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Chapter Text

There was a time, long ago, when the people of Japan feared the demons lurking in the night.  The war between slayers and demons had begun with the breath of the sun and a dance to the fire god to bring the light of day to the darkest of hours.  

Centuries later, the battles still rage in the shadows, falling into the clutches of myth and legend.

That is, until the fierce struggle is thrust into the eyes of the world once again, and no one can ignore the bloodshed of their people any longer.

It is the Kamado Period in Japan, where this story begins, and the benevolent Emperor Tanjurohito holds the throne.  He and his wife, Empress Kieko, have six lovely children, Tanjirohito being the eldest brother of the princes and princesses.

The royal family resides in the Palace Castle in Tokyo, which had become the new capital city of Japan upon the enthronement of Emperor Tanjurohito.  The previous capital city, Kyoto, is home to the former Imperial Palace where Emperor Tanjurohito was raised as the sole heir to the throne.

The Kamados have an ancient bloodline tied with the imperial throne for many generations since the rule of Emperor Sumiyoshihito, but the royal family also has much pride for their humble beginnings as coal miners and burners.

For this very reason, the Emperor Tanjurohito and his family would travel to the former Imperial Palace in Kyoto each year to honor their ancestors during a late summer festival.  The celebration lasts three days and is open to all to participate in the dancing and singing. 

A variety of performances are enjoyed over the course of the festival in the palace courtyard, but the main event is that of the coal mining song.

From the porch of the palace, eight-year-old Tanjiro watches in awe as the dancers move in a circle around a large wooden structure, their arms and legs in the throes of manual labor.  The people shovel imaginary coal, sling invisible bags over their shoulders, and push nonexistent barrels throughout the courtyard.  The singers on the scaffolding cry out to the evening sky that blushes with the colors of the setting sun, recounting the hard work of the coal miners.

Although the sun is beginning to hang low in the sky, the summer heat still lingers in the air.  Tanjiro wipes his cheeks to clean away the sweat that makes his skin sticky with salt.  He doesn’t dare disturb the carefully styled bangs that hide his forehead, even though the sheen of sweat underneath is uncomfortable.  He knows better than to do such a thing.

A gentle hand nudges his shoulder, and he turns to see a white handkerchief being held out to him by his mother.  He gratefully takes the small square of cloth and dabs at his face, breathing in the scent of wisteria that very much belongs to his mother. 

A small smile graces her lips as she lightly runs her fingers through his fiery red locks tied back into a high ponytail.  Once the handkerchief is returned to her lavender kimono, she turns her attention back to the baby in her arms, gently rocking little Rokuta back and forth. 

Next to her, Tanjiro’s twin sister Nezuko braids the hair of Hanako as she hums the song, while Takeo helps Shigeru dance by holding his hands and letting him stand on his feet. 

Emperor Tanjurohito stands beside his wife with his hands clasped beneath the sleeves of his white kimono.  He places a tender kiss to her temple and turns to face his eldest son.

“You wish to join in the festivities, my child?” the Emperor asks, noticing how he longingly gazes at the celebration.

Tanjiro’s eyes widen and bobs his head up and down.

“I do, Father, with all my heart!” he excitedly answers.

The Emperor smiles.

“Someday soon, you will get the chance to do so,” he squeezes his shoulder with a firm and reassuring grip.  “For now, though, you may only watch.”

Tanjiro casts his eyes down and his shoulders droop, but his crestfallen look disappears as soon as it comes.

“Then I will wait patiently for the day,” he exclaims as he hits the side of his fist into his open palm.  “And when that day comes, I will do my very best!”

Emperor Tanjurohito heartily laughs at his son’s determination.

“I am certain you will, my child,” he says as he slowly crouches next to him, a wince shortly distorting his amused expression. 

Being this close to his father allows the prince to smell his scent more strongly, the sweet and smoky aroma of a burning maple tree.  It is by far one of his favorite scents.

In the distance, the song of the coal miners is quietening, and the dancers are slowing their movements as the ceremony draws to a close.  The sun is dipping below the horizon now, the stars beginning to twinkle like jewels in the sapphire sky.

“You are so strong, Tanjiro.  A fiery passion burns within your heart, and that will aid you in the next step of your journey.” 

Both of the Emperor’s hands are on either of Tanjiro’s shoulders now. 

“Tonight, I will send for you, and you will be put on the same path that each of your ancestors has followed throughout their lives, the same path that I have followed throughout my own.  Do you understand?”

The tears that had gathered in the Emperor’s eyes threaten to spill over.  One escapes but is caught before it can stain a track down his cheek. 

Tanjiro’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out.  All he can do is shakily nod in response, speechless as to what his father may be insinuating. 

Him, following the same path as his ancestors, as his father.  It seems as though a huge responsibility is going to be placed on him, one that he has to accept and live up to in order to bring honor to his family name. 

He just has to!

Tanjiro barely registers when his father shakes his head with a smile and creakily stands from the ground to head inside the Imperial Palace.  He is released from his stupor as he hears the cheers and claps from the revelers in the courtyard.  The sun has finally disappeared, and many torches and lanterns are lit to brighten the settling dusk. 

The eldest prince realizes that he is no longer looking at his father, but instead his twin sister Nezuko, who has stopped braiding Hanako’s hair and is gazing back at him with a mixed expression on her face.  He has no time to decipher the meaning of the look she is giving him before he dashes after his father, calling for him to wait a moment.

The Emperor turns around and is met with the sight of his eldest son bowing before him.

“Thank you, Father, for the opportunity to bring honor to our family name!” he proclaims as the red hair from his ponytail flops to either side of his head and sticks to his sweat-soaked skin.  “I will do everything in my power to do so!”

Tanjiro feels the gentle pat of a hand against his head, the sound of a soft chuckle accompanying the gesture.

“My child, you have much to learn,” the Emperor says as he presses a kiss to his hair before stepping across the threshold, leaving his baffled son on the porch.

Tanjiro straightens his posture and stares after his father’s retreating frame, peeling the locks of red from his neck and cheeks.

What does he mean that he has much to learn?  Of course, he’s only eight years old and still doesn’t know a whole lot about much of anything, but is he wrong in saying that he would do all that he could to bring honor to the Kamado name?  Is honor even the concern of whatever would happen that night? 

Is there something he’s missing in his father’s words?

These are the questions that fill his mind throughout supper, a huge feast with lots of food and drink for everyone that wishes to join.  The atmosphere in the hall is bright and lively, but the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses are dim and far away, as if he’s pressing his ear to the wall to hear the party happening from the next room. 

Tanjiro even zones out during storytelling around the courtyard bonfire.  He knows most of the tales by heart, even probably could tell them much better than some of the people who step up, but he still feels the guilt and shame burn in his chest when he is finally ushered away by one of the maidservants. 

The eldest prince is guided into the Imperial Palace alongside his younger siblings minus Rokuta, who is in the arms of another maidservant standing near the Empress.  Behind him, he can hear his mother thanking the townspeople for a spectacular three days of celebration. 

It is a speech Tanjiro has come to know well in the past year.  Although his mother’s voice has faded once they move deeper into the palace, he knows the words that will echo around the courtyard. 

She will apologize for the royal family’s lack of participation in several of the ceremonies as Emperor Tanjurohito has been feeling under the weather, the children are far too young to take part, and she herself must care for her little ones.  She will say that even though the royal family would be leaving the celebration at this time, by no means does that mark the end of the festivities for all.  She will invite everyone to stay and continue their singing, dancing, and merrymaking until the rising of the sun the following morning.

“Come along, Prince Tanjirohito,” the maidservant, Yui-san, kindly implores with a light touch of her hand to his back.  “We mustn’t dawdle now.”

He quickly apologizes and falls into step next to the maidservant and Nezuko. 

He looks to his twin sister, but her piercing pink gaze is steady on the hallway in front of her.  She smells of disappointment, irritation, but most of all, grief.  The swirl of emotions sours the usual scent of cherry blossoms that emanates from the girl.  The way her hands clench at the fabric of her rosy kimono is the only indication of her inner turmoil.

Tanjiro wants to know what has upset her, especially since he’s never smelled these emotions so strongly from her before, but as soon as the maidservant bids the royal children goodnight, Nezuko slips into her bedroom before he can ask.  His siblings follow suit, leaving Tanjiro alone in the hallway with the maidservant.

“Goodnight, Yui-san!” he says as he goes to enter his room.

The maidservant bows to the prince.

“I beg your pardon, Prince Tanjirohito, but may I remind you to be ready for when the Emperor sends for you.”

He pauses, hesitating in the doorway of his room.

Of course, he’ll be ready!  How can he forget such a thing?

“Thank you, Yui-san!  I will be sure to remember!”

With a nod, Tanjiro shuts his door and leans his head against it, taking in a deep breath through his nose to slowly let it out through his mouth.

He’ll be ready.  He has to be.

With a sigh, he pushes away from the door and moves to his dresser.  He figures he should change out of his sweat-soaked clothes for whatever momentous occasion awaited him that night.  He strips from his scarlet kimono and shrugs on the plain brown yukata that he pulls from the bottom drawer.  As he smooths the fabric beneath his open hands, he steps backwards until he’s able to plop down onto his bed.  He is holding his breath at this point, his lungs beginning to burn from the oxygen restriction.

He’ll be ready!

...Right?

With a loud groan, he falls backwards onto his bed, his arms splayed out on either side of him and the air flooding his relieved lungs.  He needs to calm his frayed nerves, but nothing seems to be doing him any good.

Three knocks on his door, light as a feather, only spike his anxiety.

Oh, he is most decidedly not ready.

Chapter Text

Nezuko has always had the uncanny ability to know things.

No one’s really sure how she does it, but she just seems to know a lot more than she really should without being told anything.  It’s a bit on the scary side, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

Just last week, Nezuko could tell that her mother was hiding something.  The way she clasped her hands together, how her smile was a little wider, the pale flush to her cheeks.  It was quite obvious to the eight-year-old princess, and of course, her mother should have known that she wouldn’t be able to hide anything from her.

“Oh, alright,” Empress Kieko concedes to the suspicious badgering of her daughter.  “I will show you, but only if you don’t tell Tanjiro!”

After agreeing without hesitation, her mother guides her into the bedroom she shares with the Emperor.  Off to one side sits a mahogany desk lined with drawers.  She makes her way over to it and stops before turning to Nezuko.

“Would you like to close your eyes so that it can be a surprise?”

The princess nods enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Of course!  You know I love surprises!”

Her mother laughs, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“If you love them so much, then why do you always insist on ruining them?” she teases, reaching out to caress her fingers down her face.  “Now close your eyes, dear!”

Nezuko giggles at the shivers that run through her body at the ticklish feeling.  She does as she’s told, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. 

“Oh, don’t strain yourself!”

Soft hands return to her cheeks, lightly stroking her pinched up face.  She hums as she relaxes her expression, missing her mother’s touch when she lets go again.

The sound of wood rubbing against wood fills the room then, indicating that the Empress is opening one of the drawers of the desk.  The crinkling of fabric could also faintly be heard.

She bites her lip in anticipation of what she has to show her, the excitement coursing through her veins.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

With the go ahead, Nezuko’s eyes shoot open, only to widen even further upon laying her sights on the haori that her mother holds in her hands.

“Mother, it’s lovely!” she exclaims, reaching out to brush her fingers along the checkered green and black material.  “This is for Tanjiro, isn’t it?  He will absolutely love it!” 

She looks at her mother’s face, and upon seeing the blush that colors her cheeks, she learns something new.

“You made this yourself!  I had almost forgotten that you’ve been learning to sew.  You did a wonderful job!”

Empress Kieko gasps.

“Nezuko!  How did you know that?”

The princess laughs, putting a pondering finger to her chin.

“There was suddenly so many more handkerchiefs in the palace, and you always have bandages on your fingertips!  It seemed rather obvious to me.”

Her mother’s cheeks turn a darker shade of pink as she chuckles.

“Oh, well thank you for noticing, dear,” she says, folding the checkered haori in her arms.  “This is your brother’s birthday present that I finished putting together a few days ago.”

Birthday present?

Wait, that means…

“And this is your birthday present that I finished just last night.”

Now it’s Nezuko’s turn to gasp.

She holds up a sakura-colored haori decorated with a geometric floral design.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful!” she cries as her hands fly to her cheeks.  “Thank you so much for such a wonderful gift!”

The princess jumps forward and hugs her mother, who huffs in surprise, but quickly recovers to wrap her arms around the girl. 

“You’re quite welcome, dear,” she whispers, brushing her fingers through her daughter’s long, dark locks.  “But you do realize that you won’t receive this gift until your birthday, yes?”

Nezuko groans into her mother’s periwinkle kimono.

Of course, she knows that.

She knows a lot of things, a lot more than she should.

It’s all because she notices the little details and connects them to the bigger picture.

Like how her father doesn’t eat as much as he used to.  Or that his grip on the porch handrail is much tighter than before.  Or the way his face winces in pain when he thinks no one is looking.

Everyone knows that Emperor Tanjurohito is sick.

Nezuko knows that her father is dying.

“You are far more ill than you say,” she says to him as they sit on the porch one morning in early spring. 

She twirls a white chrysanthemum between her fingers.  She heard once that Europeans put these flowers on graves.  In Japan, they’re symbols of royalty. 

“Why do you hide your pain, Father?”

The Emperor meets her gaze with a sad smile on his face.

“You are perceptive, my child.  I knew I could never fool you,” he says, closing his eyes for a long moment before opening them again.  “I do not wish for my remaining time to be filled with worry and fear over my impending death, so perhaps this could be a secret between you and me?”

She cocks her head to the side and hums.

“Perhaps,” she responds, returning her attention to the blossom in her hands.  “I hope you know that we could help make things easier for you.  I also think the others would like to be forewarned.  They would just feel guilty for not seeing it sooner, you know.”

And she would feel guilty for having stood by and done nothing when she did see it.

He hums as he pats her head.

“I understand.  Thank you for your advice,” he says as she turns to look at him again, her eyebrows scrunched together in irritation.

She doesn’t want thanks.  She wants her father to listen.

“You will make a great leader one day, Nezuko,” the Emperor continues, reaching out to hold her tiny hands in his.

Her jaw drops as her eyebrows shoot upwards.  Praise from her father wasn’t unheard of, per se, but this seems like an unexpected moment, and he’s never said anything like this to her before.

“W-what do you mean, Father?” she stutters.

His smile turns something warm and proud, and it’s all because of her.

“You have the strength and the passion to lead.  Anyone will follow you because you have a fiery spirit, a guiding light that yearns to help and protect, to lead,” he squeezes her hands, tears welling up in both of their eyes.  “You will do great things, my child, even if I am not there to see them.”

The tears escape her eyes at that moment, flowing down her cheeks in waves.  A sob wracks her body before she throws herself into her father’s arms, crying into his white kimono.  His arms wrap around her small frame, his own body shaking from sadness.

She knows she isn’t going to convince him. 

She knows he’s going to die. 

Somehow, she has to accept these truths, but maybe not today.

Nezuko leans back from his embrace when their sobs die down.  She peers at the flower still in her hands, a little brown and split on the edges from being picked and played with for so long.

Looking back at her father, she knows that if he was a flower, he’d be a white chrysanthemum, the flower of funerals, the flower of royalty. 

How fitting of a dying emperor.

She reaches out and tucks the little flower into his ponytail.  All he does is smile and thank her, understanding exactly why she gave him the flower. 

He’s the one who told her their meaning after all.

Her father has told her many things, and she knows the words he said to her that early spring morning would be ones she would never forget.

How awful it was to hear him say the same words again. 

Not to her.  No, it was to her brother.

He has strength and passion and even the same fire burning inside him, too!  Not only that, but he would also follow the path of their, no, his ancestors!

Him.  Not her.

Nezuko knows a lot of things, but she didn’t know that her father would betray her like this.

The words he described her with, the strength, the passion, the fire, they were all words that belong to Tanjiro.  She could be those things too, of course, but not to the same degree.  She could be strong like Tanjiro, passionate like Tanjiro, have a burning fire within her like Tanjiro, but she could never be Tanjiro.

Taking stock in certainties as they are escorted to their rooms, she knows that she no longer loves surprises.

She can feel Tanjiro’s worried eyes on her the entire way, and she knows that with his incredibly strong nose, he can smell her emotions that must stink up the air. 

She feels a bit guilty for being upset because no matter how agitated she is right now, she’s not angry with Tanjiro.  She could never hate him for what’s happening, neither could she truly hate her father.  Tanjiro is a strong and passionate boy, something that he’s proven time and again.  Her father isn’t wrong in describing him as such, but it hurt hearing those same words being spoken to her brother with the promise of continuing the honor of the Kamado name.

Alone.

A concept that Tanjiro seems to accept wholeheartedly, always wanting to be the one to care for others and refusing help, even when he needs it.  He’s a selfless person, but it is to a fault.

As soon as she retreats to her bedroom without a word, she closes the door behind her, leaning her back up against the hard wood. 

Her resolve to keep her emotions in check crumbles the second she’s alone.  Her knees give out, gravity dragging her body to the floor in a heap.  Tears stain her cheeks as she furiously attempts to wipe them away, soft gasps escaping her lips.

It’s not Tanjiro’s fault that he was born the eldest son, but is she not the eldest daughter who can also take on the responsibilities of a leader?  Could they not bring honor to their family and lead their people together?

Perhaps she’s not strong enough, or passionate enough, like she was told all those months ago?  Perhaps her fire doesn’t burn bright enough to be the great leader she thought she could be, to follow the path of their ancestors alongside her brother?

Or maybe she had been all of these at one point, but had lost the faith of her father somewhere along the way?  What could she have done so wrong to lose his favor?

Her hands clenched into fists as they rubbed her skin red and raw. 

No. 

She could do it. 

She could be the great leader that her father said she would be one day. 

She just has to prove herself.

Chapter Text

Tanjiro reluctantly rises from his bed and approaches the door.  He expects to see another maidservant on the other side.  Perhaps Yui-san has come back to get him. 

Instead, he finds a boy his age, looking just as apprehensive as he feels. 

The eldest prince blinks a few times in disbelief, taking in the sight of the dark-haired boy who won’t make eye contact with him.  He shuffles his sandaled feet and balls his fists into his plain gray kimono as his teeth worry his bottom lip.

He must be new around here and is just a bit nervous talking to people! 

Tanjiro puts on a shaky smile despite his own peaking anxiety and begins to address the boy.  However, he is suddenly interrupted when the boy’s head jerks from its cowering position, allowing honey brown eyes to meet ruby red for the first time.

“The Emperor wishes for your presence in the ceremonial hall, Prince Tanjirohito!” the boy exclaims.

Oh, he’s also crying.

Gobs of tears streak down his face, a hint of snot starting to drip from his nose as well.  He’s trembling now, and when Tanjiro takes a whiff, all he can smell is the overwhelming scent of fear and peaches. 

The smile drops from his face as he rushes to placate the sobbing boy.

“W-wait!  What’s wrong?” he frantically asks, reaching out towards him.  “I-is there something wrong?”

His words only seem to make him cry harder.

“I’m s-so sorry, Prince Tanjirohito!” the boy cries, trying to wipe at the tears, but they just keep coming.  “I’m j-just so scared!  I’ve never b-been tasked to help the Emperor w-with anything before!  W-what if I mess up?  No, I know I’ll m-mess up!”  His hands fly to his hair, roughly pulling at the short, choppy locks.  “I’m a goner!  I’m d-dead for sure!”

He looks at the boy curiously before breaking out into a genuine smile and laughing.  The boy is surprised, which then quickly turns to anger.

“Huh?!” he screeches, but lowers his voice when Tanjiro puts a finger to his lips to shush him.  “Do you find some sick pleasure in my pain?  That is terrible!  If you weren’t a prince, I w-would make you…repent…”

He chokes on his words, watery eyes going wide, as if realizing how he's speaking to a member of the royal family.

Tanjiro shakes his head with a chuckle, not caring in the slightest.

“I’m sorry for laughing, but you have nothing to fear!” he says as he pats the boy on the shoulder.  “I’m sure you won’t mess anything up.  Even if you do happen to make a mistake, my father is a merciful and understanding man.”

The boy peers at him, cheeks ablaze and puffy eyes opening wider, if that was even possible.  He hesitates in responding, tilting his head as if deciding whether he can trust his word.  After a moment, he quickly nods and steps away from the prince, his sobs now died down to sniffles.  He keeps his gaze locked on the floor boards between their feet, his grip returning to his kimono.

“I apologize for the outburst, Prince Tanjirohito,” the boy mutters, his scent shifting from fear to embarrassment.  “It was very disrespectful, and I should not let it happen again.”

Tanjiro smiles and takes a step out into the hallway, closing his door behind him.

“It’s quite alright!  I’m accustomed to helping my siblings when they are upset, so I don’t mind, really!” he cheerfully reassures him.

The boy lets out a breath he must have been holding in anticipation of his response.

“But there is something you can do to make up for it.”

He immediately sucks back in the breath he has just let go.

“Could you tell me your name?”

He is met with a baffled but relieved expression.

“Zenitsu.  My name is Zenitsu.”

Tanjiro’s grin widens as he bows.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zenitsu-san!  I hope we can be good friends!” he proclaims before standing up again to start heading in the direction of the ceremonial hall.  “I believe we should go see my father before it gets too late, yes?”

All Zenitsu can do is sputter and scramble after the retreating figure of the eldest prince.

“Prince Tanjirohito!  How dare you do such a thing!” the servant boy hisses.  “You’re not supposed to bow to a servant!”

Tanjiro raises an eyebrow.

“Huh?  It is only courteous to bow when you have met someone, Zenitsu-san.”

Zenitsu slaps a hand to his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut.

“It doesn’t work that way between royals and servants, Prince Tanjirohito,” he groans.

The prince shakes his head.

“I don’t see the problem,” he says, turning his head to look at Zenitsu.  “Also, there’s no need to call me Prince Tanjirohito all the time.  Tanjiro is just fine.”

Zenitsu’s brain explodes.

“Either you’re pulling my leg or you’re trying to kill me, but it doesn’t matter which reason it is because I don’t like it either way!”

Tanjiro softly laughs at Zenitsu's antics, enjoying the sweet smell of peaches unique to the servant boy.  It's a pleasant, welcoming kind of scent, one that easily becomes one of his favorites. 

As they come upon the grand doorway to the ceremonial hall, though, the laughter dies in his throat and the peaches fall into decay.  His heart pounds against his ribs, and he begins to feel sweat coalescing on his skin in the same way it did in the summer sun.  Next to him, he can feel Zenitsu tentatively grasp his sleeve, his body shaking in fear.

“I guess this is it, huh,” he whispers, staring at the chipped red paint on the wooden door.  “I told you there was nothing to fear.”

Zenitsu shivers at his words, only nodding once in response.  He, too, stares down the red doors.

“Will I be meeting you out here when I’m finished to be escorted back to my room?”

Another nod from the servant boy.

“Okay, wish me luck.”

Tanjiro steps toward the doors in silence, Zenitsu’s hand slipping from his sleeve.  He takes a shaky breath to steel his nerves, reminding himself of what he must do.

He is the eldest son! 

He must do his very best! 

He must bring honor to his family!

With that pep talk, he presses his hands on one of the doors, pushing it open just enough for him to slip inside and lightly closing it behind him.

There is no going back now.

The ceremonial hall is empty with the exception of Emperor Tanjurohito, who sits sukhasana in the center of the room.  A small chest rests on the floor beside him.  Its exterior appears to be some type of black metal, and an ornate lock embellishes the front panel.

The Emperor doesn’t turn to look at Tanjiro before speaking.

“My child,” his voice echoes around the empty room.  “Come sit with me.”

The prince quickly nods before briskly walking to him, dropping to the floor in front of his father and crossing his legs in a similar fashion.

He notices that the Emperor has kept his eyes closed since he has entered the room.  He doesn’t open them, even when his son sits before him, but the small smile that forms on his lips and his reassuring scent of maple and fire soothe Tanjiro.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been nervous coming to see his father!  Everything is going to be alright after all!

“Tanjiro,” his father speaks in a low voice, opening his eyes so that wise crimson clashes with youthful vermillion.

And there’s the fear again.

“I have said that you will be put on the path of our ancestors, the path that I have also followed,” he continues, turning his gaze to the chest beside them and softly placing his hand on the lid.

“It is too early in your life to fully become what you are meant to be, but I am afraid that my time is running short.”

The prince’s mouth opens slightly in surprise. 

For the past year, his father has been quite weak, no longer able to do many of the things he used to do.  If he fears he will die soon, then his illness must be more severe than he lets on.

Guilt constricts his chest.  How did he not see it?  He should’ve known!

The Emperor raises a hand to stop him from talking.

“There will be time for discussion later.  For now, we focus on the task at hand.”

He produces a key attached to a rope necklace from underneath his black yukata, the end of which is shaped like a silver flame.  He pushes it into the lock on the chest and turns it, a sharp click resounding in the quiet room.

“These were meant to be passed down on your sixteenth birthday, but they will certainly be needed come the new year’s festival.”

Emperor Tanjurohito reaches into the chest and takes out a small wooden box.  He opens the lid, revealing the contents inside to his son, who gasps in realization of what his father is saying.

“These a-are the earrings, aren’t they?” he asks, tentatively reaching for them, but stopping to look to his father for permission. 

After he is given an approving nod, Tanjiro cautiously slips his fingers around the box.  Inside are the rectangular hanafuda cards that his father had told him about.  The earrings are family heirlooms that have been passed down from generation to generation beginning with their ancestor, Emperor Sumiyoshihito.  He has never seen them before this very moment, and he has an inkling as to why his father is showing them to him now.

“B-but does that mean…”

The Emperor confirms his suspicions with a curt nod.

“The Hinokami Kagura must still be performed, even if I am unable to do so,” he says, pressing a hand to the front of the chest.  “The regalia is to only be removed from this chest on the day of the ceremony and replaced immediately after its conclusion.”

At this moment, the Emperor reaches out and brushes his son’s bangs away from his forehead, doing the same to his own hair.

Tanjiro’s breath hitches.

His father has just revealed the scars that they so carefully hide from the eyes of the world.  Even their own family doesn’t see or know of the prominent maroon scars that mark their faces, although the Empress is privy to such knowledge and helps them arrange their hair just so.

Not only is he never to show the scar to anyone, he is also never to speak of it.  His father is the only one who is permitted to broach the subject matter.  The few times he has spoken to the eldest prince about their shared scar are when he tells him that it is a mark of honor, that it is a proud symbol of the Kamado family.

If that’s so, then why does he have to hide it from the world?

“The Hinokami Kagura is the only time when you are permitted to reveal your mark,” he continues as he pulls his hand away, the bangs falling back to his forehead, albeit messily.  “No one is to know of or witness the Hinokami Kagura until it is time to pass it on to the next eldest, as I am doing now.  This is the secret kept by each and every generation in the Kamado line, and it is to remain that way.  Do you understand?”

Tanjiro blinks a few times, wondering when his vision had become blurry as he feels a wetness on his cheeks and drops on his wrists.  The tears stream down his face as he looks to his father, who appears to also lack dry eyes.

So, this is the responsibility that is being placed upon him. 

He is given the Kamado family heirlooms, the earrings and the regalia of the Hinokami Kagura.

He is to perform a dance that his father has taught him over the past two years in this very room, a dance that he isn’t even sure if he can do properly, let alone from dusk to dawn.

He is told that his father is going to die soon.

“Father, I…”

A scream cuts through the air, and that is when everything changes forever.

Chapter Text

With a deep breath, Nezuko shakily stands from the floor, making her way to her dresser to pull out a white pin-stripe yukata. 

As she changes, she glances at the vanity mirror.  Her fingers fumble with the fabric belt as she moves closer to better see her reflection, and she can’t help but flinch upon noticing how puffy and flushed her face appears.  She gently brushes her fingertips underneath her eyes, wondering how long this would last.

Without warning, a young voice shouts in the corridor outside her bedroom.

“The Emperor wishes for your presence in the ceremonial hall, Prince Tanjirohito!”

And that’s when Nezuko gets an idea.

She presses her ear to the door, listening for when the voices of her brother and the servant boy begin to fade down the hallway.  She takes the sounds of their conversation growing more and more faint as her cue to quietly slip out of her room and follow them to the ceremonial hall.

Oh, how sneaky her father is in sending a young servant boy to fetch Tanjiro, especially one who cries as much as Rokuta!  The Emperor knows Tanjiro enjoys being the eldest brother and taking care of his siblings.  Having a servant boy whine and cry all over him would certainly put him into caring big brother mode and calm his fears about whatever is going to happen tonight.

Which begs the question: what is going to happen tonight?  Perhaps it has something to do with where they were going?

The Emperor is having Tanjiro meet him in the ceremonial hall, a place that she knows they constantly visit during each stay here at the Imperial Palace.  She only knows this because she’s followed her brother to this room every night that he’s summoned by their father. 

Nezuko knows a lot of things, a lot more than she should.

She knows about the scars they keep hidden beneath their carefully arranged bangs.

She knows about the Hinokami Kagura dance that they secretly practice in the ceremonial hall.

She knows that she’s not supposed to know about these things, and yet she does.

She’s watched them every night they perform the sacred dance, the one that has been passed down each generation of the Kamado family line, the one that is now being passed down to Tanjiro.  Perhaps this should have been the tell-tale sign that her father would choose Tanjiro as a more suitable sole heir, one who was stronger and more passionate, with a greater fire to help and protect, to lead.

Alas, she blames hope, love, and even pride for blindsiding her.

Nezuko had learned the Hinokami Kagura from peeking through the crack in the ancient red door, the one Tanjiro never seems to close properly on his way into the room.  She could probably perform the dance just as well as he can just from watching on the sideline.  Every success that Tanjiro experienced and every praise that the Emperor gave, she felt like she was in there with them, experiencing success and earning praise too.  She could almost pretend that her father was teaching her alongside her brother.  Maybe, if her father knew how well she picked up the routine, he would be proud of her and name her an heir as well.  There’s no reason that her and her brother couldn’t carry on the honor of the Kamado name together, to be great leaders working side-by-side to help and protect their people.

But these are just pipe dreams that withered to dust the moment her father gave her favorite words away to her brother.

Just around the corner is the ceremonial hall, and she can hear Tanjiro’s nervous voice speaking to the servant boy who doesn’t seem to be responding.  She peeks her head past the wall to see the two boys standing in front of the grand doorway, staring it down in fear.

“Okay, wish me luck.”

Tanjiro whispers these words as he pushes the red door open and enters the room where the Emperor awaits.

Even though she wishes that she had also been summoned by their father and entering the ceremonial hall with him in that moment, her heart still goes out to her brother as she murmurs quietly in response.

“Good luck, Nii-chan.”

That was her first mistake.

The servant boy jumps, seemingly out of fright from the sound of her voice. 

That couldn’t have been possible, right?  He was too far away to have heard her soft whisper. 

He jerks his head in her direction, his eyes immediately landing on her.

Oh, perhaps it is possible that he had heard her.

The boy squeaks in surprise at the sight of the princess, who rushes over with her placating hands in front of her and a shush resounding on her lips.

“Please, stay quiet,” she whispers.  “You can’t let them know I’m here.”

The servant boy just stands there astonished, mouth wide open and eyes unblinking.

Nezuko snorts in amusement at his dumbfounded expression and shakes her head when he doesn’t answer. 

“You’ll collect flies if you keep doing that,” she says, pressing her fingers to his jaw and closing his mouth. 

A fierce blush blooms across his face at the touch.  He's obviously new around here.  She doesn't mind that, really, and she'd gladly help him get used to his job, but she doesn't have a moment to spare right now.  Whatever is meant to happen in the room on the other side of those ancient doors has already begun, and she desperately needs to know what is going on.

She pats him on the cheek before turning her attention to the ceremonial hall’s entrance.  Sure enough, Tanjiro didn’t shut the door all the way behind him, leaving a crack wide enough for her to peer through.

“Could you keep an ear out for palace staff?” she whispers to the servant boy as she moves closer to the doorway.  “You seem to have excellent hearing, and you would be of great help if you could let me know if someone’s coming.”

This seems to snap the boy out of his daze.

“Wait, Princess Nezuko!  You can’t be here right now!” he quietly warns.

She can hear him stumble over to her, now standing close behind her, but she doesn’t pay him any attention.  Her gaze is fixed on her father, who is handing her brother a small wooden box.  She strains to hear their words, but she doesn’t need them to know what is happening.  The Emperor is handing down the Kamado family heirlooms, the regalia used for the Hinokami Kagura, to the eldest prince.  Her heart lodges in her throat at the sight.

“Princess Nezuko, please!” the servant boy whispers from behind her.  “You shouldn’t be spying!”

Then her father pushes away the bangs on their foreheads, and her heart drops to the pit of her stomach, freeing her choked up throat to release a soft gasp.

The scar.  She’s seen it so few times, without either of them knowing, of course, but there it is now, the maroon mark exposed and clear as day.  That’s what always separated her and Tanjiro.  It’s something that he shares with their father, something that makes him special. 

She lifts her hand to her face and lightly grazes her fingertips against her forehead, wishing that she had something to connect her to them, to make her special, too.  She can’t help but feel that if she had bared the same mark as her father and brother, she would be in there with them right now, receiving the family heirlooms alongside her Nii-chan.

But fate isn’t on her side when it comes to being named heir.

“Princess Nezuko…” the servant boy mumbles, his hand reaching out to clutch her sleeve. 

She doesn’t notice.  What she does notice is her veins boiling with something hot and painful.  Her hands ball into tight fists, her nails digging into the soft skin of her palms.  Her vision is clouded with red, red, red.

She isn’t going to cry again.  Oh no, she’s going to get answers.  And if her father wants fire, then that’s exactly what he’ll get from her.  She’ll prove it.

Before she can shove the doors open, the servant boy tugs sharply on her yukata.  She turns to look at him in annoyance for stopping her, but the sight of him effectively extinguishes her blazing emotions.

His face has considerably paled, and his body feverishly trembles with terror.  His wide eyes are locked on the dark end of the hallway, where a figure slowly shuffles closer to them.

“Yui-san’s h-here,” he softly stutters.  “B-but it doesn’t s-sound like Yui-san.”

Nezuko squints at the alleged maidservant, trying to see what the servant boy means.  Something seems off about the person, but she can’t quite put her finger on it.  The figure doesn't really move the way Yui-san does, and yet, there's a hint of familiarity in their gait that makes her wonder: if this really is the maidservant in question, has something happened to her to make her move in this strange way?

“Yui-san?” she quietly calls out, dread weighing heavy in her chest.  “Is that you?”

The figure finally steps into the milky white beams of moonlight shining through a window, granting the two of them a clear view of the maidservant.

At the sight of Yui-san, the servant boy lets out a bloodcurdling scream and proceeds to faint, forcing Nezuko to scramble to catch his limp body in her arms.  She, too, grapples with the wave of fear threatening to swallow her whole as she struggles to hold onto the unconscious boy.

It seems that fate isn’t on her side tonight, either.