Tanjirou shook his head with a small laugh. “Quite the opposite, actually. You were right… Thank you.”

Shinjurou chuckled, the sound quiet and rough. “I didn’t do much—just gave a little advice.”

Tanjirou shook his head. “No, I mean… thank you for everything these past few weeks. For sharing stories, inviting me fishing, giving me advice… It’s helped.”

Shinjurou paused, clearly caught off guard by the genuine admiration in the boy's words.

“You’re… welcome, Kamado,” He muttered after a moment, the words sounding careful, as if he wasn’t used to accepting that kind of gratitude.

His gaze drifted toward the garden, and Tanjirou followed his line of sight, his eyes softening at the sight of the flowers climbing the garden walls.

Breakfast that morning was quiet. Too quiet.

At least, it was for Tanjirou’s liking.

The Rengoku family, the Kamado siblings, Zenitsu, and Inosuke were all gathered around the table, silently eating together.

Tanjirou thought it was nothing short of a miracle that anything—or anyone—could make Inosuke stop talking.

Well, maybe it wasn’t a miracle. Judging by how fast Inosuke was scarfing down his food, the boar-headed boy probably couldn’t talk even if he wanted to.

Nezuko sat under the table near Tanjirou’s feet, swinging her legs back and forth, clearly bored.

But what unsettled Tanjirou the most wasn’t the quietness—it was who was quiet.

Even Rengoku… silent. No cheerful exclamations of “Umai!” that usually filled the room with warmth.

Tanjirou exchanged a puzzled glance with Senjurou, who looked equally concerned.

Zenitsu finally broke the silence. “Okay, what’s going on? Did someone die?”

“What?” Shinjurou asked, brows furrowing. “No, of course not.”

“Oh,” Zenitsu mumbled, shrinking back into his seat, clearly embarrassed. “Then… is something wrong?”

Shinjurou and Rengoku exchanged a look.

It was Rengoku who finally spoke. 

“You three will need to start taking missions again.”

Oh.

Tanjirou opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Of course. It was obvious. They couldn’t stay at the Flame Estate forever. As much as it had started to feel like home, they were still Demon Slayers.

They still had work to do.

Suddenly, the food in Tanjirou’s mouth felt dry and tasteless. He forced himself to chew, but the warmth he'd grown used to over the past month clung stubbornly to his throat.

Living with the Rengokus had felt… familiar. Safe, even.

There was a word for it, Tanjirou was sure, but it eluded him. It lingered just beyond reach, like a scent carried off on the wind.

Senjurou’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Well… we’ll just have to make the most of the time we have until then.”

Tanjirou met his gaze, his heart easing just a little, and smiled.

“Yeah.”

Zenitsu sprawled himself out on the soft patch of grass, stretching his arms out and groaning.

“I can’t believe we have to go the Butterfly Mansion tomorrow.“

Tanjirou patted the ground before he sat down as well.

“Shinobu-san wanted me to come in for one last check up, and it’ll work out, we can receive our next mission from there.”

“Still, It’s annoying why we have to come.” Zenitsu rolled his eyes.

Tanjirou rested his cheek in the palm of his hand, leaning forward.

“Well, would you rather go on a mission alone?” Tanjirou asked and Zenitsu was about to argue, but then pressed his lips into a thin line. He gave Zenitsu a small chuckle, looking up at ever changing sky.

The burgundy boy closed his eyes, feeling serene and at peace, wanting to savor the moment in its entirety.

“Move it, Monjirou!” A voice shouted, from a distant that began to close in.

Tanjirou was barely able to open his eyes when Inosuke came plowing into him, sending them both flying backwards.

Tanjirou gasped for air, lying back on his back, Inosuke on top of him.

“Fight me,” Inosuke ordered, “You’re all healed up, right?”

Inosuke leaned back, giving Tanjirou room to sit up.

“I don’t know, Inosuke. I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Tanjirou rubbed his cheek softly.

“‘Course it is,” Inosuke hauled Tanjirou up by the arm before the red-eyed boy got a chance to protest.

“Since you’ve been half-dead for the last few months, you owe me!” Inosuke huffed and Tanjirou refused the urge to eye roll.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Tanjirou said, which launched Inosuke into snapping back.

At the chatter, Tanjirou couldn’t but think, Is this what Zenitsu feels like all the time?

Before he had a chance to fishing his thought, Senjurou poked his head out from the sliding door, and stepped out onto the engawa.

He carried something in his hand, wrapped up in a lavender colored blanket as he walked over to the three.

The rays of sunlight caught in the flames-colored boy’s hair, making it have a faint glow in its wake.

“Hello, Senjurou.” Tanjirou greeted, “Where’re you heading off to?”

“Just to the koi fish pond,” Senjurou gestured over past the garden, ivy covering the walls.

“You guys have koi fish?” Zenitsu asked, raising a brow.

Senjurou nodded, “I tend to feed them while the three of you are training.”

He frowned, almost as if his statement disheartened him for some reason.

Tanjirou ignored it and said, “Mind if we join you?”

Senjurou looked up and brightened, obviously happier than he had been mere moments ago.

“Sure,” Senjurou smiled and Inosuke asked, “The hell’s a soy fish?”

“A koi fish,” Zenitsu corrected and Inosuke shook his head.

“No, that can’t be right,” Inosuke muttered and Tanjirou had to stifle his laugh with a hand over his mouth.

Senjurou led them to the three koi fish, who swam in mesmerizing circles, over and over again.

Inosuke crouched down and watched them, like a cat following a ball of yarn, and Tanjirou was sure that if Inosuke removed his mask, Inosuke’s eyes with be back and forth with the fish.

Senjurou sprinkle the food into the water and it sank down as quickly as a stone, floating to the bottom and entering each fish’s stomach.

“They’re very beautiful,” Tanjirou muttered, watching the shades of red on each of their backs.

“Yes,” Senjurou agreed, “These fish have been around longer than myself. My father and mother had gotten them for Kyojurou when he was young.”

It was Zenitsu’s turn to be impressed, “Huh, I had no idea they lived that long.”

“Neither did I until Kyojurou told me,” Senjurou said. “At first I didn’t believe him.”

The four boys watched the fish as the sun counting to shine down, the morning slowly shifting into afternoon. Tanjirou laid on his back, a part of him dreamed that he could lie there for entirety, just him, his friends, and the koi fish. Nezuko too, he thought. If she ever walked into the sunlight again, she must miss it terribly. Not being able to bask in the warmth of the day.

Tanjirou squeezed his eyes shut tightly, a humming in his ears.

That’s why, Tanjirou thought. That’s the reason I’m here.

And with that thought, the dream ended.

“Is something bothering you?” Rengoku asked with a gentle smile, casting a quick glance down at Tanjirou’s untouched plate.

The two of them sat at a small restaurant a few blocks from the Flame Estate, the sun already dipping below the horizon as the cool night settled in.

“Hm?” Tanjirou blinked, snapping out of his daze to face him. Rengoku patiently repeated his question.

“Oh… it’s nothing.” Tanjirou murmured, reaching for his chopsticks as he leaned forward to take a bite.

Rengoku chuckled, gently guiding the boy’s hand back down to the table before he could shovel rice into his mouth.

“I didn’t take you for a liar, Kamado.”

“My apologies,” Tanjirou muttered, cheeks flushing faintly. His gaze drifted away. “I just… I wanted to ask if you’ll be joining us on our missions.”

Rengoku paused, considering the question for a moment before replying, “Unfortunately not. I’ve been absent from duty these past few months. I’ll need to report to the Master and settle back into schedule.”

Tanjirou’s face fell slightly. “Oh.”

“But,” Rengoku added, his tone lifting with certainty, “Just because I can’t join you now doesn’t mean I never will.”

“I suppose…” Tanjirou muttered, clearly unconvinced.

Rengoku raised an eyebrow, bumping the boy’s shoulder lightly. “You don’t sound too sure.”

Tanjirou let out a weak chuckle, his gaze falling to the table. “It’s just… staying at your estate… it felt painfully familiar.”

His hands tightened slightly around his chopsticks. His voice grew quiet. “I just… I don’t want to lose anything else.”

Rengoku’s expression softened, the easy grin fading into something more grounded, more sincere. He let the boy’s words settle between them like falling snow.

“Young Kamado,” he said at last, “I can assure you—you won’t. At least not anytime soon.”

A low laugh escaped him, and he leaned back, arms crossing confidently. “We’ve already faced both a Lower and Upper Moon—and lived to tell the tale! Compared to that, your next enemies will be laughably easier.”

Tanjirou looked up, eyes wide with faint disbelief as Rengoku continued, “Yes, you’ll face hardships. You’ll face adversaries that test your strength, and you may even be hurt along the way… but you, your sister, and your friends? You’re capable. I believe in you.”

Tanjirou’s face finally broke into a genuine smile. “You really mean that?”

“Why, certainly!” Rengoku beamed, his hand finding the boy’s shoulder once again in a reassuring squeeze. “Now, enough heavy talk. Let’s eat!”

“Right!” Tanjirou grinned, finally lifting his chopsticks as warmth settled back into his chest.

Tanjirou could tell the seasons were beginning to shift the moment he opened his eyes. The air had grown cooler overnight, a gentle breeze whispering through the leaves outside. It stirred the curtains faintly, carrying with it the crisp scent of the coming autumn.

As he changed into his uniform, Tanjirou gave the room he'd been staying in one last glance. It wasn’t like his old home, not really, but somehow, it still filled him with peace and a quiet sense of comfort.

Stepping into the hallway, he spotted Senjurou sweeping outside Nezuko's room.

“Oh, hello,” Senjurou greeted cheerfully.

“Hey, Senjurou,” Tanjirou replied with a smile. “Did your brother leave yet?”

The younger boy shook his head. “He wanted to say goodbye to you first.”

Right on cue, Rengoku rounded the corner, his bright expression lighting up the hall as he caught sight of the two of them.

“Why, hello there, boys!” he announced in his usual booming voice.

Senjurou quickly lifted a finger to his lips. “Aniue,” he whispered, “the others are still sleeping.”

Rengoku chuckled, ruffling his brother’s hair affectionately. “My apologies.”

Turning to Tanjirou, his voice dropped to a more reasonable volume. “It’s probably best I head out sooner rather than later, but until everyone else wakes up, how about we enjoy some breakfast?”

Senjurou nodded. “I’ll go get it started.”

“No need,” Rengoku declared proudly. “I made it myself!”

Senjurou’s smile faltered. “You… cooked?”

“Is that so surprising?” Rengoku asked, genuinely puzzled.

Senjurou furrowed his brow in thought. “But… I didn’t smell anything burning.”

Tanjirou pressed a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh as Rengoku’s expression turned to one of innocent confusion.

“I don’t understand,” The Flame Hashira admitted.

“Maybe that means you undercooked it,” Senjurou mused under his breath, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I’d better go check… just to make sure no one gets sick.”

“Pardon?” Rengoku called after him, but Senjurou had already darted down the hall, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Rengoku looked down at Tanjirou, still clearly lost. “Did I do something wrong?”

Tanjirou shook his head, chuckling. “No, no… Well… let’s just wait and see if anyone gets sick after breakfast.”

Thankfully, no one had gotten sick—at least, not from the food.

But Tanjirou still felt queasy as he stood at the entrance of the Flame Estate, his friends and the Rengoku family gathered at his side.

Rengoku stepped forward first, clearly trying to distract himself from the heavy atmosphere. He spun around, that signature bright smile lighting up his face as he addressed his brother.

“It was good seeing you again, Senjurou.”

Senjurou smiled warmly, “Goodbye, Aniue.”

The two shared a tight, heartfelt embrace, reluctant to let go. When Rengoku finally pulled away, his expression softened as he turned to his father.

“Farewell, Father. Take care of yourself.”

Shinjurou offered a tired but genuine smile. “Goodbye, Kyojurou.”

Finally, Rengoku’s golden eyes shifted to Tanjirou and his friends. “I’ll most likely be back at the estate in a month or so,” he assured them. “If you’re around, we’ll regroup. I’ll report back and continue training you all.”

Tanjirou nodded firmly. “Right.”

Before he could say more, Inosuke launched into a loud, excited rant about how he couldn’t wait to fight more powerful opponents. Zenitsu frantically tried to quiet him, shooting apologetic looks in every direction.

Rengoku chuckled at the chaos before placing a reassuring hand on Tanjirou’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. His grip was steady, grounding, warm.

“I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures when we meet again,” Rengoku promised. “And don’t worry—I’ll keep in touch regardless.”

“Thank you, Rengoku-san.”

Tanjirou hardly registered the goodbyes exchanged with Zenitsu and Inosuke. His attention drifted to the air itself, to the lingering scent of compassion that seemed to follow Rengoku wherever he went.

The Flame Hashira finally turned and began walking away, but no one moved from their spots. Time pressed forward, but their feet refused.

Tanjirou understood that feeling all too well—that quiet, painful ache that came with goodbyes, with the passing of time, and the fragile hope that they’d all find their way back to one another again—alive and well.

“Well, we’re off.” Tanjirou smiled as Senjurou wrapped him in a tight hug.

“Make sure you write, okay?” Senjurou pulled back, his expression earnest.

Tanjirou grinned. “Of course!”

Senjurou gave a quick goodbye to Nezuko, though Tanjirou doubted she could properly hear him through the wooden box. Still, the sentiment was there.

As he turned, Inosuke and Zenitsu launched into a conversation with him, or rather, over him, arguing about directions and who packed what.

But before he could get caught up in their usual antics, Tanjirou felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned to find Shinjurou standing there awkwardly, his expression guarded but… softer than usual.

The older man placed a tentative hand on Tanjirou’s shoulder, cleared his throat, and muttered, “Kamado… if you ever need a place to stay, a home-cooked meal, information—anything—you’re always welcome in our home.”

Tanjirou’s chest swelled with warmth. “Thank you, sir.”

Shinjurou’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. “I’m glad you’re Kyojurou’s tsugoku.”

Tanjirou beamed up at the man, his gratitude plain as day. “Thank you… for everything.”

Shinjurou withdrew his hand, crossing his arms. His gruffness slipped back into place, though not entirely. “Just be careful out there, alright?”

“Of course!” Tanjirou promised, full of conviction.

The remnants of Shinjurou’s smile lingered as he suddenly paused. “Hold on.”

Without another word, the man stepped forward and buttoned the top of Tanjirou’s uniform collar, adjusting it with practiced care.

“There,” He said simply, stepping back. “Now, off you go.”

Although the journey to the Butterfly Mansion was almost at its end, the bickering between Inosuke and Zenitsu had continued relentlessly since they’d left the Flame Estate.

“But that makes no sense!” Zenitsu snapped.

“Of course it does!” Inosuke shot back.

“Prove it,” Zenitsu scoffed, folding his arms.

“Because I said it!”

“So?”

“So I’m right!”

“Wrong!”

Tanjirou forced a smile, exhaling through his nose. “Come on, guys… We’re almost there. Can’t we all just get along?”

“No!” The both yelled in perfect unison.

Tanjirou sighed in defeat, letting his eyes drift down to the road beneath his feet, doing his best to tune out the nonsense. It almost worked—until Zenitsu suddenly paused, eyes wide.

“Hey… what’s that?”

Zenitsu cupped a hand around his ear. “I hear fighting.”

Tanjirou arched a brow. “Are you sure you’re not just listening to yourself?”

But Zenitsu shook his head, more serious now. “No… I hear… Aoi?”

Tanjirou’s heart skipped. Without another word, he bolted down the road.

“Tanjirou, wait—!”

But Tanjirou paid no mind, his feet flying beneath him as the familiar gates of the Butterfly Mansion came into view.

He skidded to a halt just in time to see… chaos.

A broad-shouldered, muscular man with long white hair was in the center of it all, being dog-piled by Aoi, Kanao, and the three little butterfly girls as he shouted, “Get off me, you brats!”

Tanjirou’s eyes narrowed. “Let them go, jerk!”

Everyone froze, turning their attention toward him.

Wait… Tanjirou hesitated, eyes darting between the scene. Are they swarming him… or is he holding them captive? I can’t tell…

“Kiyo!” Tanjirou called out.

Kiyo shrieked, “He’s kidnapping those girls!”

“Shut your trap!” The man snapped.

Without thinking, Tanjirou dashed forward, leaping at him.

But just as he closed the distance—the man disappeared.

Tanjirou’s momentum carried him straight into the ground with a painful thud. Kiyo tumbled off Nezuko’s box, but Tanjirou quickly scrambled to his feet and helped her up.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“Yes!” She cried.

A voice echoed from above. “You’re a fool.”

Tanjirou looked up to see the white-haired man perched effortlessly on the gate, arms crossed, smirking.

“I’m Tengen Uzui,” He declared. “Who the hell do you think you are?”