Archive of Our Own

Kaigaku returned to consciousness without realizing it. One moment, he was trapped in emptiness. The next, he stared at a wooden ceiling. The left side of his vision was shrouded in darkness, and he felt the pressure of bandages covering that side of his head. He recognized the fuzziness of his mind from strong painkillers.

What the hell happened?

He must've made a noise, because a wrinkled face slid into his blurry field of view. It took him longer than it should've to recognize the mustache, the eyes.

Kuwajima-shihan.

Kaigaku opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He couldn't think of the words to bring his thoughts to life. Why? Why was shihan here? What happened to me? His brain literally could not articulate his emotions.

Kuwajima-shihan's face lit up. "Kaigaku, can you understand me?" Still unable to speak, Kaigaku nodded. "I must fetch Shinobu. Stay here and relax."

It's not like I can get up and leave, Kaigaku thought with a roll of his eye, but Kuwajima-shihan was already gone. He closed his eyes and took inventory of his body. His fingers and toes responded to his command, and by concentrating his attention, he managed to bend his right arm enough to see his hand. More wrappings covered his appendage, disappearing down his sleeve, and a splint kept the joint from moving.

His last memory prior to waking was sparring with Wakatsuki Kaito, his only real friend. Was this from a training accident?

Kaigaku zoned out. He was vaguely aware of Kuwajima-shihan returning with Shinobu, of the Insect Hashira asking him questions that he responded with either a nod or shake. She spoke mainly to Kuwajima-shihan. Kaigaku let her soft voice lull him back to sleep.

Days passed, becoming a full week. Kaigaku gained strength a little at a time. Eventually, he was allowed to sit up with the support of a hill of pillows behind his back.

Kuwajima-shihan was there every time he opened his eye.

Kaigaku finally whispered his first word: "Happened?" His voice was thin and weak, but it carried in the silence of his room.

"Members of the Kawamoto wisteria house found you unconscious in the outskirts of Fujinomiya. The whole area was on fire, and many were dead." Kuwajima-shihan paused, ancient eyes searching Kaigaku's. Just as the younger man started growing uncomfortable under the scrutiny, the elder shook his head slightly and continued, "That was about three weeks ago. Kakushi brought you from their house to the Butterfly Mansion, by which point you'd slipped into a coma. Young Shinobu didn't know if you'd wake up."

But I did. "Did," Kaigaku croaked.

His master's eyes crinkled. "Yes, you did. And you're healing rather nicely; Shinobu is already arranging your physical therapy in another month."

Kaigaku shivered. He'd broken his arm once, on his first mission, and the therapy afterward hurt more than the original break.

According to Shinobu, Kaigaku suffered from two broken legs, a fractured wrist, broken left arm, fractured ribs, a fractured collarbone, and a severe concussion, as well as internal bleeding and a plethora of minor scrapes and bruises - the wounds indicated an extraordinary fall at a high speed. Kuwajima-shihan believed the culprit was an Upper Moon, but as to which specific Moon, no one could be sure. Not even Kaigaku, who couldn't recall the events no matter how hard he tried.

"Failed," Kaigaku murmured. Because he had failed. Even if he didn't know what happened, that much was clear. He'd failed as a Demon Slayer. He'd failed as Kuwajima-shihan's successor. He'd failed in everything.

A soft whack on his leg splints drew his attention away from the ceiling. Kuwajima-shihan's eyes glinted with passion Kaigaku only saw when training him or the brat. "You did not fail," the cultivator snapped. "Very few Slayers are able to take on an Upper Moon, even in groups. That you survived is a miracle. Was I a failure when I lost my leg?"

Kaigaku shook his head.

"So why am I not a failure when I ended up crippled, but you are despite Shinobu herself saying you will make a full recovery?"

"Hashira," he said, pointing at his master. He turned his finger on himself. "Hinoto."

Kuwajima-shihan's brows furrowed. "You believe rank is what determines success from failure?"

No. That wasn't was Kaigaku was trying to say at all. He shook his head. Struggling to figure out how to explain his thoughts, he eventually gave up and waved dismissively, leaning back with an irritated huff. Anger and frustration, his oldest companions, boiled in his chest. He wanted to hit something.

Kuwajima-shihan's hand settled on his left elbow. His warmth seeped through the sling. "I wish you would believe me when I said this, but I suppose I must repeat myself once again. Oh, don't look at me like that - I'll do it as many times as it takes for these words to get through your skull." His knuckles gently tapped the side of Kaigaku's head, soft enough that the younger barely felt it. "You only fail when you give up fighting. Until then, there's always the chance to win."

Kaigaku didn't believe it, but he'd heard that exact sentiment, word for word, more times than he cared to count, and he wasn't in the mood to for a lecture, so he simply nodded. Kuwajima-shihan obviously knew it hadn't sunk in for his student, but he didn't push it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and began talking about inane and unimportant things, like the peach harvest.

Kaigaku smiled. Just a little.

The message came while Kuwajima-shihan was out.

Kaigaku struggled to eat the broth one of Shinobu's minions brought. His right wrist was still splinted, which made angling the spoon it held difficult, but he was not such an invalid that he would let someone feed him. (Ignoring the times Kuwajima-shihan and the Brat did just when Kaigaku was indisposed from injury or, rarely, illness; Kaito always lamented how hard Kaigaku pushed himself, and therefore pushed Kaito by extension.)

Kaito. Not once had he visited Kaigaku, and the young man hated to admit that it concerned him. They were best friends, the only two survivors of their Selection. While the Corps didn't have official partnerships, save for very rare occasions such as a Hashira and their Tsuguko, Kaito and Kaigaku never went on a mission without the other. Kaito never took Kaigaku's temper personally, and he knew when to back away and give his friend space. They planned on becoming Hashiras together - the unstoppable Storm and unbendable Tree. After all, every great hero needed a great sidekick to sing their praises.

(They never agreed which of them was the hero and which was the sidekick, but Kaigaku knew he was the hero.)

Kuwajima-shihan knew something; every time Kaigaku mentioned Kaito, he pretended like he hadn't heard his student speak, but there was the slightest pause that told Kaigaku all he needed to know.

Anyway, Kuwajima-shihan wasn't there, and Kaigaku fought his food. By this point, two weeks had passed since he woke, and entire month since he failed. His bandages were removed, only the splints saying on - Kuwajima-shihan said a rather fetching scar now ran parallel to his left eyebrow. Shinobu wanted to wait another month before beginning his physical therapy. Kaigaku was more than happy to procrastinate.

As he carefully lifted the spoon, the door to his room slid open. He looked to see a Kakushi. "Are you Inadama Kaigaku?" Kaigaku nodded. "I have something for you," said the Kakushi, rummaging through her bag. She pulled out a piece of paper, folded into a crisp rectangle. He put the spoon down to take it. She bowed politely. "I am deeply sorry for you loss, Inadama-san." She left as quick as she came.

Condolences? And a will? Had something happened that Kaigaku didn't know about? It couldn't have been Kuwajima-shihan - Kaigaku saw him maybe ten minutes ago. Perhaps the Brat finally kicked the bucket? Kaigaku wouldn't have expected him to leave him a will, of all people, but the Brat was also incredibly weak and soft-hearted. Setting the bowl on the edge of the bed, Kaigaku turned the letter over.

若月海飛

Wakatsuki Kaito

Ceramic hit the floor and shattered.