Chapter Text
Tanjirou Kamado loved ordinary days.
For Tanjirou, living another normal day meant peace. He had seen the horrors that demons cause, has experienced them—almost caused one himself.
That is why Tanjirou loves ordinary days. For him, ordinary didn't mean sorrow and bloodshed—it mean happiness.
And Tanjirou would not trade his current life for anything.
Tanjirou heard a weak chuckle from beside him, but payed no attention to it. He was too busy staring at the two newborn babies, all clean and wrapped in warm blankets—their little hands clasped as if afraid the other might disappear.
"Are you about to start crying again?" Kanao asked from the bed beside him, exhausted from the hours she just spent giving birth.
"They're so beautiful..." Tanjirou mumbled in response, wiping away new tears that had began to appear.
"Always so emotional." Aoi rolled her eyes fondly, folding up the now damp towel she had just used to wipe the sweat away from Kanao.
"I can't help it." Tanjirou replied softly, bringing one hand up to the older twin—watching as the black-haired baby's free hand unclenched and latched onto his finger.
Kanao stared at the newborns quietly before reaching her arms out to them. Tanjirou immediately perked up and held up a hand to stop her from moving too much—worried that she might still be in pain.
As carefully as humanly possible from a man with only one working arm, Tanjirou brought the two babies over to Kanao and lowered them into her arms. Tanjirou sat down on the stool next to her bed, his working arm helping Kanao support the two newly born children.
The older twin let out a displeased whine at the movement, but quickly settled down. The younger twin, with Tanjirou's dark red hair, just huffed and buried his small nose against Kanao's shoulder.
"They're so precious." Kanao mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss onto each twin's forehead.
"I know." Tanjirou nodded, unable to take his eyes off of the two children—his children.
He was a father now. He and Kanao were parents. Nezuko was an aunt.
"You're crying again." Kanao pointed out.
"I know." Tanjirou nodded again, wiping his tears away—like it really did anything. "I'm just glad."
Kanao didn't say anything, just smiled and leaned against Tanjirou while holding their twins.
For a few minutes the only sounds in the room was the faint clanking of metal tools as Aoi cleaned up, and the sound of breathing—and the quiet sniffles Tanjirou had to muffle every now and then.
"He's so calm now." Kanao chuckled, petting the black of hair on the older boy's head. "Just a moment ago he kept throwing his hands around and crying."
Tanjirou smiled, letting the older baby grap onto his finger again. "Takeo did that as a baby too. Mom always found it funny, thought that he looked like he was trying to give a stern talking."
Kanao huffed out a soft laugh, her usual gentle smile not fading one bit.
"You're a stern little boy, aren't you?" She asked softly with an amused hint in her tone. "Are you going to be a good big brother and keep danger away from your little brother?"
The black-haired baby huffed in his sleep, clutching Tanjirou's finger with more determination before clumsily reaching for his brother's hand.
"Okay, before those idiots come running in—not talking about Nezuko—do you two have any names in mind?" Aoi asked, walking over to the hospital bed.
Tanjirou and Kanao were silent for a long moment. They hadn't excepted to get twins. It had been a surprise, but a pleasant one nonetheless. They only had one name figured out—"Yorio", which roughly meant "destiny boy". The girl alternative would've been "Yoriko" or "Suzume".
"Does Michirou sound okay to you?" Kanao asked. "It does mean "stern son", so it would fit, wouldn't it?"
Tanjirou smiled and nodded. "Michirou is perfect."
Aoi stared at them for a moment to make sure neither of them changed their minds before writing the names down. "Michirou and Yorio Kamado, born December 21th."
As if right on cue, the door nearly slammed open. Nezuko was extra careful to not slam the door open, but she did open it with rather harsh excitement. Zenitsu had probably told her that they could now come in, since he had his senstive hearing and all that.
Nezuko's eyes locked onto Michirou and Yorio in Kanao's arms, and she immediately cooed. "Well hello there..." Nezuko walked over to the bed, leaning down to look at the twins more closely.
"Hi." She smiled and reached to gently stroke Yorio's cheek with her finger. "I'm your aunt."
"You better not claim the "Best aunt" title." Aoi immediately said sternly. "That title belongs to me."
"We'll see about that." Nezuko shot back with an expression of fond challenge.
Zenitsu soon walked in, followed by Inosuke who looked like he had just recieved a firm scolding from Nezuko. Zenitsu sat down next to Nezuko and smiled.
"They look healthy." He said, though a tad bit awkwardly. "Their heartbeat sounds normal."
Tanjirou just smiled back, knowing that with Zenitsu recently having gotten married to Nezuko, he's still fumbling around a bit—he had accidentally made Nezuko temporarily deaf when he had asked her to be his wife.
Inosuke stared at the two babies before declaring: "They look weak."
"They're babies, were just born." Zenitsu deadpanned, already tired of Inosuke.
"So? They look puny and fragile." Inosuke huffed.
Aoi facepalmed in the back. Nezuko stared between Inosuke and Zenitsu, wondering if she should let Zenitsu chew Inosuke out on this or to step in. Kanao said nothing, just kept smiling—Tanjirou honestly couldn't tell if she was enjoying watching the situation or if she just decided on not doing anything for any reason. Tanjirou chuckled softly before returning his attention to Michirou and Yorio.
The older twin had managed to wriggle closer to Yorio, and now the two were hugging eachother firmly. Tanjirou for a moment feared that he might have to seperate them to avoid any accidentall injuries, but relaxed upon noticing Michirou's hold loosen.
Like he said, Tanjirou would trade these moments for absolutely nothing. He was glad that life had gotten him to this point—even with all of that death and pain.