Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Her big brother has always been far too light.

The hard work, missed meals, and his ever present willingness to sacrifice for anyone who may be in need - was present in his visible ribs. 

No matter how much their mother scolded him, the rice made with care was given with love to the wandering traveler he happened upon on the mountain.

He was far too light, and yet Nezuko knew she would never be able to carry him down the mountain before his last breath. 

Tanjiro was warm only when compared to that of waxy skin and empty eyes she desperately tried to avoid as her hands trembled over the open gashes in his chest.

Truthfully speaking the wounds were too deep, he had been left to bleed for far too long, she could not move him out of her own strength.

He would die here.

The thought burned in her eyes, bleeding tears that fell into the snow beside his gentle face, contorted in pain.

She could almost feel his warm, blistered hand patting her head, reassurance on his face as if to say it was okay.

Her brother who would spend his last breath comforting the same girl who slept peacefully as he was ripped apart

No, She dragged herself up, scrambling for the bag she had held only moments before. Needles and thread spilled into her hands, shaking from cold yet burning with new determination. 

“Big brother, you've always sacrificed everything for us, even before father died!” She ripped the remaining cloth from his shirt off, “When our siblings were hungry you sacrificed your share, when money was short you worked in the cold, when we needed you, you were there! That’s why, I have one more selfish request…”

His blood was slippery, her fingers trembled as she knotted the thread, tears running fast, yet she cried out with a fire that burned , “Big brother, I want you to stay by my side!”

His eyes opened and within his throat came an inhuman noise.

She only had enough time to take the broken handle of the axe before he lunged with snarling fangs. 

How did this happen...?

“The snow is always dangerous around this time, are you sure you want to go?”

“Mother,” Nezuko smiled, “I promise I’ll be careful, okay? I’ve been down the mountain enough and I’ll go slowly. I want everyone to have enough to eat this year!”

“Nezuko…” Tanjiro’s face creased with concern that looked so closely to that of their mother she almost laughed.

“Big brother, you’ve been working so hard you’re going to get sick,” She scolded, “Besides, the little ones have been looking forward to spending today with you! Rokuta has hardly talked about anything else, and Takeo has been waiting to chop wood with you since breakfast, you know.”

The boy in question, obviously eavesdropping, burst into a furious blush and loud denial as Rokuta laughed gleefully.

Tanjiro smiled gently but the concern still lay heavily in his burgundy eyes. He placed his hand on her head, careful not to mess up her meticulously made hair.

“I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay? I won’t fight you about going down the mountain but these things are my responsibility now,” His head tilted, with it his hair and earrings swayed gently.

Her heart ached.

“I know you’re the eldest son, big brother, but,” She gripped her bag tightly and looked up with shining determination, “I’m the eldest daughter! I want you to rely on me too, because that’s my responsibility!”

The surprise on his face was almost laughable, yet it melted away with a simple squeeze of her hand into the bright smile that reflected the sun itself. 

“Nezuko,” He cried dramatically and she couldn’t help but laugh as he threw his arms around her,” You’ve grown so muuuuch! Your big brother is so proud of you!”

She could see their mother watching with soft eyes and a loving smile, the same eyes she was blessed with reflected with so much warmth she could cry.

There existed no hug in the household that belonged to one alone before another became jealous, especially with Tanjiro concerned. Therefore, it was no surprise when two more crashed into their legs and nearly toppled them over.

“Big sister, you’ll bring us candy right, right?” Hanako and Shigeru pleaded, gripping the fabric of her kimono insistently. 

Takeo shambled over, still red in the face, likely only because Rokuta was making grabby hands to the warm huddle they were making, “She won’t have time obviously! Do you want her walking home in the dark?!”

Rokuta paid no mind to the whines and pouts of his siblings, instead placing a messy kiss on her cheek before being handed to Tanjiro who smiled fondly.

“Nezuko, be careful okay? You’ve always had a good instinct, so come home safe, even if it means staying the night,” Her older brother told her sternly, acting far older than the thirteen years that branded him.

“I will!” She promised brightly, “Everyone, I’m off!”

Her final memory of her home was decorated in a chorus of well wishes, sweet smiles, and the sight of her family waving goodbye for the very last time.

If she knew what would come, she never would have left.

Maybe then, she would have been able to see her family once again.

The last memory of her brother smiling was desecrated by the fangs sinking into wood, his gentle eyes a bloody red that made her sick.

“B-Big brother!” She cried, muscles straining as he pushed forward with what could only be called blood lust, “Big brother!”

Yet, the cries that once may have made him frantic in worry were met with no recognition, as if she hadn’t spoken a word.

The once gentle, soot stained hands were transformed into claws, ones she knew could easily tear her apart the moment her grip loosened, but…

They were clean.

The doors had been torn open, splintered and demolished, and her family had matching wounds imprinted on their skin.

She remembered the own gashes on her brother, a perfect match to that of his hands now, and the broken axe he held even in his dying moments.

They were attacked.

Tanjiro had ushered the family inside, to hide as he defended them as if he wasn’t a child himself. Urging them to stay inside, thinking they would be safe even if he was torn apart. 

She thought of the blood staining his skin, the pain on his face, his desperation to save their family that led to only a massacre he never could have stopped.

Tears ran down her face and she sobbed, “Big brother, it hurt didn’t it? You must have been in so much pain, to the very end. But you have to fight! Big brother, please! Don’t leave me alone! Big brother!”

Warm.

The word was something she had always associated with her older brother.

From her first memory, it was always him. Gentle, kind, helping her walk, cheering when she said her first word, wrapping her knee when she fell over.

His hands, his smile, his hugs, his voice, he was warm.

The tears that fell from his eyes even now, were warm. 

The cold rushed back only at the sight of a lovely butterfly that glinted sharply in the shadows.

With all the strength she had left she pushed, sending the both of them into a roll that only came short upon the mountain behind.

Clutching his haori even as he fought against her, she scrambled back as the butterfly blinked at her with an empty smile and a tilted head.

“Little girl,” The butterfly called with a hand raised, as if sharing a secret between friends, “That’s a demon you’re protecting you know?”

“N-No! He’s my big brother!”

The butterfly’s smile faded the smallest bit, “Ah, it appears that I was too late then. But don’t worry, I’ll use a gentle poison, he won’t suffer at all!”

Poison…!

Nezuko threw herself over her brother, desperation running through her veins as she shook her head frantically, enough so the ties in her hair fell messily.

“Please, he would never hurt anyone! It’s not his fault, he tried to protect them, he tried and… and he wasn’t going to hurt me!”

The note of sympathy in her smile gave her hope for only a moment, before she felt her hair being pulled over her face and the weight in her arms torn away.

Tanjiro was pressed into the snow by the butterfly, his arms locked behind his back and under her foot as the skinny silver sword was drawn to drive into his back.

Poison…!

“No!” She screamed as loud as she could, snow tearing at unprotected skin as she scrambled forward, practically clawing her way to the butterfly that simply watched.

“Don’t take him!” She pleaded, “Don’t take him away! Don’t take my big brother, he’s all I have, please don’t take him!”

Blood ran down the soles of her feet and the meat of her palm, yet it mattered little as she stared after Tanjiro, silent and watching her with those vibrant red eyes. 

She reached out frantically, tears and blood and desperation as useless as she.

“I… really am sorry,” The butterfly said softly, so softly she could hardly hear her over Nezuko’s own screams, “I understand your pain, that’s why… before he hurts you… I have to…”

The sword raised.

Poison!!!

“I’m sorry, it will only hurt for a moment.”

“ Big brother!”

Her big brother had always been far too light.

Yet, even for how little the butterfly seemed, it shouldn’t have been as easy as it was for him to rip himself up and out of her grip.

He caught her before she fell, warm and gentle as she knew him to be. Soft sounds catching in his throat that almost sounded like the worried murmurs over her sick bedside.

For a moment, he was her big brother, and all was right.

The snow must have hurt his bare hands, sinking into the cold, yet he never looked away from her. Not even to the woman who, only a moment before, held a sword to his throat.

“I’ve never…” The butterfly spoke with a furrowed brow, “He’s bleeding. He should be starving… yet he hasn’t attacked you. He’s… protecting you.”

Nezuko clutched at him once again, this time he did not fight, simply watching with docile eyes, “My big brother would never hurt anyone! Please, believe me!”

For a long moment, she wondered if the woman would simply kill him anyway.

When the butterfly dropped her silver, relieved tears ran down her face. 

“Maybe,” The woman gazed at her with lovely purple eyes, “You two will be different.”

Somewhere far away, where the snow was white and the sun was warm, and her siblings could finally greet their father, she could almost hear a voice.

“We didn’t get to say goodbye but, Nezuko… take care of your brother. We’ll be by your side until we meet again, okay?”

Nezuko closed her eyes, clutching her brother's hand as the butterfly watched with careful eyes and the clouds moved uncaringly along. 

Big brother… rely on me a little while longer… I will definitely save you! 

Chapter Text

There was never much care in terms of gender when it came to the work that had to be done in the Kamado household. 

Yet, there was preference in who was the first choice when it was time to chop wood or kindle the fire, hard labor that Tanjiro and Takeo tried to take the brunt of.

If Rokuta had lived long enough, she was sure even he would try to lift the axe if only so the burden wouldn’t fall to Hanako.

That’s just how her family was.

When Takeo was born, her father’s health began to take a turn for the worst. He struggled in that winter, to where even the wind seemed to wait with bated breath.

They had been so little then, still struggling to stand taller than the snow, and could only watch as their mother worked what seemed to be endlessly. 

It was a particularly cold night that she had sat by her older brother's side, watching out the door as their mother toiled away.

Nezuko remembers thinking that, at the time, her mother seemed very little too. 

They sat there for quite some time, far longer than she could ever stay awake as a small child. There was a point in which she simply laid her head against Tanjiro’s shoulder and did not wake until her mother returned.

Her older brother was still too little to carry her at the time, it was her mother, who spent hours chopping wood, that lifted her as if she was no burden at all. 

The brush of her hand had been heartbreaking, her gentle mother didn’t deserve the blisters and calluses that came with hardship. 

Yet, she never complained.

Her father survived that winter, though never again had the strength to lift her and seemed to wither a little more with every passing year. He survived and Tanjiro became strong enough to carry the burden, and yet the scars upon her mother’s hands remained. 

Now, as Nezuko lays the soil above her mother’s grave with blisters to match the ones that once cupped her face, she sends a quiet prayer and final thanks.

The red eyes of her older brother watched impassively, present only in a body that was morphed against his will.

Her hands ached, a mixture of cold and strenuous work apparent as her fingers twitched pitifully.

Even so, she grasped his hand tightly within her own, ignoring the sting that came with pressure on her battered skin. 

“Big brother,” She smiled tiredly, “Let’s go.”

He could not respond even if he wanted to, the muzzle affixed to his face was unforgiving, and internally she fretted over the possibility of his jaw aching.

Yet, he did not complain.

He could not.

It felt cruel, especially when she knew he’d never hurt her, but it was a nonnegotiable condition the butterfly had hammered in the already unsteady agreement.

There was always a price it seemed, and to stay with her big brother the price existed in red cloth, bamboo and the title of ‘tsugoku,’ to which she still had to earn.

“Hey, little girl,” The butterfly smiled, “This is getting a bit silly, don’t you think?”

“No! You can’t take my brother!”

“You really do make me sound awful…” She sighed, before clasping her hands together with a tilt of her head, “You’ll understand me this time, won’t you? Your brother is an extraordinary case, one I have never come across.”

The extraordinary case in question was currently chewing through the bamboo the butterfly had shoved into his mouth moments before.

“His case is so extraordinary in fact, that I believe through studying him we will be able to help many more like you. I’m very well versed medically and will provide as little discomfort as I possibly can, okay?”

“No!” Nezuko cried, once again standing in front of her brother who remained apathetic to the conversation at hand, “My brother is all I have left, I can’t just let you take him and… and… experiment on him!”

To her credit, the woman seemed genuinely taken aback by the accusation, blinking at her with wide eyes. 

After a moment, she asked softly, “What’s your name?”

“I…” The younger girl hesitated, “Kamado Nezuko.”

“And your brother?”

“His name is Tanjiro,” She stressed, “Kamado Tanjiro.”

“It’s nice to meet the both of you,” The butterfly cupped her hands together cheerfully with a radiant beam before her face fell into a somber, bittersweet smile, “My name is Kochō Shinobu, and I was entrusted with a dream from someone very dear to me.”

Nezuko wavered in her stance, staring at her expression with an understanding that resonated in her veins.

“For humans and demons to get along with each other, a world in which we could live together peacefully,” Shinobu’s smile wavered, “Could such a world even exist? It sounds impossible, doesn’t it?”

Nezuko thought of tiny hands curled in a puddle of red and nodded wordlessly.

“If I could study your brother, there may be a world in which demons don’t exist.”

Nezuko met her eyes desperately, “You could turn my brother back?!”

Shinobu didn’t nod or smile or brightly clap her hands, “I will not lie to you or make empty promises, there has been eras of bloodshed with little result to show. However, your brother is different; even now he’s not attacking either of us, despite the fact that I threatened his life and you’re openly bleeding. He should be in a frenzy with his wounds but look at him.”

Nezuko glanced at her older brother who was still gnawing on the bamboo, occasionally stopping to sniff the air before looking at the woods.

“She always thought we were capable of living alongside demons, but…” The butterfly glanced at the corpses of what used to be lively young, “I want to create a world in which we do not have to fear demons, one we have hope in a cure. Your brother could be the pathway to this, that’s why I ask of you, Nezuko-chan. Please allow me to study your brother, to create a future without the pain you have suffered today.”

The woman bowed her head, the butterfly clipping her hair almost seemed to sway in time.

It reminded her of her brother’s earrings, when she glanced at them, it was almost ironic to see that even they were stained with blood.

Tanjiro met her gaze after a moment, crimson eyes and apathy so unfamiliar that she wanted to look away. 

He wasn’t her brother, not really.

Her brother had burgundy eyes and an ever present gentle smile. Most often, there was soot on his face and he loved the earrings their father passed more than any possession. His hair was always tied up, but sometimes when the snow came heavy and they became antsy, he let them try to braid what was there. When he loved, he loved completely just like everyone in the Kamado family.

Her brother would never exist so emotionlessly - if he was there, she knew he would be holding onto her just as tightly.

He wasn’t her brother, but deep down she knew that he was still there.

The tears he spilled, the gentle hands that caught her, the tiny noise of comfort he offered before the recognition faded.

“It makes sense,” Nezuko spoke softly, “Everything you’re saying makes sense. The right thing, the only thing to do is say that you can take him. But…”

She held the morphed hand of her brother tightly, ignoring the way his nail pressed threateningly against her skin.

Tears spilled down her face, “I can’t allow you to take him away, to the very end I want to be by his side. More than anything… I want to save my brother!”

“You have an admirable spirit, Nezuko-chan,” Shinobu smiled gently with a tilt of her head, “But, the road you wish to take is one filled with hardship. Tell me, what do you know about demons?”

“I thought they were just a legend before today,” She admitted, “Grandmother used to warn us not to leave our home after dark. She would say that demons would roam at night and… eat any wandering person they could find. She said that the only thing protecting us were Demon Slayers who risked their lives everyday.”

“My! What a story to tell children!” Shinobu laughed lightly, “But a true story nonetheless. Demons have been around for quite a time, their only weaknesses being the sun, wisteria, and a specific blade. Direct exposure to the sun is a death sentence, wisteria acts as a poison that I have utilized, and the Demon Slayer blade made from a specific ore can permanently kill them.”

Nezuko glanced at the skinny sword residing in the snow, the words DESTROYER OF DEMONS etched onto the blade.

“What is important, however, is how demons are created,” She continued, looking pointedly to where Tanjiro was sitting quietly, “Through one single demon, the oldest and most powerful.”

Red eyes seemed to sharpen the smallest bit, almost catlike slits replacing his pupils though he didn’t give any other sign of aggression.

“Kibutsuji Muzan,” The wind stilled, “The original demon and the creator of every demon henceforth. With his blood, he turns humans like your brother into beings of bloodlust and destruction. Though I will try my best, it is likely the only hope of turning your brother human once more is by defeating the original himself.”

Nezuko swallowed, willing the weight on her chest to dissipate.

“Tell me, Nezuko-chan,” Shinobu leaned closer with a serious face, “Are you willing to sacrifice everything to save your brother?”

She couldn’t help but wonder that herself.

“There is no shame or selfishness in stepping away. Your family may be gone, however you can live in their place until you meet again. I would take care of your brother to the best of my ability, you would not have to face pain anymore.”

“I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay?”

“I want you to rely on me too, because that’s my responsibility!”

“Nezuko… take care of your brother.”

Ah, there wasn’t ever really a question in the first place, was there? 

“I want to learn how to protect the people around me, I want to defeat Kibutsuji Muzan, I want to save my brother… until the very end, I want to stay by his side!” She bowed her head, squeezing her pink eyes shut, “Please, allow me to follow this path!”

The winds shifted as Shinobu smiled, gentle and loving as the flap of a butterfly’s wings.

“Walk to the closest town east, I will be waiting there for arrangements to transport you and your brother to my estate. If you prove yourself, you will begin your training.”

With a final smile she scooped her sword up, pausing only to cup her own cheek with a surprised expression, “Oh! And I suggest you keep your brother out of the sun, unless you change your mind that is. Otherwise, I’m afraid I must insist the muzzle stays on, those are the terms of my agreement, okay?”

With a giggle, she disappeared, faster than Nezuko could blink, and with it the uncanny silence of a mountaintop, that used to sing with noise, was left to ring.

“I hope Kochō-san won’t be angry that we took so long, I… wanted to give them a proper burial at the very least,” She sighed, the cold floor of the cave was uncomfortable to say the least, “Though we wasted a lot of time… the sun will come up soon.” 

He blinked at her, blood red glowing softly in the dark.

Nezuko wrapped her arms around her knees, tucking her chin in the space, studying him for a moment.

“Big brother, your hair has fallen, come here,” She called halfheartedly, unsure if he could even understand her.

Likely he didn’t, he gave no indication of understanding until she tugged on his sleeve several times. Moving in shuffling steps, she guided him to sit in front of her.

His hair tie was barely hanging on to a few strands, she was a bit amazed it didn’t slip off completely with everything that had happened.

She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to gently untangle the knots as she had done so often before.

It probably took a bit longer than it should have to realize that her brother was shrinking.

For a moment she panicked, wondering if the sun had peeked through and caught a glimpse of him, and now he was disappearing.

But, the shrinking stopped within seconds, leaving a child that resonated strongly in her memories.

She turned him to look at her, and he blinked cluelessly. The muzzle was ridiculously big on him, and his clothes hung like a child playing dress up.

“Big brother,” The younger girl whispered, “Did you just shrink?”

Another blink, he glanced at her hands.

“Did you shrink… to make it easier for me to tie up your hair?” She reached out to touch his hair and almost jumped when he closed his eyes and leaned into it.

Nezuko couldn’t help the smile that twitched on her face, the small contentment was the most emotion the boy had shown in hours.

“Ah!” She suddenly clapped her hands, “I have an idea, big brother, stay here!”

The family living in the home nearby was kind thankfully, she was sure that if they had slammed the door in her face, the tears would have come again.

Instead, she was able to return with a sturdy basket and long sheet of cloth, leaving behind fixed kimonos, profuse thanks, and what money she had left.

She hesitated a moment at the entrance, smile faltering at the sight of her brother kneeling at the edge of the light.

If he leaned forward, the sun would hit his face.

She wasn’t sure what would happen exactly, but she knew enough that it would mean the end of this story.

“Big brother! Get back in the cave, go, go!” Nezuko shooed him, gently ushering him until they were fully enveloped in the darkness. 

“The sun will kill you, do you understand? You have to stay in the dark, completely in the dark,” She scolded him, “You still have no survival instincts whatsoever!”

He looked up at her, still looking like a fragment in her memories.

Except even then, she always had looked up to him.

She kneeled in front of him with the basket and cloth, placing her hands on his tiny shoulders.

“Big brother, if we don’t travel during the day, Kochō-san may leave without us… or without me. That’s why I want to keep traveling even now, using this,” She gestured to the side, “I can’t carry you if you’re big, but I can carry you like this. I need you to stay little and sleep in the basket for a while, okay?”

Nezuko wasn’t sure how much her brother understood, however he did climb into the basket obediently and look up at her expectantly.

This was the first time she would carry him, some part of her realized, it had always been the other way around for as long as she could remember.

But this just showed the trust he had in her, didn’t it? 

Tying the cloth in place, she lifted the basket and almost cried at how much it reminded her of carrying Rokuta on her back.

Nezuko stood at the edge of the shadows and took a deep breath, the weight of Tanjiro on her back was soothing, enough to push her into the sunlight. 

Big brother, she thought, I wish I could walk side-by-side with you in the light once more… When I cure you, let’s walk together again, okay? 

Chapter Text

Her shoulders ached by the time the sun had set and she was sure there were blisters on her feet to match her hands. 

Everything in her was begging to call it a night and pass out on the nearest surface, but she knew they had to keep going.

Untying the cloth and opening the lid, she barely managed to keep herself from jumping when Tanjiro’s red eyes stared unblinkingly. 

He was in the same position as when he first climbed inside, kneeling and staring at her like a dog waiting for a command.

“Big brother,” She murmured, “Did you sleep at all?”

He tilted his head, she took that as a no.

“Do you think you can walk? I don’t know if I can carry you the entire way,” Nezuko admitted, gesturing to the pathway, “But if you’re tired, I can do it!”

Tanjiro didn’t seem to really understand what she was saying, something she seemed to continuously forget, but he climbed out of the basket and waited patiently.

Part of her couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her older brother looking so little, he was a cute kid after all, but the thought of matching steps with a toddler was already exhausting her.

“Big brother, can you grow now? Big, like before, big?” She waved her hand just above her, feeling a bit bad about how she sounded as if she were talking to a toddler.

He blinked again and slowly he began to grow until finally he stood at the same height as before.

She sighed in relief and smiled, “Good job, big brother!”

It was by instinct she reached up to pat his head, something he always did to his younger siblings when he was proud.

Her eyes burned when he pushed into her hand, but she continued smiling even as she had to clear her throat.

“Come on, Kochō-san is waiting for us.”

She pulled him along by his hand, only allowing her smile to drop when she was sure he couldn’t see her face.

The shape of his hand was slightly different, it was as if he fingers had elongated and changed structure the slightest bit to allow the tips to sharpen in such a way. 

She wondered if it hurt.

They walked for a long time, all the while her body screamed in exhaustion, until the moon was high in the sky and the forest was silent.

Nezuko dearly hoped that Shinobu’s test to prove herself would not begin immediately, otherwise she was sure she’d get kicked out in a heartbeat.

She let go of Tanjiro for a moment to scrub her eyes, swallowing the yawn that threatened to break out, before reaching back.

Only to be met with air.

Her head snapped up, looking wildly around until she caught sight of him standing farther ahead.

“Big brother, please don’t do that!” She huffed and hurriedly approached him, pausing only when she saw the look on his face.

Pupils narrowed into slits against glowing crimson, veins throbbing on his face, and nose twitching violently, he looked more animal than human.

She looked ahead, squinting against the darkness for a hint of what could have caught his attention, yet there was nothing.

“What’s wrong, big brother?” Nezuko asked gently, hesitantly reaching out to touch him.

He didn’t react to her, only staring ahead with monstrous focus.

Suddenly she recalled how powerful his nose was as a human, to where he could smell emotion or intent with ease.

His nose was never wrong, and the saliva running down his chin said that the demon within him was very aware of something ahead.

A feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach, powerful in a way she was used to, but never to this magnitude. 

Everything within her was screaming that something was wrong. 

“There’s someone hurt, isn’t there?” She murmured, twisting her hands together anxiously.

She looked at him again, flinching at the obvious hunger in his eyes.

Her big brother would never hurt anyone in his right mind, but bringing him to what might be a bloody scene would be like dangling a bone in front of a dog and expecting them not to sink their teeth in.

Unraveling the cloth from her basket, she pushed it into her brother’s hands, “Big brother, cover your nose with this,” She insisted.

Only when she guided his hands to bring the sheet up to his face did he snap out of his trance, though the distant look in his eyes remained.

“Stay here,” Nezuko told him firmly, “Do you understand? You need to stay until I come back, don’t leave, okay?”

She looked back at him once or twice, his eyes eerily focused, before sprinting ahead.

Her feet ached, and the unease at leaving her brother behind left a heavy burden in her stomach, yet she knew that it would be tempting fate to bring him.

‘I just need to be fast,’ She repeated to herself, ‘I’ll help them and go back and we’ll continue on, I just need to be fast!’

Sprinting through the forest caught the last of her hair ties, she mourned the loss only for a moment, before focus sharpened her intent.

Eventually, she could smell the blood too.

Only a few miles away a small town rested peacefully, one she would have arrived at in an hour or so more of walking at a brisk pace.

Before this town was a landmark to all their residence, that of a simple farm that housed a quaint family who had lived there for generations.

The newest owners were young with a single child, though they apparently had plans to have many more. Perhaps as large of a family as the Kamado’s had.

They were kind and their crops held the best results, generations of secrets often held something special. In any other world, their family would have lived to share their pride for far longer than they were allowed.

Demons, however, have no qualms about such trivial manners or the unfairities of their appetites.

They were simply hungry.

The moment she slammed open the door, a body slammed into hers. 

Frantic fingers clutched onto her kimono, staining pink with red as they clung for dear life and wept.

“H… Help me,” The woman begged in a broken voice, blood staining her teeth and bloodshot eyes filled with desperation, “Help me!”

Behind her was a small corpse, much too small, obstructed only by the hunched figure of a man with gray skin bending over them.

Nezuko stumbled back, falling under the weight of the woman who uselessly tried to crawl with only one leg.

“Interrupting,” The man muttered before his face snapped up into a bloody snarl, “You’re interrupting!”

Her throat closed up at the sight of the child the man held, sure if she opened her mouth she would throw up at just the sight of exposed bone.

With the glint of fangs, she became very aware of her own lack of protection, even her brother had been left behind in hopes of saving someone.

Really, all she had done was doom herself.

The woman was dragged back by her remaining leg, hoarsely screaming and clutching at the skirt of Nezuko’s kimono before it tore.

“N… No,” She whimpered, hands opening and closing with only dirt to grasp.

“I caught this all by myself and you’re interrupting… interrupting… interrupting! Always interrupting! Wait your turn!” He yelled, “You hear me?! Wait your turn!”

With a quick hand he slashed the woman’s throat, cutting off her screams as her blood splattered onto Nezuko’s face. 

The woman’s screams were cut off and some ugly part of the younger girl was grateful.

She wasn’t sure if she could stomach listening a moment longer. 

The man, no, the demon looked ghastly , a far cry from her brother who at least maintained the features of a human even in a transformed state.

Gray skin, bulging eyes, razor teeth decorated with flesh. His head was shaved, but the little that was there was a dark purple that contrasted with the burnt orange of his eyes. Everything about him screamed inhuman, from the blood on his fingers to the low growl in his voice.

Nezuko, in the likeness of the woman who existed now in the blood on her face and corpse at his feet, tried to crawl away fruitlessly.

His hand grasped her leg, the nails cutting through skin effortlessly as he began to drag her too.

“It’s my turn,” He muttered as if in a frenzy, “I caught them all by myself so it’s my turn now, all for me, I won’t share, I won’t share with anyone!”

‘Think, think, think!’ She thought desperately, clawing at the dirt and wood until she felt her fingernails bend painfully.

She was weak, too weak to save her family, too weak to save herself.

The thought was one of anguish that escaped her throat in a hoarse scream that didn’t seem to make the demon so much as twitch.

Weak, weak, weak!

She wondered if she would die here, bloody kimono and broken promises all she had left to justify her survival despite her family’s demise.

For a moment, she considered allowing what would come next. 

“Stay here. Do you understand? You need to stay until I come back, don’t leave, okay?”

Horror froze her veins, like jumping in the lake as the snow drifted, the echo of her words churned in her chest.

Her brother kneeling at the edge of the light.

Tanjiro was waiting for her, as patient as he ever was despite the ever looming threat of the sunrise.

Because her idiot brother had no survival instinct, not a single bone of self preservation in his body, even as a demon that had not changed.

He was waiting for her…!

The thought kindled a new fire that rushed in her veins, she kicked her leg violently in the unforgiving grip, looking frantically for something, anything to use.

There!

Right beside the bed was a lantern placed on the floor, straining her arm she snatched at it and nearly cried when her fingers locked together around cool metal.

Despite the awkward angle, the ache of her arm, and the painful drag of floor against tender skin, she threw with all her might to the being with copper eyes.

The outraged yowl nearly sounded like a deranged animal, pissed if anything as the lantern shattered on his face.

“NOT FAIR!” He screamed at her, clawing the glass off his face, “NOT FAIR!!!”

She wrenched her leg out of his hand, twin lines of cuts dragging down her pale skin, and leapt to her feet with energy that must have been borrowed from tomorrow.

The pounding steps behind her told her that it was useless, and yet… and yet!

Tanjiro was waiting for her, she could not, would not, refused to die there!

Somewhere a being must have heard her thoughts and decided her mercy, red eyes were the only warning she received before a strong burst of wind sent her sprawling and a loud crack echoed in the air.

The sound was one she had never quite heard before, close only to that of the axe splintering wood or clumsy hands dropping precious ceramic. 

Her brother was clutching the demon's shoulders, the force of the head slam he induced was powerful enough to create a noticeable dent in the demon's skull, yet he seemed perfectly fine.

“B-Big brother?” She choked out, half wanting to cry, half wanting to splutter at the strange attack.

If the demon were human, the blow would have killed him, the skull fragments peeking out confirmed that vividly.

‘He always had a hard head but this is a little ridiculous…’ She thought in disbelief, flinching when the demon fell like a sack of potatoes.

Tanjiro turned to her, eyes falling on the rips in her kimono almost sorrowfully.

He didn’t get a chance to reach out before the demon kicked his feet from under him, shooting up as if his brain wasn’t caved in.

“Cheater,” The demon spat, “I caught it, mine! It’s mine! You fucking cheater!”

With another powerful kick, Tanjiro was sent flying into the wall of the small farmhouse, smoke drifting from its windows.

“Big brother!” She screamed, scrambling to get up only to cry out as the demon snatched her by her hair.

“It’s my turn,” The demon snarled, his breath was putrid enough that she couldn’t help but gag.

Feeling around blindly, her hand enclosed around a rock, sharp ended.

There was no hesitation in her hand as she slammed it into his left eye.

Blood soaked her hand and a small part of her, she did not wish to acknowledge, felt savagely satisfied at the ensuing scream.

He threw her aside by her hair, she could feel strands rip out at the harsh relief, and gasped when she hit the ground sharply.

Tanjiro chose that moment to reappear, grabbing him by the arm to flip him so harshly to the dirt that his arm was torn off.

She could see her older brother struggling, gnawing on the bamboo from close proximity to fresh corpses and a few cuts on his face that didn’t seem to heal as immediately as the demon he fought.

Yet he held steadfast, little care for the lightening sky or the demon tearing at him with one sharp claw, placing all his weight with the ferocity one would expect from the eldest son.

Panic steadily consumed her chest however, it was too close, the sun was rising too fast.

The severed arm tossed carelessly cared little for her dilemma as it latched onto her hair and she screamed, not in fear but frustration, anger.

Unfortunately, this startled her brother enough to weaken his grip and give the demon advantage.

“No!” Nezuko cried, “Big brother!”

Once again she was weak, always too weak.

She couldn’t even escape a single arm as the demon lunged.

“Dance of the Bee Sting: True Flutter.”

She could have cried in relief at the sound of the butterfly’s voice, like a guardian angel she descended - the flapping of her haori was beautiful, even stained in blood.

It was over in a moment, faster than any human eye could see, leaving nothing but a corpse with a single wide, burnt orange eye. 

“Kochō-san,” Nezuko gasped, relief heavy in the thickness of her tears, “Kochō-san!”

Shinobu turned to her quickly, the concern in her gentle, violet eyes was as painful as it was relieving, kneeling in front of Nezuko hurriedly.

“Nezuko-chan, are you okay?” 

“I… the demon, h-he killed them, he… I couldn’t… I couldn’t do anything,” She sobbed, “She… the woman… she be- begged for help and I…”

Shinobu’s hands cupped her face, an expression of understanding that resonated strongly.

“Nezuko-chan, I’m sorry I was late again,” There was self-depreciation in her voice, “You’ve been through so much so soon… I thought if I left my crow to watch over you and went ahead it would be okay. This is my burden, not yours. You did everything you could, you did well.”

The younger girl shook her head, “N… No, if big brother hadn’t come I would have failed.”

Her head shot up, “Big brother!”

Tanjiro was standing in the tree line, covering his nose with a disgusted expression on his face directed at the corpse, even as far away he continued shuffling back.

Shinobu blinked, “He can smell the wisteria on the demon?”

“Big brother has always had a powerful nose,” Nezuko said simply, painfully dragging herself up despite the cuts on her leg that burned.

Tanjiro turned to look at her, looking as if he was about to shuffle over before she waved her hands frantically, “No! The sun is about to come up, did you leave the basket?”

He blinked, and she mimicked the motions she made in opening the basket, he blinked again before turning to pick something up.

It was the cloth at least, not without dirt and leaves sticking to it, but he looked a bit proud of himself for having it.

“I’m sorry, Kochō-san but can you-?” She turned only to freeze in place at the sight of a smiling Shinobu holding the basket, “How did you…?”

Tanjiro paid no heed to the strange events, taking the basket and placing it down, looking at Nezuko before picking her up and attempting to put her inside.

“Oh my,” Shinobu giggled airily, “I don’t believe Nezuko-chan will fit in there, Tanjiro-kun.”

Though her voice was a bit tight, addressing her brother, Nezuko couldn’t help but feel grateful at the attempt of talking to him as if he was human.

After all, he was still her big brother.

“I’ll rest soon, big brother, climb inside, please?”

Though seemingly disgruntled, he followed her orders, she didn’t even have to ask him to shrink.

“How curious,” The butterfly murmured, peeking down to the child version of her older brother who waited once again.

Once her brother was secured to her back, she watched the first light of the new day.

The demon’s body disintegrated at the first rays, burning away into nothing but ash and dust and regret.

She felt unease at how quickly he had become nothing.

Her brother kneeling at the edge of the light.

She swallowed, “Kochō-san, what about the… bodies?”

“I would like to bury them but,” Shinobu looked at the house still smoking, “Unfortunately the smoke has alerted the villagers, to bury them would draw attention to us. Really, we need to leave as soon as possible, or we may be deemed guilty of murder.”

Wordlessly she nodded, tightening her grip on the handles and following Shinobu’s light steps.

For a moment they walked in silence, and for the first time Nezuko caught a glimpse of a crow that followed them steadily.

“Kochō-san?”

“Yes, Nezuko-chan?”

“Was… was that the test?”

She stopped for a moment, shadows darkening her face.

“No, that was simply an unfortunate reality of what it means to be a demon slayer. Tell me, Nezuko-chan,” Shinobu turned with a bitter smile, “Do you still believe in the path you have chosen?”

Chapter Text

The sting of disinfectant broke through the heavy fog that had steadily descended upon her since they’d fled the slowly waking village. 

She flinched away from the cotton pad instinctively, her right hand grasping air.

“There, there,” Gentle hands twined around her shaking fingers, the warm glow of her big brother’s smile like a sunrise as tears beaded in her pink eyes, “You’re doing so good, Nezuko!”

“Big brother,” She sniffled, “It hurts.”

It did, hurt that is. 

The staticky pain of peeling skin was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She was almost afraid to look, afraid that the sight of blood rising to the surface would make the dizzy panic overtake her. 

Little Takeo and Hanako were already beside themselves for accidentally tripping her by the rocky river. The sound of their almost synchronized wails was enough to send their mother running and father leaning heavily against the door.

Tanjiro had been the first to her side, somehow splashing through the river with the swiftness of a salmon and the grace of a bear.

The sight of him falling face-first in his rush to her side had nearly disrupted the unfamiliar, foggy shock. If he hadn’t bounced up immediately, not even a scratch on that hard head of his, she was sure that it would have sent her into hysterics. 

With careful hands, he pulled her to her feet, wrapping a little arm around her even smaller waist, and pulled her from the river.

It was only when her mother came to pick her up, carelessly allowing her own smock to become soaked with river water, that Tanjiro turned to comfort the distressed toddlers, and she allowed herself to weep silently.

A mixture of embarrassment, pain, and shame at her own reaction, trembling her slight shoulders from the comfort of her mother’s arms. The moment she was set down and her father was passing over the small medical kit, she tried what felt like in vain, to compose herself. To be the strong older sibling who was as unshakable as her brother seemed to be sometimes.

Yet, when her little siblings weren’t looking, and the strongest person she knew was holding her hand so assuredly, that strong wall she tried so hard to build always seemed to come crumbling down.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” Her big brother assured, and even though the sharp rocks ripped her favorite kimono, her hair smelled like river water, and her knee was colored red with blood, she believed him.

“It’s going to sting a little. Can you be brave for me, Nezuko?” Her mother asked in that gentle voice, lilting like chiming bells on a summer day.

She wanted to say yes, that she could be brave, that she was brave.

Instead, almost unconsciously, she looked over to her big brother with wide, pleading eyes.

He smiled at her, picking up their joined hands and shaking them ever so slightly.

“I won’t let go, no matter what. If it hurts, I want you to squeeze my hand as tight as you can, like this!” He demonstrated, squeezing her hand until a breathless giggle escaped her, and he grinned wider, “If we share the pain, it’ll make it easier, won’t it?”

She sniffled but couldn’t help returning the smile with a nod that finally felt confident.

It did sting, and she squeezed his hand so tightly that for a moment, it felt like she really could share that pain.

He never wavered, just like he promised, his eyes screwed tightly as if he really did want to absorb every tear and ache and pain away from her. 

When it was over, and her mother’s sure hands wrapped a white bandage around her knee, he opened his eyes and waved their still conjoined hands over the limb with total concentration.

“Pain, pain, fly away!” 

She laughed, no longer shy with hurt or embarrassment that seemed so large only a few moments before, “It worked!”

“Of course it did, Nezuko is the strongest after all!”

When the cotton pad dabbed at the deep, gouging cuts in her legs, she barely blinked, her empty hand curling into a loose fist. 

There were no little eyes to be strong for, nor a strong hand to collapse the walls she built. 

She had never felt so weak. 

“It’s going to need stitches,” Shinobu warned her, “The cuts are deep, jagged, they’ll probably scar, but I have a few mixtures that might lighten the damage.”

Tanjiro would have been devastated, she thought to herself distantly, a passing thought that sank its claws deeper than the demon’s nails could ever pierce.

Her long hair was slightly jagged, her kimono once again torn, and now fresh scars would mar the otherwise untouched skin.

He had tried for years to shield her from the brunt of the labor, shouldering long hours and hard work to keep her hands gentle and untouched. Not because she was a girl, nor because she was smaller than he. That was just the kind of person he was, shouldering the world if it meant that his siblings never had to carry so much as a pebble. And even though they both adored their siblings, would go to the ends of the earth for them, she was the first little hand he had ever held, and she wasn’t sure he ever managed to forget that.

“Our Nezuko is the beauty of our town!” 

She never cared about her appearance, paid even less attention to the frivolous luxuries that he had been so devastated that he could not provide them. The past two nights had irreversibly changed her in a way that she was glad would leave a physical reminder beyond the blisters on her palms. 

Not that she could ever forget. 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” She said, knowing that the only person who ever would was staring blankly at the wall.

The older girl did not press, did not stare deeply into her eyes, trying to find cracks, yet all the same, she seemed to know that they were there.

“I apologize for the accommodations,” She said instead, “I have sent word to Oyakata-sama about your situation, and there will likely be a meeting to decide the next course of action. Until everything settles, the fewer who know about this, the better.”

Nezuko, who had thus far nodded along dully, snapped to attention, wide-eyed and short of breath, “What do you mean? I thought the next action was studying my… my brother.”

Shinobu pressed her lips together into a thin line, “That is the plan,” she agreed, “But it might take some convincing.” 

The younger girl jerked back, barely registering the tight feeling of her wounds throbbing, “Convincing? I-I let you bring us here be-because you said that you could turn him back? 

“Nezuko-chan,” She interrupted gently, yet firmly, “I need you to understand that above all else, I cannot promise that. There is very little known about demons, and the idea of turning one back into a human is unheard of. Studying Tanjiro might help that possibility of finding a pathway, but it is very likely that the only way of turning him back, if there is a way, is only known to the demons themselves.”

Her mouth felt dry, her chest like glass waiting to shatter as she stared at the older girl breathlessly and terrified.

Shinobu offered no reassurance, no sunny smile or strong confidence, only a gravity that seemed to dip the room several degrees colder.

“The Demon Slayer Corps,” She continued, threading a needle with steady, small hands, “Has handled demons for centuries with stories not unlike your own. Demons are tricky, the powerful ones even more so. As far as others may be concerned, your brother could be putting up a front of peace in hopes of getting to Oyakata-sama.”

“Big brother would never do that!” She argued fiercely, almost instinctively, a bubble of rage heating her typically placid voice.

“Nezuko-chan,” Shinobu met her heated eyes gently, “Can you honestly tell me that he is your brother, entirely?”

She hesitated, and the mere fact burned more than anything the butterfly could say.

Because there was never going to be a universe where her brother wouldn’t be right by her side, holding her hand, and trying to take away all of her pain.

There were glimpses, snatches, mannerisms that not even death could steal, but it didn’t erase that in this moment, he was somewhere far away. 

A small part of her whispered fearfully, ‘What if it truly was just memories?’ What if her brother was already gone, and the body in the room with them was simply the last embers that would eventually be snuffed out? 

Was he in pain? Was she torturing him?

The dredges of her uncertainty felt like nails dragging along her spine, pathways hollowing out her chest with what felt like no clear direction, only the buzz of anxiety acting as her constant companion.

As if sensing the shift from cloudy existence to existential dread, blood red eyes shifted from the cream colored walls to her. 

A low, muffled sound that could almost be called concern dragged out from his bamboo-clad mouth, tilting forward like a child or a concerned pet.

She swallowed once, twice, before clearing her throat, noting the way Shinobu’s eyes had snapped over to the boy the minute he moved, watching as if waiting for something.

“It’s okay, big brother, everything’s okay,” She assured, trying to adopt the confident, reassuring tone he so often employed with her. 

He blinked at her, his blank, dull eyes seeming entirely uncomprehending. Likely, he did not understand a word she was saying, placated by the lack of threat and urgency in her tone. 

Shinobu shifted back in place, placing a careful hand on her leg with a simple word of warning and a numbing concoction. Yet, even as she dedicated herself to preparing the stitches, there was ever slight tension in her shoulders that betrayed the casualty she tried to convey. 

She doesn’t trust him, Nezuko noted to herself with no small amount of guilt. I couldn’t answer her question, and now she doesn’t trust him.

It gave her no comfort to remind herself that it was likely that the older girl had never trusted her brother. She never knew Tanjiro before he was turned into a demon, but Nezuko did. Her own uncertainty felt like a stab of betrayal not only to him, but to her deceased family members who were undoubtedly watching over them.

The needle pierced through her flesh; it felt as distant as the mountain they left behind. 

“I’m going to bring him back,” Nezuko said, not with confidence but with finality. There was no other option, no other choice than to drag her brother back from the pits of hell that he was undoubtedly fighting even now.

“You’ve seen the cruelty of demons.” Shinobu’s hands worked swiftly, gracefully, as if she had threaded open wounds thousands of times. “You’ve made your case to stay with your brother, but you still have other options.

“The Butterfly Mansion opens its doors to anyone impacted by demons. We offer rest, recovery, and safety for anyone in need. The girls who reside here have all lost someone, everyone who ever cared for them. They choose to help in the recovery process, rehabilitation for the slayers who are injured. You wouldn’t have to leave, to hurt anymore, you could just… stay.”

It was quiet, pin-drop silent, except for the sound of their whispered breathing and the needle tapping against taut skin.

“You said that if anyone knows how to cure my brother,” The younger girl clenched her empty fist, “It would be the demons themselves.”

“I did,” Shinobu agreed, moving to stitch the next gash with an efficiency she had never seen before.

“If that’s true, if his only hope is through the demons out there,” She breathed, “How could I possibly hide away in here?”

“You love him very much,” The butterfly said, “He must have been a very good brother for you to adore him so. If he were in his right mind, I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to throw away your life for him.”

“He was—a good brother, I mean. And, no,” Nezuko smiled, a bitter thing, “He wouldn’t. He’d tell me to run far away, to rebuild my life and live it to the fullest for them. He’d tell me it was okay, that it wasn’t my responsibility. That was his worst quality, you know?” 

“Selflessness?” Shinobu guessed. 

Nezuko hummed, “He used to tell me that we could share pain, we could work through it together. It took a few years, but eventually I began to understand that he was lying; he never wanted to share in pain, he wanted to take it all for himself. And you know what?”

The girl tilted her head questioningly.

“I think that was selfish of him,” She admitted, “I could almost hate him for it if I didn’t love him so much. If I didn’t know that he was trying to protect us, to protect me. There were so many days when I had to watch him work to the bone, so tired that he couldn’t piece together words, sometimes so sick he forgot where he was. And somehow, the worst part is that when I finally managed to convince him to take a break -“

Her throat closed up, not with tears nor with frustration, something so unidentifiable that she could only sit there like a child. 

Tanjiro shuffled closer to her on his knees, a movement that should have been childish yet was slow and almost uncanny in nature.

He looked up at her with wide (wrong) blank eyes, and the knots in her chest tightened. 

“I won't let him live like this,” She said stiffly, “I know it’ll be hard, I know that it’ll be awful, but he’s all I have left. And… he’d do it for me, no matter what.”

Shinobu hummed, “And are you prepared for if you fail?”

The image of the demon from last night feasting on a small child permeated her mind, blood slick and uncaring for the tiny hands that should have been picking wildflowers, not curled by a violent death.

She imagined Tanjiro in his place, canines sinking into innocent lives, blood red eyes glowing in the dark like an omen of death, his gentle hands forever stained by blood.

“I won't let him hurt anyone, he’d rather die than let that happen,” He would, he’d kill himself on the spot at just the slightest possibility, “If it comes to it, I’ll… I’ll end it and I’ll follow him myself.”

“Your conviction is admirable,” the butterfly sighed, something sad and almost wistful, kissing the purple of her eyes, “You remind me a lot of myself, Nezuko-chan, so I’ll offer you an opportunity.”

With soft, cold hands, the final thread of the stitches snapped off, and the wound was quickly and efficiently wrapped, not through the sure hands of her mother, but through the butterfly gazing at her thoughtfully.

“I am the Insect Pillar, Kochō Shinobu, and I practice the sword style of Insect-Breathing. Under my guidance, I am personally training three Tsuguko. Should you choose to do so, I will take you on as a student, and later, a Tsuguko should you prove yourself capable.”

Pink eyes blinked, a silent voice mouthing Tsuguko to herself, entranced.

“You are small,” The girl said with a kindly smile,” You are at a disadvantage and may never have the strength to battle demons fully. That frustration is something I know well and have learned to navigate. Should you embark on this path, I would guide you into the Final Trial, the test for all prospective slayers.”

“Please,” Nezuko barely refrained from interrupting her, manners a distant thought at the face of finally being able to do something.

“The training will be difficult, especially for a young girl unused to physical endurance. It will be painful, frustrating, and even hopeless at times.”

Nezuko did not falter; she met her gaze head-on, unwavering in her conviction.

“Please,” She slid onto the floor, kneeling before placing her arms on the ground and bowing her head until it touched the floor, a traditional dogeza, “Please help me save my brother.”

“Again!”

Nezuko inhaled deeply, nose scrunched up and eyes knit with exertion as she stretched her limbs to the limit. 

It was only a few weeks into her training, a frustrating and at times harrowing experience only offset by the cheerful smiles of the girls around her.

The butterfly girls, the orphans, often trailed behind her shyly, watching with wide, awe-struck eyes as Ayame and Fuuka, two of Shinobu’s Tsuguko, pushed her to her limits between their missions. 

Speed, she learned quickly, was the hallmark skill of the butterfly girls and their sword arts. Many hours were spent simply sprinting, trying to build up her endurance. 

It wasn’t as if she was starting from the ground up; often she had to climb up and down the mountain, carrying Rokuta on her back and herbs in her arms, dragging well water, and carrying little ones that started to become not so little. 

Chasing after Rokuta in his toddling state had especially helped build her reflexes, particularly her speed.

Yet, next to the other students, she felt as graceful as a newborn and as swift as a turtle.

Ayame and Fuuka had long since passed the final trial and were well-versed in hunting demons. The pretty butterfly clips in their hair seemed to flap in the mere seconds it took for them to disappear.

Kindly, they offered her tips and tricks, helped her clumsy limbs learn agility, and eliminated the unnecessary movements she always seemed to fall back on. 

The mornings were spent on sprinting, climbing, and stretching, typically under Aoi’s guidance, a stern girl who had surprising patience. The afternoons with gymnastics, reflexes, and obstacles. The nights with Shinobu, learning about weak spots in humans and demons alike, poisons, and first aid.

By the time the books would snap shut, she could practically see the kanji engraved on her eyelids. 

With the grueling, unfamiliar routine, it took her longer to notice Tanjiro was not waking up than it should have. 

The first few days, he was groggy and seemed to sleep more, but by the end of the week, days would pass before he stirred. Eventually, he simply didn’t. The sight of his still, unmoving form, barely breathing and not so much as twitching, had sent Nezuko sprinting to Shinobu. Claws in her chest, unspoken grief passing like shadows as she hovered over their examination. 

What would she do if he died? If the last person she had left in this world had left her behind?

“His mannerisms are similar to those of a deep sleep, or a coma,” Shinobu told her. Her fingers brushed along his neck, and her head tilted. “His pulse and heartbeat are slow but not dangerously so, and his breath doesn’t seem to be irregular.”

Nimble fingers pulled up an eyelid, a red eye with blow pupils stared blankly ahead, no reaction. 

“There are no visible injuries that might have caused this,” She told the younger girl, who was anxious bunching up her sleeve, “But we have never had a case like your brother either. Not eating or moving may have triggered a state similar to hibernation. Unfortunately, we may not know the full effects or reason until he wakes up.”

If he wakes up.

The idea, the thought, was frightening, frightening enough that she found herself pushing harder. Day and night, she threw herself into training, begging the older girls to help her improve when they were around, asking Shinobu to indulge her with questions about research and demons. 

One night, in a fit of frustration, remembering the way the demon from the village snagged onto her hair, she used a pair of scissors to cut the strands to her jaw.

Looking in the mirror, seeing the long locks she once spent so much time doing crumbled to the floor felt almost cathartic. She was not the same girl entering the age of marriage prospects and planning for a home-building future. Just like the scars on her legs, it was a physical sign of her irreversible changes. 

“There are many slayers with long hair that simply tie it back; my friend has very long braids that I’m sure she could have taught you,” Shinobu told her after.

“I might grow it long again someday,” She would respond, “After I save my brother.”

The butterfly tilted her head and smiled, “It’s cute, it suits you.” 

A few days after, Shinobu disappeared without a word. The other girls didn’t seem to know any more than Nezuko, though they did admit that, for as much as they loved their master, she was a secretive person with immense responsibilities, even at the young age of 16.

Within a week, she returned, and the secret existence of her brother was revealed to the shocked, silent girls, whose heads seemed to be on swivels as they stared at Nezuko and Shinobu in turn.

“Master,” Fuuka spoke hesitantly, her taunt ponytail falling over her shoulder as she leaned forward, “I do not want to doubt you, but… how can we truly know that this demon is any different from the others?”

“I understand your hesitation, Fuuka-chan,” Shinobu smiled, and her soft voice conveyed more confidence than Nezuko thought she could ever muster, “But after centuries of following the same patterns and cycles, we have to take every opportunity, even if they do end in failure. I have personally witnessed an anomaly in Nezuko-chan’s brother, and Oyakata-sama feels the risk is necessary as well.”

Ayame, who had seemed as though she was about to protest, clammed up immediately at the mention of the man, dipping her head submissively. 

“Shinobu-sama,” Aoi called hesitantly, “Is this really…”

“Aoi-chan, for the two of us especially, our responsibility to our fellow slayers is to push the boundaries of science and try to find an end to this violence. I promise, just as I have every time I have welcomed you each into the Butterfly Mansion, that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. Should you wish, none of you will have to cross paths with Nezuko’s brother; however, I will not keep you in the dark about something that potentially could impact your peace living here.”

Aoi pursed her lips and set her shoulders, “I understand, thank you, Shinobu-sama.”

“Um…” One of the orphaned girls, Sumi, spoke up hesitantly, “What’s his name?”

“Tanjiro,” Nezuko spoke for the first time, “His name is Tanjiro.”

“Tanjiro-san,” Naho repeated, testing the way it sounded on her tongue, “That doesn’t sound like a scary name!”

Despite the heavy air and obvious uncertainty from the older girls, Nezuko couldn’t help the way a smile crept on her face.

“My big brother was never good at being scary; he always let our little siblings walk all over him! He always gave the best hugs and had the nicest smile in the world.”

Sumi, Naho, and Kiyo let out a simultaneous sound of awe, so similar to Hanako and Shigeru that it felt like her heart was being torn from her chest, “I want to meet him!”

“He’s sleeping right now,” She smiled, trying not to convey how frightened she was at the fact, “We aren’t sure when he’ll wake up.”

“Okay… then when he wakes up, do you think he’d want to meet us?”

“I think he would love that.”

As the girls shuffled excitedly, a dull-eyed girl with a green and pink butterfly clip stared at Shinobu silently, thumb rubbing over a bronze coin. 

The months that passed had left her frustrated and anxious, until she finally began to see improvement, particularly in her leg muscles, a swiftness that started to resemble that of a fighter. Even her arms toughened, and she nearly cried when Shinobu told her that if she maintained her regimen, beheading demons would be entirely possible. 

It came with its own caveat: her newfound strengths and skills seemed ill-suited for Insect Breathing, which disappointed her greatly. Although Flower-Breathing had more users to help mentor her and seemed well-suited for her growing agility and speed, she couldn’t help but feel a childish desire to adopt the style that had saved her life.

Though the thought of how close her brother was to being poisoned still haunted her dreams.

Though at times, she felt as though even in Flower Breathing, she seemed to struggle more than she should have. As if it wasn’t quite settled into her skin, as if it was missing something vital that she couldn’t figure out. The other girls assured her that it just took time, that she was still young and needed to have patience for herself. The words only seemed to remind her that a year had passed and her brother was still asleep.

She celebrated her 13th birthday by his silent bedside, the first she had ever celebrated alone. They never had much, but birthdays were never a lonely affair. It was only a year ago that she had woken up to tiny hands cupping her face, Rokuta’s still fumbling, “Happy birfday!” 

Takeo had become more self-conscious in recent years about his independence and looking like a baby, but he had still made sure to do her chores for her and give her a warm, affectionate smile. Hanako and Shigeru, much less self-conscious, had clung to her hands, swinging them back and forth as they fought to be heard over the other on who loved her best. 

And even though they were all still so clingy after their father had passed, they still parted to let Tanjiro sweep her into the biggest hug imaginable, swinging her until she was giggling and her feet were brushing the air. With bright and vibrant eyes, filled with tears, he had loudly exclaimed at how big she had gotten as if he wasn’t only a year older. 

Her mother interrupted only to cup her cheek lovingly, pressing feather-soft kisses on her forehead and blinking back the tears of the knowledge that their father wasn’t there to see it.

For dinner, they had a modest meal, but at the very end, with a bittersweet smile, Tanjiro would press konpeito in her hands and apologize for not giving her more.

It was always enough, she’d try to convince him, though she never seemed to succeed. 

Later, the orphaned girls would sing for her and cheer as Shinobu brought out pastries for them to enjoy. Not quite innocent, not quite untouched by the shared grief of losing everything, but enough.

It was the first time she interacted with Shinobu’s final and first, Tsuguko. Her eyes reflected the lights in a way that she could almost describe as empty, lifeless, if not for the way she always looked back at the butterfly.

She recognized the devotion; she felt it in herself every day.

The girl watched them reach for pastries. She flipped a coin and stayed in place.

Nezuko, in a fit of spontaneity, perhaps of feeling an undeserved connection, picked up a plate and placed it in front of her.

She blinked at her, the empty quality of her eyes almost reminded her of her brother, and flipped the coin again. The girl considered the metal before picking up a fork and delicately beginning to eat.

If Nezuko squinted, she might have even convinced herself she had seen a happy sparkle in her placid eyes.

“I’m glad,” Shinobu would tell her later, “Kanao is a quiet girl, but it would make me happy if you could treat her kindly.” 

Weeks continued to pass, and Fuuka, the girl who taught her how to walk across beams and swing her sword, came home in the form of a bloody butterfly hair clip. 

The mansion was silent for days, and the butterfly girls silently wept as they emptied her room. Her little tokens and belongings never left the mansion; everyone who loved her was within the walls she would never return. Ayame did not speak for days, watching the doors as if expecting a sure and confident voice to call out to her. 

The older girl did not cry until Shinobu wrapped her arms around her; only then did the slight shoulders begin to tremble, and her quiet breaths broke into heaving gasps. 

Sumi, Naho, and Kiyo had taken to bunching their tiny hands around the closest person, though they seemed to cling especially to Shinobu and Ayame in the hours before they would leave for their next mission. 

Nezuko could understand the anxiety; Fuuka’s death was a cruel reminder of what slayers face every time they step out of the haven.

The reminder seemed to spur Aoi and Shinobu into a dedicated focus on studying her brother. The former had thus far avoided him entirely, content to pretend there wasn’t a demon lurking in their midst. 

It made Nezuko uncomfortable to think about how often they drew his blood, poked at his unconscious body, and even clipped pieces of his hair and fingernails. 

Yet, the butterfly clip that never left Shinobu’s desk kept her silent.

She wasn’t sure if they were finding anything, but the mission seemed to be enough to settle a haze of content.

Kanao remained detached, though with the death of one of their mentors, Ayame and Shinobu often paired them together to spar.

It was humbling and a stark reminder of how far behind she still was. It took less than a second to be sent sprawling onto the floor.

Her palms were sore, her knees were red, and her entire body felt like a gigantic bruise. 

Sometimes it took her a moment to pull herself up, tired muscles weighing almost as heavy as the cloud in her mind.

“Nezuko is the strongest after all!”

She wasn’t, she never was. Not then, when she was crying over a little cut from a rock, not now, when she was forced to live on without the only people she had in this world.

But she was getting stronger, and so she got up.

Ayame did have a body to bury; somehow, it made it worse.

“I had another Tsuguko, before Ayame-chan and Fuuka-chan,” Shinobu told her as she prepared the body for cremation, “Tsubasa-chan, she wore her hair in two buns and her eyes were orange like a monarch.”

It was late, later than she was typically awake, but she had seen Shinobu through the door crack. Staring at the body of her student with eyes sadder than she could ever remember. 

“Did she…?”

A bitter smile crossed her placid face, “She died in the Final Trial.”

“I’m sorry.”

Shinobu shook her head, crossing the dead girl’s arm lovingly as a mother, clasping her hands as if she were simply asleep. 

“My parents were killed by demons, then my older sister. Now, all my Tsuguko except for Kanao are dead. We have had this conversation often, and yet I must try one more time, Nezuko-chan. Are you truly set on this path?”

“I’m sorry, Shinobu-sama,” Nezuko said, smiling faintly and sadly, “I am.”

The butterfly dipped her head, for only a moment, she looked aged beyond her 17 years, almost ill-looking, and oh so tired.

“I thought so,” The gaze lifted and Shinobu smiled, “It is the burden of the younger sister to follow their sibling to the ends of the earth. But, Nezuko-chan, it is also the burden of the older sister to survive long enough to guide the ones that follow us. Do you understand?”

Silently, thinking of tiny blood-soaked hands, she nodded.

Shinobu pressed a cold hand against her cheek, her gaze so gentle that she could almost cry, “You and Kanao are my Tsuguko now, please take care of each other, okay?”

After everything the older girl had done for her, it felt like the easiest thing in the world to agree.

The night before the Final Trial, Shinobu pressed a butterfly clip into her hands.

“It’s imbued with wisteria,” The butterfly told her, hands clasping her own with firm confidence, “It won’t ward them off entirely, you’ll have to be careful.”

Nezuko nodded, trying to look more confident than she felt, drinking in the sight of her before she had to leave.

“You’re strong, fast, and smart. If you see a demon that’s too much for you, run away. You can get stronger, but you must survive. Do you understand?”

She nodded again, throat feeling tight, and the childish need to throw her hands around the older girl was getting harder to fight.

“If… if something happens, you’ll take care of my big brother, right? You’ll still try to cure him if you can, right?”

“I will do everything in my power, I swear to you, Nezuko-chan.” 

She blinked fast, eyes burning even if tears wouldn’t come, “I… Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. If you hadn’t come that day, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Nezuko-chan,” Shinobu smiled, “You have always been stronger than you think. You would have survived, just as you will now. I do not doubt that you and your brother are going to change everything.”

A burst of childishness overtook her, and she found herself throwing her arms around the slight girl, surprising her, if the way her shoulders stiffened, then relaxed, indicated.

“Kanao-san and I will come back, no matter what, I promise!”

Gentle arms returned the embrace, and for a moment, in the embrace of a girl only slightly taller than she, Nezuko felt as safe as she did when her brother swept her off the ground. 

“I’ll be waiting for you two. Please. Come home safe.”

Her brother smiled fondly, his hands still around her shoulder, even as he tried to be stern. “Come home safe!”

Pink eyes squeezed shut, determination like a fire in her chest, “I will!”

She knew better now than to make promises she couldn’t keep, but nothing less than hellfire would keep her away this time. 

As she slept that night, she dreamed of her brother. 

He hugged her tightly, his mouth moving even as the gentle wind carried his voice far, far away.

It was enough to see his gentle eyes, to see him smile for the first time in two years. 

When her eyes opened, she clipped the butterfly to her short hair and grasped the sword with steady hands.

“Everyone,” She said, “I’m off!”

Chapter Text

It was hard not to feel small walking among the wisteria and pallid faces of scarred and worn children, far too serious in their young age. 

The soft purple glow underneath the moonlight seemed detached from reality, the sweet, floral scent only just hiding the rot deep within the woods. 

Many of those serious faces seemed both older and younger than Nezuko, never by too much, landing somewhere in an equilibrium. Some stretched to be almost twice her size, while others met her comfortably at eye level. The diversity should have been comforting, but instead it only served to remind her of exactly why any of them were here. 

The boys vastly outnumbered the girls in the area, though the set of their jaws held the same gravity. She tried not to focus on the few whose fingers trembled, afraid that if she focused for too long on their uncertainty, her own fear would swallow her. 

Some of the children seemed to know each other, sticking close together in the hours before pandemonium. Others seemed to take every step to isolate themselves completely. 

An angry-looking boy with a mohawk had a deep scar stretching across his face; her leg burned in sympathy, and she was almost afraid to wonder how he had gotten it. He was far from the last to be marred by such deep scars, for even those that appeared untouched had a heavy look in their eyes. Silently, he stood off to the side, eyes never wavering from the treeline. 

Both dirt and bruises covered another boy with striking golden hair, a severe-looking expression on his face that didn’t seem entirely present. She couldn’t help but think that he must have gone through quite an ordeal merely hours before the trial, and her heart ached for him. The others seemed to give him a wide berth for some reason; perhaps the graveness in his expression frightened them. 

Almost unconsciously, she hooked her fingers into Kanao’s haori, shuffling closer all the while trying to keep her own face from betraying her lack of confidence. The older girl made no move to stop her, though she didn’t encourage her either. Her face remained serene and confident, a porcelain doll in a human body. 

‘I am strong, fast, and smart,’ Nezuko thought to herself, imagining the kind purple eyes that had so much faith in her, so much that it felt undeserved, but a faith she wanted to believe in. ‘I am strong, fast, and smart. And I am going to survive.’

The feeling of cold mountain air as she sprinted through the trees was too familiar to be comforting.

Nezuko caught glimpses of Kanao’s pink haori just ahead, undoubtedly slowing down for her benefit. If Kanao wanted to disappear, she was sure she wouldn’t see the girl until the end of the trial, granted that she survived. 

For all that she had promised Shinobu that they would both come back safe, in reality, Kanao was more likely to make good on that promise than her. Nezuko was undoubtedly stronger than before, stronger than she had ever been, strong enough to carry her big brother’s broken body down a mountain; the older girl was simply a league of her own. 

Not once had Nezuko gotten even close to beating her in a sparring match, a reflexes exercise, or even keeping pace in the sprinting matches. While Nezuko struggled with Total Breathing Concentration for those few months, she learned from the other girls that Kanao was already working on Total Breathing Concentration: Constant. 

She could acknowledge that part of it was the age difference between them; Kanao had been training for two more years than she had after all, and always under the analytical gaze of Shinobu, who was possibly the fastest and smartest person alive. Still, there was something deeper to it as well. Flower Breathing wasn’t simply a style the quiet girl used; it was like an extension of herself that came as natural as breathing. 

There was a grace and precision that Nezuko did not believe she’d ever truly emulate, something that could frustrate her to tears if she let it. 

“Nezuko-chan, your swings are carrying too much weight behind them,” Fuuka told her, eying her hands critically, “Flower Breathing is an act of grace; when you swing, it must be with swiftness, fluidity. When you swing your sword, it should translate almost like a dance, not simply a strike.”

Nezuko dropped her sword with an exasperated huff, fighting the childish urge to kick the dirt under her feet. 

“Flower Breathing is not an inherently violent style,” The girl pushed her ponytail behind her back, “In fact, you may have noticed that most of the forms are defensive in nature. The intention is for it to be almost kind.”

“Flower Breathing is probably the kindest way to execute demons,” Ayame agreed, “The other sword styles all focus on power, the intention to hurt. Master’s Insect Breathing in particular seems utterly painful. Flower Breathing is like… cherry blossoms in the wind, you smell them before you see them.”

Fuuka rolled her eyes, “It’s okay to have passion, Nezuko-chan, but the way you swing sometimes seems almost -”

The rustle of the bushes was the only warning she received before a demon with several horns shot out, arms outstretched and tongue wagging almost mockingly as he screeched in a grating voice, “Fresh prey!”

Nezuko pressed her lips together tightly, muscles tensing not with fear, but anticipation. After two long years of training, she thought the sight of a demon would send fear quaking down her spine, a helplessness that followed her into her dreams. Instead, almost by instinct, she felt her eyes darting along his frame, looking for the thread of weakness the other girls hammered into her head.

“The neck, Nezuko-chan, that is where you need to cut.” Ayame held her sword gracefully, pointing it at the unfortunate dummy, pretending as if she didn’t see the butterfly girls crowding around the corner of the house to watch with wide, awe-struck eyes, “Demons regenerate their body parts, and will heal around just about any wound. It needs to be the head, a clear, concise decapitation.”

Nezuko picked up her own sword, holding it as closely to her example as she could, though even then she could tell the difference between their grips. 

“But just as we know that, the demons know that we will be aiming there. If you pay enough attention, if you use your instincts, you can find a thread, an opening in their defenses. Stay calm, look for the thread, and you’ll know when to strike.” With enviable grace and swiftness too fast for her eyes to track, Ayame lopped the dummy’s head off, smiling bashfully at the erupting cheers. 

There.

“Fourth Form: Crimson Hanagoromo!”

Red petals slit into his throat, a wide arching slash that seemed to anticipate his stumble back, and unfurl even closer like a blossoming flower. Within a second, he was dust in the air, combining with a cloud further ahead, undoubtedly Kanao’s work.

Although over in a moment, she felt a new confidence instilled within her, the product of her training measuring far beyond the feeble height and not quite as muscular a form as she boasted. 

With a steadying breath, still faltering far too much to maintain Total Concentration Breathing for longer than a few moments, she sprinted into the dark, foreboding woods with steadier hands than she had entered with.

If she had stayed a few seconds later, she would have seen a boy running for his life, screaming for help as large, unforgiving hands bulged around lifeless throats, eyes always searching for a mask of white.

But Nezuko did not have the nose of her brother, did not have the time to falter, and most importantly, she did not carry a fox mask imbued with the love of a tired master, and so she did not look back. 

The butterfly clipped to her pink ribbon left a scented trail of wisteria, and the Hand Demon continued his violent feast.

The feeling of solid ground underneath her sore, tired feet nearly sent her to the floor in a heap of exhaustion. After seven days of sprinting in the dark, sleeping during the day in patches where the trees didn’t block the sun, the training she underwent to get here seemed like a faraway resort.

“Kanao-san,” She breathed, face smudged with dirt, short hair tangled with leaves, and exhaustion in the very marrow of her bones, “Kanao-san, we did it! We survived!”

The girl blinked at her, silent and face unchanging, perhaps her survival was always guaranteed to her. For that girl with empty, devoted eyes, there probably wasn’t a world where she didn’t return to their master. 

Nezuko, on the other hand, was well aware that her survival was always a doubtful possibility. Several days, after all, had been spent trying in vain to communicate with demons that attempted to rip her throat out. Claws trying to catch on her hair and haori alike, so close that they cringed away from the scent of her butterfly clip.

“Please, tell me how to change my brother back into a human,” She begged between gritted teeth, sword driven through their chest as the demon attempted to grapple closer. 

The creature shrieked at her with glee as it came closer, predatory eyes fixated on her pale neck with a hunger that sent shivers down her spine.

“Please, just - just -”

The demon was beheaded at the next sharp gnash of his teeth, a hair's breadth away from her jaw, disappearing in a wave of ash that she swore she could almost taste. 

Kanao blinked at her, tilting her head with that same empty smile as she turned away.

“Kanao-san,” Nezuko whispered, “Is it hopeless?”

The girl did not respond, did not even turn to look; Kanao continued to fight, and so did she.

They both had people waiting for them after all.

If she let it, the overwhelming disappointment and hopelessness at the lack of answers would cave her chest in and send her spiraling. The knowledge that she would return home to Tanjiro’s comatose form with no answers, no solutions, no way closer to fulfilling her promise to him could be the reason her broken heart finally crumbled into ash that already coated her tongue.

It could, so she didn’t let it.

Forgetting her manners, she slumped against Kanao like a child, squeezing her arms around her in a quick and joyous embrace, fueled by sleep deprivation and adrenaline alike. 

A haze that Nezuko did not quite recognize before lifted from the other girl’s eyes for a moment, a smile slipping into a quiet shock that blinked at her rapidly for several moments. 

“I’m sorry,” She smiled back at her bashfully, “I’m just so happy we get to go home together.”

Those doll-like eyes softened for a moment, considering her before the smile returned, and her attention was directed to the eerie children who once welcomed them to their deaths. 

As discomforting as it had been to be surrounded by grim-faced children with little to lose, somehow it was even worse to register the silence that came with less than a handful of survivors. 

The boy with striking yellow hair, the angry-looking one with a scar across his face, Kanao, and Nezuko were the only ones left standing before the maw of the forest, forever swallowing the lives of nameless children.

Nezuko only half paid attention to the ensuing conversation about uniforms, ranks, and blades. Shinobu had explained it to her before, and she was willing to bet Kanao was as well-versed as she was by then. 

The boy with striking hair was mumbling something in fear, still seemingly not present, while the angry boy lived up to his description and seemed to be agitated by something.

She ignored them in favor of looking up as shadows danced across the ground, lips parted in awe as a crow landed on her shoulder, blinking at her expectantly. She smiled at them and seemed to earn their approval as they nudged against her cheek. 

The moment was broken by the angry boy, swatting at his crow and stomping forward to grab the ever-smiling, white haired girl by her hair.

Nezuko startled at the violent act, feeling foolish for doing so less than a second later. The past week had been spent decapitating demons, fighting for her survival, and dreading every sunset with every fiber in her body.

She forgot that humans could be just as violent sometimes.

“Hey!” She cried, “Let her go!”

Everyone in the vicinity ignored her; even Kanao was too busy blinking at a butterfly to notice what was happening.

The golden-haired boy flinched away from the violence, the angry boy yelling so loudly that she could see his spit hitting the little girl in her face.

A wave of disgust washed over her, contempt for these boys who were nothing like her brothers. Sweet, little Rokuta, who stomped his foot when someone so much as glanced at her the wrong way. Playful Shigeru, who was always trying to make her and Hanako laugh as if it were his life mission. Protective Takeo, who attempted to puff up to twice his size every time he perceived a threat, as if he wasn’t a head smaller than her, trying to shield her. 

Her big brother, Tanjiro, who wouldn’t even hesitate to protect this nameless little girl. 

Burning anger crawled up her throat, no, not just anger, outrage. 

If Tanjiro were here, he’d be standing in front of that little girl in less than a heartbeat. Instead, he was locked away in his own mind, morphed and cursed into a form that didn’t match the gentleness of his soul. And these… these… boys were not only shying away, they were going out of their way to hurt an innocent child and… and… 

Nobody was doing anything.

The red-hot anger spread from her chest, heating her exhausted muscles from her fingers to her toes. Before she knew it, she was moving, unlatching from Kanao’s haori and approaching the boy standing a head taller than her, and far more muscular than she could ever dream of being.

“I said, let her go!”

Her leg connected with his crotch, cutting off his yelling with a satisfying wheeze as he finally turned to stare at her with wide eyes. 

The silence that descended over the mountain top was layered with shock, broken only by the shriek of the cowardly boy trying to hide behind his sparrow.

If you asked any one of her family members what her biggest flaw was, after being told several times by each one that she was, in fact, flawless and perfection in human form, eventually you might be able to pull out from Takeo that his older sister was maybe a tiny bit impulsive.

Case in point, she could not be ashamed of defending that little girl, but she also perhaps did not consider the repercussions of kicking a clearly angry, aggressive boy twice her size in his crotch.

Even so, she could not find herself to regret it, even as he loomed over her with a vein twitching under his eye.

Quiet as a breeze, Kanao was suddenly next to her, holding her sword out with a tilt of her head, inviting retaliation.

“Kanao-san,” She couldn’t help but breathe, not yet in the right mind to feel relief, more engulfed with a wave of fondness for this strange, quiet girl. 

The added threat, and most likely the sheer power in Kanao’s aura, was enough to make the angry boy back off, finally, and the moment came to choose the alloy for their sword.

She wondered how the others chose theirs, if there was a secret she simply wasn’t understanding, or if it was the luck of the draw. Even Shinobu was vague on why or how the perfect ore was chosen. 

“Trust your instincts, Nezuko-chan, you’ll know when you see it.”

She tried to have confidence in that, confidence in herself, when she narrowed on a block that looked the same as the others.

It didn’t matter much to her anymore; she was going home. 

Pitifully, she relied on Kanao for much of the journey, though she secretly thought that the older girl sometimes leaned on her too.

She couldn’t help but notice, despite her own eagerness to return, there was something more to Kanao’s swift steps than the promise of warm food and a comfortable bed.

“You really love Shinobu-sama, huh, Kanao-san?” Nezuko mused, feeling distinctly dragged along by the pace the other girl was setting.

Her steps faltered for less than a second, pink painting the porcelain color of her skin, as her head moved in the slightest whisper of a nod.

Nezuko smiled despite her exhaustion, forcing her feet to match the consistently increasing pace, “She loves you too, you know? A big sister can always tell.”

When the pace increased yet again, she was surprised to find that even being dead on her feet couldn’t stop the wide grin that split across her face.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed before the tall walls of the mansion came into view. The butterflies danced in the air as if to welcome them home.

From a distance, she could see a lantern come into view, two painfully familiar figures standing under the moonlight.

The moment her eyes caught sight of a checkered haori and dancing earrings in the wisteria-scented wind, her muscles froze.

Kanao blinked back at her sudden halt, tilting her head curiously as she looked back and forth. Obviously torn between running to where Shinobu was standing and the tentative new bond they shared.

Nezuko wanted to reassure her, push her forward, and run forward herself.

And yet.

And yet.

“Big brother?” She whispered, and it felt as if the words were torn from her chest. 

The figure began moving, his tied red hair softly curling in the wind. For a moment, all she could see was the red glow of his eyes in the dark, the silhouette of bamboo fixed to his face. 

Then, she saw him.

The familiar motion of his steps, the calm set of his shoulders, the gentle crinkle of his eyes so familiar that suddenly, all at once, the past two years seemed to settle over her chest, cracks spreading like tempered glass.

“Big brother!” Nezuko gasped, knees giving as she crashed onto the floor, something between a sob and a wheeze choking what little breath she could capture. 

Her fingers dug into the mud as the figure broke into a sprint. She wanted to crawl, she wanted to scream, all she could do was stare and will him to move faster. 

It was both a moment and a century before those different and yet oh so familiar arms were wrapped around her, supporting her slumped weight with the strength of the boy who always held the world for her. 

Nezuko trembled, clutching at his back in disbelief, breathing in the scent of charcoal and pine that never completely left his haori. She felt like a living wound, bleeding all over him, held together only by the security of his arms. 

“You’re awake,” She breathed, choking on gasping breaths, “Big brother, you’re finally awake!”

A hum vibrated in his chest, his arms squeezing ever so slightly as if afraid to hurt her. A gentle hand rising to rest on her head.

After everything, after two years of pain and grief and frustration and wondering and and and - 

She shattered. 

Nezuko clutched at him with all the power she gained from training, arms no longer slight and delicate, hardened and yet still grasping with the fragility of a child as she wept.

Fat, burning tears running down her ruddy face, she sobbed so forcefully that she feared she’d be sick, so loudly that her throat ached with the force.

“Why?” She wailed, “Why d-did you sl-sleep so l-long?!” 

It was the first time she had cried in two years, the first time she felt like her brother was still here. For so long, she wondered if death would steal him with his eyes still closed, if it would be kinder if it did. She hated herself for the thought, hated the fact that those glowing red eyes sent shivers down her spine. 

More than anything, on the long days with even longer nights, she longed for him to come back with his broad, encouraging smile and easy kindness. To take the heavy burden from her shoulders and make everything okay.

“Big brother, didn’t y-you know I w-was waiting for you?”

She hit him on his back, once, twice, before she felt bad and squeezed him impossibly tighter. 

It was a strange realization that he didn’t seem to age a day since he went to sleep. Maybe it wasn’t eating, or perhaps the long sleep truly kept him in a state of stagnancy, but she grappled with the idea that her big brother could seem so very small. He looked closer to being her twin, to being younger than her, and the unfairity of it all grappled with the sheer, overwhelming relief that she got to have him at all.

She cried for what seemed like hours, watching with blurry eyes as Shinobu approached Kanao, her gentle smile never seeming so genuine as when she clasped her hands and breathed a soft, “Welcome home.”

The look on Kanao’s face, vulnerable and adoring, felt like staring into a reflection. 

“It is the burden of the younger sister to follow their sibling to the ends of the earth.” 

It was almost funny that the older sibling never seemed to understand that, never seemed to recognize the devotion was for them.

Hesitantly, Nezuko pulled back, trying in vain to stop the tears that seemed to take her weakness as an invitation. She had never had the liberty of being emotional, not when so many eyes were ready to tear at the slightest hint of distress. It came so naturally that she didn’t even realize she was still holding everything in, even when no one was watching.

Tanjiro blinked at her, the red eyes that she so feared seemed slightly different than before. Still a strange glowing red, far from the burgundy she remembered, but more present.

Those catlike irises locked on her hair, eyebrows knitting together with confusion.

The laugh that bubbled out was half-choked by her heaving breaths, “I’m sorry, big brother, I cut my hair.” 

He tilted his head, and she let herself laugh past the tears, past the gasping breaths, past the exhaustion that had her slumping against his sure shoulder.

He made a noise of concern, patting her arm in a way that told her he was still unused to the sharpened bones marring his hands. 

“Nezuko-chan,” A sing-songy voice had her raising her head, a second wave of tears stinging her eyes as Shinobu smiled at her, "Welcome home.” 

“I’m back,” She beamed, “I promised, didn’t I?”

A cold, slight hand cupped her cheek, tapping against her jaw as the butterfly examined the scuffs and bruises, seemingly satisfied as she pushed a strand of hair behind Nezuko’s ear.

“I’m so glad,” The older girl said, eyes shining under the moonlight, “You’ve both done so well.”

Nezuko basked under the praise for a moment before leaning forward conspiratorially, “Shinobu-sama, my big brother is awake!”

She laughed, airy and bright, beckoning Kanao closer with her hand, “Your brother woke up earlier today, no hint or warning, it was as if he sensed you coming.”

“It’s about time,” Nezuko grumbled, “Big brother, when I told you to rest, I didn’t mean for two years! Your nap privileges are revoked, do you hear me?!”

He continued to blink at her; it seemed that even his long rest didn’t suddenly make him more understanding. It reminded her a bit of Rokuta, though she had to shut down that line of thought before a third wave of tears came.

“Kanao-san,” She said instead, "This is my big brother, Kamado Tanjiro!” 

Kanao dipped her head in greeting, indulging in Nezuko’s eager expression more than anything. Tanjiro tilted his head, and after a moment, attempted to copy the movement, though he dipped his head too far and almost lost his balance. 

She couldn’t help the smile aching on her face, after so long of wondering if her brother would wake up as himself, the casual silliness reassured her more than anything else. He was here, perhaps not aware, maybe not the same, but some part of him was here, and that was enough. 

“He’s different from the last time he was awake,” Shinobu noted, “He hasn’t been conscious for long, but there seems to be an increase in his interest level, facial recognition, and auditory processing.”

Nezuko blinked, studying him more closely, and was surprised to see that while he seemed less focused than in those early days after the attack, it was largely because everything else seemed to be attracting his attention. His eyes darted depending on the speaker, not moving even when a movement was made, unless said movement seemed interesting to him. 

Shinobu gracefully kneeled beside them, catching his fraying attention with ease, “Tanjiro-kun, do you remember me?”

He leaned forward, almost unperceivably, quiet for a moment before making a quiet noise. He turned back to Nezuko, clumsily patting her hand.

“What is it, big brother?” She asked, picking up her hand and offering it to him.

“He seems to be having some trouble with dexterity; his fingers are rigid and don’t seem to bend easily. There might have been joint damage when his fingers elongated,” Shinobu explained, “For a typical demon, the effects of rigor mortis are offset by the first humans they eat. Your brother appears to be experiencing a factor of healing, but it is much slower.”

Despite the grim statement, Tanjiro looked back at Shinobu expectantly, Nezuko’s hand still in the air.

“Ah,” The older girl smiled, “I think he wants me to look over that cut on your hand. It’s a good sign that he’s created an association with me and medical treatment; it means there is a degree of working memory.”

Nezuko blinked suddenly, aware that while she had gotten away mostly unscathed, she did have a few cuts that had only just scabbed over. 

“He’s not reacting to the blood, is he?” She asked curiously, “And he doesn’t seem to be reacting to the wisteria either.”

Shinobu hummed, “You told me once that your brother had a potent nose when he was human, and it seemed to increase once he turned into a demon as well. The consistent proximity may be causing him nose blindness. I remember he had quite a strong reaction to the poison injected into that demon that day. We’ll have to keep careful note now that he seems more aware.”

Nezuko nodded firmly, blinking at the sound of a coin being flicked into the air, before a slender hand was offered to her. She brightened, eagerly taking Kanao’s hand and dragging Tanjiro up with her. Unwilling to let go of either of them, they stood in a line while Shinobu eyed them with barely concealed amusement.

“Shinobu-sama,” Nezuko chirped, “Did Kanao-san tell you how she saved me? Twice!”

“Oh?” The older woman gracefully rose to her feet, directing her gaze to Kanao, softened by a quiet pride, “You’ll have to tell me about it over dinner. The girls are very excited to see you, and I’m sure they’d like to hear your stories too. I’ll take Tanjiro-kun back to his room and get some supplies to take care of those wounds. Why don’t you two go on ahead?”

Nezuko’s smile faltered, her grip tightening on Tanjiro’s hand, “He… he can’t come too?”

Shinobu smiled at her apologetically, seeming genuinely regretful as she lifted the lantern from the floor, “Not tonight, Nezuko-chan. Although he seems to have improved, we need to make sure that the other girls are safe before we make a big introduction. Besides, Tanjiro-kun seems to be a bit tired, a little more rest will do him some good, no?”

“More rest?” She repeated, afraid despite herself, “B-But what if he… what if he doesn’t wake up again?”

“It is a possibility,” The older woman told her, “But an unlikely one. With Tanjiro being unable to eat, sleep seems to be his only method of recovering right now. The best we can do for him is encourage him to rest as much as possible, and with hope, he will only continue to be more present.”

Nezuko nodded slowly, unable to swallow the heavy feeling in her chest as she turned to look at her big brother, who was already blinking expectantly at her. 

“You need to go with Shinobu-sama for now,” She told him, “I’ll come to you afterwards so that you can take a little nap. A little one, do you hear me?! No more of this hibernation nonsense, big brother!”

There was no recognition on his face, but she felt better saying it out loud, reassuring him even if it was for her benefit alone. She didn’t like feeling as though she was choosing the others over him, hated the idea of him sitting alone in a dark room while she was surrounded by love and life. 

“I’ll introduce you to everyone soon,” Nezuko said, firmer this time, “They’ll love you, I know it!”

It was hard watching him be pulled away; the childish part of her wanted to latch onto his hand and trail behind like a baby duckling. It hurt even more to see the apparent hesitation on his face, the confusion knitting his brows together as he made a mournful sound. Resisting Shinobu’s gentle guidance for only a moment, but continuously turning to look at her as he was led away.

The dreaded third wave of tears burned behind her eyes, sniffling for much longer than he was even in sight, grasping Kanao’s hand, who simply stood there with a calm she envied.

Nezuko swallowed the lump in her throat, took a deep breath, and forced herself to perk up again. “I’m sorry, Kanao-san, let’s go inside now.”

The girl followed dutifully, and in less than a moment, three tiny bodies were tackling them with high-pitched, jumbled cries of their names. 

“Kanao-san, Nezuko-san!” Aoi shot out of her seat, blue eyes watering despite the calm demeanor she attempted to portray, wringing her hands anxiously and eyes darting over them in a mixture of anxiety and relief.

Nezuko laughed despite herself, knees giving out under the weight of Kiyo and Naho, finally forced to let go of Kanao’s hand to try and stabilize them as they squirmed around excitedly.

Shinobu came in moments later, a fond smile on her face and bandages in her hand as she softly scolded the younger girls for jumping them. 

The room was warm with freshly made food, painted yellow by the light of the lanterns. Nezuko was a living bruise with so much more improvement to be made, but she was here, and her brother was awake, and these sweet girls had stayed awake all day waiting for them to return. 

And so she laughed and she ate and she cried a little more too, and she couldn’t help but think that while her home would always be on a mountain top cottage filled with the smiles of her siblings, she couldn’t help but think that maybe this could be her home too.

It took two weeks for a strange man with a mask and windchimes adorning his head to arrive at the mansion. 

He spoke in long monologues that she couldn’t really follow, but Shinobu told her that sometimes it was just easier to nod and smile. After what seemed like hours, he presented the sword to her, waiting expectantly until she realized he would not be leaving until she unsheathed it.

Kanao had received her sword a few days before, a tender sort of silence befalling the girls as the steel turned into a shade of pink.

Shinobu’s eyes seemed distant for a moment, staring at the pink as if reuniting with an old friend, before snapping back to the present and softly congratulating her. Although Kanao could be described as a quiet girl most days, there was a new layer to her silence at that moment.

Fuuka and Ayame both had pink swords as well, a tell-tale sign of a Flower Breathing user. It ached in a way to see it, but she couldn’t help but think that it was also their way of watching over her. The pink reminded her of them, of her mother’s lip paint, of Hanako’s haori. 

Later, Aoi would mention in a hushed voice that Shinobu’s older sister, Kanae, also had a pink blade. 

It was unfair in a way that every color could be so saturated in loss.

The blacksmith, Haganezuka, seemed a bit uninterested, more so awaiting the inevitable fumbled praise that she had been offering for the past hour. 

Her hands gripped the hilt, sliding the sword from the sheath as it glimmered in the sunlight. She didn’t know much about blacksmithing, but the praise spilling from her lips was nothing if not genuinely impressed by the work.

She expected a cascade of pink to flow down the length of the sword, hadn’t considered anything but the soft hue that colored her predecessors thus far.

Instead, there was a collective intake of breath as a color similar to burnt sienna saturated the sword in her hand.

Nezuko blinked, taken aback, turning to Shinobu questioningly as her grip slackened in surprise. 

Haganezuka leaned forward with renewed interest, face unidentifiable under the mask, but a new manic energy tensing his shoulders, “How interesting! I’ve never seen this shade before, especially on Flower Breathing swordsmen. Interesting, very interesting!”

“Is it a bad sign?” She fretted, twisting her sleeves, not too dissimilar to Aoi. 

“No,” Shinobu shook her head, “It is unusual, but not unheard of for the sword color to not clearly match the style of the user. If you look at it closely, it does have a pink hue, and it is distinctly different from Flame Breathing users.”

Nezuko pursed her lips, nodding hesitantly along as she sheathed her sword again. 

She moved to speak again, not entirely sure of what to say against the eyes watching her with newfound interest, when her crow burst into the room.

With a croaking voice, it squawked, “Cawmado Nezuko! Your first assignment lies southeast! Young girls are disappearing, constantly disappearing! Head southeast and defeat the demon!”

The crow flapped its black wings ominously, a look of grim concentration settling on Nezuko’s face as black feathers drifted to her lap, sword entirely forgotten.

The tentative peace she had indulged in for the past two years had finally reached its inevitable end. Her first mission, the first steps in finding a cure for her brother, was only beginning.