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Nezuko has never seen the Sky.
She remembers how the fierce blaze of it seared at the corners of her vision through the gaps of the Wicker Basket, back in those early days. It was scary to even look at, and she used to tremble down to her soul with the sharp certainty that to even glimpse something as dreadful as the Sky was death.
But then Nii-chan started carrying her in the Box—the beautiful, kind, dark, dark box—and those worries went away.
Nezuko loves the Box! Sometimes, when she’s awake to feel the up-down-up-down of the Box’s rhythmic movement, she can concentrate super hard and hear Nii-chan’s heartbeat. It sounds strong and safe.
But mostly, Nezuko spends her time in the box napping—her favorite thing to do (when she’s not with Nii-chan, of course). She can curl up really small in the Box and drift in and out of dreams filled with small bodies and laughter.
She wonders if she’s the only one who remembers the voices of these mysterious people whose faces are always turned away. She wonders if Nii-chan has these dreams, too.
(She wonders if Nii-chan hasn’t always been Nii-chan?)
(She wonders if she's the only one who has ever called him Nii-chan?)
But mostly, Nezuko curls up into a really tight, small, safe bundle inside the Box and she sleeps to the sound of Nii-chan’s kind heartbeat. And Nezuko has never seen the Sky.
Yellow is called Yellow because his hair is like the creamy skin of golden apples.
Nezuko wasn’t sure what to make of him at first, but now she has come to like Yellow. He always smiles when he speaks to her, even though she doesn’t quite catch what he says, and he is always the most ready (outside of Nii-chan) to greet her with a hug or a head pat.
When the Sky is particularly loud and insistent over their heads, Yellow is always careful to tie a cloth over the top of the Box. It’s not entirely necessary—the Box has no gaps for the Sky to get in, anyway—but Nezuko likes to think she isn’t imagining how the extra layer of security muffles the bloodthirsty hum of the Sky up above.
Boar is called Boar because he likes to put his head inside an animal carcass.
Nezuko was even less sure of him at first. He had shouted and stomped and waved his swords at the Box (and her, inside), after all. Boar smells like old animal flesh and blood and anger and desperation.
Nezuko would like to wrinkle her nose at the scent of the carcass when Boar gets too close, but of course she is too polite to do that.
Nezuko is aware that some people do not mean to be off-putting, so she is sure to always be extra friendly to Boar to show him that she doesn’t mind. Boar doesn’t always take this well —she assumes that he isn’t used to dealing with others his age (typical of someone without siblings). But Boar only makes Nezuko cry once before both Nii-chan and Yellow are piling onto him with such righteous indignation that it makes Nezuko giggle through her tears in the end.
The deep blue of Boar’s eyes and the bright yellow of Yellow’s hair make Nezuko happy. And nervous, at the same time, but mostly happy.
Nezuko thinks blue and yellow are nice colors (even if they are not as nice as dark, mahogany red).
She thinks she might have seen something with those colors, once.
But Nezuko must be mistaken, because she cannot for the life of her remember what that was.
Nii-chan is sitting and watching the stars when she pulls open the door to the engawa.
He turns around and exclaims something. He says her name along with it. Nezuko loves when people say her name; it’s the one thing she is sure to understand, after all. She loves it the most when Nii-chan’s the one saying it. He has this way of sounding pleased—with his whole body, not just his face.
When Nii-chan turns and exclaims, “Nezuko-chan!” Nezuko flushes head-to-toe with satisfaction.
She does a happy wiggle in response and crawls in next to him, under his arm, and swings her legs from the elevated wooden platform.
Nii-chan hugs her to his side and says something to her. She nuzzles close and peers up at the stars.
Tiny, sharp pinpricks of light are scattered as far as her eyes can see.
Is this the Sky?
Has Nezuko finally seen it?
No, she decides. This is not the Sky. It may be the sky, but it is not the Sky.
She is not quite sure what the difference is.
She is not sure why she is so sure about this, when she has never seen the Sky, after all.
Nezuko turns and looks at Nii-chan. He is already looking back at her, with the familiar fond-sad look in his mahogany eyes. He says something.
As always, Nezuko does not quite catch what he says.
For some reason, sitting under the black expanse of not-Sky—curled up next to Nii-chan with his happy-grieving smell—makes Nezuko’s heart clench in a sense of loss so sudden and overwhelming that it makes tears spring to her eyes.
Nii-chan’s expression turns to surprise. He wipes at the tear trickling down her cheek and asks her something.
Nezuko shakes her head. She doesn’t know.
There is so much that she does not know—about herself, her past, or the gaps in her memory so complete it seems like there is nothing there at all.
(Has it always been this way?)
(Has Nezuko always been Nezuko?)
(Hasn’t Nezuko been called something else before, too?)
Over time, Nezuko has come to realize that sometimes Nii-chan calls her a nickname, too—Imouto. It feels special, but the shape of the word doesn’t quite fit in her mind. There is a missing piece, another word that had been used in tandem before.
(“—!” The voices in her dreams would shout it in laughter or consternation or surprise.)
(“—!” The name is a melody, a song so familiar that she feels if someone were to shout it in a crowded room, she would turn her head on instinct.)
(“—!” The name is on the tip of the tongue that rests between her fanged teeth.)
“Imouto,” Nii-chan says. His eyes are full of concern now.
Nezuko continues to let the tears roll down her face. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know.
But surely there was something else she was called, once?
Nii-chan’s face is the color of ash.
He looks directly at Nezuko and says something—and although she can’t quite catch it, she knows what he means this time.
The Sky.
The Sky.
The Sky.
The sky is beginning its steady, beautiful, horrible transformation from the familiar inky blue to a deep aquamarine that is a million times the color of Boar’s carcass eyes.
A light pierces from the horizon.
It is Yellow’s hair. It is his hair and eyes and cloak and sword and lightning and EVERYTHING all at once. It is glorious.
It is death.
Nezuko shrieks when the first of the light burns through her skin with the slightest touch.
Her flesh chars. She can see through to the muscle and sinew of her hands and arms.
It is blinding—Nezuko cannot see anything any longer—she is squeezing her eyes shut against the relentless assault of the Sky.
Then—
”No—NEZUKO! NEZUKO! IMOUTO!”
She opens her eyes.
Nii-chan is there.
He is crouching with his back to the light, his arms spread over her like great eagles’ wings. His face is over hers. His beautiful mahogany eyes are screams of agony. “It’s gonna be okay, Nezuko,” Nii-chan sobs, hugging her to his chest tightly, trying to hide her from the Sky. “It’s gonna be okay. Nii-chan’s got you. I’ve got you.”
She looks up, past his fiery hair—and has Nii-chan’s hair always looked like a blazing furnace under the sun?—and gasps through the pain.
The Sky is no longer the color of Boar’s eyes.
The Sky is nothing but unbroken seas of bright, pure blue.
It is the color of the creek on a clear winter’s day, broken up by the splashing of troublemaking hands and feet.
It is the color of fish scales flickering under the light of the sun.
It is the color that Nezuko sees in her dreams in the Box. It is the color that the Sky has always been.
The Sky has always been blue.
And it is so beautiful.