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Day 924 as a Hashira doctor.
You listened to your sister intently even if you weren’t looking at her. You had three… four to help today. A Hashira you knew well - Uzui Tengen. Three others you didn’t, including a guy with a boar for a head. (‘You can’t miss him,’ your sister giggled, ‘good luck.’)
Inhaling sharply to feign enthusiasm (and fight a looming headache), you meandered around until you found Uzui.
You told him a few jokes while you cleaned a leg wound. Asked him about his wives while you pulled a particularly deep shard of wood from his bicep. You knew just what to say to keep him happy, even whilst causing him pain. After all, he was the first Hashira you’d ever treated, three years ago.
"Flamboyant humour as always!" he exclaimed with a shining grin. You almost had to squint. "I'll be off now. See you around, girl!"
You were done too quickly, said goodbye and moved on. It weighed on you as you walked away. Around him, it was easier to act like you were someone else. The person he thought you were. But when you were alone you were just you… someone a lot less colourful, you thought.
Until you found your next patient.
The boar-headed guy was surprisingly calm and centred. He didn’t even squirm as you stitched the hole in his chest. The most he did was tighten his grip on his knees as he sat cross-legged.
Somehow, you got the feeling he wasn’t always that calm.
Next, a slayer with yellow hair. You approached him, knelt beside him, fingertips inches from his skin, and he began crying out.
"Aah noooo!"
“Calm down…?” you sighed. You hadn't even touched him.
Seeing the look on your face, he did settle, though evidently forcing himself to hide his unease. His burns must be exceptionally painful. His eyes were fixed on your face as you worked and didn't waver even once. In fact, he was still enough for you to start to slick healing ointment on the burns on his side; focusing on you seemed to distract him from the pain. It was flattering. At times, he quivered like a leaf, but you kept your hand steady.
Then he twitched. Your nails caught on a delicate patch of skin and it tore right off.
He wailed. The sound grated on your ears.
A hand fell on your shoulder. Your sister’s voice, “I’ll take it from here. You go and treat the last one.”
Your face and neck flushed. Treating burns was something you’d been doing since you were half your age - something even a trainee healer should find a breeze. You really were out of it today.
You got up and made your way to the right, where the last slayer was seated. He was kneeling, hands on his knees, spine upright, eyes and head turned towards his weeping comrade in concern.
“Evening,” you greeted, kneeling down beside him, “I’m a Hashira healer. Please show me your wounds.” The request was just a courtesy - your eyes were already fixed on his hand: bound with an old off-white cloth, two purple broken fingers jutting out.
You took his hand and began to unwrap the old bandage. “What’s your name?” you asked, distracting him from the discomfort to come.
“Tanjiro Kamado. What’s yours?”
You raised your eyebrows, replying with a bitter edge, “Hashira don’t usually ask that. As long as you get patched up, does it matter who's doing it?”
“Er… I’m not Hashira… yet,” he stammered, averting his gaze.
You paused, recalibrated. Then you told him your name, then got to replacing the bandages.
“Well,” you reassured, slipping your shoulder sack off your back to look for a supportive bandage material, “you can’t blame me for thinking you were. Since everyone knows about you... you and your sister. And the other two.” You didn’t know how many of the rumours about them that you'd heard around the Butterfly and Ubuyashiki estate were fictitious, how many were embellished, and how many were grounded in truth. But it didn’t seem like a good moment to ask.
You focused on your patient. He needed several, including separate wrappings for each of his broken fingers. You would dip them in fixing liquid to create a solid, supportive cast, you decided, to stop them from moving too much and causing him unnecessary pain during daily activities.
“What do you like doing, Tanjiro Kamado?” you inquired. Standard pain-distraction question #3. You reached for his broken fingers.
He frowned, having to think about it.
“...I like spending time with my friends and Nezuko, my little sister. But I also like meeting new people, and talking to them, maybe helping them out where I can," he answered finally, smiling up at you.
You couldn’t help your own lips turning upwards as you replied, “Is that so? Guess you’re a lucky guy today." Then a tease crept into your tone, "Or... you’re just trying to smooth-talk me so that I handle your fingers gently. Which one is it, Kamado?”
You expected him to look sheepish, considering that you’d foiled his little attempt to get off easy, but his gaze brazenly held yours. The only thing that changed in his expression was that now, his eyes smiled too.
“Actually, it's the first one. I am lucky,” he confirmed. He sniffed, then murmured, “it smells of wisteria.”
“Yes,” you agreed, “I like to infuse an extract into my dressings. Makes me feel like next time one of you throws yourself into danger, at least your opponent’s likely to avoid the area where you’ve just been hurt!”
“That’s awesome,” Tanjiro remarked. His eyes were still locked on your face even as your hands worked. After a minute he spoke up again, “Do you think you could do that to a sword? That I could coat a blade in wisteria extract that would stay, slowly rubbing off over time every time it was used?”
“You know, I’ve thought of that!” you replied, an unstoppable bubbling of excitement rising inside you, “but I’ve never had anyone with a sword willing to try it out with.”
Your mind and heart raced, “You’d have to mix the wisteria with another substance, a fixing agent, and melt the mixture so that you could pour it on the blade, and let it cool, and... I wonder how that would work though.” You began to muse quietly about the ideal temperature, the chemicals, the pouring technique.
You looked up. Tanjiro was looking at you, an amused smile gracing his features. Your face was flushed, eyes sparkling, hands gesturing - the difference between how you'd been a few moments ago was like night and day.
“I’ll be here for some time whilst I train and recuperate,” Tanjiro said, “Can we meet up, maybe tomorrow morning, and try it out?”
Consciously, you instructed yourself not to bounce. You were at work. At work.
“C-can we?” you breathed through a grin, “Okay. Meet me at the wisteria border, at…
_____________
Sunrise. Where was he?
Your face burned and you hoped you hadn’t dragged yourself out of bed, bathed and dressed early just to stand out here like a fool. But as the minutes dragged on, you feared that this was the case.
When did you become so gullible? Then it dawned on you. It was the politeness when he’d addressed you, It was the kindness shining bare across his countenance that held connotations that he was a decent one. But you weren’t unaccustomed to Hashira disrespecting you. He wasn't the first, and wouldn't be the last-
“Sorry!” came a panting voice from behind you. Instinctively, you turned and moved towards it, but it was approaching you too fast and your head knocked against something very hard and very warm.
“Ow!” you cried. Grabbing a thick tree trunk, you stopped yourself from falling over. The left side of your forehead throbbed.
“Sorry! Are you alright?” Tanjiro’s face appeared in your vision, eyebrows drawn in, “Oh no, you’ve got a little bruise. My head is very hard.”
You felt rough skin brush your cheek. His hand cupped your chin, the other hand on the side of your head, thumb ghosting over the sore spot on your temple.
“Well, you know what they say. There’s nothing like being headbutted in the morning,” you murmured absently, enjoying his soothing touch. He stared at you, bewildered. Then he burst out laughing. Had you ever heard a laugh so pleasant?
He released your face. Then he presented his sword. You both looked up at the wisteria tree, draping over your heads in all its lilac glory.
“So, how are we going to do this?”
_____________
It didn’t work.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go now. Can we meet again at the same time, the day after tomorrow?” Tanjiro asked. His eyes glinted in anticipation, though not for the reason you thought. You thought he was just excited about the wisteria sword idea.
“Of course!” you replied, then teased, “Maybe you’ll be better at measuring the quantities next time. You know, I think that was the reason it didn’t work.”
Tanjiro laughed, a bit too much.
With a farewell smile, you shouldered your sack and made your way out of the tree alcove.
You glanced back on a whim. You saw the forest green of his haori in the distance. It looked like he hadn’t moved. Was he still watching you?
______________
.
It was after attempt number five that it happened.
The wisteria mixture had exploded as soon as it had begun to boil. You were sure Tanjiro had added something to it when you weren’t looking - that wouldn’t have happened otherwise. Nevertheless, you had no evidence, so didn't accuse him of anything.
Attempt number nine failed. Of course it did, because this time you saw him sprinkle some wisteria flowers around the crucible instead of inside it. But why was he doing that? It only meant that you had to keep coming back, morning after morning, meeting up to try again. Was that the reason?
You wanted to bring it up to him, you really did. But the words stuck in your throat like a cork. Instead, you let him regale you with accounts of his battles with demons. He seemed to think that 'pow pow' and 'boom' and 'bam bam' were fitting substitutes to actual verbs, but you didn't tease him about it, just laughed at him and laughed harder when he couldn't figure out what you found funny.
"It wasn't funny, I was fighting for my life!" he protested, throwing his arms wide, eyebrows drawn in, the picture of exasperation.
It didn't put him off talking, though. At first you put it down to the fact that he clearly liked to express his emotions and thoughts verbally rather than keeping them cooped up in his head. But then you realised that after saying anything he would search your body language and expression for approval or disapproval, and was delighted when you both found mutual amusement.
He also wasn't happy-go-lucky all the time, as you'd seen that he was with others, not shirking away from telling you that various parts of his body ached whenever he moved, or that at night the deprecating jeers and insults of Gyutaro - the upper moon demon he'd fought - kept him awake. So you didn't shy away from confessing that you saw yourself as a crap doctor compared to your sisters, which was the source of most of your insecurity, and that you feigned confidence with a deadpan expression and sarcasm. Your true interest, however, lay in experimental science, and you loved that you were able to share it with him, who watched you study your chemistry manuals and draw up reaction tables with wide, admiring eyes.
But you needed to address the elephant in the room: why none of the experiments were working. You decided to address his sabotaging actions before he left.
Taking a deep breath, you said, "Tanjiro. I have a long day planned out tomorrow and I need a lie-in. Can we meet at sunset instead?"
What.
"Sure. Have a good night!"
You watched his checkered haori retreat from the grove and shook your head. What's was up with you? Didn't you want the experiment to work?
The next evening, the sinking sun cast out rays of gold. Golden hues gilded the trunks and branches of the wisteria trees, and highlighted the two of you in gold too. Gold enlivened the burgundy hues of Tanjiro's hair and outlined the slope of his nose and cheeks.
That wasn't why you were staring at him, though.
“Have you got a neck cramp?” you asked. You’d noticed a compensatory pattern in the left side of his neck for some days now.
Tanjiro’s eyebrows shot up. “...Yes! It’s been bothering me a lot, especially when I lie down to sleep.”
You nodded, “That’s a tight muscle. I can tell by the way you walk when you're tired that you probably hold a lot of tension in your neck during particularly difficult parts of your training. If you want my advice (which you're getting anyway) maybe try stretching it, and lying on your back rather than on your side.”
Thankfully, Tanjiro didn't ask how you knew that he slept on his side.
Instead, he felt around his neck, “Which muscle?” He seemed curious, and, well, that was all the encouragement you needed. Someone who wanted to talk anatomy and physiology? You felt like you'd hit jackpot.
“This one,” you indicated it on your own neck with your index finger. He still kept putting his hand in the wrong place.
“Here?”
“No.”
“Here?”
“...No, not even close,” you stifled a laugh, “Sorry, don’t take that the wrong way.”
“Can you show me?” he asked finally, with a faux-exasperated sigh. He reached for your hand, but stopped a few centimetres away, awaiting your permission.
You swallowed. “...Sure.”
With his hand on top of yours, you guided it towards the notch just under his ear, the mastoid, then traced the muscle to its attachment on his collarbone.
“There.”
“I see. But I’ve also been feeling it in other places.”
“Yeah? Which ones?” you asked, and would soon regret asking.
“Here.” he guided your hand further down so your hand rested on his chest, the pectoral muscle.
Oh ho ho, no, said your hindbrain, I’m out of here.
Get yourself together, said your forebrain. You are a doctor. Act like one.
“That makes sense. The tight neck muscle is part of a chain. The superficial front line. It runs all the way down the front of your body. All the muscles in the chain are connected by connective tissue, and they affect one another, so if you loosen one, then the problems with the others should go away," you explained, smiling tightly.
You waited for Tanjiro to release your hand. Your palm started to prickle with sweat from the heat he was exuding. He was only using a fraction of his strength to hold your hand in place - intentionally, so that you could easily pull away yourself if you so desired. If you so desired.
“Others? Where are the other muscles in the chain?” Tanjiro prompted. Big reddish eyes bored into yours and he tilted his head innocently. You marvelled at the irony. He knew exactly what he was doing.
“The abdominals, the front thigh and lower leg muscles…” you listed robotically. Tanjiro’s eyebrows drew in - he couldn’t picture them. "I'm sorry, I don’t know what those are..." he murmured with a sweet smile even as he held your hand on his chest. The worst part? He wasn't even lying - before being a demon slayer he'd sold charcoal for a living; he'd probably never heard those anatomical terms before.
“...Could you show me them too?”