Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tanjiro’s twenty-fourth birthday was full of mixed emotions. On one hand, it was a celebration, a sign he’d survived everything Muzan had thrown at him - more than that, he’d helped defeat demons once and for all. That was certainly an accomplishment.

On the other hand, though, it meant he only had about a year to live. Because while attaining his Demon Slayer’s Mark had helped him survive more than one battle, it had also condemned him to death by the age of twenty-five.

In the days after his birthday, he couldn’t help but notice how the others kept looking at him: like he was fragile, a piece of glass about to shatter. Nezuko kept watching him when she thought he wasn’t looking, and half the time she looked like she was on the verge of tears. Zenitsu suddenly volunteered to do all his chores, telling him to just take it easy. Inosuke was noticeably quieter around him, no longer challenging him to fights or swiping food from his plate when he wasn’t paying attention. And Genya kept finding every excuse to hold him close, to stroke his hair or hold his hand or nuzzle against his cheek.

Without knowing the reason, it might not have bothered him so much. Some of it could even have been kind of nice. But knowing that it was because the countdown of his life was ticking closer and closer to its end…well, that pretty effectively shut down any enjoyment he might have found in no longer being headbutted awake by Inosuke every morning.

He didn’t want to die. He desperately wanted to live - ten years in a demon-free world wasn’t nearly enough. But no matter how much he wished, there was nothing he could do to change his fate: Giyu and Sanemi had both succumbed to their Marks a few years ago, and he’d watched both of their slow and painful declines. He knew his death was an inevitability, even more so than it had ever been when he was a Demon Slayer.

The worst part was that - so far, at least - he didn’t feel any different from normal. He didn’t feel like he only had a year to live, so it was mind-boggling to know that the Mark would soon start sapping his strength and tearing his body apart from the inside.

One thing he’d learned as a Demon Slayer was not to worry about something until it was actually a problem. It freed your mind to focus on the matter at hand and possibly even prevented that secondary problem from becoming relevant. There was nothing he could do to stop the Mark, so there was no point in wasting the time he still had on worrying about it.

But it was one thing to think that and another thing to actually do it. He tried to act normally in the hopes of reassuring the others that he was still here, still all right, but their worry wore on him. His own doubt wore on him, too. How long would this calm last before the storm?

But he still had time. He still had time, and that was what he fought to keep in mind on the worst days, the days when he couldn’t stop counting the months, weeks, days, hours he had left. 

He was still here. He still had time.

Chapter Text

Zenitsu could hear it: Tanjiro’s body was changing. He didn’t think the others had noticed yet, and Tanjiro hadn’t mentioned it, but he could tell.

He heard it in the way Tanjiro grew winded more easily than ever before. A walk up the mountain that should have required minimal effort now left him gasping for breath. It wasn't for lack of staying active - while they were no longer staying fit by constantly fighting demons, making charcoal was a workout in and of itself, and even just cleaning the house regularly took a lot of effort. 

He heard it in the slight wheeze in Tanjiro’s chest when he’d exerted himself, like his lungs were straining to take in air. To use Total Concentration Breathing meant your lungs had to be in top condition, able to take in as much oxygen as possible.

He heard it in the way Tanjiro’s joints creaked, sometimes, in a way only an old man’s should. Tanjiro was twenty-four, barely an adult.

But it wasn’t just things Zenitsu heard . He’d also noticed the way Tanjiro sometimes dropped whatever he was holding, like his fingers just forgot to keep working. The way his hands sometimes started trembling and wouldn’t stop. The way he had perpetual bags under his eyes no matter how late he slept.

He knew what it meant. He knew what all of it meant. But he had absolutely no idea what to do about any of it.

It wasn’t like he could stop Tanjiro’s decline - and he was certain that that was what it was. It was no coincidence that this had started not long after Tanjiro turned twenty-four. And Tanjiro - Tanjiro must know what was going on. It was all happening to him , after all. But he hadn’t said anything about it, as if he was trying to pretend it didn’t exist and wasn’t happening. Which was just so like him: he’d always had an awful tendency to hide when something was wrong with him, just because he didn’t want to worry everyone. But this time - it was too big of a problem to just disregard . They were all worried anyway, for goodness’ sake! Was Tanjiro really planning to ignore this until he was on the verge of collapse? Would he really do that to all of them? To Nezuko?

…But. As much as Zenitsu’s instinctive reaction was to call him out for it, ask him why in the world he was doing this…it wasn’t his place. In the end, this was Tanjiro’s life, so it was Tanjiro’s prerogative to tell them how he was doing.

…Maybe. At least, Zenitsu would let it go for the moment - until it got worse, or until Tanjiro brought it up himself.

He didn’t much enjoy thinking about it anyway. How could he? How could he think about how, in a little less than a year, his best friend would be dead? How could he think about how one of the strongest people he’d ever known would be drained completely by some curse almost no one had ever heard of?

He tried to remember that they still had time. They still had eleven months, and that was a lot.

Chapter Text

“Tanjiro! It’s been a while!”

“How’re things?”

“Is the charcoal business doing all right?”

“I’ll take some! My neighbors just got one of those fancy new gas stoves, but I say your charcoal burns better than that any day!”

Tanjiro had nearly forgotten how loud the town could be. But it was a familiar kind of clamor, and though it could be stressful at times, it was nice, too. Even with everything he’d gone through to defeat Muzan, and even as the town’s technology gradually advanced, some things simply didn’t change.

This winter was shaping up to be an especially cold one, so the charcoal business was booming. Tanjiro was glad Zenitsu had come along to help him or he’d never have been able to handle the crowd. As it was, between chatting with old family friends and exchanging charcoal for money, the rapid back-and-forth was enough to make his head spin.

He wasn’t sure how long it took for him to realize that his head spinning wasn’t just a metaphor: he was genuinely lightheaded. As his surroundings tilted, he staggered, bumping into Zenitsu.

“Hey, what’re you—?” It took one look at Tanjiro’s face for Zenitsu to immediately grow serious. “What’s wrong?”

“Dizzy,” he gasped, fumbling to grab Zenitsu’s arm to steady himself. “Everything’s - spinning…!”

“I - you - all right.” Zenitsu anxiously glanced around. By now, the crowd around them had dispersed quite a bit, though a few people had stuck around to chat. “Sit down, okay? Put your head between your knees.”

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” one of the townsfolk asked. Tanjiro was too busy following Zenitsu’s instructions to match the voice to a face and name.

“Are you all right?” a man asked.

“Are you sick?” a woman worried.

Tanjiro just gripped the fabric of his pants as tightly as he could and desperately wished that the world would stop tilting.

“Excuse me, sir,” Zenitsu said. “Could you please get him some water?”

“Y-yes, of course; I’ll be right back.” Footsteps hurriedly retreated.

Someone - it took him a beat longer than it should’ve to realize it was Zenitsu - put their hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed. “Just breathe,” Zenitsu told him. “You’ll - you’ll be all right. Just keep breathing, okay?”

Breathing wasn’t the problem, but he didn’t think he’d be able to get the words out to explain that. So he just gave a weak thumbs-up in acknowledgement, avoiding a nod for fear of exacerbating his vertigo.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. A moment later, a cup was pressed into his hands; somehow, he managed to bring it to his lips and take a sip of water.

After a few minutes, the world gradually began to steady around him. He waited a little longer to be sure, then lifted his head.

Zenitsu was crouching right in front of him; Tanjiro didn’t need to smell the worry coming off him in droves to know how concerned he was. Beyond Zenitsu were the handful of townsfolk who’d lingered, who were also all watching him with similar degree of concern.

“...Sorry, everyone,” he mumbled, bowing his head. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

The townsfolk didn’t understand the full implications of this incident - they couldn’t, not without knowing about the Mark, and Tanjiro didn’t plan on telling them. To them, it was likely nothing more than dehydration, a small blip after a busy day. But Zenitsu…Zenitsu knew. Still, he covered for it, assuring everyone that, really, Tanjiro was all right. He said nothing about it until the crowd cleared.

“Was it…you know…that?” he asked, gesturing to Tanjiro’s forehead as they gathered their baskets and started preparing for the hike back home.

“...I think so,” Tanjiro admitted. There was no other viable explanation - he’d never had dizzy spells in the past, no matter how busy his charcoal-selling trips had been.

“Do you think you can make it up the mountain right now?”

“I think so…” He felt mostly normal now - a little afraid the dizziness would return, but far more stable than he’d been before.

“Okay,” Zenitsu said. His tone was skeptical, which Tanjiro supposed was fair, and he hardly took his eyes off Tanjiro once as they started up the trail. “Let me know if you need a break, okay?”

“Okay.”

Eight more months. It felt like he had a constant clock ticking in the back of his mind, keeping track of the time he had left. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t know what to do about it. It wasn’t like he could get rid of it, extend his life past that twenty-fifth year.

Their trek was mostly silent as they continued up the mountain.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you’re feeling up to this?”

Tanjiro met Nezuko’s worried eyes and smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be all right. Dad did this for years, remember?”

“Well, yes,” she conceded. “But that was different; he was sick, but not like…”

But not like Tanjiro was. Father’s had been a predictable course of illness, but with the Mark as it was, Tanjiro never knew when another symptom would arise. But he still had time! It was still seven months before—

Before.

…Anyway. The entire purpose of Sun Breathing - or Hinokami Kagura - was to allow the performer to keep dancing all night long. If Father had been able to do it, surely Tanjiro could too. Tanjiro had fought with it, for goodness’ sake, not to mention done the Kagura on the first night of the year every New Year’s since the demons’ defeat. He’d be fine.

Definitely.

He let out a breath, looking from Nezuko to Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Genya, who were all gathered around and watching the exchange with varying degrees of visible concern. “You’ll all be there with me,” he pointed out. “I’ll be okay.”

None of them looked particularly convinced by this, but Nezuko sighed. “If you’re really sure. And if you stop the moment you feel off - I don’t care how minor you think it is. Don’t you dare try to push through until morning if you don’t feel well.”

He wanted to dance the whole night through, as was tradition. But Nezuko was only concerned for him - he stuffed down the little voice inside him that insisted she had good reason to be - and it was as fair a compromise as he could ask for. “Okay.”

By now, he’d put on the ceremonial outfit enough times that it didn’t feel quite as strange as it once did, but his heart still twinged a little whenever he remembered Father wearing these exact same clothes. They were still a little too big for him - he quickly silenced the voice that reminded him he would never grow to the point where they’d fit properly.

While he was getting changed, Nezuko set up the ring of torches outside the house, Zenitsu and Inosuke helped, and Genya hung back in the house with him. As he stepped out into the cold winter air, he did his best to suppress a shiver. Sure, it was biting, but he’d warm up once he started moving. 

He took his place in the center of the ring of torches. Here we go . He’d stopped doing Total Concentration Constant a year or so after demons were defeated, so it always took his body a few minutes to adjust to Total Concentration Breathing again. It was never pleasant, but it was never as bad as it had been when he first learned how to Breathe.

Planting his feet firmly on the frigid ground, he took one final normal breath, then took his first Breath of the night. Immediately, his chest caught fire.

There was no chance to take another Breath, to try to find a rhythm. He exploded into uncontrollable coughs, one fist pressed to his mouth beneath the headdress as he doubled over.

He couldn’t get any air in. Oh, god , he couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t supposed to die yet - he still had seven months. But he couldn’t breathe, and if he couldn’t breathe he was going to die, and—

He could barely hear the sound of his own coughs past the ringing in his ears. That probably explained why he couldn’t tell that anyone had approached him until someone’s hands were on his shoulders, around his waist, steadying him even as they lowered him to the ground. Someone pulled off the headdress, uncovering his face, but that wasn’t the problem, that wasn’t why he couldn’t breathe , he couldn’t breathe—

“—anjiro, Tanjiro , look at me, please—!”

“ Nii-chan , please breathe!”

He couldn’t, he couldn’t - black spots were darting in and out of the edges of his vision now, and his throat burned with each cough that tore its way out of his lungs. Something metallic was on his tongue, and he’d spit it out if he could but he couldn’t because he couldn’t breathe —

“Tanjiro—!”

The crunching of snow, barely audible, then nothing but the sound of his own ragged gasps. Those hands were still around him, still holding him upright - since without them, he surely would’ve crumpled - but even they couldn’t catch his breath for him.

“Tanjiro, please, you need to breathe - look at me, Tanjiro! Tanjiro!”

He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t—!

Moments - hours - seconds - passed; he had no idea how long. Suddenly, something was being pressed to his lips, poured down his throat. It was warm, and for a split second, he sucked in a proper breath. But that was all he got before his lungs hitched and he broke down again.

Another sip, another brief respite, another descent into hacking. He was cold, so cold, and he could only barely breathe enough not to pass out, and all he could think was he wanted it to stop . He didn’t want to die, he couldn’t die yet, but he wanted it to stop . A strangled groan escaped him, not quite a cough but nowhere near words.

“I know,” one of the voices murmured, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just keep breathing.”

“We’ve got you,” another voice assured him. 

And he sagged against the arms around him, his breath slowly returning to him but any energy dissipating twice as quickly. He took one clear breath, then another. He coughed once more, then breathed again. Someone helped him take one final sip of the warm liquid - now that he was aware enough to register the taste, it seemed like plain hot water - and then he managed to lift his head.

Everyone was crowded around him. The ones holding him up were Genya and Inosuke; the one who’d taken off the headdress was Zenitsu; the one holding the cup was Nezuko.

“ Nii-chan ,” she whispered, eyes welling with tears before she dropped the cup and threw her arms around him. “Don’t scare us like that!”

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled. He didn’t even have the strength to hug her back - all he could do was slump forward into her embrace.

…He hadn’t been able to do the Hinokami Kagura. He hadn’t even been able to get one Breath into it, one step into the dance. 

The others piled onto the hug; Genya pressed his lips to the top of Tanjiro’s head and stayed there; Inosuke tucked one of the furs he wore around Tanjiro’s shoulders for some extra warmth. And Tanjiro was glad for all of them, glad for the warmth and support and comfort, but he couldn’t stop thinking:

Even in the last year of his life, Father had been able to do the Kagura.

Chapter Text

Inosuke cackled as he flung yet another fish in Monjiro’s direction. 

“Good job, Inosuke!” Gonpachiro cheered, catching the fish and dropping it in a basket at his feet. “I still can’t believe you can catch them without a net!”

Well, of course he could! He puffed out his chest in pride. “I’m the King of the Mountains! I can do anything!”

Soichiro laughed, the sound of amusement breaking off halfway into coughing. It took him a solid minute or two to catch his breath, and even then, his breath was still a little wheezy.

…Maybe there were some things even the King of the Mountains couldn’t do. “You all right, Kentaro?” he asked, trying not to sound overly worried.

Well, he wasn’t overly worried! He was appropriately concerned! Tonjuro was one of his best underlings! It was perfectly reasonable to want his underling to be healthy.

“...Yeah,” Ichiro nodded after a moment. “Let’s get one more fish and head back, okay? You must be freezing.”

True, the river water was frigid, but it was nothing Inosuke hadn’t experienced before. He was the King of the Mountains - a little cold water was nothing to him. That his underling needed to get back to rest, though…well, he’d try to hurry up. He didn’t want a repeat of the Hinokami-whatever incident.

The fish were far more sluggish in the cold water, making it easy enough to snatch one up. Fish flopping in his arms, he picked his way off the ice and deposited the fish in the basket with the others. He shivered once, then shook himself to get rid of any remaining water. “All right, Toshiro! Let’s go!”

“H-hey!” he protested, wiping water off his face before hoisting up the basket and slinging its straps over his shoulders.

Inosuke led the way along the path leading back home. It had snowed about a week and a half ago, so while the path itself was clear, snow was piled high on either side of it. Suddenly, his skin prickled . He stopped, looking over his shoulder to see what was wrong.

Several feet behind him, Ponjiro had come to a halt, staring straight ahead. His expression was curiously blank, even when Inosuke walked back to him and waved a hand in front of his face. He blinked once, a brief look of worry crossing his face, then swayed on his feet.

Inosuke barely had time to cry out “ Tanjiro !” before his eyes rolled back in his head, he swayed once more, and his legs collapsed beneath him.

Inosuke knelt beside him, not quite sure what to do. This was bad. This was most definitely really bad. Tanjiro wasn’t supposed to just…collapse. Inosuke grabbed his shoulder and shook him, calling his name again. “Wake up!” he ordered. “This isn’t sleep-time, Tanjiro!”

Tanjiro groaned, brow furrowing, but he didn’t open his eyes.

Inosuke shook him again but, again, it didn’t work. Casting about for something that would , his gaze fell on the fish that had spilled out of Tanjiro’s basket.

Well, that should be as good as anything. He grabbed one of the fish and dropped it right on Tanjiro’s face.

Tanjiro sputtered, swatting the fish off his face as he bolted upright. “What the—?!” But as he looked around, his expression gradually shifted from startled to confused. “What…happened?”

“How should I know?!” Inosuke threw up his hands. “You just collapsed!”

“I…oh. Huh,” Tanjiro quietly said. “That’s…probably not good.”

“No kidding! Why didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well? I can’t have one of my best underlings passing out on me!”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I guess I didn’t drink enough, or I overheated, maybe.”

But it was far too cold out to overheat when they’d only been walking - Inosuke was the only one who’d been doing any sort of vigorous activity - and him being dehydrated didn’t sound entirely right either. Inosuke might not be a doctor like Paoi, but even he knew it wasn’t good to collapse, and it was even worse to not know why it happened.

Except…maybe he did know why it happened. Could it be that Mark thing? Was a stupid mark on Tanjiro’s forehead making him weaker? Inosuke wouldn’t stand for it.

…But then, it wasn’t really something he could fight, was it? It wasn’t a demon he could slay or a person he could beat up, so he wasn’t really sure what to do about it. It couldn’t really be that Tanjiro was going to die when he turned twenty-five. Tanjiro was the strongest of them all, second only to - and, okay, maybe occasionally surpassing - Inosuke. After defeating Muzan, a dumb Mark should be nothing to worry about.

And yet…

“Come on,” he gruffly ordered, “get up. Let’s get these fish back so we can make tempura!” And if he also wanted to get Tanjiro home as soon as possible - well, that just made him a responsible boss, didn’t it?

“Inosuke, we just had tempura the other night!” Tanjiro pointed out. “You can’t eat the same thing all the time.” He smiled as he spoke, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Of course we can!” Inosuke retorted. He didn’t see any problem with it so long as they could get the right ingredients. He grabbed Gengoro’s wrist and pulled him to his feet. “But…” he reluctantly considered, “if you really want to have something else, I guess that’s all right too.”

Tantaro smiled again, and this time it seemed a bit less forced, though still not quite right. 

Maybe the basket of fish was too heavy for him. “I’ll carry that!” he declared, swiftly grabbing one strap and tugging. Santaro didn’t protest, letting him take the basket and sling it over his own shoulders. “All right now!” he declared, pointing forward along the trail. “Forward, march!”

And if he let Tanjiro walk before him so that it was easier to keep an eye on him…well, it was what any good leader would do for their underling.

Chapter Text

“Come on, you need to eat something ,” Nezuko insisted for the fifth time that morning. 

“I already did ,” Tanjiro complained.

“Some tea and half an onigiri doesn’t count,” Genya piped up from his seat in the corner, where he’d looked up from trimming his bonsai to watch their conversation.

“ Thank you !” she threw up her hands. “At least have some fish?” Tanjiro needed to keep up his strength. He’d had dizzy spells twice this week alone and had collapsed for the second time last week, and that didn’t even begin to cover the myriad other things, big and small, that she’d noticed that were off about her older brother.

He used to be fastidious about folding his futon neatly to put it away every morning. Now, it was like he couldn’t ever get his hands to be steady enough to manage that. He used to be strong enough to slay demons even while carrying her around in a box - now he grew winded simply walking on a flat path. He had coughing fits when working with the sooty charcoal; his bad arm was stiff more days than not, and even though he now slept later than he ever had before, the shadows under his eyes were darker than they’d ever been.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that the end was approaching faster than ever, and she was desperate to do whatever she could to postpone it. A decrease in appetite was one of the things Kanao and Aoi had told her to expect as Tanjiro’s time wore down, and even though he wasn’t showing all the other signs, she was terrified they weren’t far off.

Tanjiro smiled apologetically at her and Genya. “I’m not hungry right now. I’m sorry. I’ll eat something later, okay?”

It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay at all when it meant that her big brother was slowly but surely wasting away, every tick of the clock one second closer to the moment she lost the only family she had left. It made her so angry, but there was absolutely nothing she could do about it, and maybe that was the worst part. Tanjiro didn’t deserve to die like this. Not ever, but certainly not after everything he’d gone through.

But to voice any of that would only make things more difficult for him. And if there was anything her brother did deserve, it was for his life to be easy, just once.

“...All right,” she reluctantly conceded. “Later. But I’ll hold you to that.”

“Of course.”

She couldn’t help but wish, just for a moment, that things could go back to the way they’d once been, before Tanjiro had unlocked the Mark. Of course that was far from a pleasant time - demons had still abounded; she’d been one herself - but at least Tanjiro had theoretically had his whole life ahead of him. He’d always been in danger as a Demon Slayer, but the risk of death was never quite so…certain. There was always a chance he could survive, always a chance he could make it out of a battle and recover. 

But there was no way to move time backwards. There was no undoing the damage that had already been done, and there was no fixing this in the present. All she could do - much as she resented that it was all she could do - was be grateful she knew how much time they still had. She’d never gotten that with Mom and their other siblings. 

It wasn’t much to be grateful for. It was maddening, watching his slow and painful descent. But she would still choose this.

She’d always choose this over losing him without getting the chance to say goodbye.

Chapter Text

Genya wasn’t staring , exactly. Even though he and Tanjiro were partners, to stare would be creepy, and unlike Zenitsu, Genya did his best not to act like a total creep around the one he loved. 

In any event, all that was to say: Tanjiro wasn’t okay. And that really wasn’t anything new at this point, but every few weeks it felt like there was something newly horrible to remind him of just how close he was to losing another person to that damned Mark. 

The only way he’d gotten through losing Sanemi was because Tanjiro had been there supporting him every step of the way. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

…If there was anything he’d learned from Sanemi’s decline, it was that doing something was always better than moping about it, because it got his mind off things - even if only temporarily. Find a problem, solve it. And right now, the problem was that Tanjiro couldn’t seem to get warm no matter what.

It was hard to say precisely how long that had been going on, since each symptom usually took a while to set in and Tanjiro was reasonably adept at hiding them. During the colder months, it wouldn’t have been as noticeable, so it was harder to pinpoint when it started. Everyone was cold in winter, and spring had been particularly cold this year. But now they were well into warmer days, getting ever-closer to summer. And as Tanjiro used a mortar and pestle to grind some spices for Nezuko, he kept stopping to rub his hands together as if his fingers were chilled.

The weather today was some of the warmest they’d had so far.

And as much as he knew Tanjiro didn’t like talking about it, as much as Genya wanted to respect that…he couldn’t just watch silently until the end. He’d seen so much of the same with Sanemi - and relived it in his dreams more nights than he cared to think about. He had to do something, for both their sakes. “Hey,” he said, pausing in his own work of sorting seeds for the garden. “Are you cold?”

“Hmm?” Tanjiro looked up and shrugged, expression sheepish. “...Maybe a little.”

He was freezing, then. And he was an idiot. An idiot Genya loved, but an idiot nonetheless. “C’mere,” Genya beckoned, shunting his bowls of seeds off to the side. They’d been sitting face to face as they worked, keeping each other company, but that would hardly warm Tanjiro up.

Tanjiro shook his head. “I have to finish this for Nezuko before we can—”

“Not what I meant,” Genya cut him off with a huff that didn’t bother pretending to be anything other than affectionate. “I - you know what, fine, hang on.” It would be easier for him to move closer to Tanjiro than vice versa, anyway - getting up and down had gotten harder for Tanjiro lately.

As with everything else.

On his knees, he shuffled over to Tanjiro’s side. Settling himself behind the smaller man, he pulled Tanjiro into his lap, close enough that they were pressed together back to front. With no space between them, he could now feel that Tanjiro was shivering - though whether from cold or nerves, he couldn’t tell. Tucking Tanjiro’s head under his chin, he asked, “This okay?”

Sounding a little breathless, Tanjiro replied, “Y-yeah.”

He buried his face in Tanjiro’s hair, feeling his own cheeks burn. He supposed it was nice to know that in spite of everything, some things didn’t change. After letting both himself and Tanjiro adjust to their new closeness, he reached forward to take Tanjiro’s hands into his. Gently rubbing his hands, Genya massaged each finger, trying to use both friction and body heat to warm the cold digits. 

Tanjiro let out a soft sigh, nestling impossibly closer against Genya’s chest. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. Now we’re both not working.”

“I think Nezuko will understand,” Genya replied. “And believe me, I’d rather face her wrath than have you be cold.” To punctuate his point, he pressed a kiss to the top of Tanjiro’s head.

Tanjiro hummed noncommittally, relaxing a bit more in his arms. He’d stopped shivering; for that, Genya was grateful. He couldn’t fix things in any real way, but at least he could do this: make sure Tanjiro was as comfortable as possible.

It wasn’t much. It was hardly anything, really. It didn’t heal Tanjiro and it didn’t keep him from waking up in the middle of the night to check that Tanjiro was still breathing.

But it was better than nothing.

Chapter Text

“What constellation do you think that is?” Nezuko quietly wondered, pointing to a cluster of stars a little to Genya’s right.

“What’s a conste-whaetever?” Inosuke asked, voice not nearly as soft.

“A constellation,” Tanjiro patiently answered, “is a specific group of stars. They make a picture.”

Genya still couldn’t quite get used to the thought that it was okay to be outside, unarmed, at night. After dinner, they’d all come outside to lie on the grass and stargaze. They were all spread out in a loose pile: Tanjiro had an arm around Nezuko’s shoulders and was using Genya as a headrest; Zenitsu was lying beside Nezuko, holding her hand and being surprisingly calm about it; Inosuke was sprawled out on top of Zenitsu’s, Nezuko’s, and one of Tanjiro’s legs.

“What’s the point of a star picture?” Inosuke wanted to know. “ You can only see them at night. Can you use it like a map?”

“Some of them,” Nezuko nodded. “Others just have stories about them.”

Inosuke hummed, considering the idea with uncharacteristic calmness.

Actually, Genya couldn’t help but be a little surprised by how calm the evening had been. It was like a spell of quiet had overtaken their group; everyone was curiously at ease. It was peaceful…but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the calm before the storm: Tanjiro’s twenty-fifth birthday was only two months away.

And, god, Genya wasn’t ready. He’d never be ready, but two months wasn’t nearly enough time. Two months was far too little time to have left with arguably the best person he’d ever known. Sudden tears pricked his eyes and he pulled Tanjiro a little closer.

Tanjiro shifted a little, tilting his head to meet Genya’s eyes. “Everything all right?” he whispered.

“...’M okay.”

He frowned. “You sure?”

Genya sighed, knowing Tanjiro was too perceptive to hide his angst from for long. Still, though, Tanjiro was dealing with plenty as it was - he didn’t want to give him something else to worry about. “If you could do anything,” he asked instead, “anything in the world, what would it be?”

It was a bit of a non-sequitur, he knew, but it also wasn’t. There was so little he could do for Tanjiro, but he would try to make this one thing happen. No matter what Tanjiro’s answer was.

“Hmm.” Tanjiro was quiet for only a moment before he answered, “This.”

It was such a very Tanjiro answer. Genya probably should’ve seen that one coming, but he hadn’t, and it was enough to make his eyes water even more. He buried his face in Tanjiro’s hair to hide it, soaking up as much closeness as possible while he still could.

I love you . He breathed the words into Tanjiro’s hair, too quiet for any of the others - even, he thought, Zenitsu - to hear. He thought his heart might tear itself apart with how much he loved Tanjiro. They didn’t use the words often - didn’t need them, really, since they both knew how the other felt and that was enough. But now, when their remaining time was so short, he couldn’t say it enough. When one half of their whole would soon be gone forever, Tanjiro could never know enough how much he was loved.

What am I supposed to do without you?

Chapter Text

Making the plans for his own death was, Tanjiro was learning, a remarkably maudlin experience. He was still very much alive, but he was making preparations for the not-so-far-off time when he wouldn’t be.

As a Demon Slayer, death - a gruesome, painful one at that - had always been something of an expectation, a high probability, part of the job description. But it had never been a certainty like this, this slow-yet-steady march closer and closer to his death. It was so unlike the sudden end he’d always sort of anticipated.

It didn’t really feel like he was dying. Not like any of the other ways he’d almost died, anyway. He was getting weaker, and his symptoms were practically worsening by the day, but that was all it felt like: just getting weaker and having his body rebel against him more and more. Even the aftermath of facing an Upper Moon never felt like this.

Which made preparing for his death feel even stranger.

As for the preparations themselves, there wasn’t so much to do. Goto, the former Kakushi, informed him that Kiriya Ubuyashiki would give him a plot in the Demon Slayers’ graveyard if he so chose. But Tanjiro preferred his final resting place to be closer to home: beside the graves of the rest of his family, who he’d buried in what felt like a different lifetime. It felt right - well, as right as anything could feel in a situation like this.

He didn’t have much in mind for the funeral beyond a small, traditional ceremony. He supposed his nichirin sword could go to whichever of his friends wanted it, and he wanted either Genya or Nezuko to get his earrings - maybe one for each? - but beyond that he had no real wishes for who inherited his possessions. He didn’t have many to start with.

And that part of the conversation was about where the reality of the situation had begun to sit a bit too heavily on his shoulders and he’d had to take a break to mentally regroup. Being with the others helped clear his head a bit, helped stave off some of his worry, but the fact still remained: his twenty-fifth birthday was only one month away.

Chapter Text

The end was near; Nezuko would have to be blind not to see it.

Tanjiro’s strength was almost completely depleted. They’d borrowed a Western-style bed from the Butterfly Mansion so it would be easier for him to get up, but even so, he spent most of his time resting. If he ever needed to get up, for whatever reason, she or Genya or Zenitsu or Inosuke would help him to his feet and walk him to his destination.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” she asked him one day, sitting on the edge of his bed to keep him company as she sewed up a tear in some of Inosuke’s clothes.

“Hmm?” His eyes had been closed, but she’d known he was awake or she wouldn’t have asked. Now, his eyes slid open, so weary and yet still so familiarly warm.

“You were probably one of the strongest Demon Slayers ever,” she clarified. “You used Sun Breathing; it’s thanks to you that Muzan was defeated. So doesn’t it bother you that now you need help just to walk?”

He was quiet a moment; she wasn’t sure if it was to gather his thoughts or the strength to speak. “Not really,” he eventually said with a weak shake of his head. “Do I…feel bad sometimes…especially when I…have to wake one of you…at night?” He nodded. “But it’s not…the fact that I can’t walk…that bothers me.”

And oh , did she know how that felt. She’d give almost anything for his decline to just stop . Even if he never got any better than he was now, even if he was this weak for the rest of his life, that would be okay. Just as long as he got to live …!

But the world didn’t work that way: catering to the whims of one desperate individual. That Tanjiro had survived this far was a miracle in and of itself, and she didn’t think the universe would show such mercy a second time. He hadn’t even died yet, and all she wanted to do was cry and hug him forever.

How had Tanjiro done it, all those years ago? How had he had the strength to bury their family after coming home to find everyone massacred and her a demon? How had he not only managed that, but then became a Demon Slayer and maintained hope that he could turn her back into a human? How did he do any of it?

And how could she do even a fraction of it?

Chapter Text

Today, Tanjiro thought, had been a surprisingly good day. He hadn’t been quite so cold and, for once, he’d actually had some energy. Not much, but it was kind of nice to be able to cross a room on his own strength.

Still, it was an inescapable fact: tomorrow was his twenty-fifth birthday, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight would be his last. It was a lingering, not-quite-tangible feeling in the pit of his stomach: today was the last good day before the end.

As night fell and everyone got ready for bed, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to talk to them. Now . He had to say his goodbyes now, because what if his gut feeling was right and he never got the chance again?

But…was this really it? And after everything they’d been through together, how could he possibly say goodbye?

Somehow, they all seemed to sense it; they gathered around his bed, waiting expectantly for him to speak without his saying a word about it. To his immediate left and right were Genya and Nezuko, and beside them were Zenitsu and Inosuke.

All had become his family over the years, as good as any blood relations.

“You guys…” he started. Already, a lump was forming in his throat; he swallowed it down, determined to say everything he needed to say. “Thank you. All of you. For these last few months, years, everything. I don’t know…what I would’ve done…without each of you.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Zenitsu implored. 

“Yeah, it’s too soon,” Inosuke agreed. “That stupid Mark hasn’t got you yet, Gonpachiro! You can still kick its butt!”

“I wish it worked like that,” he sighed. But it was completely, terrifyingly, out of his control. In a way, it was almost a freeing thought - whatever he did now wouldn’t make a difference one way or the other, so he might as well just do it.

Looking to each of them in turn, he decided that the best way to do this was to go through them one by one. He settled on Inosuke to begin. “Take care of everyone…all right, King of…the Mountains? They’re your underlings…so you’ve got to be responsible…for them.”

Inosuke crossed his arms, putting on a show of bravado, but the quaver in his voice when he spoke undermined the effect: “Of course, Tanjiro! What kinda boss d’you think I am?!”

Tanjiro’s eyes widened. “You…got my name right…”

Inosuke huffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Monjiro!”

He laughed, feeling it rattle in his chest, before he shifted his attention to Zenitsu. “You take care of everyone…too…all right? Especially Nezuko…but everyone. Be brave.”

Zenitsu sniffed, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I - I will.”

He looked to Nezuko next, and meeting her eyes was nearly enough to tear him apart. “Nezuko…”

For a very long moment, he couldn’t find the words. How could he ever begin to say goodbye to his sister? There was so much he wanted to say and he had absolutely no words with which to say it.

In the end, she was the one to break the spell: she took his good hand in both of hers, hugging it to her chest as she smiled at him with tears in her eyes.

And finally, he found the words: “I don’t regret any of it, Nezuko.” Everything he’d had to do to turn her back into a human, all the fear and pain and grief, it was worth it to have her here and now as a human. “For you to be happy…it was all worth it.”

Her tears spilled over; Zenitsu quietly wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

And then Tanjiro’s eyes met Genya’s, and unlike with Nezuko, he could think of only one thing to say: “Genya…I love you so, so much. Try to be happy…okay?”

A small sob hitched in Genya’s throat. “Dammit, Tanjiro, I—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I love you too. I - always.” Shakily, he took Tanjiro’s other hand and squeezed it, wordlessly communicating everything neither of them could say.

“Can you all…stay close tonight?” Tanjiro quietly requested. They were never particularly far - the house wasn’t big enough for that - but he wanted to have them all as close as possible right now.

“Of course,” Nezuko assured him.

His bed wasn’t nearly large enough for all five of them to fit comfortably, but they squeezed in as best they could: Nezuko and Genya on either side of him, and Zenitsu and Inosuke closer to the foot of the bed. It wasn’t the most comfortable he’d ever been, but to have them all around him like this was worth it.

“Thank you…” he breathed as his eyelids hung heavier and heavier and sleep fought to claim him. “For everything.”

Chapter Text

Genya wasn’t sure what woke him up. There had been no sound or movement, as far as he could tell; no clear reason for him to have awoken in the middle of the night. Blinking, he looked to his side and noticed that Nezuko was also awake. He tilted his head, wondering if she’d woken him. But she seemed just as surprised to see him awake. So if not her, then who or what…?

His gaze shifted from Nezuko to Tanjiro, who was gazing up at the ceiling, eyes not quite focused, and taking very slow, deliberate breaths. Genya’s heart twisted as he realized: this was, almost without question, the end.

He had a second realization a moment later: whether it was pure coincidence or some sort of lingering demonic sixth sense, something had roused both him and Nezuko just in time. Something had given them the chance for one final goodbye.

Nezuko had come to the same understanding; he could see it in her eyes. “Tanjiro,” she whispered.

Tanjiro blinked, eyes darting to her in surprise. He tried to smile but visibly didn’t have the strength. Whether because of that or because of something Genya couldn’t see, his breathing hitched and his eyes widened, fear fighting to claim his expression. 

“It’s okay,” Genya soothed, keeping his voice as low and steady as possible. “Whatever happens…it’ll be okay.” He wasn’t sure if he believed it, but for Tanjiro’s sake, he would pretend.

At his reassurance, Tanjiro relaxed a little but still didn’t seem entirely calm. “I don’t…” he started, a little breathless. “I…” I’m scared , his eyes silently confessed, shining in the dim light.

And damn it all, but painful as it might be to promise things like it’ll all be okay , Genya would not let him be afraid right now. “Hey, look at me,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke Tanjiro’s cheek. “I love you.” For a moment, his voice wavered dangerously, but he swallowed hard and pressed on. “And so does Nezuko. We all do. And we’ve got you. We’re right here.”

Tanjiro shivered but managed a tiny nod, leaning into Genya’s hand just a little.

“What he said,” Nezuko quietly joined in, a teary smile on her face. “You can - let go, or - or do whatever it is you need to do. It’s all right.”

It wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t. But Genya fought as hard as he could to keep it together. He had to, for just a little longer.

Tanjiro let out a breath, not quite enough to be a sigh, and bobbed his head in another tiny nod. Slowly, his eyes slid closed.

Genya held his breath, desperately listening for Tanjiro’s every quiet inhalation, the proof that he was still alive. He pressed a kiss to Tanjiro’s forehead, pulled back, and then—

Just After

Nezuko could do nothing but watch helplessly as Tanjiro’s chest rose and fell once more, twice more, and didn’t move again.

That was it. As easy as falling asleep.

On Tanjiro’s other side, Genya let out a soft sob, burying his face in Tanjiro’s shoulder.

And Nezuko…

She was shell-shocked. She didn’t know how to react - scream, cry, both, neither?

Her big brother, her nii-chan , was dead. She tested the thought out and found she was too numb to properly register it. Dead.

Dead? Surely he was only sleeping. He’d been alive, had been looking at her, just a few moments ago. Tanjiro wasn’t - Tanjiro couldn’t be dead .

Nearly ten years hadn’t been enough to come to terms with the fact that her brother was slowly dying. One year of visible decline wasn’t enough to help her accept it. So how could thirty seconds ever, ever be enough?

“ Nii-chan ,” she whispered, plaintive. 

He was gone. He was gone, he was gone, he was gone. And what now? How could she move on from this? How could she - god, how could she bury him? How could she do anything she needed to do now? How could she live ?

What would she do without Tanjiro?

And that - that was what finally broke the dam. A sob bubbled out of her chest, then another, and another, and she dissolved completely. She didn’t bother trying to quiet herself for Zenitsu’s and Inosuke’s sakes - they’d wake up soon, and then they’d also know. All she could do was mirror Genya, muffling her sobs by burying her face in Tanjiro’s chest. 

He was gone. He was gone, and Nezuko was adrift.

Chapter Text

Knowing in advance that losing Tanjiro would hurt and actually experiencing it were two very different things, Zenitsu was learning. The weight of it hung over their remaining quartet, a heavy shadow of sadness with no sign of lightening up.

They each bore it differently: Inosuke was quieter than Zenitsu had ever seen him. He hadn’t picked a fight with anyone in weeks; he hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that he was crying at Tanjiro’s funeral. Nezuko was constantly trying and failing to keep it together - she’d broken down crying on Zenitsu’s shoulder several times over the past few weeks, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be happy about it because of what it meant. She’d barely gotten through her speech at the funeral. Genya hardly spoke to anyone these days - he’d stood at the funeral stony-faced, but anyone who knew him could tell he was doing anything but keeping it together. Zenitsu didn’t think he’d actually slept a full night through since Tanjiro died - he just wandered about as if he was sleepwalking, but he was never actually asleep.

And Zenitsu…

It wasn’t fair. That was what he kept thinking. It wasn’t fair that someone as kind and good as Tanjiro just died like this and left them all behind. It wasn’t fair that Tanjiro had fought so hard, had won , and was condemned to an early grave all the same. He’d been Zenitsu’s older brother and best friend and so many other things all at once, and now he was just gone. And it wasn’t fair. But there was absolutely nothing anyone could do about it. All they could do was struggle through each day, from sunrise to sunset and repeat.

It wasn’t fair.

Chapter Text

These days, Genya couldn’t help but think that he didn't have much of a heart left: just a constant ache thrumming through his entire body, reminding him of just how much he’d lost.

There was no ebb and flow, no easing or worsening. Just constant, suffocating grief. After half a year, it grew a little maddening. New Year’s passed in a blur - Nezuko pulled out the Hinokami Kagura outfit and, though she didn’t wear it, she kept it with her all day; Zenitsu and Inosuke did…he wasn’t even sure what. He’d just spent the whole day curled up in his futon, unwilling to face the memories of the previous New Year’s.

He kept catching himself in forgetting. He’d see something interesting and want to tell Tanjiro about it and for half a second he’d forget that he could never tell Tanjiro anything again. And he wanted to talk to Tanjiro about that , but he couldn’t do that either.

Why did everyone he'd ever loved just die? His little siblings, Mom, Himejima-san, Sanemi, and now Tanjiro - when would it end? And why did this keep happening? Why was it always him who was left behind to mourn? Was it all some great joke of the universe, some terrible curse he could never escape?

Another thing he wished he could talk to Tanjiro about. Without fail, Tanjiro always helped him see the silver lining of a situation, or at the very least supported him through the worst of it. But now Tanjiro was gone and there was no silver lining and Genya was in freefall. 

He’d never been good at controlling his breathing. But now it felt like he couldn’t breathe at all.

Chapter Text

Somehow, the days kept moving. Nezuko wasn’t really sure how it happened - it just sort of did. After what felt like no time at all, she looked at a calendar and saw that it had already been a year. 

And wasn’t that just a punch to the gut: Already a year of Tanjiro being gone, a year of being without her brother - truly being without him - for the first time in her life. Zenitsu was a sweetheart about the whole thing, really; he asked her if she wanted to talk about it and sat quietly with her when she said she didn’t. God knew he missed Tanjiro too, but he remained a steady rock for her the whole day. It didn’t make it better. But it did make it just the tiniest bit more bearable.

In spite of her own grief, she could tell she wasn’t the only one struggling with the day. Genya seemed determined to spend the whole day in bed - that was, until Inosuke prodded him enough to finally get a rise out of him. But it became clear pretty quickly that Inosuke wasn’t just doing it to bother him - instead, he shoved a handful of his shiniest acorns in Genya’s face, then left, as if the act of caring was too much vulnerability for him.

In any event, it worked. Genya dragged himself out of bed, Zenitsu made them all lunch, and they all spent the rest of the day in a sort of group huddle, facing Tanjiro’s absence together.

It was hellish. But they got through it, and Nezuko thought Tanjiro would like to see them all together like that.

Chapter Text

Zenitsu was going to marry Nezuko. Well - he was pretty sure he was going to. He maybe hadn’t asked her yet, but she probably wouldn’t say no.

Hopefully.

Anyway, he was going to ask her to marry him. As soon as he got the nerve up. Which was definitely a thing he could do.

Maybe.

But it felt wrong to do it without asking Tanjiro’s blessing - even if he couldn’t really get an answer - so that was how he found himself kneeling before the youngest of seven gravestones, shivering a bit at the cold November breeze. 

“So,” he started, not quite sure how he felt about talking to a dead person. But then, it was Tanjiro, wasn’t it? And talking to Tanjiro had never been hard, so there was really nothing to worry about. “Well, I - you know I like Nezuko - well, more than like.” He laughed a little, embarrassed, even though there was no one around to hear it other than the swaying trees and he wasn't ashamed of how he felt. “I love her - how can I not? She’s beautiful and kind and smart and - well, you already know all that. And…I wanna ask her to marry me. So I just thought - well, I know you can’t answer , but it felt…right. To ask for your blessing. So here I am, I guess. If you want to smite me with a bolt of lightning for trying to marry your sister, now would be the time.”

He waited for a few minutes, but nothing seemed to happen. Which shouldn’t have been surprising or disappointing; what did he think was going to happen? And yet…he still felt like he was waiting for something he couldn’t quite put into words.

The November breeze picked up, and suddenly something thwacked him in the back of the head. “What the—?!”

He turned to see what had attacked him and was surprised to see a piece of charcoal. How in the world had it blown out of the oven Tanjiro had once used to make charcoal, carried on all the way over here, and still had enough speed to hit Zenitsu? It simply didn’t make sense. 

Unless…

“Tanjiro? Is that a no?”

Of course, he received no response. He picked up the offending piece of charcoal, prepared to bring it inside - a little extra fuel for the fire never hurt anyone, and now he could say he’d contributed to their storage - but stopped when he noticed something strange.

Even through his thick mitten, he could feel it: the lump of charcoal was pleasantly warm without a single spark in sight.

Suddenly, it didn’t seem like he’d received such an emphatic no. It seemed like maybe Tanjiro - ever the older brother - wasn’t thrilled about it, but he was happy that they would be happy.

“Is that a yes?”

The heat of the charcoal pulsed, just a little, and Zenitsu smiled. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

And it might be a faceless piece of charcoal, but it seemed to be smiling at him, seemed to be saying, I know .

Chapter Text

A late-summer wedding was, in hindsight, perhaps not the wisest choice of date. The weather was swelteringly hot and humid, and Nezuko had sweated through her kimono about five minutes after putting it on. Still, she was without question the happiest she’d been in years.

Everyone she cared about who could be here was here, from the Uzuis to the Rengokus, the Ubuyashikis, and even a number of now-former swordsmiths. As soon as the ceremony ended, she felt like she was being pulled in a million directions at once to try to talk to everyone - but it was the farthest thing from stressful. It was nice, being surrounded by so much life again. She’d gradually adjusted more and more to Tanjiro being gone, but their little house on the mountain was quiet - not many people bothered making the trek up anymore, and it wasn’t always easy to get out and make the journey herself.

Zenitsu was far less of a social butterfly than she, but - well, it was pretty cute, seeing him all flustered, and how he kept looking over at her every so often as if to check on her. Inosuke mostly occupied himself with the food, but she saw him chatting with Aoi quite a bit and couldn’t help but wonder if something was happening there: she’d seen them conversing the same way every time they visited the Butterfly Mansion. She couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of them together - they’d make such a perfectly imperfect match, what with Aoi’s set ways of doing things and Inosuke’s almost pathological avoidance of order and tradition.

At first, she’d noticed Genya was mostly keeping to himself. She kept meaning to go over to him but kept getting pulled in a different direction by other guests. Later, though, she saw that one of the swordsmiths - Kotetsu, if she remembered his name correctly - had eventually caught him in conversation about different sorts of weapons. To her mild surprise, the teen even managed to elicit a few smiles from Genya - a rare feat nowadays.

Just another sign of the joy of the day, she thought with a smile before returning her attention to Suma Uzui. 

…She only wished Tanjiro could be there to see it.

Chapter Text

Genya was used to watching Zenitsu fuss over Nezuko, but seeing him unable to decide whether to fuss over Nezuko or his newborn daughter was actually pretty funny. It had taken Nezuko requesting he get her some water that he finally left her side for more than five seconds. He supposed if he were a little less jaded and sardonic, he’d think it was sweet.

Well, it was sweet. Really. He was just…he didn’t know. He wanted to be happy for them, and he was , but it was just - hard. Sometimes. To see them all happy and sweet and loving. He usually distracted himself by seeking out Inosuke, whether for conversation or, admittedly, picking a fight, but lately Inosuke had been spending most of his time pestering Kanzaki at the Butterfly Mansion.

All that to say, he was decidedly stuck stewing in his thoughts by himself.

Days like these were why he went for long walks in the forest and considered not coming back. Considered just walking and walking, until his legs gave out or he reached the sea and could go no farther, whichever came first. But, of course, it was the middle of the winter and it had just snowed a foot, so going for a walk was probably not the most advisable activity right now.

He should be doing better than this. He was doing better, most days. He generally tried to remember Tanjiro’s last request - that he be happy - and he tried not to let himself get mired down in grief. And he thought he’d been managing pretty well. It had been more than six years and, if he really thought about it, the ache in his chest was noticeably less than it had once been. Of course it was now, during one of the happiest times of his friends’ lives, that he had to regress back into angst. Of course he had to be jealous of them, even though nothing that happened was their fault and, by god, did they deserve to be happy.

He supposed this, more than anything else, made him human. He hated that this was what it took for him to see it.

…He’d felt human with Tanjiro. Even on his worst days, when he hadn’t been sure his demonic features would wear off and he’d feared he’d be stuck like that forever, somehow Tanjiro had always managed to coax it out of him. But none of it mattered now because Tanjiro was gone and he’d been that way for six and a half goddamn years and—

He really needed to get out of his own head. Snow be damned, he needed some fresh air.

Pushing himself to his feet, he started for the door - but paused when Nezuko called, “Genya? Where are you going?”

He might not ever have been the most socially ept, but even he knew he probably shouldn’t tell her the real reason he was leaving. “...For a walk.”

She blinked. “It’s freezing out.”

…Dammit. Even in the rush of, well, having a baby, she hadn’t missed the falling snow. He didn’t have an actual excuse prepared, so he just stared at the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes - eyes so like and yet so unlike Tanjiro’s.

But just like Tanjiro’s, they seemed to see right through him. After just a moment of studying him, she tilted her head with a look that managed to be understanding without condescending. “...Do you want to hold Sumi?” she offered, shifting her daughter’s weight in her arms a bit.

He didn’t want to. He just wanted to leave and not have to think about this any longer, not think about anything ever again. But just then, the baby squirmed, her eyelids fluttering open.

And her eyes.

Her eyes were exactly like Tanjiro’s, a warm scarlet that reminded him of warm hearths and sunsets. And it wasn’t the same, she wasn’t the same at all, and yet—

Somehow, against his will, he found himself moving closer, arms held out. Nezuko carefully passed Sumi into his hold, hesitating for just a moment to make sure he really had her before pulling back. Sumi’s weight and warmth nestled perfectly against his chest, and for a moment he felt like his heart had stopped.

The last time he’d held a being this small had been - he wasn’t sure. He’d never held any of the Uzuis’ children, and they were the only people he really knew who’d had any babies recently.

Koto, he realized. The last newborn he’d held was his littlest brother, Koto, when he’d been captivated by the way those wide gray-green-blue eyes looked so much like their mother’s.

He wasn’t sure what to think about that. He just knew, suddenly and with complete and utter certainty, that he would never let anything harm this child for as long as he had breath in his lungs and strength in his limbs.

Chapter Text

“Have you ever thought about…you know, trying to find someone else?”

From his seat on the floor with Sumi in his lap, Genya blinked up at Nezuko in surprise. “Huh?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she quickly said. “I know - believe me , I know no one’s ever going to come close to being anything like Tanjiro. But have you ever just…I don’t know, considered it?”

It wasn’t that she thought he’d always be miserable if he was never romantically with anyone again. And it wasn’t that she enjoyed playing matchmaker - although getting Inosuke and Aoi to finally confess their shared feelings had certainly been a task, one to which she was proud to say she’d risen. It was just that…he seemed sort of lonely lately. He’d gotten closer with her and Inosuke and Zenitsu after Tanjiro's death, but now that Inosuke was with Aoi and she and Zenitsu had been together for so long…He deserved someone to be his person , in the same way Zenitsu was hers and she was his.

She couldn’t quiet the doubt that suggested that Genya was the sort of person who fell in love once and once only, and that Tanjiro had been that once. But it was up to Genya to determine that, and so she waited for his response.

“...I don’t know,” he shrugged, then grumbled softly as he pulled a lock of his hair out of Sumi’s mouth. “It just doesn’t feel like…” He shrugged again.

“Like what?”

He shook his head with a quiet huff, as if frustrated by his inability to put what he meant into words. “I dunno. Like it wouldn’t be fair, really.”

“Not fair?” she tilted her head. “To who?”

Sumi poked at his cheek and he took a moment to gently guide her hand away before returning his attention to Nezuko. “I dunno. It’s kind of cliche to say it’d be unfair to him, wouldn’t it?”

“No,” she said gently, “it’s not cliche, but I also don’t think it would be. He wanted you to be happy, and I know he meant however that happiness looks for you.”

He shrugged. “It’s not just that, anyway. I just - it wouldn’t be fair to the other person. I’d always be thinking about him, comparing them even if I didn’t mean to…it wouldn’t be fair.”

“Oh.”

That pretty soundly assuaged any doubts she’d had over whether or not Tanjiro had been Genya’s one and only. Do you know how much he loved - still loves - you, nii-chan ? Do you know how much he still misses you? How much we all do, but how it’s everything for him ?

Before she could say anything else, Sumi started to fuss - god, Nezuko couldn’t wait until she was finished teething - and that effectively ended the conversation. But it didn’t stop her from thinking about it: about how large of a hole Tanjiro had left behind. And not just in her heart, but in others’ too.

Chapter Text

“Genya oji-san , tell me a story,” Sumi implored, wiggling and squirming beneath her blanket.

“Your parents wanted you to be asleep by now,” he reminded her. “You’re lucky I let you stay up this late already.”

“But I can’t fall asleep without a story,” she complained. Mom or Dad or both of them always told her a story before she went to bed, and just because they were away visiting Tengen oji-san and Hina and Suma and Maki oba-san s , she didn’t want to miss out on getting a story.

He held her gaze for a long moment, neither of them willing to back down. Eventually, he looked away with a sigh, muttering something that sounded an awful lot like a word Mom wouldn’t let Sumi say. “ One story,” he conceded, holding up a finger. “But just the one, and we’re not telling your parents, okay?”

“Okay!” she cheerfully agreed.

“So,” he said, settling into a cross-legged position beside her futon, “what kind of story do you want to hear, anyway?”

She thought about it for a moment. Genya oji-san didn’t tell her many stories, so she wanted this to be a good one. She knew how he’d met Mom and Dad and Inosuke oji-san and how he used to fight bad guys with all of them, but she didn’t know what he was like when he was her age. Had he had an oji-san who’d told him stories?

…Had he known her other oji-san , Mom’s nii-chan ? Mom and Dad always answered her questions about Tanjiro oji-san , but they always seemed sort of sad talking about him and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe Genya oji-san knew!

“Did you know my uncle Tanjiro?”

Genya oji-san froze, his expression going incredibly sad for just a moment before going completely neutral, as if he was determined not to show how sad he was. “…Yeah, I knew him,” he said quietly. “Why?”

“Mom an’ Dad get sad when they talk about him,” she explained. “An’ so did you jus’ now. Why’s that?”

He let out a breath, running a hand down his face. “Babysit, they said,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “It’ll be easy, they said.”

“Who said? Mom and Dad?”

“Mhm.” He considered her for a moment, then ran a hand through his hair. “Anyway, yeah. I…knew Tanjiro. What—” his voice broke and he paused for a moment before continuing, “—what did you want to know about him?”

She shrugged. “Mom and Dad’ve told me what he was like. An’ they said he’s Mom’s big brother and Dad’s best friend. How’d you know him?”

Genya oji-san went quiet for so long that she wondered if he hadn’t heard her. It could happen, she knew - old people’s hearing was pretty much always worse. And, okay, maybe she didn’t really know how old Genya oji-san was, but she knew he was a lot older than her, and probably also Mom and Dad too because he was so much taller than them, so maybe his hearing really was bad. 

But then he let out another sigh - he was doing that a lot more than usual tonight; she wondered if he was tired and trying not to yawn, the same way Inosuke oji-san usually tried to hide it when he was tired - and said, “We were…close.”

She frowned. “What’s that mean?”

“It means we were…” He trailed off, then shook his head. “You know how your mom and dad really like each other and always like being near each other?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well…That’s what it was like. For me and Tanjiro.”

“Oh,” she realized. Why had he gone and made it sound so confusing when it was so simple? “You love him.”

He blinked at her. “…Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Yeah, I did. But…he’s gone now.”

“But he’s not?” she tilted her head in confusion. He might not be there in person but everyone always remembered him - which meant he was still there, sort of, wasn’t he? She pointed to Genya oji-san ’s heart. “He’s in there.”

For some reason, Genya oji-san ’s eyes started welling with tears, and he had to clear his throat three times before he could speak again. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I - I guess he is.”

Chapter Text

It’s not fair, he thinks. 

He wants to go back. He wants to try again. He wants more time. At the end of the day, they had so little - so much of it was spent hurting, fighting, and hurting some more, and then he was gone. He wants another chance - an opportunity to make things right. 

The universe is not usually in the business of giving second chances. One is all you get, and if you don’t make the most of it, there’s not much you can do about it. It’s fair to everyone, even if it seems cruel and unjust at times.

But…this time, some higher power isn’t quite satisfied with that. For the one who freed the world of such evil, who just wanted to save his sister and live happily with his family…to resign him to such a fate wouldn’t be right.

It can’t undo what has already been done. But a second try…

Perhaps just this once, an allowance can be made.

Chapter Text

Genya woke in the middle of the night to the feeling of tears dripping down his cheeks. Huh?

Slowly, the pieces returned to him: flashes of the dream he’d had.

…Oh. Suddenly, the tears made a lot more sense.

It all felt a little too real to have only been a figment of his subconsciousness: it was too detailed, too poignant. Until now, he’d never put much stock in the idea of past lives, but this dream seemed to lend credence to the idea. And if that were the case, then…

In a past life, he and Tanjiro had also been together, had also been friends with Inosuke and Zenitsu, and Nezuko had also been Tanjiro’s sister. In that past life, some kind of Mark had slowly stolen Tanjiro’s life. And in that past life, Tanjiro had died in his arms, and he’d been left to muddle his way through the rest of his life with grief festering in his chest as a near-constant companion.

Somehow, now, the universe had given them a second chance. Given it to all of them, he supposed - Nezuko and Inosuke and Zenitsu had missed Tanjiro just as much as he had. And speaking of the others - who, as if the universe had planned this, were currently sleeping over in the guest and living rooms of his and Tanjiro’s small Cape house - did they know about this, too? Did they remember their past lives? How they’d fought demons - how Nezuko had been a demon? How they’d won, defeating the monsters once and for all? Did they know about this Demon Slayer Mark, how they’d had to watch helplessly as it sapped Tanjiro’s strength away over the course of a year?

Scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms, Genya rolled over, seeking Tanjiro’s presence beside him.

Except the other side of their bed was empty, the blanket pushed back and sheets still warm.

Genya’s heart skipped a beat. He knew it was irrational, but after that dream, he couldn’t stop the spike of fear that darted through him. Logic dictated that Tanjiro was just fine - he must have gotten up to get water or go to the bathroom or something - but now, the seed of worry was planted in his mind and the only way to uproot it was to get up and make sure. 

He pushed back the covers, maybe a little more vigorously than necessary, and scrambled out of bed. It was all he could do to keep from calling out for Tanjiro. That would just wake the others, and anyway, Tanjiro was fine. Right. Right…?

Passing through the living room to get to the kitchen, he tiptoed around the couch as quietly as he could. Inosuke was a sound sleeper, but given the way he was completely sprawled out over the couch, he looked like he was about to fall off and hit the floor at any second. That would definitely wake him, and this iteration of Inosuke was just as rambunctious as his past self, and Genya really could not deal with that right now.

…The idea of past selves was going to take some getting used to. God, what time was it? He needed to find Tanjiro, make sure his partner was all right, and go back to sleep until he was awake enough to even begin processing this.

Yeah, that might take a while.

Finally, he reached the kitchen doorway. There was a light on, which was a good sign, but he couldn’t fully relax until he saw—

And sure enough, there Tanjiro was, leaning back against the counter with a glass of water beside him.

He knew it was highly unlikely that anything would have happened; he knew he’d been worried for nothing…but, god, it was a relief to see those beautiful ruby eyes open and alert, if a little confused.

“Genya?” Tanjiro tilted his head. “Is something wrong? I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No,” he shook his head, stepping closer to pull Tanjiro into a hug. He felt a little calmer with Tanjiro warm and solid and alive in his arms, but…he still couldn’t shake the sense of unease that had burrowed itself under his skin. “Just…had a bad dream, and then you weren’t there and I just…”

“Ah.” Understanding immediately, Tanjiro tightened their embrace, rubbing slow circles on Genya’s back.

Suddenly, the floor near the doorway creaked and Genya flinched in surprise; they both turned to see Zenitsu standing there, rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

“Oh!” the blond gasped the second he saw the two of them standing there - though they’d burst apart from the embrace when he’d entered, Tanjiro’s arm was around Genya’s waist and they were still standing awfully close together. “Sorry, I just - I heard voices and someone sounded upset so I - but you’re clearly fine so—”

“It’s fine,” Genya interrupted before he could keep rambling and make things even more awkward. “I was…I’d just had a nightmare.”

“Oh.” Zenitsu nodded in understanding but still looked incredibly embarrassed. “Are you, um, all right?”

He shrugged. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tanjiro asked, nudging him gently.

“...I dunno,” he shrugged again. As much as he knew Tanjiro and Zenitsu would be polite about it, the idea of past lives still felt so outlandish that he hardly believed it himself. Tanjiro would probably be more inclined to believe it, but he still didn’t like the thought of it. Especially considering what happened in said past life.

Tanjiro tilted his head - he probably smelled the half-lie. “Are you sure?”

He snorted. “No. But you’ll probably tell me it’d make me feel better and I’ll probably end up giving in anyway because I know you’re right even if I don’t like it.”

“He is stupidly good at getting you to do the right thing even if you don’t want to,” Zenitsu agreed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tanjiro protested. 

“You’re the mom friend,” Zenitsu informed him. 

“It’s a good thing,” Genya assured him, nuzzling his cheek against the side of Tanjiro’s head and letting out a breath. Regardless of having talked about his dream, he already felt a little calmer.

“I know what a mom friend is,” Tanjiro huffed - Genya couldn’t see his face but it sounded like he’d rolled his eyes. “But am I really a—”

“Yes,” Zenitsu and Genya said in unison.

“Always have been,” Genya added, meaning it to be funny but freezing as he realized just how true it was.

“What’s wrong?” Tanjiro tilted his head.

“Just…the dream I had.” Realizing he really wouldn't be able to get out of talking about it, he continued, “It wasn’t a nightmare exactly. It was more like…memories? But not of anything I’ve actually experienced before.”

“I’ve heard of something called inherited memories,” Tanjiro mused. “Like, you remember things that’ve never happened to you but they happened to your ancestors. Could it have been that?”

“Maybe.” It made no less sense than his theory about a past life. And if so, what were the odds that they’d gotten another chance?

“Well,” Zenitsu asked, “if it was a memory, what did you remember?”

He opened his mouth to reply but couldn’t quite get the words out. How could he even begin to describe what he’d seen? The way they’d all fought monsters called demons, the way Tanjiro’s strength had slowly drained away, the way he’d died and they’d been left to mourn and pick up the pieces.

“You were there,” he said quietly, nodding to Tanjiro. “And so were you—” Zenitsu— “and them—” he nodded in the direction of where Nezuko and Inosuke should still be asleep. “And - but - Tanjiro, you were…” His voice wavered and he swallowed, trying to choke down the lump that had risen in the back of his throat. “There was some kind of Mark thing, I don’t know, and it was - you were sick, or something, and you…you…”

He couldn’t get the word out. His eyes prickled and he blinked furiously, clenching his fists as he tried to steady himself. Tanjiro pressed closer to his side, and he leaned into the comfort even as he trembled from the force of the memories the gesture sparked.

“Who was sick?” a gruff voice - made even more gravelly from presumably having just woken up - asked, making Zenitsu jump.

Great. All they needed was for Nezuko to wake up too and everyone would be up and about.

“No one,” Tanjiro patiently told Inosuke. “Genya had a bad dream.”

Inosuke huffed. “That’s all?”

Genya bristled. Most of the time, Inosuke’s accidental callousness didn’t bother him as much, but right now he decidedly didn’t have the patience or emotional energy for it. Zenitsu clearly picked up on his irritation, because he tensed and edged a little ways away from Inosuke.

“Nightmares happen,” Tanjiro calmly corrected Inosuke. “They’re hard to deal with alone.”

Inosuke frowned. “But why’re you all awake and dealin’ with it if it’s only Renta’s dream?”

“I just heard them talking about it,” Zenitsu shrugged. “So I came to see what was wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” came Nezuko’s voice from behind Inosuke, confirming that the universe actually hated Genya.

“Tenya had a nightmare,” Inosuke informed her.

“Just tell the whole world, why don’t you,” Genya muttered. 

“Are you all right?” Nezuko asked as she stepped around Inosuke and more fully into the kitchen. 

“Just peachy,” he said through gritted teeth.

Tanjiro rubbed his back soothingly. “I’m sorry we woke all of you,” he apologized - whether it was a deliberate attempt to change the subject or just coincidence, Genya couldn’t tell, but he was grateful for the redirection of attention.

“It’s all right,” Nezuko shrugged.

“Speak for yourself,” Zenitsu muttered.

“What, missing out on your beauty sleep?” Inosuke taunted.

“Just because you’re okay with being sleep-deprived doesn’t mean I am!” he retorted - Genya grimaced at the shrillness of his voice.

“It’s an accident that everyone’s awake,” Tanjiro calmly explained. “Genya had come to find me, and then Zenitsu heard us, and Inosuke, and, well, you get the idea. But everything’s all right - you can all go back to bed.”

Everything’s all right …Genya wished that were the case. Well - things weren’t really not all right, but right now it felt like they weren’t. He wasn’t sure if that was a lingering feeling of unease from what happened in the memory-dream or just a general unhappiness due to having had the nightmare and now being put on the spot for it.

To spare himself from having to meet the others’ eyes, he turned his head away, tucking Tanjiro’s head under his cheek. He was perfectly happy to stay like that until everyone went back to bed, but a gentle tug on his hand had him turning back in surprise to face them.

The person who’d taken his hand was Nezuko, who was smiling at him gently. “If it makes you feel any better, I have nightmares sometimes too. I can’t speak, and it feels like my body is completely outside of my control. It feels like I’m not even human.”

That…sounded a whole lot worse than what his dream had been like. He hummed sympathetically, not quite sure what to say.

“You don’t have to talk about yours if you don’t want to,” she continued, “but if you do want to, I’m happy to listen.”

“You know I am too,” Tanjiro added.

“I’ll listen too,” Zenitsu said after a moment. “Just…maybe in the morning, all right?”

It took an elbow to the gut from Zenitsu, but Inosuke also affirmed, “Yeah, yeah, Penya, I’ll hear your stupid nightmare.”

“It’s not stupid !” Zenitsu snapped. “Didn’t you just hear what Nezuko said? You—”

“All right,” Tanjiro cut them off, “if that’s settled, why don’t we all head back to bed?”

“ Thank you,” Zenitsu huffed. “I’ll see you all in the morning - when it’s actually light out, not when it’s just after midnight.”

Genya gave him a halfhearted wave. “‘Night.”

Nezuko and Inosuke cleared out of the kitchen behind Zenitsu, leaving Genya and Tanjiro alone together once more. Tanjiro started to head for the door, too, but Genya grabbed his wrist and tugged gently to keep him back.

“Tanjiro…”

“Hmm?”

“I just…” How could words ever encapsulate what he’d seen, how much it had hurt, even years and years after? “You died ,” he whispered. “You were dead .”

Tanjiro let out a soft hum of understanding, pulling him into another hug. “I’m here now,” he murmured, “And I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

The words were familiar, achingly so - even if, last time, he’d been the one who said them, just before Tanjiro died. Now, though, they carried so much more possibility - they had a future now. This wasn’t the end. “Mhm…”

“Think you can try and get back to sleep now?” Tanjiro asked. “I’ll be right here if you have another memory, or dream, or anything at all.”

His first instinct was to say he wasn’t sure he’d be sleeping any more at all tonight, but after taking stock for a moment, he realized just how tired he really was. “Yeah…I’ll try.”

Tanjiro’s smile practically sparkled even in the dim light of the kitchen. “Then let’s get back to bed, hm?”

Genya nodded, and trailed along as Tanjiro led him back to their bedroom. In no time, they’d both crawled back under the covers; Genya’s head wound up on Tanjiro’s chest and Tanjiro’s fingers started carding through his hair. With the slow and steady rhythm of Tanjiro’s heartbeat in his ear and the back-and-forth, back-and-forth of fingers in his hair, his eyelids were growing heavier and heavier by the minute. He finally let them fall shut with a content sigh, marveling at how quickly Tanjiro could make everything all right again. He’d gone from quickly-fraying nerves to utterly relaxed in the span of minutes. Such was Tanjiro’s magic.

“...Thank you,” he mumbled, the words more than a little slurred. “Love you…”

“‘Course.” Tanjiro yawned, then pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Love you too…always.”

And, oh, how true that was.