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[Enjuro] had never been the type to ponder too long. He liked to keep moving, to go forward and try something new.
Many people complimented him for it—said it made him more fun to be around. And [Enjuro] liked being active. [Enjuro] liked moving forward and not lingering on in the past.
But one person who [Enjuro] knew was not like that.
Yoriichi.
Yoriichi wasn't exactly one to linger. Yoriichi kept moving even when everything else stopped—sometimes [Enjuro] had to look twice at Yoriichi to make sure he was actually walking and not just gliding through the world like a spirit.
Yoriichi liked to think. He liked to sit and stare at nothing and think about his memories and thoughts. If he wasn't traveling after demons, training himself or others, Yoriichi would be somewhere quiet, lost in his thoughts.
[Enjuro] apprechiated that about Yoriichi. Even though he liked to not linger in memories, he still liked to sit down with Yoriichi and just let the world pass.
It was calming, relaxing in the world of death and chaos that they lived in.
In those moments, Yoriichi seemed more alive than other times.
Seeing Yoriichi just sit quietly and let the world around him continue it's steady move forward made [Enjuro] happy. If Yoriichi was sitting down, then that meant all was well for now.
Which is exactly why [Enjuro] did not like this moment.
Yoriichi was sitting in the middle of the room without making a single sound. The other Hashiras were standing up, pointing angry fingers at him and yelling. [Enjuro] just stood and stared.
Yoriichi had encountered the King of Demons—Muzan Kibutsuji was the monster's name according to Yoriichi. However, Yoriichi had failed to kill him and end the reign of demons for good. He had let another demon go without even drawing his blade at her.
And Michikatsu had betrayed the Demon Slayer Corp. Yoriichi's brother had become a demon and killed the previous Oyakata.
And Yoriichi recieved the blame.
All [Enjuro] could do was stare as the Hashiras hurled an accusation after another at Yoriichi.
If only he would've killed Kibutsuji, then their job would've been done. Then Oyakata-sama wouldn't have been killed. Then that demon he let go would've died anyway.
...And then Michikatsu would've never become a demon.
If only he would've succeeded.
Blame after another, an angry yell after a a furious accusation.
And all Yoriichi did was sit there and take it without a word, a blank expression on his face and eyes glued to the floor—head hung too low for someone who did so much.
It took [Enjuro] back to the day he first met Yoriichi.
[Enjuro] had been chasing after a demon when he came across a wreck of a house. The front door was broken in and a trail of blood lead outside. A typical aftermath of a failed mission because he was too late.
[Enjuro] had stepped closer to the house to at least check how many he would need to bury—and instead of one or multiple corpses, he found a man cradling the corpse of his wife.
[Enjuro] didn't know the man's name, but knew he was alive and uninjured. He likely hadn't been home when the demon attacked, and had discovered his wife's corpse upon returning.
Was he closer to the demon than he thought, then?
No. What a hopeless dream it was.
"Sir, are you alright?" [Enjuro] had asked and recieved no answer. "How long have you been holding her?"
After a moment the man found his voice, and had answered in a quiet and broken tone. "Ten days."
Ten days. Ten days of holding a corpse non-stop.
"...Is she your wife?" [Enjuro] remembers asking after recovering from the man's answer.
"Yes." The man nodded. "Uta. She was carrying our first child."
The man's voice was quiet and unchanging. Hollow.
"You should bury her." [Enjuro] had nudged the man's shoulder, avoiding looking at the bloodied corpse. "You would want her to rest propely, wouldn't you? And she wouldn't want to see you waste away like this."
The man hugged his wife's body closer a little longer—uncaring of how her blood stained his clothing and skin—before lifting her up into her arms like she was a delicate instrument worth an unimaginable amount of money.
The man had turned around, letting [Enjuro] see his face. A flame-like birthmark marred his forehead and maroon eyes stared ahead. His gaze was empty and dry tear marks stained his face.
"Did she have a favorite spot she liked to visit here?" [Enjuro] asked quietly.
"Over by the old pine tree." The man answered. "It's right next to a big pond where tadpoles hatch every year."
[Enjuro] walked with the man over to a crooked pine tree with a beautiful pond next to it. [Enjuro] could see tadpoles swimming in the water, unbothered of the cruelty outside of their little world.
The man stared at the spot for a long moment, then looked down at his wife. [Enjuro] could tell that the man did not want to let go of her, so he offered to dig up the grave. The man gave a stiff and grateful nod as a thank you.
During the whole moment where they buried the bodies of that woman and their unborn child, the man did not say a word. Even after they were done, he sat next to the grave for what felt like an eternity, trying to say goodbye to someone who was his whole world and would not respond back.
[Enjuro] had met countless people who lost everyone they loved to demons. But they were loud—they screamed, cried, yelled, threw things, and sobbed. This man sat quietly, like making too much noise would disturb the world around him.
"I'm a demon slayer." [Enjuro] had eventually said. "What attacked your wife and child was a demon that I had been chasing."
The man did not turn to look at him.
"There are others like you, but there are some who haven't lost everything yet." [Enjuro] continued. "I can take you to my master, and you can prevent others from experiencing what you just did."
"I will." The man had nodded. "It's what Uta would've wanted."
[Enjuro] had never met someone so dedicated—both to their loved ones and to their purpose.
The man stood up, and something small and wooden fell out of the fold of his kimono. It looked like a stick. The man immediately dropped back down to pick it up, carefully wrapping it cloth similiar to the kimono his wife had looked to be wearing.
"What is that?" [Enjuro] had asked.
"A flute." The man answered after standing up. "My older brother made it for me when we were little."
"He sounds nice." [Enjuro] commented as he watched the man unwrap the pouch and stare at the flute.
"He is." The man nodded. "He's kind and caring—kept me company even when father hit him and told him not to."
After a moment of silence, the man had raised the small flute to his lips and blowed. A sad sound came from it.
[Enjuro] stood silently and waited.
[Enjuro] doesn't know how long exactly he had stood there and listened to every off-tune note that came from that wooden flute. Eventually the man had placed the flute back into the pouch and silently followed [Enjuro].
And now, watching Yoriichi take all of the blame silently, [Enjuro] couldn't point a finger at him. Not when Yoriichi had that same hollow and lost expression on his face.
"Hey, come on, get off of him." [Enjuro] stood up and pulled one of the Hashira's back from Yoriichi. [Enjuro] ignored the man's angry shouts and kept holding onto his shoulders, keeping him from getting into Yoriichi's personal space.
Someone told Yoriichi to commit seppuku to atone. [Enjuro] didn't pay attention who said it, he was too shocked by the suggestion.
"I forbid that." The new Oyakata said firmly.
Yoriichi looked up from the floor at the young child. [Enjuro] could tell that guilt for causing the new Oyakata's father's demise was eating Yoriichi alive.
The Oyakata took in a deep breath. "Seppuku is not a fate you deserve, you have done too much for us to be discarded like that."
[Enjuro] heard some of the other Hashiras cry out in outrage. The Oyakata however continued. "Unfortunately, your failure to kill the Demon King and you allowing another demon to flee unharmed cannot be overlooked."
There was a pause and [Enjuro] ignored how fastly his heart was racing.
"Yoriichi Tsugikuni, due to your failure to complete your duties as a Hashira, you are hereby exciled from the Demon Slayer Corp. You are no longer recognised as a Hashira or as a demon slayer." The Oyakata announced.
The room fell silent. It was a rough punishment, but it did not cost Yoriichi his life.
And all Yoriichi did was bow, glance briefly at the Oyakata, before standing up, and leaving. Not once did the hollow look in his eyes disappear.