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Chapter Text

She doesn't remember when she stopped…breathing? Existing? She doesn’t remember when it all became darkness. Darker than sleep.

How does she know she is a she? She just does. 

‘D…D…Da…Dad.’

‘M…Mom.’

Like water sifting through cloth, her consciousness barely retains a half-formed thought. Was it dark? She assumes it would be, but how does she know she has parents?

No input from her five senses—not even the dark truly looks dark.

No weight to her limbs.

No smells affronting her nose.

‘Where… Where am… I?’

‘Asleep… Maybe?’

‘A dream?’

A string of sluggish thoughts pulls itself free from what feels like a collapsed structure in her mind. Every thought takes monumental effort.

‘Where was… I… before this?’

‘I think… a hospital…no… a hos… hospice.’

‘It was…lonely.’

Her memory had been failing for a long time. If she thinks hard enough, she recalls…nothing but crushing loneliness. Sterile walls and nameless smiling faces. 

It doesn’t matter now, though. She’s had to make peace with a lack of memory before. Maybe her eyes finally gave out.

‘Maybe… I finally get to rest.’

Thoughts come a little easier now, better than when she first became aware. She doesn't feel like she needs to be anywhere or worry about anything. Not even the aches that had littered her heart.

How long has she been here?

She doesn’t know.

Her memory seems to have recovered some—better than when she was ‘awake’—but she still doesn’t know where she is. She assumes she’s asleep and that maybe she’ll wake up soon. In the same bed, in the same room, in the same body. With the same white walls. 

She would like to see her dad. He is probably worried… but it doesn’t feel like she needs to wake up. She just needs to let him go. That’s what he would want. 

Before she can think more on it, something shifts. One moment, she is in the dark. The next, she feels a presence—both metaphorical and physical—pulling at her heart. It feels like an anchor, dragging her down, pulling her out of wherever she had been.

A sharp white light consumes her mind.

For a second, there is nothing but a tunnel of white.

And then, the white fades as quickly as it came.

The darkness returns.

But it is different.

Not quite black. Red, maybe? A strange thumping sound surrounds her, pulsing, steady.

Bumb…Bump Bumb…Bumb…Bump Bumb…Bumb…Bump Bumb…

Over and over, like a rhythmic clock.

She hasn’t heard anything in so long that the noise is grating, each beat crawling under her skin. Everything about this new existence is irritating—the weight, the muffled sounds, the strange warmth pressing in from all sides.

Her limbs feel… bloated. Heavy. Wrong, like she’s been submerged in water too long. She tries not to move, as if staying still will make the sensation disappear.

And yet, right beside her, something moves.

A mass, round and swollen, the same as her. It shifts, nudging her slightly, and she realizes that she is confined—held securely within something soft yet firm.

Comforting, nearly better than a bath.

Perhaps the hospice nurse left her in the tub too long. Had she fallen into a coma? That… doesn’t seem right.

‘Where am I now?’

Maybe her eyes really have gone. She sees nothing but a deep, dark red. Maybe this is hell.

The mass next to her kicks. Vibrations ripple through the space they share. And then, beneath the steady, pounding beat, she hears another.

Faster and out of sync. Another heartbeat

—0—

Over time, memories come back in scattered fragments.

Birthdays.

Summer mornings.

Winter nights.

Embarrassing moments.

Even painful ones.

She cannot cry, not here, but the weight of recollection is enough. With the growing awareness of her past, an understanding blooms.

She is in a womb.

The mass beside her—a twin, maybe? It can’t be her placenta; that should be much smaller.

The realization brings a moment of panic. If she is here…

Then she must have died.

Right?

The thought didn’t make her as upset as she thought it would. Even with the majority of her memories missing, she felt content letting go of her previous life. There was little she truly missed. And being carried in this womb felt like she was receiving more love than she ever had. 

Is reincarnation real? Will she forget everything she has left once she is born?

She hopes not. Maybe her memories will help her.

But panic fades into monotony.

Turns out, gestation is a very boring process for all involved.

Time drags on. The only companions she has are the steady thrum of her mother’s heart and the quick, erratic beat of her twin.

To stave off boredom, she sifts through old stories in her mind, recalling books and movies from… before death. 

Then, one day, a lurch.

The muscles around her convulse, squeezing, pressing in on all sides. The warm liquid around her recedes. She knows what this means, panic rises, and all she can think about is what might go wrong with the process. 

Before she can spiral, her mind blanks– a force compresses her tiny body—squeezing, pushing, pulling. Then—

Cold.

Raw, biting cold.

It shocks her system. She does not cry out, does not move.

She’s in shock.

Her eyes refuse to open. Her limbs feel frozen.

There are loud shouts in a dialect that she doesn’t understand.

Her small body id rushed and jostled from one point to another, then suddenly–

Pain—sharp and sudden in her foot.

This time, she wails-- fresh cold air floods her lungs for the first time in...well, forever.

The sound is foreign, high-pitched and weak, but it is hers. The pain is foreign, too. After so long in warmth and protection, it is unbearable.

Then—warmth again.

A blanket?

It compresses her new body.

It helps stave off the cold and brightness of the new world around her. 

She is lifted, cradled, and pressed against something solid, radiating heat. A familiar, steady rhythm pulses beneath her cheek.

Bumb…Bump Bumb…Bumb…Bump Bumb…

Her mother.

The last of her unease melts away. Despite never seeing the woman and barely being able to hear her speak, her presence is comforting in a way she could never describe or recreate. 

After some time, there is another cry—just as lively and loud as she had been. 

Her twin.

She hopes they are okay.

Does this mean she is older?

Fuck yeah —Ahem. Back to worrying.

One of her mother’s arms shifts, and another presence settles beside her. The doctors must be fast. Or her perception of time is much faster; that's what happens when you sit in nothing forever. 

She wants to see them—to see her mother.

She forces her muscles to obey.

Slowly, with incredible difficulty, her eyes crack open.

Glossy blurs. Smudged shapes.

Above her, a face—soft, smiling. Speaking words she cannot understand. The language is unfamiliar, the dialect foreign. It gives her a moment of frustration to know that she can’t understand what's happening just by speech. 

But the voice is warm and comforting, soothing the confusion and panic. This was her mother–

She stares, forcing her underdeveloped eyes to focus. Dark hair. Bright blue eyes. A round, youthful face.

Her mother looked so young, and absently, she hoped she was not a teenager.

Her mother smiles at her, a large, blinding, loving smile, and she feels warm and content to allow this life to continue. The effort of keeping her eyes open proves to be too tedious, so she closes them. The world blurs again, then fades.

She falls deep into the darkness of sleep.

Chapter Text

Part of her had expected her birth to have been a fever dream and that she would have woken up somewhere. Perhaps back in the red or the dark.

But being reborn was far more confusing than it was worth– the disorienting feeling of parental figures was now far more prominent in her life than she ever remembered.

But the feeling of something new was so much more enticing, and the small, delusional thought that she could stay as she was in this very moment was all-encompassing to her. Her life as who she had been was over, and now she was a new being unbound by her past of sterile walls and lifeless nurses. 

There…were interesting problems that came with this life, however. The feeling of being cradled and fed and changed was far more humiliating than nice. At one point, there might have been a time when she would have been killed to be an irresponsible baby again—to grow up and not have to care about the future for a time. But that is something only adults who have never lived twice would think.

Because being a baby is awful. It reminds her of being in the hospice, with no free will to do anything. But on the bright side, she did learn that she was, in fact, a girl. Small blessings.

In this new life, she barely remembered who she was before– of course, it was there, all sorts of random memories, but they were fragmented. Her end moments were vague but there, but the overall feelings were more present and demanding than her visual of what had happened. 

But those things were the worst. 

Because even though she is probably much older than her current mother, she adores the woman with every bit of her soul. 

And she loves her twin almost as much. 

Almost, the motherfucker threw up on her– he lost brownie points. 

Over five months after being born, she had been better introduced to the two of them. Her mother was a literal saint, her demeanor so sweet and kind that it felt like she was constantly under a spell.

Not one she wanted to wake up from. She was nothing like... like someone else. Her mother had long, dark hair that she typically kept wrapped up in an elaborate style, which took ages. 

Sumire watched her do it every morning before strapping her and her twin—who was a boy—to her back and completing housework. The woman had only just given birth to them, yet she was already up and moving. It was astounding to see.

She had an immense amount of respect for the woman already. And then there was her twin. His appearance was strange to her but not so strange that it wasn’t feasible. He was an albino, his hair stark white and his eyes a deep purple due to the lack of melanin.

She had read about them before. It made her wonder if she too was an albino or if they were fraternal twins and she resembled their mother or father more.

Speaking of that man, she had no idea where he was. She had most certainly seen him. But she had never interacted with him. Which she supposed was fine. She liked her previous dad, didn’t she? She didn’t really want to replace him, but there was also a contentment to let him go. 

It wasn’t until she was about five months that she finally figured out what her name in this life was. 

Sumire.

She wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but if her mother came up with it, it must be good. She also obviously could tell it wasn’t English. She was still slightly unsure of the language everyone was speaking, but she had concluded that it was most likely Japanese.

Which only aided her in her difficulty to understand how she got here–there was the possibility that her mother might know, but it was highly unlikely. 

She had never heard accounts of infants retaining this much memory–even up until they were toddlers. 

Perhaps she was an exception? Would she still remember after a certain period of time? Would she forget? Questions swirled endlessly, and her mind was desperate to figure them out–she had always been rather observant of the world and curious to challenge the narrative of life. 

Her last home had been a middle-class, average family home, and she had been attending– attending high school? Wait, hadn’t she been in hospice?

Her mind hurt whenever she tried to think too far into it. And not the existential type of draining, but physically hurt her to try and look back on. 

It didn’t really make her upset that she couldn’t remember just confused.

So instead, she focused on the present.

The home they lived in was small, a single-room dwelling. Each morning, her mother pulled out and put away their bedding and cooked over a hearth near the back of the home. It was comfortable, even if it had been a bit boring.

Time passed quickly. Sumire spent most of her time playing with her twin. Which was only entertaining for a time before she quickly grew tired. 

Babies slept—all the freaking time! 

They were constantly sleeping next to each other. Sometimes she would wake up her twin's foot in her face. Other times, they would fall asleep on each other.

It was a strange reality that she was now an older sister. Her awareness of the world was noticed by her mother several times–or at least she thought that it was. Her mother didn’t seem to know exactly what to do with her when she was much more subdued than her brother. 

For a baby, he was lively and adorable. She clung to him at every turn, more so because she enjoyed having a person who was her equal in age and birth. Not intelligence, but that came with age. Sumire often held his hand or clothing to make sure that he knew she was there. Babies and their object permanence. 

Their mother would coo at them whilst lying in bed, looking from one to the other, and Sumrie finally figured out her brother's name. It was a little difficult to tell it from her own as they both started with an S sound. But after she figured it out, she discovered his name to be Sanemi. 

The name itself was oddly familiar, but in the moment she crushed it off, calling it weird deja vu. 

By the time they had reached their crawling stage, they both became utter terrors to their mother. Well—she respected her mother, but when else would she get to hide under a blanket with her twin and hide from her?

She had a lot of fun, especially when Sumire started walking. If she remembered correctly, babies weren’t supposed to start walking until a year or a year and a half. But she wanted to pretend to be one of those baby prodigies while she still could. 

Pulling herself up on the kitchen cabinets and the clothes baskets, she practiced. In one particular instance, Sanemi had been watching her, and he, too, seemed to want to try to stand. But when he tried, he fell, again and again.

His little face scrunched up in frustration. Sumire giggled every time he fell. He got so frustrated that he crawled over to her precariously balanced form and tackled her.

Their little bodies tumbled to the ground, and Sumire’s butt hit the floor, and tears involuntarily sprang to her eyes. She did her best not to cry, but the baby instincts won over, and fat waves of tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t sob or cry out. It just plain hurt.

Sanemi looked up from where he lay, his little face turning to one of shock. His eyes widened dramatically. He quickly sat up, using what little body strength he had, and wrapped his arms around her.

She grasped back, not really feeling upset that he had pushed her. Their heads leaned on each other’s shoulders, little arms encircling their tiny forms. It was a sweet gesture. Then their mother came around the corner and gasped at the sight of her tears. She rushed to pick them up, bringing them inside for a long nap.

After that, Sanemi didn’t attempt to fight, tackle, or wrestle her if he got frustrated with something that he wanted to get right—he just kept trying until he got it. Often, when she performed a milestone that a baby should not have at their age, he, too, would try until he succeeded.

Thus began their small-time rivalry for completing things before the other. When they got older, she would never let him live down the fact that she was the older twin. One thing he could never beat her at.

But that didn’t stop them from play fighting, baby wrestling is incredibly difficult–alright?

—0—

A year and six months into her reincarnation, Sumire discovered why her twin's name sounded so familiar. Hearing just his first name hadn’t made the pieces click. But when her mother had been out in the market with them, speaking to a vendor, she overheard their surname.

Shinazugawa.

It left her reeling.

She repeated her brother's name in her head over and over until it clicked. A very old memory surfaced, one she had forgotten—one she was never supposed to remember. A manga she used to be obsessed with before... before she forgot. Kimetsu no Yaiba . Demon Slayer .\

At first, she tried to deny it. Telling herself that this was impossible and that she was either dreaming an illabrate luid dream, or that this was all a huge conisidance. But…over the spand of several days, she couldn’t bring herself to say that it was fake. 

And a sense of anger was her only companion in understanding the predicament that she was in. The disbelief fell and gave way to a weird sense of want. She wanted to know how it was that she had ended up here.

As Sumire held her brother's hand strapped to the back of her new mother days after her realization, she felt determined to change what was coming, for better or for worse.

She couldn’t predict a world where she was the sole difference.

Sumire’s life was no longer just about her... about starting fresh. It was now about making sure of the survival of her own family.

–0–

At three years old it was one of the first times that she and Sanemi met their father. Sumire had not really known what to expect. She knew that her supposed father was a drunkard and a wife-beater. But when she took in her first impression, she saw nothing of the man he was supposed to become. 

But he was also a far cry from the father in her memories that had raised her previously. 

He was sober, thank god. But he was also sweet and caring– it was a startling discovery. The way he held Ma was incredibly tender, and it made Sumire think that maybe she had made a mistake. Also, the size difference was incredibly noticeable. Ma was so short that it made her look like a young child. But Sumire knew that wasn’t the case. 

Ma picked them up one after the other. At three, they were too big for Ma to hold both of them. She first passed Sanemi to their father, who looked at him like he had hung the stars. And then Ma handed her over to the man. 

He was a giant in her worldview, and Sumire was very uncomfortable knowing who this man was and what he would do one day. 

She was no less impressed than when the vendors cooked food out on the streets. She had a small scowl on her face, and looking into the man's dark eyes, she could tell they were filled with mirth. He said something, but Sumire was only able to pick up a few words– ‘like’ and ‘me’. 

She scowled harder; she wasn’t anything like this man and never would be. 

The rest of that day had been moderately uneventful. Aside from her ‘father’ trying to get her to interact with him. One time, he had stuck his finger in her face and she had bitten it with her toddler teeth. He had yanked back on his hand which ended with her being tugged along with and falling face first into the floor.

But Sumire would rather be dead than cry in front of that man so she just toughed it out and continued on with her day. That bite had not stopped the man from trying though, if anything it spurred him on more. 

It's not like it would hurt to try and get to know him, but it was incredibly difficult having the knowledge she did about him

Sumire had taken to sitting next to her brother at all times so that she could use him as a distraction if needed since he seemed to like the man. And why wouldn’t he– he didn’t have the knowledge that she did. That one day he would beat their mother and siblings. But at some point Sanemi did pick up on her feelings and actively began helping her stay away from the man. 

At the end of the day when they all went to sleep Sumire curled up next to Sanemi on their shared futon. Her brain was exhausted from all of the avoiding she had been doing that day. Reaching her hand under the covers she found Sanemi’s. She clutched at it like a lifeline. He squeezed back. At least she had him. 

–0–

After that day, she had taken to holding Sanemi’s hand more often, and calling him by the adorable nickname– Nemi. She wanted to condition him early on so that he wouldn’t be volatile to the prospect of her being the touchy twin. 

She also privately thought that she had never had the love of a sibling before, so this was something she wanted to cling to for as long as possible. 

Maybe it was that she was older mentally, but her want to protect the young boy despite her body being the same size was exponential. 

She couldn't remember if she had siblings. She had a mother and father-- but their faces were...blank.

–0–

One of the biggest problems she faced in her new life was not the man who was her father– but the fact that she struggled to learn any Japanese. It wasn’t that she couldn’t recognize words or put meaning into them; she just struggled to speak them, which in turn made her embarrassed to say anything at all.

During her infant phase, she had pointedly tried not to make any noise that would be demeaning to her adult pride. 

Despite her missing memories, her dignity was still very much intact.

Ma had worried incessantly about her, especially when she was two to three, she had ruled out pretty quickly that she was not deaf because she responded to her name, but would always get this pained look when Sanemi would babble on and on, while Sumire would just sit there watching and quietly playing. 

There was one memorable time when Sanemi had pulled on her hair, and she had screamed obscenities in English. Which to them sounded like baby talk. That had also been the day she found out she had white hair because Sanemi ripped out a piece of it. 

This is why she loves Ma more.

But it wasn’t until she was about four and a half that she had spoken her first true words. Her teeth had grown in, and pronouncing words had become easier than before. So when her Ma had turned to her one day and asked if she wanted to go into the market with her– she had responded with nearly perfect Japanese that she wanted to go see the dried noodles. 

Her words had just a slight lisp, but other than that she had completely bamboozled her Ma.

Was it unwarranted? Yes. Was she confident in her speech? Not really. But she decided that it was now or never to try it out, and the younger she was, the less likely someone was to make fun of her. It was a little difficult to learn a language when you already know one. 

Ma had buffered for a moment before sweeping her up into her arms with a flurry of emotion. It had startled her a lot, and for a moment, she thought that she was upset with her for not speaking sooner. 

Ma had praised her to the heavens and back and apologized for ever thinking that she would not be able to speak. Which caught her off guard, but Sumire figured that if she ever had a kid and they didn’t speak for a long time, she too would assume that they would never speak. 

–0– 

After her subsequent knowledge of learning to speak got to Sanemi, he too wanted to be able to speak like she did, so she spent hours teaching him to speak in full sentences, and with proper grammar. It was exhausting to try and teach someone else. 

Sumire herself had learned by just copying her Ma, who spoke like she was from a middle-class family. Late hours into the night and even in the early morning when they woke up with their Ma.

It was a bit harder during the day as Ma had them help out carrying small loads of laundry on their back now that they were old enough to walk and talk. It wasn’t actually anything difficult for four-year-olds to carry, but it was to help acclimate them so that they would be able to learn faster– or well help Sanemi learn faster.

The same with cooking and cleaning, their Ma taught them in small increments. Sumire had the advantage in almost everything; the only thing making everything harder than necessary was her size. 

She was incredibly annoyed whenever she tried to do something. Nothing measured how it had been when she had been an adult. And things were much heavier than they should be. The counter was now miles away, and the clothes line was only reachable if she stood on an incredibly tall stool. 

But she persisted. Over and over she told herself that what she was doing now was nothing, and that one day she would have to work a million times harder so that her family could live. 

It also– also made her think for a moment that she was an imposter, if her being here was a mistake. Her being a mistake is possible, but being an imposter was not. Sanemi didn’t have a twin sister in the timeline she remembered. He was the oldest of seven, but now she was the oldest– no matter how many times Sanemi protested. (She remembered their birth! That little shit!)

If she was a mistake in the universe, a crooked fold in the passage of time– that wasn’t supposed to be there then she would at least make her existence meaningful. She would do her best to make sure everything went smoothly.

Chapter Text

A little after Sumire turned five, their Ma told them the exciting news—they were getting a new sibling. Sumire realized immediately: it had to be Genya. She and Sanemi had been enthralled by the prospect, buzzing with excitement.

That same night, lying side by side in their shared futon, they made a solemn promise to each other—to protect their sibling with their lives. But in the quiet of her mind, Sumire made another promise. She would protect Sanemi too. No matter what.

During Ma’s pregnancy, both of them did their best to help around the house. They took turns doing the laundry, the most grueling chore, hauling the heavy basket together to the nearby stream. More than once, they misjudged the current, clothes slipping from their grasp, tumbling into the water. The first time it happened, they both panicked and leapt after them, flailing wildly as the river tried to swallow them whole.

That was how they learned to swim—by force. When they came home soaked to the bone, shivering and breathless, Ma had nearly collapsed in fright. She begged them to let her handle it, but they refused. After that, they learned how to keep hold of the laundry no matter what.

They helped with the cooking too. Ma’s feet swelled painfully at the end of the day, so they dragged stools over to the counter, chopping vegetables with serious determination. Those evenings had been warm, filled with laughter and the aroma of simmering broth. But that warmth shattered the night their father came home.

Sumire smelled the liquor before she saw him. The rancid scent curled in her nostrils, familiar and repulsive. When Ma smiled and welcomed him in, Sumire’s stomach churned. Didn’t she see? Didn’t she realize what he was? Or maybe she did, and that was even worse.

Ma was in the early stages of her third trimester—her pregnancy was unmistakable. Sumire didn’t know what set him off, what twisted, rotted thing festered in his mind that made him snap. All she knew was that the moment dinner was placed before him, he lashed out.

The tray flew, dishes shattering against the wall. Food splattered in thick, wet smacks against the floor. The obscenities he screamed were like venom, dripping from his mouth and seeping into their home. Ma’s hands trembled, but her face remained painfully calm.

Sanemi, young and furious, didn’t understand. “What the hell’s wrong with you?!” he shouted, fists clenched at his sides. “We made that food! We worked all evening—”

Sumire saw it. The way his arm coiled, the his open palm aimed right at Sanemi’s face  She moved without thinking, slamming into her brother, sending them both sprawling. 

The next blow came fast—a foot to their sides, no hesitation, no restraint. Sumire gasped as she skidded across the floor, curling instinctively to shield Sanemi. Her ribs ached, something sharp and hot twisting beneath her skin.

Ma struggled to rise, but before she could, he backhanded her with such force that the sound echoed. Flesh against flesh, a sickening crack. Sumire had never heard something like that before, never felt a sound sink so deep into her bones.

For a moment, she froze.

Then her blood boiled.

She lurched upright, rage hotter than anything she’d ever known flooding through her veins. How dare he? How dare he hit their Ma—who worked tirelessly, who loved them unconditionally?

Sumire stepped between them, glaring up at the monster looming over her.

The next slap struck her square in the face.

Her vision exploded into white-hot pain. She hit the floor, her cheek burning, tears springing to her eyes against her will.

She looked up at him, and he hesitated. Briefly. Just long enough for her to see it—the flicker of recognition. He remembered. He remembered her rejection of him, years ago.

Ma yanked Sumire behind her, shielding her with her own body. “No!” Sumire screamed, struggling, but Ma’s arms were like steel. Then he kicked her. Right in the stomach. Right where Genya was.

Panic overtook Sumire so violently she thought she might be sick. “No! Let me up! Let me help!” she sobbed, clawing at Ma, but her mother only turned, curling protectively around her belly.

Sanemi’s scream split the air.

Sumire twisted in time to see him hurl himself at their father, small hands grabbing at his clothes, trying to drag him away. He was too small. Too weak. The next slap sent him crumpling to the floor. Blood poured from his nose.

“Sanemi!” Sumire shrieked, fighting with everything she had. But Ma was stronger. Even injured, she lifted Sumire, shoved her into the closet where their futons were kept. Before Sumire could scramble out, Sanemi was thrown in after her, and the door slammed shut.

Sumire grabbed him, and he grabbed her back. His nose was broken.  Getting blood on both of them but neither really focusing on it.

The sounds outside—

The beating continued.

Blow after blow. Thud after thud. Their mother’s muffled cries.

Sumire couldn’t breathe. Fear choked her, paralyzed her. She had promised to protect them. To protect them all. But her body was five. She was five, and she was trapped, and she was so, so scared.

She didn’t know how long they sat there. But eventually, silence fell. Then—the front door slammed shut.

Sumire’s breath hitched.

What if Ma was dead?

Slowly she reached out a shaky hand to the wooden frame. Sliding the door open the first thing that she noticed was that the house was dim. The lantern had been knocked over and the light had gone out. Crawling out of the small space, it looked like the house had been hit by a hurricane. 

“Ma…” Sumire's voice shook, barely above a whisper. Behind her Sanemi had come up behind her, grasping her hand. Both of them had blood from Sanemi’s nose on them, it looked more frightening than it really was. 

“Mom…?” Sanemi called out with a bit more force. 

Neither of them could really see it was too dark. But with what little moonlight trickled through the windows they could see their mother’s form lying prone on the ground. In the center of the chaos. 

Sumire noticed first– “MA!” her feet moving quickly to get to the woman’s side. Sanemi too knelt down next to her. 

She was covered in blood, her face red and blotchy from crying– also molted with slight purple bruises. Despite the fact that she was passed out her arms were still curled protectively around her belly. Sumire’s mind blanked– and instead it went into autopilot.

“Sanemi– I need you to go get a bucket of warm water and an old sheet.” He didn’t protest her words, didn’t question, didn’t argue or bicker like normal. He just got up and went about collecting the materials. 

In the meantime Sumire grabbed a broom and swept up the ill begotten food, then she pulled out a futon from the cabinet. Using all her strength to pull the heavy material to the middle of the room to where her mother was. 

It was then when Sanemi came back with both items in tow. 

“Nemi, help me roll Ma over so that we can clean her.” Sumire’s voice was monotone but it shook a little bit. 

“Ka’y…” His movement was sluggish, but they used what little combined weight they had to pull Ma over onto her back. 

The damage looked worse than they thought.

“The baby…” Sanemi whispered, his eyes wide with fear.

The front of Ma’s kimono was ripped open exposing her swollen stomach. Bruises molted across her stomach. Hand prints were welted onto the side. The only indication that maybe the baby had survived was that there was no blood. 

Ma her sweet, angel of a mother-

But that could change. Sumire’s hands shook. Her mind blank, what was she going to do? Did she accidentally change if Genya lived?

‘Clean her’

Sumire automatically took part of the old sheet and ripped it into a clean strip. Dunking it in the warm water and ringing it out. The previously dried blood on her hands dripped onto the floor.

‘Hand it to Sanemi’

Passing the cloth to Sanemi, Sumire gave meek instructions–“Wipe her face down.” His hand shook, like he was afraid of hurting her. Sumire watched for a moment, watching as the cloth swept across the contours of Ma’s face. 

The blood from Ma’s nose dripped down the side of her face and hit the tatami floors. Every drop reminds Sumire of her failure. She failed her Ma, failed Sanemi.

It doesn’t matter that she was in a child's body, she should have done something– anything.

Ripping another piece for herself– dunking it into the water. The water was already dirty, clouded by their Ma’s blood. 

Ringing it out, Sumire focused her attention on her mother's pregnant belly. The horrendous red marks of the struggle seared into her mind's eye. She would never forget them so long as she lived.

Oh so gently she wiped the cloth across her Ma’s skin. Feeling over the large handprint shaped welts on the sides. Fear gripped her heart in a steely grip, did the baby survive? Please for the love of everything holy tell her they did. 

After a few moments of cleaning off the dirt and grime, Sumire felt something under her hand.

Thump

She moved her hand back, again she felt a small thump. Tears welled in her eyes. They were alive. Relief crashed down upon her shoulders.

“Sanemi– Feel!” Startling him for a moment he dropped the cloth and moved his small hand to where hers had been. 

His eyes widened, “They’re okay?” His voice cracked “ –They're ok!” Tears tumbled down his face. 

“I was…I was so scared– that they didn’t make it.” His voice was fragile and weeping. His words filled the air between them, acknowledgement that they both felt like they had failed. 

“I– I failed them, I failed you.” Sumire quietly confessed before Sanemi could take the blame for himself, he did not need to take on this heavy blame so early.

“No. I– failed you and Mom. I wasn’t able to…” His voice cut off. Despite his age, it felt like he meant every word that he said. He was prepared to take on the responsibility of their failure.

Grabbing Sanemi’s hand tightly. Sumire looked him dead in the eyes. She would not allow him to shoulder this alone. It would only end poorly. (With a boy cut in half disintegrating within the walls of the enemy.)

“Stop.” Her voice was clear. “This isn’t our fault– we failed but we couldn’t have known– we made a promise. To protect Mom and our sibling.” Sumire’s eyes shone with conviction. 

“But–” Sumire cut him off, she had to make him understand, and had to make him perceive her as his second half. They were two people, not one. They would shoulder this together.

“No– we were born together, we make our promises together– If one of us fails we both fail.” Her voice held certainty.

Sumire was her own hypocrite however, she was going to shoulder the burden of making sure her family lived. She knew that their father was a bad person. She shouldn’t have allowed him to even make her think that he was safe to be around. But she would never let Sanemi believe he was alone in protecting their family. 

She wrapped her arms around Sanemi pulling him into a tight embrace. Sumire could feel a wet spot spread on her shoulder. She said nothing– only using her presence to reassure him that she was there. That it would be ok, that he wasn’t alone. She wasn’t ever the best with words, sometimes they came out wrong or tangled. 

Sometimes the only way to say that you love someone is to show it. 

–0–

After cleaning up Ma, both Sumire and Sanemi did their best to move her onto the futon that she had grabbed earlier. The blood from her nose had stopped and was now clean, and Sumire had managed to retie Ma’s kimono. 

The both of them struggled to lift the duvet from the top shelf, and drape it over her. But they managed. After that it was Sanemi who pointed out the mass amount of blood on them. Sumire hadn’t even thought about it, she was almost ready to drop face first next to Ma. 

When she hadn’t responded Sanemi grabbed her hand and drug her over to the bathing room, helping set up the water and their clean clothes before they both showered. Sumire scrubbed relentlessly at the blood on her hands until her skin was red and splotchy.  

The pain helped only a little bit. She didn’t want to think about what had happened. As she changed into clean clothes she accidentally wacked herself in the same place she had been slapped. It stunned her for a moment. She had forgotten that she had been hit, the adrenaline had been running through her veins blinding her to her injuries. 

‘ouch’

She had zoned out thinking about the events of night when she felt her hand be grabbed. Her head shot up like a deer in the headlights. She meant Sanemi’s eyes, they were filled with empathy. No not sympathy– empathy. Because he knew what had happened to them both was wrong and what had happened to there mother was even worse.  

How was he so young and yet he looked like he knew about the world already. About the cruelties that humans were capable of. He didn’t even know about demons yet, and about their atrocities. 

She squeezed back and nodded. They both knew that if this ever happened again then they would do their best to stop it– or at least until they got older they would try to avoid it. 

Chapter Text

In the following days, it felt like the whole event had been a fever dream. Sumire had been processing what had happened to them. She knows what happened– it’s not like she got amnesia, but… it was more about what happened. 

Her mother had been beaten, Sanemi had been hurt, and she had been slapped. It wasn’t anything that she couldn’t handle– or at least couldn’t deal with. But her mind had been on autopilot the last few days. Trying to comprehend the subtext on what had happened. 

She had never been hit before. Nowhere in her memories of this life or her last one had she ever been hit so hard. It was startling, it made her think of the future and what she planned to do. It almost made her rethink becoming a swordsman. 

It had scared her in the aftermath. In the moment she had wanted to be strong– the adrenaline had made her strong. Made her not think through her decision to put herself in danger. She truly didn’t know why she did that. Her body was five years old. Her neck could have been snapped like a twig. 

But she did it because when she had looked across the room she had seen true fear in her Ma’s eyes. Trembling fear– but she had held strong and continued to look at that monster and take what he dished. She had acted because she wanted to see that look gone from her Ma’s face. 

One day she wanted to embody her, even when standing against the enemy, trembling, knowing the fate beyond the door. Sumire wanted to be like her Ma, wanted to be strong in the face of monsters. 

She wondered if her Ma was strong for their sake. If she didn’t want them to see her cry or wail while being hit. To Sumire she thought two things, as a mentally grown woman herself she wondered why her mother didn’t leave if the treatment was this bad. As a physical five year old it felt like she was a hero, that despite Sumire seeing her mother beaten to a pulp– it felt like she had conquered the world for them. 

She knew that both thoughts were not inherently great. Matter of fact they were both very flawed, she knew the reasoning behind the both of them was selfish, so she shoved them out of mind and created a different resolve. She would become strong, strong enough that one day she would not have to fear being hurt. That she would never have to feel the pain of being slapped again. As simple as it was. 

Fast enough that no one would ever land blows on her, strong enough that no one could ever defeat her. And smart enough that no one would ever get past her mental defenses. This was all to say that she would also protect those she loved, but also it was all well and good making vows now– but if she didn’t act on them she wouldn’t get anywhere. 

Which led her to creating a plan, a plan that would help her get ahead quicker so that she could excel to become incredibly strong. She basically had the cheat sheet to getting strong already, she knew what made the difference between a weak demon slayer and a Hashira. What made the difference between life and death. 

–0– 

A day after she had made her vows to herself she had gone to Sanemi, asking how he was doing. She needed to make sure to establish a connection between them in the event that when something like this goes down they’ll have each other’s backs. It was also a nice discovery that his nose hadn’t been broken, but the membrane had been cracked, which is why it bled so much.

“What do you mean– ‘how are you doing’?” Okay so maybe she went about it in a way that wasn’t subtle. 

“I wanted to see if you were alright…after what– happened.” Sumire was hesitant on the second delivery, her brother could be flighty if he didn’t like the topic at hand. 

He stared at her for a moment before going back to pick at the grass by his leg. They were in the field behind town. One of the rare times they weren’t helping with chores. 

“I…I felt useless. You know. Watching you stand in front of him.” He paused then stared at the sky. “ How was it that you were able to– to stand in front of him?” His voice thin. 

“I don’t really know. I mean– I know that when I rolled over I saw…I saw the fear on Ma’s face. I didn’t want to see that.” Sumire knew she never wanted to see that look on her or Sanemi’s face ever again. 

“You just moved?” His voice was barely a whisper.

She brought hers to one too, “It was like I had to, despite the fact I knew I would be hurt. I love Ma with all of my heart. How could I let that man do that to her?”

“I thought…that he was supposed to be our father. They aren’t supposed to hit their family right?” Sanemi’s voice wavered. His eyes glassed over. 

Immediately Sumire responded- “No. No fathers are not supposed to do that. They are supposed to protect their family.” Her heart hurt at his confusion. Why was it that he was not able to experience the joys of a normal family? What stupid god let this child draw the short end of the stick. 

‘At least he will have me’

How morbid though, to already know of her family's death. To not tell anyone. It might be the little worms of guilt that ate at her mind that made it nearly impossible to tell anyone. Would the consequences be too high if she said anything? Would she ensure that Muzan would never be defeated if she kept Sanemi from killing their mother when she turned?

She reached out with her hand grasping his tightly. The cool grass beneath their hands felt like a balm. She did not know the future anymore, not when she herself was now a factor at play. All she knew were all deaths that are fundamental to creating the strongest players, that their own mother would be the catalyst to propel Sanemi to later help kill Upper Moon one. As unfortunate as it was that she even got to think about something like that. She had to remember this was all written out before she even got here and will happen whether she does something, or not. This has nothing to do with playing God but more to do with creating a better ending for those involved. Perhaps she could focus on those who would be killed before canon took place. Like Kanae, perhaps she could score Sanemi a wife. 

At least that is what she’ll have to tell herself, because what other logic or reason would there be to theoretically let her own mother die? Maybe she could try, try to save them, and when she did convince Sanemi to join her in becoming a demon slayer. 

But that would never work. It was precisely his hate for demons that made him go so far, that made him keep pushing. Morals were exhausting, it could never be black and white. Maybe this is why the gods do not answer prayers. For one person it is help, for another it is hell. Would she rather be selfish and make sure her family gets to live but Muzan reigns supreme. Or– would she allow her family to die and she and Sanemi go on to kill Muzan?

Neither option is good, they both end with her miserable, either she is swallowed by the guilt of not saving the world or not saving her family and if Sanemi one day finds out and blames her– That might be her biggest fear actually. Losing the love she so desperately craves. 

Perhaps Sanemi would never find out, maybe she could just be the man behind the curtain pulling all the strings. But that was a God’s job, and she already clarified that she was not a god and that this world already had a storyline. Or had at the very least a predetermined ending. 

Perhaps it was just her job to exist in this world as the mistake she was. To take charge of her own life, just like her last life. If she had known she would end up in a hospice, would she have tried to turn her life around before she became bed bound? Would she have chosen to explore the world or rebuild the bridges with her family? 

Both would have led her to a different path, both are decisions that she would have struggled to make then too. Maybe the best decision is just to make sure that she ends up with the best outcome possible. And if her heart cannot make the decision then her mind will. 

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Sanemi’s voice deadpans through her thoughts. 

“Ah–” She jumped a bit. “I was just thinking about…about how one day you will make a good father.” Her answer barely register in her own mind, the fuck did she say? 

“What? Why?” He sounded incredulous. She couldn’t blame him.

“Because you know what it looks like to be a bad one, so there for you will be a good one.” To herself it sounded like spouted bullshit, but to Sanemi his eyes showed an understanding. 

“That makes sense. I never want to hit a kid. Doesn’t he know it makes them feel so scared?” His confusion shining through again. 

“I don’t think he remembers being a kid, he's so old!” Sumire giggles a little, her comment lightening the atmosphere just a little. Sanemi laughs at the imagery. 

“I bet he’s so old he can’t even use a hand crank!” This time it was Sumire’s turn to laugh, the thought of being so old he couldn’t crank water from the well was probably true considering how much alcohol he drank. He probably forgot how. 

“I bet–” Her insult was cut off by the calling of their mother. 

“Sumire! Sanemi! Lunch!” Her voice echoed across the field, two little heads of white hair popped up from behind the tall wheat stalks. The sun shining down upon the twins.

“Coming!” They shouted in unison. 

There would always be more time to think about the logistics of morals. Right now though Sumire wanted to eat.

–0–

Later that night as Sumire lay in her futon hugging Sanemi close. He had long ago fallen asleep, his chest rose and fell in rhythm with her’s. But her mind was filled to the brim with her plans of the future. 

Specifically those cheat codes she thought about earlier. They weren’t really cheat codes, but knowing about them so young, might shave years of training off if she could master them. And the first one that most demanded her attention was TCBC– or total concentration breathing constant. 

Somehow it felt like every character she had ever read about in the manga should have been privy to the information. It wasn’t like they were gatekeeping it. No one asked, plain and simple. She just needed to find someone to teach her. She knew theoretically how to do it. But that wasn’t enough. She needed to know how it was done. If she learned incorrectly she would develop bad habits and that might just set her back years. She didn’t have that precious time. 

It was just a matter of finding the right resources. She could do that.

Chapter Text

Two months later, right around the same time as Ma was about to enter the last stages of her pregnancy, was when Sumire found someone able to teach her concentration breathing. An old surly man who went by the name of Katsumi Ryō. It had been a complete accident at the time. 

Sumire had been going to the market to get her Ma some vegetables because they were planning to make a large stew. Winter was on the cusp, so the temperatures had dropped considerably. Sumire had been dressed in two of her kimonos and a heavy hantan, which was double her size. 

Ma had said that she herself was totally capable enough to go, but Sumire strongly told her that she too was able to do it. It was a bit strange to begin away from the house on her own. She rarely left without Sanemi or Ma in tow, but today she wanted to show her independence.

The coat belonged to Ma, she insisted she use it as catching a cold would be much worse. But even with all the layers the early morning frost penetrated deep into her bones. She could feel it in every finger and toe. Her ears were red and her nose had been running badly, she wiped it on the jacket, feeling only a little bad. She knew she’d have to wash it. 

As she trudged forward though, she knew that she would rather die than disappoint her Ma. Or worse, have to make her go do it because Sumire proved to be incompetent. The thought gave her a wave a minute of anxiety before she brushed it away. She wouldn’t fail, simple. 

She wouldn’t allow for there to be room for failure. But really how hard it was to get vegetables? 

–0–

Apparently it was difficult– when you were nearly six years old and the shop owners wouldn’t take you seriously. They knew her for god's sake! They’ve known her since she was born. But she hadn’t ever left her mother's side, so maybe they were hoping that she would come back with her. 

But Ma was nine months pregnant. She wasn’t going to drag her all the way out here! Her feet and back already hurt enough, she wasn’t adding onto it. She went to almost every store, even the really expensive ones, but they all said something along the same line– ‘Sorry sweet, come back with your mother, then we’ll get you what she needs.’ Those stupid store owners were just making Ma's life harder, couldn’t they see that. She was walking away from the last vendor completely fuming. 

She’s nearly six years old in body, but her mind is well into her freaking thirties. Why couldn’t they take her seriously!? Was she speaking weird? Was it her face? They were still making their money. Why wouldn't they just sell to her?! Sumire hadn’t been paying attention to where she was walking, her rage blinding her to the surrounding patrons.

Smack! –her small body collided with someone else's, stumbling back she righted herself before she could fall over. 

“Watch where you going, kid.” The voice was gruff, looking up Sumire saw that it was an old man, with wrinkles that looked like dripping candle wax. He had bushy white eyebrows and his hair was short with a little bit of salt and pepper mixed in. It was a strange mix of young and old.

Sumire’s anger hadn’t dissipated– “I would if you adults weren’t so damn stuck up!” Her voice was not an ounce intimidating but the intentions behind the words were still present. 

The old man raised an eyebrow, his eyes crinkled into a squint. Like he was trying to figure her out. 

“What’s got you so petulant? Someone not giving you attention?” The intentions behind his words struck a cord of rage in her. Any filter that might have been left completely burned away.

“No, if you must know– my mother is nine months pregnant and she asked me to get some vegetables! But every store owner in the freaking area is so redundant that they wouldn’t sell to a six year old!” Her voice was shill, and her anger only looked like a puppy that was riled up too much. 

God she wished she was an adult. She wished people would take her seriously but here she was acting like a little brat because she couldn’t get what she wanted. She was failing at getting vegetables. Fucking vegetables.

The man just brought a hand to his mouth, in pondering. His face had changed from the mocking reluctance, to more of a curiosity.

“You got money?” He didn’t expand on the question. 

“Yes?” She was trying to connect the dots that he was getting at. Was he going to help her? He literally just made fun of her. Ain’t no way he’s helping her. 

“Alright, come on.” He waved his hand and turned around, walking away towards the vendors. No way. No freaking way he was going to help her. Hasn’t he ever heard of stranger danger? 

Sumire decided that he would probably be her best bet to get vegetables. So she followed– only he was fast, like really fast. Was he trying to lose her? That’s not cool man.

She did her best to follow through, using all the strength had in her tiny legs to keep up. Which wasn’t much for being nearly six. When he finally arrived in front of a vendor stall that she and her mother frequented quite often. She nearly ran into him again because of how fast she was going to keep up. 

“Why– why ‘ gasp’ why are you… so fast. Are you breathing differently or something?” Her little lungs were on fire from how strenuous that run had been. All the more reason she needed to learn concentration breathing.

“Elaborate.” His voice was flat, but its’ undertone was probing.

“What do you mean– ‘gasp ’ –elaborate? How are you breathing?” The fuck was he talking about, did he think she was refuring to a breathing style.

“Yes, why did you assume that my breathing was what made me fast?” He wasn’t focused on the vendor anymore, he was looking directly into her eyes. He wanted to know something, he was searching for a specific answer. It clicked that he was asking about if she knew about concentration breathing.

Ah fuck, really lead herself into this one, lesson number one never let the enemy know what you know. Not that he's an enemy but…

“Because…” How would a six year old know about tcbc? “I overheard a group of people talking about it…that by breathing a certain way you could move faster and become stronger.” Yeah you’ve never seen a demon slayer in this life. Complete and utter lie. 

“Hmm…” The man was silent for a moment. Then he turned back to the vendors, Sumire breathed out a sigh of relief. 

“What’d you need kid?” He didn’t turn back around, so Sumire walked up to the stand and pointed to a variety of vegetables. Holding up the bag she brought with her to carry them back in. Then he just nodded to the stall owner. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad dude.

The Owner looks visibly uneasy but picks out the vegetables and places them into the bag. It felt a little like a robbery. Then Sumire takes out her coin purse and places the correct amount into the Owner's hand. She then has the strong urge to stick her tongue out and mock the owner. Like a metaphorical win. 

Well it was in a sense, she still had no idea why they wouldn’t sell to her but she managed to get them anyway, through tactics of intimidation. Perhaps she should just stick to that from now on– but she’s six at the moment. Think about it later. 

“Thank you…” Sumire pauses, she doesn’t think he told her his name. And she can’t call him a scary old man. 

“Katsumi Ryō.” Katsumi, deadpans.

“Thank you Katsumi-san. I appreciate it more than you know.” Sumire bows the respectable ninety degrees but as she goes to turn away and walk back home Katsumi responds. 

“So the urchin does have manners.” He snarks– tick marks appear on Sumire’s face. This bitch–

“I'm no damn urchin. I have a loving mother and a brother.” She takes it back, this man is the lowest of the low, his elderly respect has tanked. He's on the same level as the vendors now. 

His response is imedant– “I don’t doubt you do, but your manners are that of an urchin.”

The gall of this man, like she could get into why she behaves this way but right now isn’t the time for self reflection. 

“Maybe if adults didn’t think that treating a little girl like she was incapable of learning anything– that I wouldn’t have to resort to unsightly anger.” The filter that had bowed to this man was now full of the same fury that she had earlier.

“You speak like you’re older than you are too, proving you do have a family, probably a rich one.” His guesses at her life were making way more mad than she had the time for. Rich– Rich?! Sumire’s fist clenched how dare he, how dare he– he knew nothing about their life. Nothing about that scum she calls a father, nothing about her saint of a mother.

“What’s your last name? Maybe I’ve memorized it along with all the other stuck up individuals I like to avoid.” Katsmui’s tone was back to mocking, to him she was just a child. A child that needed an ego check– thinking she was too big for the world. 

“Shinazugawa.” Her word clipped, her anger seeping out of her in waves, she focused her eyes directly into his. She didn’t get tunnel vision, no– everything was clearer than ever.

He paused, his face crumpling with consideration. “Are you Kyogo’s brat?” He had a different look on his face now, she couldn’t decipher it. 

“That man is not my father nor will he ever be. He can rot in hell for all I care.” She spat violently. Her anger didn’t dissipate, it only spread in a raging wildfire. He knew her father, if he was friends with him she wanted nothing to do with the man. 

“Then I guess the unsightly attitude makes sense. You said you were trying to get those to your mother? Let me help you.” His tone became placating, his change of attitude had her mind reeling. Her anger trying to find a target again. Before she could say ‘no I don’t want your stupid help.’ He had taken the bag of vegetables and started to walk towards the direction of her house.

“What– no!” But he was already a ways away from her, his pace just as fast as it was when she tried to follow him before. What was his deal! She ran after him dodging around others in the street, she nearly tripped on the hantan she was wearing– halfway to the house she caught up with him. 

Grabbing on to his haori and digging her heels into the dirt– she nearly fell backwards when she realized he stopped. Righting herself, Sumire placed herself in between Katsumi and the way back to her house. Not that that would stop him if he really wanted to get around her.

“What are you doing?! You can’t just insult someone then take their things!” Her anger failing into confusion. You could take someone's things, but that was usually a mugging, not a weird old guy that switched up on her– insulting her then trying to help her. 

“I suppose it wasn’t the finest moment to do such things– but I know your family even if you were raised to be a complete hellian. Poor Shizu probably has her work cut out for her.” Katsmi’s tone indicated that he was a little bit ashamed at his previous words but he didn’t apologize for them outright. 

“Hey! My Ma loves me and my brother, and we don’t cause any trouble for her! You didn’t answer my question!” It felt more like she was defending her own pride rather than her mothers. 

“I’m helping you because I’m an old friend of your mother. That girl doesn’t deserve any of the shit that jackass of man does to her.” He spat on the ground, mentally cursing his name she assumed. 

“You said that she was pregnant earlier? How far?” Katsmui prodded. Didn’t she already say that? He was jumping from question to answer so fast Sumire didn’t know what to think anymore.

“Nearly to full term, that's why I’m out here getting the vegetables.” Sumire dumbly states, pointing to the bag to emphasize the point. Her anger fizzled out like hot iron dipped in oil.

“Those insolent vendors–” He seemed angry on her behalf. “She believed you capable enough to go out and get what she needed?” He quickly switched his emotions on her. Now her head was spinning– he was a friend of her mothers, cared enough to be angry on Sumire’s behalf about the vendors not selling to her and was helping her take them back to the house. What has life come to?

“I– yes I insisted because I didn’t want to give her more stress, but if I had known I had to run this much I might have insisted my brother go.” Sumire's annoying lack of forethought on getting harassed by an old man was going to be death by confusion. It would just be best to answer his questions head on.

“You got weak lungs?” His voice back to its’ deadpan mocking. Instead of giving in she threw it right back.

“Doesn’t every six years old? Not everyone knows how to breathe like you do apparently.” It ticked her off how fast he switched between caring and being an absolute menace. Reminds her of  her and Sanemi’s banter.

“The way I breathe is more than just being able to move fast.” Katsmui seemed annoyed at her simplification of ‘breathing’. Maybe she could get him to teach it. If she poked the right buttons. 

“Oh, then what is it?” Her tone filled with condescension. Or at least as much as a kid could have. She placed her hands on her hips to really sell it.

“Nothing that a kid like you should know. Come on, I'm sure Shizu is worried about you– so let’s get moving.” He deflected her taunt and tried to move around her. Anxiety buzzed in her chest– she grabbed onto his haori, stopping him again. 

This time she put all the seriousness she could into her voice. Sumire needed him to take her seriously, she had to learn. Had to get ahead. 

“I want to know, those men who were talking about it said it made one stronger too. If that’s really the case, I want to learn– I want to keep my Ma and brother and sibling safe. I never want what happened to us a few months ago to happen again.” Her voice trembled at the end, a display of weakness she couldn’t cover. Sumire continued with the lie about the slayers, it felt genius but also scummy. Lying wasn’t something she enjoyed too much. 

“Kid…it’s not– it’s not something that you can just learn. You have to train. It can take years to master it.” He was trying to get her to drop it. Years sounded like a long time to a kid. But she was only a kid in body– she could be patient. She could be resilient. Sumire made a vow to herself that she would have to be. 

“I have years– but my mother and my brother may not. My unborn sibling nearly died that night…I could never live with myself if something happened to them and I had the chance to resurrect it.” Conviction shone through every word. She needed him to see– needed him to take a chance. If he knew her family and what went on behind closed doors maybe she could convince him that it was necessary.

“If I teach you, I won't be so lenient– especially if you plan to use it to defend your family. You're only six now, but I can see Kyogo’s genes in you. If you learn, you could kill someone if you're not careful.” His tone echoing warning, a last ditch effort to get her to continue on with the life she was living. No she wouldn’t do that. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t in an adult body, she would not break. She would not bend. She had to protect those she loved.

“And if it were Kyogo I was to kill?” Her question was started innocently, but the underlying intention did not go unnoticed. It was said that Sanemi’s father was killed by a rival. Does it really matter who killed him?

Katsumi was quiet for a moment. His face betrayed nothing of what he was thinking. But every second of silence was pressing down upon her. It felt like he was trying to break her down into little pieces and understand her. ‘A six year old girl telling me she’s going to kill her father if I teach her?’ Was probably what he was thinking.

“I don’t condone violence against humans, but there are some that this world is better off without.” His voice was monotone, then he fell silent again and started to walk forward. Sumire didn’t stop him this time and instead continued walking with him, this time at a pace she could keep up with. 

“Does that mean you’ll teach me?” She wanted clarification, his statement could have meant a multitude of things. 

“Yes.” Then he tacked on– “I’ll come get you to start training.” His statement was more of an order than instructions. But either way those words were her ticket. She was going to fulfill her vow, her promise to her family.

She would never allow someone to hurt them again.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t until about a week later that Katsmui came to get her so that she could start her training. It had made her a little nervous with how long he took. Made her think that he was going to go back on his promise. But like magic, he had shown up at their doorstep one early morning. Ma had invited him in with one of the biggest smiles she had ever seen. 

She made tea and gave him a portion of the breakfast that they had made that morning. It was strange– Sumire has never seen her Ma act so cheekful around others. Katsumi did say that they were old friends, were they related? –Was he their grandfather!? Wait no… that couldn’t be possible, It could be that he’s an uncle? Also no they don’t look anything alike. She’ll shelve that thought for now. But more pressingly, how on earth was Katsumi going to get Ma to let her learn TCBC?

Sumire had wondered how in the world Katsmui was going to tell her mother that she could go with him, it didn’t really matter how much they knew each other. Ma was very protective of them, if she sensed danger she wouldn’t let them out of her sight. But after the meal Katsumi had led Ma outside, about 30-ish minutes later, they came back. Ma wasn't smiling anymore but instead had a grim look in her eyes. It was a little scary to see, Ma always had graceful smiles or loud laughs, it had only been a few times in her life here that she had seen such a look. 

One of the times was after the first time Kyogo had beaten them. The look in her eyes had told her everything she needed to know about how her Ma felt. But now…it was a bit different. The look told Sumire that she had to make a decision and she wasn’t happy about it– but she would hold her tongue in front of her kids.

She had looked at the both of them then she had asked if she was certain that Sumire wanted to do what she wanted. It made her blank for a moment– what was her Ma talking about? Did Katsmui tell her about demon slayers, about what she was doing? But that didn’t seem right, she had looked over to Katsumi and he had just shrugged. Which to her signaled that Ma didn’t know but that he had told her something in place of being able to teach her ‘something’.

She decided that the safe response was yes. To which Sanemi had been royally confused and wanted to know what was going on. Instead of Ma answering though, it was Katsmui. He stated that Sumire was going to learn how to fight. And learn the ways of a specific art. Fight!? Hold up she only wanted to learn TCBC, what was his angle? Then he said that if Sanemi wanted he too could join. 

Which hadn’t been in her plans at all! What was he doing? He was derailing her master plan! But the more she thought about it the more it made sense. If both of them learned early on how to breathe, how far could they go? How good could they get? It would help if cannon still took place, if their mother and siblings died and they went on to just kill demons with their bare hands. They would be less likely to end up dead. So long as Sanemi attended the final selection and met his friend the cannon should still progress the same. Even if it didn’t, she would find Sanemi’s ‘to be a friend’s and make them friends, or at the very least she would become his friend. For a point in the plot so that there would be a little bit of normalcy. 

So that she could still predict. Still know the outcome. It wasn’t even a hard decision for Sanemi to want to join her. He had almost immediately agreed. To which their Ma had only given a long and suffering look. One that Sumire felt a little guilty over, when she first met Katsumi he had said that she was giving her mother a hard time. And now it seemed to be proving right. She was going to give birth any day, It couldn’t be good– the stress of whatever Kastsmui had told her outside. 

Out of a little panic when she thought about it, she asked about the time frame of how this would work. Katsumi promised that both of them would only be gone for two hours a day. Which was nothing but it was also a lot– what if their mother went into labor and they didn’t know? But Ma had reassured them both that even if she did go into labor it took a lot longer than two hours to give birth. Sumire was a bit skeptical remembering her own birth– maybe it had just seemed really fast? 

Either way she shrugged and took the answer for what it was. A little later both Sanemi and Sumire had dressed in a heavy hantan jacket and thick tabi socks. The minimal protection from the early winter air was just enough to not get sick. Their Ma had a pinched expression on her face as she watched them get ready to leave. 

“Sumire– Sanemi come here for a moment.” Ma’s voice was soft, and gentle like she might scare them off like a flock of birds if she spoke any louder

Ma crouched down gathering them in her arms. It looked like it was a bit of a struggle for her but she managed. She held the back of their heads with her hands and brought them both to her shoulders before she whispered in their ears. 

“Are the both of you sure you want to learn to fight?” Her voice sounded a bit fragile. “You both are very young, I don’t want you two to have to grow up so soon.”

“You two are your own people, but you will forever be my babies.” Her voice choked. And she squeezed them as close as she could. The warmth of her body felt like home, felt like the most comforting thing she had ever known. It almost made her rethink her decision. Her Ma would protect her– she could defend her from that awful man. But then flashes of that night came hurtling through her mind. Blood and welted handprints, thumping– fear. No her Ma might defend her but she couldn’t stop him, could only wait him out until he got bored and went somewhere else. But Sumire would stop him, she would end the hurt, even if all she could do was drive him away for the night. 

Sumire pushed away from her mother just enough to look her in the eyes. Her Ma’s eyes were filled with grief and understanding. But also longing. She hadn’t been a mother in her last life– but she understood it all too well. The want for something better, the want for this nightmare to be over. To give her family a better chance. To not have been a burden on them. Not that Sumire thought that her mother was a burden but she very well could have thought that about herself. Blamed herself for her children wanting to learn how to defend themselves. But it wasn’t because she couldn’t do anything for them– it was because Sumire didn’t want her mother to end up dead because one day he hit too hard, cracked her nose open and the bleeding wouldn't stop. Damaged an internal organ and she slowly died. 

“Ma…I love you, and I love Sanemi and I love my sibling who I have yet to meet. But I don’t want to see you hurt, I don’t want one day for him to hit you too–” her voice cracked. “hard and you die.” She wasn’t too sure of the expression on her face but her Ma’s face crumbled. Tears welled in her crystal blue eyes–

“My baby, my sweet, sweet, child. You do not have to do this because you think that I will die. You have always acted like you need to be an adult, but you are a child my dear, you should be allowed that.” Sumire could feel tears sting her own eyes but she kept looking into her mothers. Sanemi too looked up– he seemed a bit confused but understood immediately what it was they were talking about. 

“I know but it doesn’t feel like it, I feel like I can help you, so I will.” Sumire was talking about more than just the abuse. But no one here knew about the other things. 

“I can help you too Mom– you don’t need to fight that man alone.” Sanemi chimed in, his eyes showing conviction, but not the same kind the Sumire’s had shown. His was more childlike, more malleable. Just the want to help his mother. To make sure she was okay. What her’s should have been, but she wasn’t a child, not really. She already had a set of morals, a set of vows. She had seen the horrors that humans were capable of, in this life and the last. It was only in this one that she had experienced them.

“Both of you…” Tears poured down Ma’s face. “ –it’s okay to be a child, it’s okay to not care. But at the end of the day I will be here waiting for you– Okay?” Her voice was filled with many emotions, but the one Sumire knew the best was adoration. Their mother loved them more than the moon and the stars in the sky. More than the sun which everything else revolves around. To Ma they were her sun– her world. And To Sumire she would do everything to protect that love.

Squeezing Ma and Sanemi in a tight hug she pulled back, stepping away. It was like a string was pulled taut and she wanted to go running back. Sanemi gave Ma one last hug and then smiled brightly at their mother. 

“We’ll be okay– Mom. We will be together! And together we’ll beat that nasty man.” Sanemi's voice was bright, filled with hope for the future. A perfect canvas in his mind painted with Ma and her and their siblings. Sumire’s heart cracked. He didn't have her knowledge, didn’t know of the fate beyond the door. He just wanted Ma to live happily. How simple. Why couldn’t this world be less cruel? Why must it be them who will save the world? She could see it in her own mind, standing hand in hand with Ma, watching the sunset, chopping the vegetables, or even just sleeping next to one another. How simple– this life will be forever doomed to be filled with heartbreak. No– no no no…She wouldn’t let it. She wouldn’t let the gods put her here then rip it away from her. 

Ma just rests her hand on his head and smooths back his hair, complete and unconditional love is plastered all over her face. She just nods her head. Sumrie thinks that if she were to speak more tears would come out. Then Ma nods to Katsumi and he tells them its time to go, that they’ll be back in time for lunch. Sumire didn’t let her tears fall, she wanted to be strong, needed to be. 

Chapter Text

The following days hadn’t been spent in any fashion that Sumire had thought they would be. She had thought that Katsumi would have treated them like how she vaguely recalled Urdokodaki treating Tanjiro for his training. But that was her adult brain thinking about her adult mind. Her body was six, and so was Sanemi’s– which meant that Katsumi treated them like children learning everything for the first time. He was still gruff and expectedly mocking towards them but he was gentle or at least as gentle as one would expect an old man like him to be towards them. 

He started by teaching them about how to use TCB– to Sumire this wasn’t a new explanation but to Sanemi this was all new information. And Katsumi painted it firmly but with a dash of whimsy in it, making Sanemi completely enthralled with the topic. Katsumi didn’t speak to them about demons, presumably because he thought they were too young. Also probably because Sumire had only wanted to learn so that she could defend them from Kyogo’s wraith. 

She wasn’t about to blow her cover as a reincarnated soul to tell him she knew about demons. So she would just have to learn as much as she could from him, and probably on her own learn to use TCBC. But he also said something about fighting and Sumire had no idea what that was about. 

But Katsumi had promised her the ability to fight and she would hold him to that. That first day had been all theories. Some she knew and some she had thought weren’t possible. One thing she had learned was that you could potentially regulate your internal temperatures. Which struck a thought in her mind about the demon slayer marks. To get them, your temperature had to be at a level close to deadly feverish, and only the hashiras and well Tanjiro had gotten them. Because of a high temp, but that was in the middle of a battle. 

But Tengen hadn’t gotten one. Why? Was he just that powerful– or was it something to do with his shinobi training that allowed him to negate the need for a slayer mark? Was it his ability to withstand poison and slow down the movement of blood in his body that allowed for his temp to stay down? Possibly, she needed to think about it more and experiment when she finally learned. 

If it was possible to not get the slayer mark but still become incredibly strong, she would do it. She wanted to be able to enjoy life after it was all over, she didn’t want to die even earlier than she had in her last life. Even if some of the information was boring beyond belief she did her best to absorb it. It would help her develop. The one thing Katsumi had told them to start doing on their own was mediate– for about an hour, just breathing and thinking about literally nothing. Sanemi had thought that that was stupid. 

And he had complained that he just wanted to learn all the cool stuff. Which Katsumi had not taken lightly, and he had bore down on Sanemi telling him about all the dangers of what they were going to learn and they needed to be able to hold a strong mind as well as body.

Sumire had stepped in when his voice started to raise too much. Yes, Sanemi needed to learn the warnings of all this but he was still her brother. And no one fucked with him no matter the issue. If he needed to learn she would teach him. 

But that first night they both went home with their hearts and minds full. For Sumire, she was thinking about all the possibilities that she could achieve. How many ways could she reconfigure TCBC? Could she pioneer her stuff– her own breathing style? How did they even work on a broken-down basis?

 All the five styles were derived from sun breathing– this she knew. All were taught the way they were because no one could learn sun breathing. It was taught differently almost every time Yorichi had taught someone. That's how they ended up with the first five styles. And the ones that branched off of the main ones, how did one create it? 

Was it linked directly to their body type? How do they breathe? Were some people just using the wrong breathing and that’s why they were weak? If she wanted to theoretically create her own would she branch it from the wind or something else? Could she end up creating her style altogether? Like moon breathing. So many questions but she didn’t have the answers right now. She would one day, but right now she just had to wait. 

–0–

Exactly a week after they had begun to learn under Katsumi, Ma had gone into labor. The moment of being told was petrifying. They didn’t know what to do, but Ma just calmly called in the midwife, and they were both told that they had to wait outside. That they would only make the process harder. It was scary to just listen to the pain that Ma was in.

 Sanemi and Sumire were a little more than traumatized from the instance. How many more siblings were they going to get again? She didn’t want to think about it. Her mind had glossed over a lot of the details, but she vividly remembers seeing her sibling for the first time. Ma had told them that his name was– Genya.

Sumire finally had a face to put the name to. Newborns weren’t usually all that cute, but the knowledge that this baby barely bigger than her arm was her brother, made her want to die from how cute she thought he was. His face was round and smushed. And he had a lot of black hair. Which wasn’t an abnormality, she and Sanemi were abnormalities. As the midwife liked to so point out. She had been there for their birth too. She was probably the one who flicked her foot. She still held a grudge for that. Being birthed was scary man, she empathized with babies when they screamed. 

Ma let them both hold Genya after they had calmed down from the excitement. Sanemi wanted to be the one to hold him first but Sumire had almost lost her mind at not being the first to hold the adorable baby. Probably her adult brain getting the baby zoomies. Ma said that Sanemi could hold him first, just to break up the argument. Sumire felt like pouting in a corner but toughed it out even if she was salty about it. When Genya was passed into Sanemi’s arms Ma instructed him on how to hold him, Sumire saw in his eyes just how much he loved their brother. 

The complete adoration and unending love that Sanemi had on his face made her heart melt. She couldn’t be upset when he cared about Genya this much. Sanemi had put his finger near Genya’s face to feel his cheek when Genya grabbed it with his little fist and didn’t let go. She wanted to cry at how pure it was. How much love he had for him, it was an instant connection. The promise that they made several months ago comes to mind. 

‘We’re going to protect them with our lives. We’ll never let any harm come to them. Let’s show them everything the world has to offer.’

She too would protect him– both of them. A crushing realization dawned on her at that moment. Her family was going to die one day, and she didn’t know if she could do anything about it. She would be 12 or 13 when her family would be torn apart. Metaphorically and physically. Would she be able to stop it? Would she be able to save more than Genya? 

She didn’t know, she would just have to learn as much as she could before that happened. For right now though she wanted to enjoy the love that was encircling them. Those questions could be answered another day. 

–0–

In the following months, a few things happened. One– Sumire and Sanemi learned how to care for an infant very well. Mostly because they insisted that they help out their mother. She looked very tired all the time so the least they could do was help her. Two– Katsumi had finally taught them how to start doing TCB. Sumire had been under the impression that to get from TCB to TCBC one just had to do the TCB exercise until they were able to hold it for forever. 

She had been very sorely mistaken. Well not entirely…yes in just a basic concept that is exactly how one gets there. But when your body is not fully developed you have to take it much slower to not risk permanent damage to your lungs and circulatory system. But in the long run, you would be stronger than someone who learned it at 15. 

Sumire had to do this the slow way…which only infuriated her more because she didn’t want to waste any more time. But she would do it because if she risked her health now she wouldn’t be able to do anything in the future. 

Either way, the meditation that Katsumi had them doing was their intro to learning to slowly work up to full TCB. Also over the few months of doing so, he introduced them to a style of hand-to-hand combat, that looked very familiar to something in her memory but she couldn’t quite place it. It looked to be adapted from something, every position was offensive. But Katsumi also taught them defensive moves in the off chance that they were unable to take the lead in a fight. 

Every week or so after the original incident Kyogo showed up at the house. Almost every time he did it had only been Ma and Genya home. Sumire and Sanemi were either doing chores or at their lessons. But the few time they were there he had lashed out in only small ways. Pushing, scratching, yelling. Nothing comparable to that night. She knew one day it would happen again but she could only hope that it would be like this for a while. 

She also spent a lot of time with Genya. Or at least when she wasn’t doing anything else. He was so adorable, with fluff black hair and dark eyes, his little body always moving trying to get somewhere. Late at night when Ma and Sanemi had gone to bed she would often wake up to Genya’s siffling. It was strange she always knew when he was going to cry. Her body would react before her mind even knew what was happening.

So before he could start wailing she would pick him up and as quietly as she could open the front door and sit outside with him. Laying him back against her knees and holding his body to make sure he didn’t fall. Then she would sing. It was a little silly to her, and had Genya not been a baby she most certainly wouldn’t have sung– it was a little embarrassing. It was a good thing she only ever sung it in English or she would be as bright as a tomato if anyone heard. 

But she chose a song from her last life, ‘Love You’, she couldn’t remember who sang it but she just remembered that she loved it. It always made her feel whole. 

‘Give a little time for the child within you,

Don’t be afraid to be young and free

Undo the locks and throw away the keys.

And take off your shoes and socks, and run you~

La, la, la, la

La, la, la, la’

She rarely made it to the third chorus before Genya was fast asleep. She would bring him to her chest and whisper how much she loved him, and that she would protect him. Sumire’s chest always felt full after moments like these. There was so much love in her chest that it felt like it would burst. A few times after returning to her bed she would just lay there and cry until there was no longer a heavy pressure built up. 

Sanemi had seen her once in these moments and had asked what was wrong but she just brushed it off and told him that she was just really happy. Which wasn’t even a lie. She loved her life. It was the black cloud on the horizon that always made her look over her shoulder. She didn’t want this dream to end. Didn’t want to one day wake up in some much pain mentally that she could barely move. 

She didn’t want the colors of the world to fade.

Chapter Text

When Sumire and Sanemi were a little before their seventh birthday Ma said that they would be getting another sibling, again. How many more times was she going to say that? Like at least four more times. Which meant that they would have a new sibling every year. Oh dear lord the diapers! 

But even with the downsides to babies, both she and Sanemi were incredibly excited. Her respect level for her mother was higher than ever because who in the mother-fudging world would want to put their body through that? Being the hypocrite that she was, Sumire was putting her body through something similar but without the mother aspect. Over the last year of training, she had finally gotten to a point where Katsumi confidently said that she could start on true TCB. 

And holly hell was she grateful then that he had made her wait and expand her lung capacity and control over her circulatory system. Her first attempt had her nearly out cold on the floor because of how much blood had gotten to her head. Sanemi too, so she didn’t feel as embarrassed as she thought she would. Sumire thought this would be easier. But she wasn’t a prodigy and neither was Sanemi.

It became clear to her after that moment that in canon Sanemi hadn’t been one of the strongest because of some inherited gift he was born with. Aside from being a Marechi, and having the genes of his father. But those were meaningless, it was the indomitable will that he possessed that pushed him to be as strong as he was. Yes, he used his advantages but those paled in comparison to what he could do without them. 

She absently wondered if she too was a Marechi. Being identical and all. 

But after that first try, Katsumi had limited them again, telling them that they were only allowed to practice when they were with him in case of an emergency. It irritated her to no end, she just wanted to excel as fast as she could. What would happen if she couldn’t master it in time? 

But she resided, it was a little scary anyway with how little control she possessed over her body. One day she would control every cell she had, she was sure of it. She and Sanemi had also progressed quite a bit in hand-to-hand. After learning the basics they began to spar against one another. Katsumi monitored them and corrected them if they ever messed up. She was proud to say that she picked it up faster than Sanemi, which made him incredibly annoyed. 

And their little rivalry from when they had been tots had resurfaced. They both wanted to prove to the other that they were the stronger twin. With Sanemi’s ever-increasing will to get better, and Sumire’s adult brain being able to pick things up faster than someone her age should have. They progressed like no one's business.

Katsumi was not one to hand out praise, but their abilities had sparked an interest in him she hadn’t seen at the beginning. Curiosity. How far could they go, how much could he teach them?

When they had finally made it to a stage where they could hold TCB for 30 minutes each, he taught them a breathing style. One that went along with the hand-to-hand that they had been learning. Which Sumire hadn’t even known was possible. He told them it was adapted from a sword style called wind breathing. 

It clicked in her brain why the hand-to-hand had looked so similar then. It was the harsh movements of wind breathing mixed in with the defensive techniques that Katsumi had added on. 

The breathing style mixed with TCB, mixed with the hand to hand– created the triangle of how to get the most power into one’s attack. Kind of like a fire triangle. Heat, Fuel, and Oxegen. So long as the fire has those three things it can continue to burn for forever. The Heat in this case was the breathing style all it did was add on to the combat and make it stronger. 

The Fuel was the hand-to-hand, so long as you had the knowledge to fight you were able to defend yourself. But both were useless without the third thing. The Oxegen. It was what kept the fire going, and in a human body it didn’t matter if you got tired so long as you could continuously get oxygen to your muscles you could go on forever. 

It was a biological thing. When the muscles were unable to get enough oxygen they began to secret a ‘something’ Sumire could exactly remember, but that ‘something’ would slow down the movement of the muscles. But one also had to train their body or else they would end up like a match. Burn bright but fade quickly. 

If all three things were in peak shape one could theoretically dance forever. Yorichi. That was the secret? People had an unbalance triangle that's why they couldn’t do it forever. If she could get to the point where all three became balanced could she too dance forever? 

‘Yes’

In the back of her mind, she knew, in her gut she knew. She would do it, she would dance forever to protect her family. 

–0– 

After coming to her realization she pushed as much as she dared to progress faster. Katsumi had noticed but because she wasn’t endangering herself or others he let it slide. But he still reminded her not to do too much. That it wasn’t necessary. She listened but only because Ma too had looked so disheartened at the callouses on her hands. Her guilt for making her Ma think that she was the cause of all this was the only thing that kept her back. 

–0–

About three months from their eighth birthday, they welcomed little Sumi into the world. Ma was ecstatic to have another girl and Sumire right alongside her. And not just because she thought she was going to be lonely as the only girl, but because Ma wanted someone to pass all of her knowledge of womanhood on to. Not that Sumire didn’t listen to her mother about all the important things, but it was more about how Sumire was more of a tomboy. 

Ma had tried when she was younger to get her to wear the same hairstyle that she did but Sumire had hated it. She had tried it just for a day to please her mother, but it was incredibly uncomfortable to wear. It took ages and the style pulled uncomfortably at her scalp. Before bed that night she had taken it out and put the materials that were used to put it up, back in her mother’s basket of hair ornaments. 

In the morning Ma had asked if she could do it again but Sumire just guilty said no and that she just wanted her hair to be put in a ponytail. She could see the disappointment in Ma’s eyes and it almost made her say yes but she ultimately decided against it. Her hair was at her mid back, while Sanemi’s was always sheared short, but his hair also weirdly defied the laws of gravity. She supposed that hers too had a lot of volume. 

But either way, she was happy because this meant that Ma could focus on Sumi when it came to that stuff and Ma still loved her equally– win, win. Also, their names were rather ironic.

Sumire had held Genya up to Sumi after the initial birth and holdings. He had reached a hand out to hers and grabbed it, and Sumi grabbed back. Her eyes were open staring directly into Genya’s. Black met crystal blue. Almost exact copies of our parents. She wondered how tall they would be. She wondered how tall she would be. She really– hoped that she would be at least a few inches shorter than Sanmei. 5’ 8” wasn’t that bad, much taller than most women in Japan. She had been 5’ 6” –5’ 7” in her last life and it was the ideal height. It was one of the only things she truly prayed to the gods for. 

–0–

She continued her tradition of singing to Sumi if she was ever up at night. Genya too. Sometimes the both of them would be up and she would gather them in her arms and nudge the door with her foot. She had to balance them both on either leg as she sat cross-legged and then made sure they were leaning on her. 

Then she would sing. She never changed the song she was singing. It was ingrained into her memory at this point. She would forever remember it. 

‘Run through the meadow and scare up the milking cows

Run down the beach kicking clouds of sand

Walk a windy weather day, feel your face blow away

Stop and listen, love you~’

They were her happiness. Her heart was forever full when she held them in her arms. Over and over she repeated the promise she made. 

‘I will protect you’

Chapter Text

‘Roll like a circus clown, put away your circus frown

Ride on a roller coaster upside down

Waltzing Matilda, Carey loves a kinkajou

Joey catch a kangaroo, hug you~’

–0–

Life flew by, and Sumire had taken comfort in the days' reputation. She learned and cared for her siblings. She helped Ma in the kitchen and hauled Landry to the creek. Day fell into night, and night fell into the day. 

She had progressed immensely in her training, not enough to take down a full-grown man but enough to injure one. Her breathing had reached nearly 10 hours a day. She should have progressed faster but it took time. Time to expand her lungs to control her rhythm. 

She was faster and stronger than she had been two years ago. She and Sanemi often liked to race to the creek to see who was faster. At eight and a half they were relatively the same size and still looked rather identical if it wasn’t for the hair length. 

“You gonna lose this time Nemi!” Sumire pulled ahead jumping over tree stumps and narrowly twisting out of the way of roots. They were running through the forest out behind the town.

Sanemi was just behind her, focused solely on trying to get ahead of her. “Nuh-uh! Like hell I’m going to let you win.” 

Sumire gasped, “You said a bad word– when we get back I’m telling Ma!” Internally she was snickering, she didn’t care what he said but it was funny to see Sanemi get riled up over it. 

“NO!” He put all the force he could into his legs to catch up to her. She looked back to stick her tongue out at him. Turning back around– she paled.

It happened in a matter of seconds, ahead of her Sumire saw the creek, only about 10 yards from where she was running. She tried to slow down her feet skidding and stumbling. Sanemi being none the wiser continued running full force– slamming into her back. 

The both of them went flailing over the edge of the bank. Sumire felt a rush of cold water over her body, with not enough time to prepare she sucked in a breath but was met with choking as water asphyxiated her esophagus. Her vision was muddied by the water– hands on her shoulders hauled her up into a sitting position. 

She coughed, her throat and nose burned at the expelling of water. Her lungs heaved and pinched in pain as she tried to get all the water up. She was soaked and the water was cold. Shivers racked her body. 

“I’m so sorry Mir– are you okay? I didn’t realize!” Sanemi’s frantic fretting was slightly endearing, but she was also pissed. 

“Seriously– cough –now we’re soaked!” She continued coughing but no more water was in her lungs. She rubbed a hand over her chest to try and soothe the burn she felt. She felt the cool water rush by her as she sat in the creek. 

Sumire looked over to Sanemi– his hair wasn’t wet. She had the unexplainable urge to push him into the water now. Lunging forward she grabbed his jinbei hauling him backwards with her into the water. They both went under but this time Sumire held her breath. 

Sanemi flailed for a minute, and then Sumire pulled him out of the water. He was coughing up a storm and had a wicked scowl plastered over his face. When he finally regained composure, he splashed a hand into the current without any words and sent a huge wave of water into her face. 

“Ack–!” She wiped her eyes clear, oh now it’s on. She flailed her arms rapidly trying to throw as much water as she could into his face. He in turn tackled her. They roughhoused around in the water, after a few minutes Sumire dragged them both to the shore and flopped onto her back. Sanemi lay next to her. Chests heaving. 

The sun speckled through the trees littering the forest with little sunspots. The great willows gently rustled in the breeze. The atmosphere was calm and peaceful. A little bubble of life.

Sanemi turned his head towards her– “Sumire?” She hummed, turning her head.

“Do you…do you think that is learning to fight– will do anything?” His face was skeptical, almost just curious. She widened her eyes in surprise. 

She didn’t quite understand his thoughts– “Why do you say that?” 

“I mean– father still comes into the house and hurts Ma and us. Genya and Sumi aren’t left alone either. It feels like two years of learning didn’t do anything.” His eyebrows furrow in concentration. “I don’t want them to be hurt.” The last part is a quiet confession. 

Sumire sits up, looking down at Sanemi. “We are eight, Sanemi. I too don’t want them hurt, I feel like it doesn’t matter my age, I still want to try to protect them. But physically–” She clenched her fists in her lap. “We are not big enough to be anything but be shields. We can injure but we aren’t strong enough to do more than that.” 

She looks away, observing a toad on the far side of the bank, hopping from one rock to the other. It knows no fear, no pain. She too wished that she didn’t know any of it. Sumire hugs her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself and resting her chin on her knees.

“I want to give them a life of joy.” She whispers to the air, but Sanemi hears anyway. 

“I want that too.” He sits up and leans against her, resting his head on her shoulder. “Let’s do it together yeah.” He holds out a pinky. 

Sumire smiles, it was something she taught them when they were five and lying under the covers after that night . Now whenever they had to promise something the pinkie promised. She linked her pinkie with his, pushing her thumb to his sealing it in a heart. 

“Let’s keep learning, maybe one day we’ll be free of him.” Sumire beamed, her chest filling with a hope that she hadn’t known could still exist.

–0–

-    A month and a half later    - 

Sumire had been tasked this week with taking the laundry to the creek. While Sanemi had been given the task of helping with their siblings. Ma was taking care of little Teiko who had been born that spring. It was now the middle of the summer . She and Sanemi switched off chores every week. 

The heat from the sun and the humidity made the day nearly unbearable to be out and about. But the creek was nice and cool, so that was a plus. Sumire rung out all of the linen and then hauled the basket onto her back. Then she made her trek back to the house. 

About a hundred yards from the house she heard yelling. A deep strong voice, one she knew enough to fear. No— no no no no. The dusty dirt road back to the house felt like a hundred miles. She dropped the basket of laundry and booked it to the front doors. She could hear crying and screaming. Grunts of pain. Faster– she had to be faster!

Just as she neared the entrance, the front door was blown out by a startling impact. It took her a moment to understand what happened– Sanemi had been thrown into the doors and crashed into the ground and rolled a little way. Redirecting from the entrance Sumire slid on her knees to Sanemi’s side.

“Sanemi! Sanemi! Are you alright? What happened!?” She gripped him by the shoulders, checking for blood and consciousness. Suddenly his hands flew up to her wrists. 

“He’s hurting them Sumire! Go– get up we have to protect Mom and Genya!” Sanemi pushed her back, she didn’t spend a moment more worrying for him, he would be ok. 

Dashing into the house, Sumire took in the sense before her. The front door had been bashed out, evident of seeing it happen herself. The house was a mess, with food, and futons strewn about. Kitchen utensils had been thrown littering the floor like little landmines. In the center of it all Ma was hunched over Genya, protecting him from Kyogo’s kicking. 

Sumi was in the corner balling– grasping onto Teiko’s wicker bassinet. Teiko was lying it also crying.

She heard Kyogo’s foot swing down again. She heard Ma cry out. Then it was like everything slowed as he brought his foot back up– Sumire saw red– she lunged jumping on Kyogo’s torso, the momentum and the use of only one leg unbalancing him. It was enough to knock him to the ground. Laying on the ground with Sumire on his chest, she raised her fist and swung. And swung again. She could feel a satisfying crack. When she drew her fist back it was covered in blood. 

For a perfect moment she heard nothing– felt nothing, she only examined the blood trickling down her hand. Then her eyes shifted to Kyogo’s. She smiled. A wide and unhinged smile. Nothing an eight-year-old should be capable of. Sumire watched his eyes go wide. He brought his hands up to try and get her off but she saw them, he was too slow. 

She grabbed one of his fingers and snapped it backward. 

Crack

A snap and the breaking of sinew. She felt nothing but the overwhelming want to hear it again and again. Kyogo let out a howl– he jerked up disrupting her fascination. He used his other hand to grab her by the hair and throw her across the room. She yelped and pain erupted across her body as she rag-dolled until she hit a wall. Her ears rang– blood trickled down her scalp and to her forehead.

Reaching up she felt– a sharp sting near the crown of her head. She hissed, bringing her hand to her face blood and white hair were on her hand. He grabbed her hard enough to rip her hair out. Heavy footsteps vibrated closer to her. Then she felt a large hand grip her hair and yank her up into a standing position. Fiery pain encircled her scalp. Her vision swam.

He shook her, Kyogo was saying something but her ears were still ringing. Then with the same hand she had broken he grabbed her hand and squeezed. The finger she had broken still sticking out at an alarming angle. The bones in her hand were forced together and she felt a pop. 

Shrieking she tried to get her hand away, but his grip was strong, she tried to kick her legs up, but she was barely touching the floor. The grip on her hand loosened just a bit and she yanked her hand back. Then she looked up with bloodshot eyes and saw Kyogo’s face turn a ghastly white. 

She could hear him let out a gasping wheeze. Then he relinquished the grip on her hair. She dropped to the ground, landing hard on her knees. From this angle, she could see what had made him drop her. Sanemi had kicked him square in the balls, and by the looks of it, he used a technique. 

Blood trickled into her eye, making her close it. With her one good eye, she watched as Kyogo dropped like a sack of potatoes. He was still conscious but he lay there clutching his family jewels. She had a slight moment of panic that Sanemi had killed any chance of having their other three siblings.

But then regained her present thoughts about getting him away from their family while incapacitated. 

“Sanemi–” He whipped his head towards her “ Get the rope from out in the tool shed.” Without even questioning what she was planning he ran off. Sumire stubbled to her knees, they shook with how much adrenaline was pumping through her. The pain in her scalp and hand faded. She slowly walked to where Kyogo’s face was on the floor. His face was upside down for her, but it didn’t matter. She bent down staring directly into his eyes. 

She heard nothing of her family around her, no crying, no gasps of pain. She just stared straight into Kyogo’s eyes. They were deep pools of obsidian. They would have been beautiful had they not been gifted to a monster. She lowered her head farther, so close that she could whisper in his ear. 

“One day…I will kill you. If you ever come back to this house, I will grab that butcher knife” She pointed in a random direction.” –and slit your throat, then I will carve your body into tiny pieces. I don’t care how much Ma loves you.” 

She stood up not sparing a minute more, and before he could regain his ability to stand she nailed him in the head with her foot. His body went limp. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. He wasn’t dead, she knew that. But being left alive was more than he should have been given the mercy of. 

Sanemi returned not a second later and together they tied him up, hog style. What a humiliating way to get tossed into the streets. Ma had only watched them silently, her eyes shedding soundless tears. She grabbed a rag, soaked it in water, and cleaned Genya’s face of the snot and tears. Then she picked him up and set him in the bassinet with Teiko, and she also moved Sumi into it. Genya gently held Tekio, even though he was only three and a half he knew well just how fragile a baby could be. 

Sumire and Sanemi busied themselves with dragging Kyogo outside into the street. They couldn’t pull him far, not with Sumire’s damaged hand, and even though they were much stronger than average almost nine-year-olds. They weren’t grown men, they had better endurance than anything. 

They left him in an alleyway adjacent to their house. It wasn’t far enough to settle Sumire’s nerves but it was better than letting him stay in the house. 

When they returned the house was fairly clean, the only thing left being the food stains that Ma was scrubbing away at. How practiced had she become at hiding this? How often did she have bruises on her? Did Ma even want to have children or were they forced upon her? Did she even love him?

Her stomach turned at the thought. But when they entered Ma dropped her scrub brush and grabbed the rag she had previously used on Genya. She dropped to her knees in front of them, they were as tall as her, standing like this. More tears poured from her eyes it was like a never-ending waterworks. 

She gently wiped the rag across Sumire’s face and over her scalp, under her breath, she murmured something Sumire just barely caught the tail end of. But Sanemi heard it. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault– Mom.” his eyes weren’t that of an eight-year-old. She could see in the recesses that it was the makings of who he was going to be one day.

“Never take responsibility for that man’s problems.” Sumire firmly set her eyes on her mother. 

Ma just smoothed back her hair. She said no words but she didn’t need to. She had always had an expressive face. 

‘I love you to the moon and back’

They responded in kind.

‘We love you more than all the stars in the sky’

–0–

Kyogo never came back to the house after that. Sumire wondered if it was her threat or the fact he had been humiliated. But Ma still ended up telling them of her pregnancy. Again. Don’t get her wrong she loves her siblings and any more that she will receive. But– Did Ma want children? Was it when she would return late at night the reason for her tardiness– Kyogo? Was he still fucking her mother even after what had happened? Just not in the house? That was a new low for the bastard. 

Sumire just hoped that peace could be achieved with the stunt that she pulled. So long as Ma wasn’t bruised or beaten there wasn’t much else she could do. Now she just had to live.

Chapter Text

Sumire had been asked throughout both of her lives– how was she? Most of the time the answer was ‘fine’, or ‘good’. Her outright answer has rarely been ‘Great’ or ‘wonderful’. Because the truth was that she felt like crap most of the time– from all of the weight of expectations. But for the last few years, she felt like was the best thing to ever happen to her. 

She woke up every morning to the same smiling faces of her family, Ma’s gentle voice telling her to go back to sleep, Sanemi’s bed head sticking out at random angles, and Genya’s snores. It didn’t matter to her if she saw the same thing each day, or if she walked past the same vendors and crates in the market.

She had for years and would continue to. Her life had stabilized, and there was no more looming threat of being beaten or worrying about how loudly she talked while in the house. Now, though, the only time she thought about a lack of stability was when that black cloud over the horizon reared its ugly head. It was always in the back of her mind. But it didn't seem to bother her as much as it had years ago– like it had taken a back seat. 

She had her family, that is all she wanted. To make sure that they grew up and found love and peace. She would continue to make sure she gave them that. And at 13 it was her job to make sure that everyone was fed and in bed before Ma got home. Most days she was at the market selling or buying. Today she was on her way back from doing both. Sanemi and Genya with her. 

The old cart wheels creaked and groaned with every step, but the reliability of the thing had never faltered even once over the years. Sumire strood forward ahead of the cart and by extension Sanemi and Genya. They were chatting about something but Sumire was more interested in getting home sooner so that she could cook dinner.

Ma has been working more and more in the evenings to get enough money for necessities. It became Sumire’s responsibility to make sure that everyone was fed and in bed, before Ma got home for the night, was important to her.

The sun was only a few hours from setting, and they were already behind schedule. At this rate, food would be in their stomachs by the time they normally went to sleep. 

–0–

That night– much later than she had anticipated Ma had arrived home. She looked haggard and a little weary. But Sumire just welcomed her home with open arms and a pot of tea. Sumire was quite a bit taller than her now. Which was a little strange but Ma had always been short so she took it in stride. They sat together for a while just watching as everyone else slept. A little prickle in Sumire’s chest began to grow at the sight of it. It was peaceful, and quiet, just what she had wanted for so long.

Laying in her futon that night, Sumire had the strangest feeling, that prickle from earlier had bloomed. She stared up at the wooden trusses in the ceiling. It felt like she was going to throw up, but it wasn’t her stomach that was twisting, it was her gut. It felt like a massive pool of dread had nestled in her lower abdomen. It kept her up late into the night, barely an hour or two of actual sleep. 

She didn’t sleep the next night either. She welcomed the sunrise with bleary eyes, the morning felt like the world had tilted on its axis. Ma checked her forehead for a fever but found that she was technically as healthy as a horse. The bags under her eyes were only the profit of not enough sleep. It made Ma increasingly worried. 

Sanemi too– the bags under her eyes were almost like permanent marks. Her mind was a little like a walking zombie. That day she had to stay home, she wasn’t allowed to go out and help with normal chores, or even go to training. She slept a few times throughout the day. But the longer she stayed still the more the dread grew. In the corners of her eyes, she swore she saw shadows moving. But she waved it off as paranoia. But it got to the point where she couldn’t stay still– looking around the house for what might be the cause of it.

In the late afternoon, it had gotten to the point where it was so bad that she had rushed outside to vomit in the bushes. Most of it bile with nothing in it, as she was unable to stomach anything that morning. It was then that she knew something had to be really– wrong. She screached the house again, and checked every nook and cranny. But she found nothing. She didn’t even know what she was looking for. 

Genya looked about a second away from trying to go find Sanemi. In a bid to try and figure out what was wrong with herself, she shut herself in the bathroom and examined her body. Was something wrong with her physically or was her body trying to tell her something…

In her last life saying listen to your gut had always been a warning, even if all you had ended up with was food poisoning. Something was wrong– but what? Everything in life was perfect, Kyogo had truly been removed from their lives about a year ago– killed by a rival –and Ma was tired but she was thriving. Sanemi was training right now, Genya was looking after all their other siblings in the main room– what was wrong!? She sunk to the floor leaning against the wall next to the door.  

She sat there for some time just trying to make the feeling go away. 

Knock knock

A concerned voice traveled through the door– “Sumire?”

Oh no, Sanemi. How was he home already?

“What's wrong, Genya said you threw up outside?” She didn’t respond. What did she say? She wasn’t sick, she just felt unexplainably bad , like that black cloud was encroaching further–

“Mir? If you don’t answer I’m coming in.” 

She didn’t move or say anything to stop him. Sanemi opened the door and shut it behind him. He looked around for a moment, but then his eyes found her, he cringed. She knew she must look bad, but goodness does he have to look at her like that . 

He crouched down next to her, placing his hands on either side of her face and forcing her to look at him. He examined her thoroughly, but continued to move her head around in a way that she was sure wasn’t doing anything. 

She knocked his hands to the side. He held his hands up in defense.

“I was just trying to see if anything was wrong with ya.” He gave a cocky smile, but it was washed away when she didn’t return it.

“...Something is wrong– I just can’t figure it out.” Her body felt cold, like she had an oncoming fever, but she knew that wasn’t the case. Sanemi’s face morphed into a frown. 

“Are you sure you’re not sick? Maybe the stomach bug– you said that your stomach–” Sumire cut him off.

“I know what I said, but this isn’t the stomach flew. It feels like my body is trying to say something.” She stared firmly trying to get him to understand “It’s not sickness it feels like dread.” This part she was sure of. Why would she experience dread?

“Maybe…you forgot something important? Like a birthday or to pick up something from the market?” That was plausible, except– she knew everyone’s birthdays by heart. She didn’t forget something for Ma. So what might she have forgotten? A memory resurfaced–

‘Kyogo was killed by a rival’

Rival, she knew that, why was she remembering that? She knew that before it even happened– her eyes widened in shock. She forgot…she forgot about the massacre! The pit of dread lightened if only a smidge. She was right. Fuck.

“I think… I did forget get something. Thank you for reminding me.” She didn’t even try to hide her surprise at her knowledge, nor did she take the time to respond in a noncreepy manner. What was she going to do?

“Sumire…you alright there– what could you have forgotten that would make you throw up?” Sumire couldn’t tell him, he wouldn’t believe her, would hate her if he knew– and she ended up not being able to stop it.

She sucked in a sharp breath– “I forgot…I forgot about Katsumi-sans birthday, he said his daughter was going to be in town.” It was not a lie, but it also wasn’t true, he had mentioned that some years ago, his daughter's name was Piko, and that she was visiting. 

“Forgetting the old man's birthday made you throw up?” Sanemi was skeptical, she knew it was flimsy, barely even close to preschool award-winning. Fuck wrong choice– quick–

“He said that if I forgot…that we would be doing double the training in half the amount of time.” Even bigger lie, If tomorrow she didn’t go to training and tell Katsumi about her lie she would be in deep shit. Also that lie didn't make sense, just buy it please-

“Ah– yeah, I would have thrown up too. Do you want some tea or something?” She wasn’t sure she could stomach anything at the moment. Sumire was beating herself up inside, how in the fucking world could she forget that?!

She would have to make a lie or something to Ma when she got home tonight. She hadn’t even realized it, Ma had been staying out later and later. It just became the norm! She panicked a bit– No…no– don’t panic, panic leads to rash decisions. 

Should she go out and look for Ma now? No, it would be suspicious, Ma would probably tell her to just go home and that she would be home at her normal time.

As normal as she could she responded– “Tea would be nice, please, and thank you.” She paused then tacked on. “I think I might take a bath too.” That would help her clear her head. And clean of the sweat she felt crusting over her body.

“I’ll help you get the water–”

“No– I got it, I need to do something productive anyway.” Sanemi just stared at her for a minute, then nodded. 

“Mint sound good?” Sumire nodded, then smiled her best reassuring smile.

She was screwed. She would just have to wait for Ma to get home.

Chapter Text

After cleaning herself off in the shower Sumire, sunk into the bath. Warm water enveloped her, holding her, protecting her. It felt a lot like Ma’s womb, this was the closest thing she could get to feeling that level of comfort again. She sunk her head nearly completely into the water, leaving only her nose and eyes above the water.

She was breaking any form of etiquette by having her hair in the water, but that was the least of her concerns at the moment. She needed to talk to Ma when she got home tonight. What would she tell her though? 

Ma please come home early tomorrow night– there are bandits, no– there have been murders, no. Those sound stupid. She could always guilt trip her– Ma you're rarely home to enjoy dinner, please come home early tomorrow. That might work– but only for one night! She had drunk the mint tea before getting into the bath, but now it was disagreeing with her. The warm water helped a little but her body was trying its best to make her feel miserable. 

What in the world could be more wrong than her just now realizing it? She didn’t know– she didn’t know and this feeling was more likely to kill her than and demon! Sumire exhaled through her mouth, blowing bubbles into the water. She just stared at the wooden walls of the bathing room, all the little details that she was bound to forget in an hour. 

Bound to forget– what was she bound to forget? She already realized what she had forgotten, her family would be killed any day! Maybe it was best if she just went about her normal routine until Ma got home. Surely she had the time of one night? 

‘I’ll tell Ma that the neighbors came over and were concerned about some unknown person walking around outside at night.’ 

That will make her think just a little more surely about trying to get home sooner. Yes– yes, that is what she’ll do, Now she just needs to get her shit together and make sure her siblings are fed and in bed so that Ma doesn’t stress any more than she already has. 

–0– 

“Sumire-nee what are you making for dinner?” Little Sumi tugged on her yukata. She just barely reached up to Sumire’s mid-torso. 

Sumire was in the small area that they called a kitchen, really it was just a glorified counter space that they used for everything. But manly meal prep. 

“Well…” She figured that she would make something light. “ I am going to make a miso soup with little meat chunks and rice.”

“If you want to help you can pull that stool over here.” Sumire pointed at the floor next to her. The counter space above it was clear. Sumi beamed brightly before bounding over to the end of the counter and pulling out the stool that Ma usually uses. On the counter, Sumire put a few mushrooms down so that Sumi could peel the tougher exterior off. 

She would rather not hand Sumi a knife, but she was a hypocrite because at five she was wielding a chef's knife and making meals for Ma. But let's not talk about those times. Sumire took to slicing up cubes of meat and chives.

More importantly, though was when did she think that Ma was going to get home? It was about three hours til sunset and Ma is usually home around two to three hours after dark. So she had maybe six hours until she could sit Ma down and tell her the ‘news’.

Next to her Sumi began humming a familiar tune under her breath, while bobbing her head up and down to the beat. Sumire stared for just a moment, then she hissed as a small cut on her thumb formed in a matter of seconds. That’s what she gets for not paying attention while holding a knife. She busies herself for a moment by wrapping it up but does a rather clumsy job, not being able to use the hand she injured to stabilize it. 

Then she went back to cutting up the ingredients. She listened to Sumi’s slightly incorrect version of ‘Love You’. She wondered if Genya remembered it too.

–0–

Sumire plated the food equally, portioning out what she knew everyone could eat. Koto was just old enough that the rice and miso were pliable for him but they wouldn’t fill him up for long. She held him as they ate, slowly feeding him in between her bites of food. 

In the pit of her stomach, she felt the same dread that had followed her from yesterday. She felt queasy again. She was glad that she had chosen such a light meal otherwise she certainly would have thrown up again. She ignored the dread this time. But that only made it double down. The cut on her thumb pulsed with every heartbeat.

The different sensations in her body made for a nasty concoction. She felt like a shaken soda can, and she didn’t know when it would release. She ate slowly, watching everything around her for discrepancies. She knew there were none. After dinner, she and Sanemi rounded up all the little ones and put them into their sleeping yukatas. 

It would be a bad time in the summer to get a heat stroke, even at night. She methodically pulled out futon after futon, duvet after duvet. Grabbing Ma’s too for when she would be home. Changing into her sleeping yukata, she glazed around at everything. 

The sun just set, the dim colors of orange and pink fading to a light blue before becoming as dark as the ocean. Only two windows were open to allow a draft through.

‘Danger’

Sumire’s mind whispered to her. But she knew it would be suspicious if she shut them. Ma would be home tonight, therefore it didn’t matter. She nearly doubled over at the thought. The dread eating her from the inside out. One should never ignore their intuition. But Ma would be home. She knew it. She chanted in her mind over and over, like a sutra. 

Four futons lined up next to one another, two more laying long ways against the top for Sanemi and Sumire. Hiroshi and Shuya shared, but Teiko got her own along with Sumi. Genya insisted to Sumire that he wanted Koto to sleep next to him tonight. And she couldn’t deny his puppy eyes, so he got what he wanted. 

Sanemi lit a lantern as the last of the rays fell behind the mountain. Then he tried to usher everyone into their bed. But they were still wound up from dinner. Just chatting about the day, all the things that they did outside, or what chores they had to do. Throwing pillows, giggling, and even trying to tackle Sanemi, in a revolt against sleep.

To Sumire, it was just white noise. She stared out the window, her eyes unblinking. She thought nothing, felt only utter horrendous dread. 

Snap Snap

She blinked– “Earth to Sumire! Can you help me– they’re trying to get out of bedtime!” Sumi and Teiko had climbed up onto his back trying to topple him to the floor. While Hiroshi and Shuya were pulling back all the blankets. Not that they were having much luck being 3 and 2, but they wanted to help their sisters. 

If she didn’t help Sanemi would most certainly give in to the two. Genya was just carefully holding Koto and trying to get him to sleep, seeing Sanemi’s slight distress. What a good little child. She almost swept a finger under her eye at the sight. 

But she regained her focus. It looked like utter chaos. She cleared her throat loudly. Five little heads snapped to attention. Koto not looking up from his position of being held.

“Why don’t I sing a song to help you all go down for the night– hmm..?” Despite her overwhelming discomfort, singing the same lullaby she always had made her feel better. Perhaps it would drive some of the crushing anxiety away. 

“Yeah!” 

“Yes yes!”

More hums and enthusiastic shouts sounded from them. 

“You have to get in your bed though.” Hiroshi pouted but did as she told. They listened to her well most of the time. She was the stricter sibling out of her and Sanemi. If they begged him enough he would fold like wet paper. It usually took more convincing for them to get her to bend to their wills.

Once everyone was settled she cleared her throat again but this time softer. Sanemi sat on his futon with Sumi sitting on his lap, and Tekio was laying on her stomach propping her head up on Sanemi’s thigh.

Hiroshi and Shuya were under their blanket, wide-eyed and waiting. Genya looked like he had stars in his eyes. Then she began to sing. The same melody she had for the last seven years. She closed her eyes and took in a big breath.

‘Dandelion, milkweed, silky in a sunny sky

Reach out and hitch a ride and float on by

Balloons down below blooming colors of the rainbow

Red-blue, and yellow-green, I love you∼’

By the time she reached the end Hiroshi and Shuya’s heads hit their pillows. Koto was snoring away in Genya’s arms. And Genya himself looked like he was nodding off. Sumi and Teiko were sleeping on Sanemi, to which he just took in stride and laid down with them on him. It was like a placebo pill, it worked every time. Perhaps it was the conditioning from a young age.

Sumire leaned over to the lantern and blew out the wick, plunging them into total darkness. She saw Genya’s outline slowly get down into his futon with Koto. Sumire too pulled the heavy duvet up and laid down. Then she turned her head to look over to Sanemi’s futon. He was looking at her. Even with Sumi and Teiko making him lay in an awkward position. She saw the shine of the moon reflect off his eyes. 

They held a knowing look, one she knew all too well over these last couple of years. 

‘Let’s wait for mom’

She nodded just slightly. Of course, she would wait up for Ma. She would be home in a few hours anyway.

Her gut curled wickedly.

–0–

An hour went by, and Sumire just lay there counting her heartbeats. Listening to everyone’s breaths. She felt the pulse in her thumb every time her heart pumped blood. She did her best to stem the blood with her breathing. The puls had traveled to her gut. Each beat of her heart felt like the proverbial drum of life. 

Bump…bumb, bump…Bump…bumb, bump…

She counted, and she waited. Ma would be home. 

–0–

Another hour went by, if Ma had an early day this is when she would be home. But no quiet shuffling by the door nor the calm heartbeat of their mother appeared. That was ok…It just meant she would be home later. She stared out the window as she lay on her side. Turning her head at an uncomfortable angle to try and see if she could see her mother's form walk to the door. 

All she saw were the hundreds of tiny stars in the sky. And no sounds but clickets enjoying the cooler air.

‘I love you more than all the stars in the sky.’

Please make it home Ma.

–0–

Two hours passed by, it was midnight now. Sumire felt like her body was going to explode. She didn’t know what to do with herself. So she lay there quietly, trying to think of all the reasons that Ma might be out this late that didn’t involve dying. 

‘She was asked to do a late shift’

‘Ma was too polite to not refuse someone’s offer to stay at their house.’ 

‘She was… she was…’

Tears welled in Sumire’s eyes. Please don’t be dead. Please– A shuffle broke her from her thoughts. She looked up, Sanemi was gently moving Sumi and Teiko into their respective beds. He caught her gaze. 

In the softest whisper she had ever heard– “I’m going out to look for Mom. I’ll be back when I find her. You stay here.” Then he smiled– smiled. She felt like she was going to break down into sobs. It must have been too dark for Sanemi to see her face because he didn’t ask what was wrong.

Then as quietly as he could he moved to the door and gently slid it open and then shut it. In her mind the bells of death were tolling. Ma had to come home– Sanemi would find her. He would. She was being delusional at this point. But she wouldn’t give up on that small sliver of hope. That Ma would walk through the door and everything would be okay.

After a second she heard movement, Sumi sat up rubbing her eyes. Then she yawned stretching out both her arms as wide as they would go. She knocked Teiko in the head. Further waking her as well. Teiko sat up as well. Looking around.

In a quiet but not a whisper voice she said– “Where’s Sanmei? Where’s Ma?”

Sumire sat up, she had to coxas them back to bed. If they were awake and this truly was the day she feared, they would die. 

“Sanemi is out looking for Ma, just go back to bed alright?” Sumi didn’t look like she wanted to but she flopped down on Sanemi’s futon then grabbed his pillow crossed her arms under it and rested her chin on it. Teiko just slipped back under her covers and mimicked Sumi.

“Can we wait up for them?” Teiko nodded in agreement then added “Please?” 

Sumire just looked at their small frames in the dark. 

“No you need to go to bed, they’ll be back soon.” She heard shuffling from her right side.

She heard Hiroshi whisper yell– “Sanemi’s gone?” next to him little Shuya poked his head up. 

“Where’s Mom?” Sumire felt her grasp on them slipping fast.

“They’re coming you guys just need to go back to bed. That way Ma won’t worry when she gets here.” When in doubt gaslight. To herself and her siblings. 

“She’s never been out this late.” Hiroshi points out. She knows, god does Sumire know. She was very glad it was dark or else they would be able to see her face, and the sure twisted pain it was in.

“It’s ok, Mom will be back just get back in bed, yeah?” Sumire used her hand to brush over the fuzz on Shuya’s head. She nearly choked on her words.

“Okay, Nee-san.”

“I want to wait for her though!” Hiroshi protested loudly. Genya’s form began to shift. Then he slowly sat up still with a sleepy Koto in his arms. 

“No you need to sleep, Sanemi is out looking for her and he will find her. You six just need to sleep like Sumi over there. I’ll stay up and wait for her and Sanemi.” Sumi had gone to just laying her head on Sanemi’s pillow. Sumire knew she wasn’t asleep but it was the effort that counted. 

“Ah, rats!” 

“None of that Hiroshi, Ma will be worried for you if you are tired tomorrow.” Because Ma would be back, Sanemi would find her and she would come to bed and everything would be handy dandy.

Sumire could only hope that she could get them all to go back to sleep before something happened. 

“What happened? Why’s everyone up?” Genya’s tired voice calmly drifted.

“Sanemi went to find Ma, but they haven’t come back yet!” 

“Wait what?”

Sumi butted in– “Ma’s never been out this late so Sanemi went to go look for her– he left like 30 minutes ago.” Had it been that long? No– Sanemi just left, must be Sumi’s lack of time management.

“It’s ok you all just need to go to bed though.” Sumire let out a slightly defeated sigh, what did it matter she knew they weren’t going back to bed.

“You know what– fine you can stay up but you have to stay in your beds– even when Ma gets home.” She made sure to look every single one of them in the eyes. Even in the dark, she knew they could see her. 

Sumire might as well light the lantern again. 

‘No– tell them to go to bed–’

She waved off her thoughts. Ma would be home.

‘Stop being delusional, you know she’s already dead’

No– no Ma would be home, because if Ma didn’t come home what did that mean for her? Her stomach curled violently. She shuffled off her blankets and walked over to the counter, crouching down to open the lower cupboard. 

‘This has never happened before– you know what is going to happen–’

Sumire dug around in one of the cabinets for the matchbox nearly half her body was inside trying to reach the back. Why did Sanemi always put them so far out of reach? What if it was an emergency? Her siblings were just lightly chatting away. It would be okay, it had to be. She would just have to pray, pray that Ma would get back with Sanemi. But the gods don’t answer prayers. 

KNOCK KNOCK

No…she froze for just a second. Just one second. No no no no.

Sumi cheered– “MA!”

“Mom’s back!” –Hiroshi beamed.

Sumire shouted– “NO– No don’t go to the door!” No one listened but Genya. Sumire turned her body to launch across the room but it was too late. The bubble of dread burst into fear. Why did she get up? They were all up, she told them to stay in their beds–

BASH–

Wooden shrapnel exploded into the house– she heard gasps and cries. Then silence. Dust flowed over everything in a thin sheet. She couldn’t see– where was Genya– Sumi! 

A low growling echoed throughout the house. Sumire saw luminous eyes through the dust. Bright against the night. They were stalking to where Geyna’s prone form was. Sumire launched herself across the gap. She tackled the demon– wrestling with it to get away from Genya and Koto.

For an instant, the moonlight filtered through the wrecked door, exposing the squirming demon below her. 

‘Ma…’

No… she stalled for just a moment, She knew it was Ma when she heard the knocking, she just didn’t want to believe it. Tears blurred her vision. Her hands loosened just a smidge. That single moment was all it took though for Ma to get the upper hand.

Ma took her by surprise– flipping Sumire, slamming her into the ground, and pinning her arms to the floor with a strength she should have never possessed. Sitting on her chest Ma leaned down. Hot breath washed over Sumire’s face– it smelled like… like blood. Ma…No–no. Tears streamed down her face. She failed. She fucking failed.

‘She’s gone…I didn’t stop it.’

She struggled for a moment trying to get Ma off of her. The bandages on her hand loosened and came off. MA stopped for a moment siffing the air then looking down to Sumire’s hand. Then an unnatural smile broke out across her face. It was terrifying in the moonlight, grotesque and wrongly shaped. Nothing like the gentle smile she would give to her. She had too sharp of teeth. For a single dazed moment, Sumire thought that she had come to her senses. That Ma was faking it. 

‘How delusional are you?’

But then in a quick motion, Ma opened her mouth and and sunk her teeth into Sumire’s upper bicep. Sumire shrieked– pain radiated from the bite. She bucked up trying to get Ma off of her. But instead of ripping the chunk of her arm out Ma just released her jaw and began to lick the wound. Ma began to sway. A euphoric smile replaced her manic one. Her pupils shrunk to slits then expanded to her whole eye. Like she was drunk. Marechi– she was a marechi. 

Sumire lifted her feet to under Ma’s armpits then with all the strength she had she pushed Ma backward. Ma scrapped her claws down the tatami flooring to try to stay upright but with all the blood in her system it was making her act more drugged than strong.

Sumire took a second to breathe, then in a flash, Sanemi darted into the room from the opposite window and snatched Ma off the floor. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She got up as well as she could with a damaged arm. 

“Sumire! Genya! Run!” Then he hurled himself out the window.

“Sanemi!” Geyna cried out reaching for him, still clutching Koto’s body.

For a moment she looked around, she saw the bodies of her siblings, and bile rose in her throat. She swallowed it down. The image was forever seared into her mind.

No– no she wouldn’t run, she hopped over the sill and ran as fast as she could after Sanemi. Behind her, she could faintly make out Genya’s cries for their siblings. More tears trickled down her face, but with how fast she was running they just flew away. 

‘Later– think later.’

In front of her about 50 feet she saw Sanemi swinging the blade that Sumire recognised from the kitchen. He hadn’t ever used a blade for anything other than cooking. Ma sloppily dodged and swung her claws swiping Sanemi across the head.

‘We’ve never been truly injured before–’

Blood poured from his scalp– blinding him in his right eye. He faltered, their training not doing anything other than keeping him conscious and flexible to dodge. They’ve only spared– he only knew how to fight her!

She pushed her legs faster. She jumped tackling Ma away from Sanemi. Unable to keep a good grip– when Sumire hit the ground she was forced to let go as she rolled and hit the edge of a building. The wind was knocked out of her, but she quickly recovered. 

Ma jumped to attack her but Sanemi swung the knife into the crook of her neck, plunging it deep but only enough to force her out of the way. Flinging her father away. And by extension– the knife. 

Ma ragdolled across the street landing in a heap. Nothing happened for a moment. Then she clumsily got her arms underneath herself and stood up. Ma swayed, her pupils expanding and dilating rapidly. Like she was trying to gain control. 

She ripped the knife out of her neck– the muscles regenerating at an alarming rate. And hurled it at Sanemi– he precariously dodged, the knife embedding in the dirt behind where he had been. Right in front of where Sumire was now. She ripped the knife out of the ground. 

She was going to kill her Ma. It was no longer her Ma. But it had her face, her sature. But it didn’t have her smile or grace. With as much precision as she could, she sent the knife flying through the air sinking directly into Ma’s forehead. 

She dropped in a heap. She didn’t get back up, didn’t struggle. Sumire heaved her stomach contents into the street. Not even as the first rays of the sun caressed the sky did Ma move. She killed her Ma…Sanemi stood there dumbfounded. Did he know it was their mother when he pulled her out of the house? Sumire didn’t think so, everything moved too fast. Too fast. She couldn’t rescue a single one of her siblings. 

It was just now that he knew. He stared and stared. Sumire sat there on her hands and knees, heaving until only bile came up, her body felt like it was going to implode. She shook violently. Tears blinded her, adrenaline pumped her blood faster than she could keep up with. It was too much. She was going to die.

Little footsteps sounded through her haze, “MOM!” Genya–No- no no no. How many times was she going to say that it never made a difference?

Sumire looked up from her pathetic position. Genya had slid to his knees holding Ma’s disintegrating body in his arms. 

“WHY! Why did you kill mom!” He was sobbing, tears fell from his eyes. No stop crying. It’s not Sanemi’s fault, it’s hers.

“Murderer!” Sumire stumbled to get up, she had to stop him, she couldn’t let him say anything else. She dropped to her knees in front of Geyna. She held his face in her hands tightly to get him to look at her. His eyes were wide.

Sumire shouted– “No! Stop it Genya!”

“No– he killed mom!” 

“It was both of us!” She was the one who landed the final blow. “Something happened to Mom, I…I– Sanemi was just protecting you! We didn’t know it was Ma!” Had to make him see–

“He’s a monster!” No– no no no no. 

“No! Stop that Genya! He’s our brother!” Don’t push him away, why can’t he see?! 

“He killed our mother and you're protecting him!” Genya had a visceral rage on his face.

“Yes– you didn’t see what I saw.” She shook him by the shoulders. “Stop this shit! None of us knew!” She never cursed.

“No… no no no. He killed Mom…and you–” He had tears in his eyes, she could see it before he even said it. His mind was made up.

“Genya…” No, please no. Don’t do this to her. 

“If you’re defending him– that’s why you wouldn’t let us go to the door! You probably help set it up!” No, she was desperate. No stop, anything was better than this. She couldn’t– She tried she swears– she did try to protect them. 

Convince him, make him believe– “No…I–”

“Shut up! You’re just as disgusting a monster as he is, a demon!” Silence echoed through her mind. Her face became stolid.

She’s a monster. She killed her family. She knew and did nothing. In front of her Ma’s body disintegrated completely. 

“Get away from me, leave!” He shoved her hands off his shoulders. He swiftly stood and ran. She sat there kneeling, her mind blank. And yet full of all the things Genya said and all of the things her mind came up with. 

‘You’re a monster.’

‘You let them die.’

‘Genya hates you now.’

Stop– no more. Tears trickled down her face. Stop just stop. She wanted nothing more than for her mind to just shut up. 

‘Sanemi. Where’s Sanemi?’

Blindly she reached out her left hand to her side. Hoping that someone would take it. Take her out of this nightmare. One second then two. Her worst fear spun in her mind– he left her. He hated her. She was alone. The people she loved were gone–

Then a warm caloused hand the same size as hers clamped tightly around hers. She squeezed, and he squeezed back. She knew whose hand it was, knew in the deepest recesses of her mind, she knew it more intimately than her own, she didn’t have to look to know who it was. 

‘Sanemi.’

Chapter Text

Sumire isn’t sure what it was that happened next. She remembers feeling nothing. Nothing but a physical throbbing where her heart is. And the feeling of a warm hand in hers. Clamped so tightly to her’s that she lost a bit of feeling. Absently she knew that her mind and body were in shock.

She remembers the sun, how it rose higher in the sky. How the colors changed, but she couldn’t bother to find the beauty in it. Not like she used to. She used to stare at the sky in wonder feeling grateful that she got to witness such a gorgeous sight every day. 

Sumire remembers standing, she remembers tugging on the hand clamped in hers. She remembers seeing Sanemi’s face. Hollow and blank. Like he wasn’t there. She remembers walking. And walking. Then she remembers walking through the blasted doors of her home. 

‘It was just a house. There is no home here anymore.

She blankly stared at the blood and futons and bodies. Her siblings' bodies. She had to bury them. Had to give them the respect that she should have given them since the beginning. She never let go of Sanemi’s hand. Even in her numbed mind, her body could still feel the fear of what would happen if she let go. 

She grabbed the shovel from the tool shed and walked out to the field of golden wheat that she and Sanemi used to hide in. Where she would take her siblings to play when the chores were over. 

She needed two hands to dig. She didn’t want to let go. She didn’t know what would happen if she did. Sumire took Sanemi’s hand and gently wiggled her fingers out of his tight grasp like he too didn’t want to let go. Even if he was unable to voice it. When she finally freed her hand she took Sanemi’s and placed it on the back of her obi.

She felt his fingers clench into the material, with a steely grip. He wasn’t going to abandon her. Maybe he thought that she was going to abandon him. She thought about everything objectively. Nothing truly struck a feeling in her. 

Sumire began to dig. She dug and dug. Never once stopping to take a break, never once stopping to let her poor muscles rest. She didn’t feel it. She felt nothing. Nothing but the gaping hole where her heart had been whole. 

She dug six perfect graves. Each one is the same size. She dropped the shovel and grabbed Sanemi’s hand again. In one step she was back in front of the house. She didn’t remember the trip there. She stared down at the wreckage. She didn’t cry didn’t sob. She knew that when this numbness passed she would be inconsolable. 

Sumi, Teiko, Hiroshi, and Shuya had been impaled on the wooden shrapnel. Koto had been hit in the back with a large wooden stake from the main frame of the door. Their bodies were cold. They had yet to start decomposing. Sumire bent down and picked up Koto.

Then she took a step and she was back in front of the graves. Gently she placed Koto in the first grave. Then she repeated this with every one of her siblings. Until she got to the last grave. It was empty. Because there was no body to put in it. Sumire doesn’t remember how it was that she concluded that she should bury something of her mother's. Sumire just remembers going back to the house and sitting before Ma’s hair ornament box. 

Sumire grabbed the string, and her brush, then she picked up the hair comb that had been gifted to Ma when she had been married. The last thing that Kyogo had a presence on, was in this house. Ma kept it because it reminded her of a time when Kyogo had been kind and loving. Perhaps she would like to carry it with her into the afterlife?

Then at the very bottom of the box, Sumire found a hair comb she had never seen before. It was porous and light. The body was white and a little rough in texture. Sumire realized that it was made of bone. There were details of symmetrical cranes on either side and the rising sun in the middle– on the biggest part of the comb. 

She wonders where her Ma got it from. How did the craftsmen carve the bone? She placed the hair comb into the sleeve pocket of her yukata. When she glanced back down again she spotted a silver glimmer. Reaching for it, she picked it up and inspected it. It was a thin silver bracelet. The kind that has a gap for you to put on but it can’t side off. It had no extra detailing. Just two small balls on the ends between the gap to keep from hurting the wearer. 

Sumire doesn’t know what compelled her to do what she did at that moment, but she took that hand holding Sanemi’s and placed the bracelet on his wrist. It was too big for him right now, but one day it might be too small. He didn’t stir, didn’t move, or even glance at it. It was like his mind and body were catatonic. She supposed she too was catatonic in a way. 

Sumire stood, reaching into one of the chests of drawers that they had, and grabbing one of Ma’s kimonos. Then she was back at the graves. She laid Ma’s kimono flat repeatedly smoothing out the wrinkles and folds. Then at the head of the kimono, she placed the string brush and hair comb. Then she stood back for a moment. 

She looked at every grave. Each of them looked like little glass dolls. They looked like they were sleeping and would wake up at any moment and tackle her in a hug. She felt tears rolled down her cheeks, but she did not feel the pain. 

She picked up the shovel and began to replace the dirt over Koto’s grave first. Her vision clouded then cleared as tears fell into the dirt. She didn’t stop for one moment. She didn’t know if she could stay together that long. When Sumire got to Ma’s grave she paused. She hesitated to fill the grave. 

Her knees wobbled– physical pain stabbed at her heart and mind. She heard a thud from the shovel. It fell out of her hands. She clutched Sanemi’s hand. She could taste the acidic bile from earlier in her mouth. She could feel her heart beat irregularly. Sumire fell to her knees– Sanemi just followed her but with barely a reaction. 

‘Ma…’

Sobs echoed through the field, loud painful sobs. Sumire’s body shook from every gasp of air she took. She didn’t register anything, She couldn’t breathe– it felt like she was drowning in despair. She wanted to die. Why hadn’t she died then? Why hadn’t she been impaled with shrapnel? 

‘I was too far away…excuses’

She buried her head into Sanemi’s shoulder, digging her fingers into his arms. She screamed, a haunting twisted scream. She felt like her heart had been wrenched into little pieces. Sumire could feel snot run down her face into her mouth, but she didn’t remove it. She grieved and wept until her throat was hoarse. Until no more tears fell from her eyes. 

She felt tears drip onto her scalp. She heard mirror echoes of her cries. Her second half. Terrible, twisted sobs. She felt Sanemi’s arms come around her back, pulling her close to him as he bawled into her neck. She gripped back just as tightly. 

Sumire doesn’t know how long they sat there. Only that the sun rose higher and higher. Then the heat became unbearable to sit in any longer. Sumire felt blank again, but this time she could feel every emotion she had previously blocked out.

Grief, fear, self-hatred, and just plain anger and physical pain from how she was feeling. Sumire felt powerless. Fuck canon! Fuck life– she was powerless in the end. The vows she had made to herself years ago were broken and rotted. They had been made on nothing but good intentions but now they meant nothing. The only one that held was her desire to stay with Sanemi. 

She had to bury Ma. Sumire slowly peeled herself from Sanemi. She stood up, only to feel a hand clamp onto her wrist. She looked at Sanemi. He looked shattered and fearful, did he think she was leaving him? 

‘I would never’

She grabbed his hand and pulled him up. And hugged him close to her. Then she whispered in his ear.

“I’m not leaving you. Not ever. Help me bury Ma–” Sumire choked. “s-she deserves to be at peace.” He nodded into her shoulder.

By hand, they both cupped the dirt and moved it into the grave. It took them nearly the rest of the day, but when they did finish, they were covered in sweat, dirt, and blood. Sumire thought nothing of her appearance. She did feel a stinging in her right bicep. Ma’s bite mark. The pain was a distraction. It made her focus on something else other than her emotional agony, if even only for an instant. Sumire tore a bottom piece of her yukata and wrapped it tightly around the bite. It wasn’t hygienic, and the lack of medical care would most likely lead to a nasty scar, but Sumire was tired. 

Tired of death, tired of moving, tired of caring so deeply. It was ingrained so deeply into her person that she didn’t think that she couldn’t care. 

They both sat there in front of the graves, praying. Sumire didn’t believe in the gods or the afterlife. But if it would make sure that her family had a safe passage to wherever they were going she would do it. 

Sumire stared into the field in front of her. She swallowed– everything had lost its luster. There was no more childish whimsy in the world. It was grey and ugly. 

‘Sanemi…what is it you see?’

Softly Sumire called her brother– “Sanemi.” he turned his head to her, but didn’t say anything.

“It’s not our fault.” His eyes widened– he opened his mouth to object but she didn’t let him. “We didn’t know. How could we have? It happened too fast, what even happened to Ma?”

Sumire felt like shit saying ‘we’, she knew what happened to Ma. She knew. She knew and couldn’t do anything. But most of all she felt guilty that she wasn’t going to tell Sanemi. She would take it to her grave. She swears on her life, she will use her life to get stronger, to do what she failed to do. The outside world was not one she could control.

It would throw every ‘fuck you’ it could at her. Telling her that just cause she was here, and tried only a little to be stronger, it didn’t mean that the world would change. If she wanted it to change something she needed to act, she had to. She had to break herself, and then rebuild it all.

“I…I killed Mom.” He suppressed tears. “I– murd–”

“No– I killed Ma, I landed the final blow.” ‘Blow’ how harsh. 

“But…I hurt– her.” Tears dripped down Sanemi’s face. 

“Sanemi–” She grabbed both his hands. “Something happened to Ma, nothing we could control. What we did, was not to Ma.” Sumire doesn’t know how she is holding conviction at the moment. Not when all she wants to do is fall apart. 

“I don’t know what it was that possessed her, or why she attacked us, but it wasn’t our fault.” It was her fault. 

‘Lie, lie, lie.’

She wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t good enough– Katsumi had limited her. Told her that she was still a child. She wasn’t a fucking child! Not anymore, this was shit that needed an adult and they had stopped her. And she let them. Because at the time the only danger had been being beaten. But now her family was dead. Her brothers and sisters and mother.

‘It was out of my control– bullshit, you should have tried harder.’

“Sumire…” Sanemi looked defeated like he had aged several years in the day. She probably looked no better. She felt like she was cursing more than she had ever.

“What do we do now?” The simple question rang silently through her head. What did they do? 

‘Hunt demons.’

Sanemi didn’t know what a demon was, not really. How did she even suggest something like that? For now, she wouldn’t. 

“Now… now we…” She didn’t know– she felt desperate– lost. “I don’t know.” she quietly confessed. 

Sanemi looked at her searchingly, he had probably never heard her say that. They both were lost. He grabbed her hand tightly and pulled her up with himself. Then they started walking, they never looked back. Sumire doesn’t think she could stomach looking back. She didn’t know where Sanemi was going but to her, it didn’t matter, just away from here.

Chapter Text

The next few days were spent in a grief-induced blur for both of them. Sumire was too paranoid to sleep at night as they no longer returned to the house. So they slept in allies during the day. But wandered the town aimlessly during the night. They never left each other's sides. It became a codependency to be able to see the other in their sights. Or at least feel their hand. They stole from vendors in the late hours so that they wouldn’t notice.

Sumire knew that by walking around like this they were asking for trouble. Specifically from demons. One week after the burial of their family Sumire and Sanemi ran into their first demon. It had not been a pretty sight. They had no weapons. A mishap on Sumire’s part, but she forgot how much agony she had been in. 

The demon was taller than them by quite a bit. It had scraggly unkept hair and pale yellow skin. Its small and beady eyes blinked endlessly, It barely resembled a human. It reminded Sumire of a jaundiced liver. She felt no fear though staring at it, not even for the fact that it could tear her apart with its bare hands. It was like that internal meter had broken.

 It lept at Sanemi first, smelling the still semi-fresh wounds on him. Sanemi let go of her hand to move out of the way. It landed next to Sumire on all fours. It licked its lips. 

‘Disgusting’

She stared blankly at it. She felt nothing for this pathetic scum. Not like she had for her Ma. She only felt anger, like she had with Kyogo. 

Sumire wound up a kick and for a slow aching second, she saw her calf collide with the demon's face, felt the rough texture of its skin, felt the crunch of bones, and then it was hurled across the dirt road. A good 20 feet from her. 

It felt exactly like when she snapped Kyogo’s finger, a sick fascination encircled her mind. She wanted to hear that again. She wanted to break its bones, pull its organs out, and rearrange them. How much pain does a demon feel? The same as a human? If they did then they would understand that what they do hurts them. 

The demon recovered quickly not being under the effects of Marechi's blood. She would have to change that. Sumire looked around for anything to help her. Across the road lying next to the vendor's cart were a pair of forgotten gardening shears. She needed to get over there. But the demon seemed to have believed her to be the bigger threat. 

Charging at her full speed, it tried to grab at her arms but it was slow for her. She ducked– and somersaulted but it wasn’t very coordinated because her acrobatics were less than graceful as she stumbled to get up and run to the shears. She dove for them– but a hand on her ankle pulled her back. She clawed at the ground. 

‘Fuck–no no’

Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sanemi execute an almost perfect axe kick to the demon's back. She heard a grunt–

The demon dropped her ankle, and she scrambled to the shears. They were nearly as long as her whole arm. She opened them with a satisfying shink. She grabbed the wide part of the blade and pressed it into her forearm creating a shallow cut that spanned the length of her arm. 

She held her arm out.

“This what you trying to get you glutton!” She was sure her face was manic. Sumire didn’t care. The demon paused– then stepped forward but stumbled. Sanemi’s eyes widened. He must have realized what she already knew. 

She lowered her arm and closed the shears, then she breathed centering herself, and hurled them into the demon's neck. A loud squelch and gagging sound echoed. The demon stumbled backward unable to keep its balance it fell onto its ass. It wouldn’t kill it, she knew that, but Sanemi didn’t. He did know that they burned in sunlight though. 

Logically she should go get rope secure it and let it burn. But a wave of irrational anger prevented her from doing that. She wanted the demon to hurt. Wanted it to understand what it was that made her angry. Sumire walked forward focused solely on the demon.

She grabbed it by its shoulder pulled her fist back and swung. The same satisfying crack resounded through the air. She did it again, and again. Her mind raged, Sumire wanted it to feel the same pain she did– wanted the demon to understand. 

‘Does it hurt? Can you taste my pain?’

It wasn’t this demon she was mad at. No– it was the progenitor, Muzan. He turned to her mother. She wanted to make him feel this pain and make him understand what it was like to feel powerless. To lose what he loved.

Sumire made the demons face a bloody pulp. Then she kicked it away from her. The body thumped on the ground. To her left she saw the change in the sky as the sun rose. The demon was unable to regenerate fast enough. Unable to see or breathe it lay flopping on the ground. Like a dying fish. She felt no sympathy for it. 

Slowly bits of its body formed cracks, before falling away into clumps of ash. Then nothing. What was left was nothing. Except for the wounds on Sumire’s body. She felt unsatisfied. She wanted more blood, more pain. She wanted gratification from seeing the demon die. 

She wasn’t breathing heavily, but she felt her blood pump wildly, her flow out of wack. A haze was cast over her mind. Her rage and bloodlust clouded her judgment. Sumire stared at the ground where the demon had turned to ash. Stared and stared like she could bring it back and torture it until she was sedated. 

A hand clasped in hers, she almost flinched at the contact– almost. She could tell whose hand it was though. 

‘Sanemi’ 

It took her out of that state. Her head cleared. She looked to Sanemi– Dull violet met more dull violet. He nodded, his face showing understanding for what she had done. Like he too understood why she was so angry. Because he did. He was her second half. Sanemi shared her pain as much as she shared his. 

Blood dripped onto the dirt. Dark spots in the pale earth, are a stark contrast to what once held beauty. Did life have a meaning, if you didn’t have what you loved anymore? Sumire had Sanemi, she loved him more than anything. She also had…Genya– and she loved him but he did not love her. But that didn’t matter, she wouldn’t push him away if they ever met again. 

Cold grief filled Sumire again. The anger had been warm and easy to give into. She wanted to not feel helpless, anger gave her that. 

“Sumire–” She hummed in responce. 

“Are there more? More of…” Sanemi hesitated, but she knew what he was referring to. 

She might as well encourage it. “I think so…”

“Are they what did that to Mom?” Kind of. But it didn’t matter the specifics. Demons should never have been allowed to exist. All they did was ruin.

“...If there was one, and it changed Ma, then there are probably more.” She saw the wheels in her head turn. What was he thinking? She could guess.

‘They changed her, I want them dead.’

Sanemi was quiet for a moment longer. Then he declared– “I want to kill them.” 

“You want to wander the night killing these…things?” She had to at least make sure he was a little stable. 

She knew when she phrased it like that– that it took away the purpose. She too wanted to kill them, to feel the anger. But Sanemi came first. Her state is second.

“I don’t know– what else to do.” Sumire knew what he felt. Lost. What else mattered to them but the sibling that hated them? So why not take revenge on what took it all away?

“Okay.” She hugged him close. Her blood getting on his clothing, but they were already dirty to high hell.

Sanemi hugged back a little confused. “Okay?”

“Okay, let’s kill them. I too want them dead.” Sanemi held onto her tighter. Resting his head on her shoulder. 

“Sanemi–” She wanted to ask what he thought about their blood. 

He hummed.

“Our blood, is there anything peculiar about it?”

“Yeah. I think it makes them act drunk.” Sumire backed up. She looked at her arm. The blood trying to clot. But some of it still falls down her arm in rivets. She’d have to find bandages.

She hummed to herself. The sting against the cool morning air felt good. She didn’t say anything after that. She didn’t need to. They both understood what they were going to do. 

–0–

Two weeks or so, Sumire had lost count. It was the middle of the day, The heat of the sun making everything sweltering. The little shelter they did find to cover them was in between two buildings that were so close the sun could only reach them at high noon, which had already passed. Now the air was just hot and humid. Their skin stuck to one another like hot leather in a car. Blood and dirt are still on them. Coating their hair and faces. Matted into their clothing. Sumire was convinced that if she ever cared again about her hair she would have to cut it and let it regrow, it was too matted. The smell of body odor did not bother them in the slightest. The bloody bodies of demons smelled much worse. 

Staring at the plastered wall in front of her, Sumire held Sanemi tightly to her chest. Like she was trying to shield him from the world. Her mind works overtime to keep it blank. But a memory resurfaces, one that she hadn’t ever really shared with Sanemi but with all her other siblings. He had never needed it. 

With her voice barely above a whisper– “ Give a little time for the child within you– Don’t be afraid to be young and free~” Sumire’s voice cracks, tears well in her eyes. She remembers vividly every time she had ever sung this song. It would never be the same.

“Undo the locks and throw away the keys. –” She remembers little Genya looking up at her, eyes widening in wonder as she recited a song in a language he had never heard. “And take off your shoes and socks, and run you~” Sumier cards her fingers through the hair on Sanemi’s neck. Tears roll down her cheeks slowly, before falling onto Sanemi’s head. She is sure there are dirt-stained tear tracks.

“I remember hearing you sing that when…when Genya was a baby. Where did you learn it?” Sanemi’s voice is fragile. Splintered. It had been a bad day.

“I used to wake up– right before he would start crying. Then I would take him outside and sing so that he would fall back to sleep.” Her throat bobbed, and she pressed her lips together to suppress a sob. Why couldn’t she just stop crying? “I learned it…from one of the times out in the market.” Lie. Lie. Lie.

“Why are you… –singing it now?” His words were brittle, the wrong answer would shatter him. 

“I…I – sang whenever our siblings were…in distress, I guess I wanted the comfort of it. But now… it just feels…”

“It feels like…someone is ripping my heart in two”

She felt him nod his head. Unable to speak the words but she knew what he was thinking.

–0–

They continued like this for some time, Sumire isn’t too sure how long. Most of the time Sumire used her fists on demons, brutally mutilating them. Sanemi too once or twice brutally beat them to a pulp but he preferred the blades. Craving them up while hanging. Making them bleed and bleed while listening to their cries. 

‘No one listened to ours.’

Anger and grief became Sumire’s life, she craved the release that fighting gave her. It made her feel in control. Like she could change something. She would. She would change something.

Sanemi and her spoke less, but that didn’t diminish their communication. They could read each other like the back of their own hands. Sumire found it ironic in a way, before what happened… they didn’t have to read each other because they told the other what they were feeling.

Now though neither of them were strong enough to say the words out loud. But they both knew what the other was thinking.

One early morning after a particularly nasty battle, one where Sumire almost thought Sanemi was going to lose an arm, they met a particularly strangely happy boy. Sumire thought that he looked familiar. 

They were sitting on the ground behind an old abandoned home when she looked up to hear footsteps approach them. She saw a boy about their age.

He wore the traditional demon slayer uniform and had short black hair and two short horizontal scars on the left side of his face. He had large green eyes and was taller than them she noted absently. When he noticed her look up he met her eyes and waved wildly. 

“Hey, are you two okay?!” His voice was boyish still, but kind and concerned. 

Sanemi whipped his head around. Sumire didn’t say anything. She just stared impassively at the boy who approached them. 

Sanemi did. “We’re fine.” his voice was gruff. He was tearing pieces of bandage to go around his arm. 

“You look wounded are you sure? I saw the end of your fight. You got a nasty cut– let me help you.” the boy moved closer crouching down and reached his hand out, but Sanemi wrenched his hand out of reach. 

“I said we’re fine.” Sanemi glared at the boy.

“Okay okay–” He held his hands up. Then he placed one on his chest and introduced himself. 

“My name is Masachika Kumeno. A pleasure to meet you– Did you two even know what it was you two were fighting?” 

Sumire piped up. “A demon.” His name stuck a cord in her memory. 

“We’ve been out fighting them for some time.” Kumeno's eyes widened– like it was an inconceivable notion that two people his age would be able to fight a demon without Nichirin. 

“How…what–” Kumeno looked stunned.

“Don’t look too surprised, we got lucky our blood makes them woozy.” If possible his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

Sanemi butted in–  “Why do you have a sword? And what about the uniform? You from a cult?” Kumeno floundered. Inwardly Sumire snickered. It was funny watching him try to grapple with all the information that he had been given. 

“I–I…” He struggled to form a sentence. Kumeno took a moment to regain his composure. Then he fell backward from his crouch and crossed his legs, he sucked in a breath.

“Okay– I’m part of an organization called the Demon Slayer Corps. We get sent on missions to kill demons who have been killing humans.” He talked with his hands like he was trying to form concepts in the air with his hands. That was a really dumbed-down version of events but okay.

“Which you two–” he pointed to them, “Have been doing bare-handed!” Sumire held up her gardening shears in rebuttal. He looked exasperated.

He tacked on– “I was sent to kill a demon here but when I got to it you guys were already holding it down to wait for the sun.” He looked bewildered. “How have you guys not died?”

Sumire was quiet for a moment. She thought about it. They had had some close calls. But they always got lucky. It was a little like playing Russian roulette. Was this demon going to be the one to kill them? –It was like suicide, she thought more accurately. Sumire felt no fear of fighting the demons. 

Just like she felt no fear for if she almost died. She thinks Sanemi might feel the same. She was so caught up in her anger and grief she didn’t think about the consequences of dying. Sumire responded–

“Luck.” Not their training. 

They weren’t thinking about the future. They were thinking about killing as many as they could in that moment and if they died then they died. Because what else did they have? Their only other sibling hated them. They only had each other.

If the other died they would too. Sumire knew about the future and knew she needed to survive but she was tired. And in pain. How far did she have to carry herself and Sanemi? Did the future truly need them? 

‘Yes– Genya needs you’

She heard it in her mind, she knew it was true. But– 

‘You're a monster! A demon!’

She was what she hated most to him. He didn’t even know what a demon was yet.

“Ah– you're going to die if you keep doing this without the proper tools.” Blunt much. And why did he say it so happy?

Sanemi grumbled– “Then how do we not die? Oh so gracious one.” Sumire liked Sanemi’s newfound sarcasm. She didn’t like where it stemmed from but she understood. 

Kumeno laughed “I can direct you to a trainer if you like?” 

“What would they train us in? And for how long?” Sanemi sounded skeptical. The last time they had a trainer he only taught them two hours a day and for seven years. They learned at a snail's pace. Sanemi’s probably thinking about how long it took Kumeno to train to get to where he was. 

“Well…I would probably send a letter to my own cultivator. And the time depends on you guys. How fast you can learn or how much she can teach you.” 

His trainer was a girl? That was uncommon.

“What is it that we learn exactly?” Sanemi was rather talkative today, that was good. 

“Well– everyone in the Corps learns to use a breathing technique with a sword, then they go off to a place called final selection– which is a test –where after they complete it they then get a special katana, a nichirin sword.” Kumeno pauses then adds–still talking animatedly with his hands.

“Those swords are the only thing that can kill a demon, besides sunlight. It’s because the ore was harvested on top of a special mountain.”

Silently Sumire could tell Sanemi was weighing his options. Sanemi technically already knows a breathing technique and he’s heard Katsumi say that it was derived from a sword technique. So the chances of him saying yes are pretty high. 

Behind Kumeno Sumire saw the sun rise higher into the sky. Another day. Another day with no real progress to her target. She didn’t wait for Sanemi to finish thinking.

“Then I want one.” She didn’t need to explain further. 

“ –Woah! Did you not hear about the test and the training–” He was flabbergasted. 

“I heard. And I want to kill demons. I want to avenge my family.” Sumire stared straight into Kumeno’s eyes. Her face was blank but serious. Kumeno looked a little taken aback at her declaration. But then his face morphed into a sad smile. And for a moment he looked much older than her. Older than her whole soul. 

“Are you sure? It won’t be a path you can leave unscathed.” His voice was kind, his face round and boyish. She remembered who he was. He was going to be Sanemi’s friend. Her’s too. Why was he so kind? What made him different from them in the death that they had experienced? Why had he not lost his spark? 

Sanemi answered for her. “We’re sure.”

He smiled again this time. But it held no pity, only shared grief. “Okay, come on.” And he held out both of his hands out to them.

Chapter Text

Sumire remembers Kumeno’s hand the most. It was rough and calloused. But it was warm. It was bigger than hers. Sumire doesn’t remember holding anyone’s hand that was bigger than hers. At least not since she was five. It felt like a lifeline. Like she was being pulled along and led to somewhere safe, she knew that it was an illusion. Knew that he would let go of her hand that she wouldn’t see him again for a long time and that she would feel the cold unending grief again.

She wanted to keep him in her orbit. Kumeno felt safe like his old smile and understanding of her pain made it so that her pain was driven away. Not completely. No– but it was the bubble he created that allowed her to let her guard down for just a moment. 

Then when they made it to a small inn with wisteria all around it. Sumire was skeptical about why they would be here at such a place. But then Kumeno said that it would probably be a good idea to clean up before he sent them to his cultivator. Because she probably wouldn’t appreciate having to clean them. He made it sound like she was a frugal woman who hated children. Also, did he have to point out how dirty they were?

Which almost made Sumire rethink going to her but then she thought about the fact that she doesn’t want to be treated like a child. She gathered that where they were was probably a Wisteria House hosted by a woman who was probably in her thirties. She had long brown hair and a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, but other than that she had no expressions that she greeted them with. 

It felt a little like she was glaring at them throughout the entire process. Upset that she had two disgusting urchins in her establishment who weren’t even demon slayers. But regardless of whether or not she hated them, she still took their clothing and gave them robes to change into. Sumire didn’t trust the woman not to take her hair comb or Sanemi’s bracelet so she kept them hidden. Kumeno said that he would be waiting in the room they were given and was going to write to his trainer. 

The bathing rooms were separated. And Sumire and Sanemi stood at the entrance to the chambers. It would be the first time in a…long second. They hadn’t been away from each other. Even if they were only separated by a wall. Sumire looked to Sanemi. A connection of understanding.

‘See you on the other side.’

It was dramatic but accurate. They both needed to be clean. They had been in their filth for a long time. She wondered how Kumeno was able to stand it. Sumire had just become used to it. She’d have to ask what date it was to make sure they hadn’t missed a birthday too. She didn’t think it had been that long cause it wasn’t cold outside.

When she stepped into the showering room she had been the only one there. Which she felt a little relief for. She knew most demon slayers had scars. But she didn’t want them questioning why she had them. 

She had been right about her hair though. It needed to be cut. The mats rendered almost everything from the base of her neck to about eight or so inches from the top dead weight. Sumire was unable to wash any of it. So before she even tried to clean herself she dug around through some of the baskets on the shelves that lined the wall. Hoping to find a pair of scissors. In one of the bottom boxes, Sumire found a pair of large fabric scissors, and next to it was a little pocket mirror. 

Both are not what she would have preferred for the job, but they would have to do. She propped the small mirror up on one of the shelves at eye level with her. She backed up enough that she could see her whole head. It looked tiny.

She could see dirt and blood matted into her hair. It had lost its white luster. Looking grey and dull. Parts of it dyed in rust. And others caked with dirt. Sumire looked at the scissors in her hand. She could always try to brush it out. Slowly but surely. But how long would that take? Wouldn’t it be painful?

She loved her hair. It was part of her identity and how she presented herself. If she cut it, It would take quite a bit of time before she could grow it back to where it was. But it was nasty. It literally and metaphorically held memories of nights she didn't want to remember. 

Sumire held the scissors to the base of her neck. She stared at her eyes in the mirror. Dull and dead. She had seen herself in a mirror once. Back when she was much younger. She remembered a lively young girl with long bright white hair and bright violet eyes. Her smile had been large and luminous. She didn’t remember what it felt like to be that girl anymore. 

She felt the cool metal of the scissors on her neck. She could never go back. That girl had not seen what she had. Something died in her that day. And now she just had to get rid of the last of the past. She squeezed the shears–

‘I won’t be able to use that hair comb.’

Sumire paused– a few hairs fell. No, she wouldn’t be able to. But one day she would wear it as a symbol of where she came from. Be able to honor her Ma, avenge her. 

“Sometimes you have to get rid of the bad parts before you can eat the good ones.” 

She heard Ma’s voice in her head. She told her that when she was teaching her how to cut up meat. Sometimes parts of the meat weren’t good. And you had to cut them away. Sumire stalled. Then she cut her hair with a snip. 

Snip Shink Snip

Sumire cut from the base of her neck then at an angle out to the top. The result was choppy and her head felt light. She held most of her hair in her hands. It was all a matted clump and almost looked worse not attached to her. She felt like she should feel something more. That the loss of her hair should strike something in her. She couldn’t feel anything but the same grief that she had before. Heavy and oppressive. 

She looked around for somewhere to put the hair. She couldn’t find anywhere suitable for it, so she left it outside the door of the bathing chambers. Hopefully, it would scare that lady. Sumire put the scissors and mirror back and proceeded to wash herself with cold water.

Sumire scrubbed until her arms were raw. Until she could see dozens of little cuts and a few large ones going up and down both arms, some healed others not so much. On her right bicep, she could see in all its healed ugliness the bite mark she got from Ma. Flashes of that night blew through her mind. She shut her eyes and shook her head in an attempt to get rid of them.

She stuck her head under the water and scrubbed the dirt out of her hair. There was a wide selection of soap in here, but Sumire just grabbed the first one she could get her hand on as she couldn’t see. She used multiple passes until she was able to get a foam to form. 

Then she rinsed it out. Sumire sat there for a moment with water dripping off of her. Just stared, watching. Her hair hung longer in the front of her face than it did in the back. She’d have to trim it.

Usually, she would have gotten in the bath but Sumire didn’t want another reminder. She wasn’t sure she could ever stomach taking another bath again– wasn’t even sure she could feel that warmth again. She toweled herself off, fished out the scissors again, and hacked at her hair until she thought it was good. 

–0–

“Woah– what’d you do to your hair?!” Kumeno’s eyes bugged out of his head.

“You wanted me to save that disgusting mat?” He opened his mouth to correct himself but– 

Sumire just shrugged her shoulders. “I couldn’t save it– so I cut it.” She closed the shoji door behind her and took a seat at one of the trays of food. She was wearing one of the purple yukata of the wisteria house.

Sanemi was already at his tray but he wasn’t eating– he was looking at her or more specifically her hair, it looked almost exactly like his.

“Now you two really look like twins. The only difference is that Sanemi’s a little taller.” 

Snap

Sumire broke her chopsticks apart. “What!” She looked to Sanemi. He just shrugged but she could tell he was eminating smugness. 

“There’s no way he’s taller!”

“Sure he is! If you don’t believe me you two can always stand back to back and I’ll tell you.” Kumeno smiled wide– like he hadn’t just shattered Sumire's self-image of being the twin better at everything, including the genetic lottery. 

“Deal– Sanemi!” She grabbed him by his arm and hauled him up. Kumeno was taller than both of them by at least half a head. Sumire felt like she’d have a metaphorical aneurysm if Sanemi was taller than her. He put them back to back– and pressed his hand down on their hair to find their skulls. Then declared that Sanemi was indeed taller. 

Sumire felt her eye twitch. She flung her hand out and grasped Kumeno’s uniform yanking him closer to her.

“Ain’t no way he’s taller than me! Measure again!” She shook him for emphasis. Kumeno had a look like he just sucked on a lemon. He tried to grab her wrist to remove her gently but her grip was like iron. 

So he resorted to tactic two. Pleading. “I can’t change what is already done!” He waved his hands in little pinwheels. 

“Are you kidding me?! I’ve been the taller one for ages! And then out of the blue this mother–”

“Language,” Sanemi calls out. A small sung smile on his lips. Her eye twitches again.

“Oh, don’t you start too. I’ll wrestle your ass til your blue in the face!” As Sumire lets go of Kumeno, turns around, and tries to tackle Sanemi, at the last second two arms come around her and trap her in a bear hug. 

“Hey! What the fuck!” Sumire is lifted off her feet and she kicks them wildly trying to get down. Then she feels the arms around her squeeze and she goes limp, her upper half falling forward. She’s not out. No– very conscious but she just feels– warm. And the strange unnecessary need to move. What the fuck? 

“What’d you do to her? Cut off her blood supply?” Sanemi curiously pokes at her. Strangely she doesn’t feel enraged by it. 

“No–I just squeezed her to see if she would calm down. I don’t know what happened.” Kumeno sounds very unsure of himself, and a little worried.

“Let her down.” Sanemi motioned with his hand. 

 Kumeno obliged. As soon as her feet hit the floor the previous rage from her very real loss came surging back to her. Kumeno opened his arms just slightly and she tried to jump at Sanemi again. Only to get trapped again, falling limp.

“Cool it’s like an off button. I’ve been trying to find one of those for ages!” 

Sumire may not feel anything right now but when she got put down Sanemi would never know the end of her wrath. 

–0–

The rest of Sumire’s night had essentially been– Sanemi also trying to replicate what Kumeno had done but failed, where she then proceeded to wrestle with him until they were out of breath. 

Kumeno sweet Kumeno, tried to break them up but failed almost every time except for when he was able to trap Sumire in one of those bear hugs again. Or as Sanemi called it the time-out hold. She would roast him alive one day. She could say now that she wasn’t a fan of being manhandled.

When they all finally tired enough, they ate, but the food ended up being cold by the time they did. Sumire didn’t quite mind as this was probably the best meal she had had in forever. After that, they chatted about little things that had no real meaning. Kumeno was trying not to step on their toes and ask sensitive questions. Which she appreciated a little.  

Laying in her futon that night, Sumire felt strange. Not a bad kind of way but more of a remembering kind of way. The last time she slept in a futon…had been the same night her family died. It felt like every little thing of the luxury of just living reminded her of her family. Living on the streets had brought her anger and grief but at least it was only in her memory where she had to face things that made her feel pain.

But staring into the dark of the room, Sumire could vividly remember the beating of her heart and the pulsing of the cut on her thumb. She could remember the dread and the exact moment when it burst into fear. A silent tear rolled down her face. She pressed her lips tightly together so that she would accidentally suck in air too quickly. 

She pushed those things out of her mind. Steadying her breathing as best she could. Sumire just really wanted things to be normal again. 

‘I know that’s never going to happen’ 

Chapter Text

The morning air was crisp, with the first frost of winter. The sun just barely crept through the shoji. It snuck up on her faster than Sumire had anticipated. It would take several weeks before the first fall of snow but to Sumire, it just meant that the time when Kumeno had found them was almost perfect. Like a set point. Only furthering her belief that she needed to change the future.

Sumire could tell that she was the first person to wake. Sanemi’s light snores still drowning and Kumeno hadn’t left his bed or moved any of his things. Sitting up she noted that by the door were two small piles of clothing and on top of one of them was a folded piece of paper. Sumire guessed that it was probably their clothing. How had that woman saved it? Her clothing had been torn to shreds mostly. Used as makeshift bandages when they couldn’t find any.

She shuffled her blanket off and examined the piles. The one without the note was Sanemi’s clothing– free of all the grime that they had accumulated. It was back to its pristine white, and striped purple lines, the holes were patched and almost seamless– It looked like a master's work.

Setting Sanemi’s clothing aside Sumire looked at hers, a little excited to see how the lady was able to patch up her yukata. First, though she picked up the note.

‘Your clothing had been unsalvagable. My utmost apologies, here is a set that I believe will fit.’

The writing itself was impersonal and felt very business. Sumire frowned a bit, how on earth had she saved Sanemi’s but not hers? She picked up the first garment in the pile and unfurled it. It looked like a traditional kimono but– It was a darker lavender than the Wisteria House’s yukatas and had large white blossoms of some sort of flower ranging from the right shoulder to the bottom folds.

It was about half the length of a normal kimono length if she estimated– it probably went to about her knees. Which was wildly inappropriate, but looking at the pile she could see a separate piece that was a solid pale tan color. Sumire set the purple top aside and picked up the second piece.

It took her a moment to formulate what they were– but it clicked in her mind that they were extra wide hakama pants. Why would the lady give her– ooh. It was a kofurisode, Ma had pointed it out to her once in the market when she had asked. The women who were wearing it were carrying baskets of fish. They had to move quickly and be able to use their legs without restriction or lack of modesty that the men's clothing would give.

Sumire’s never worn hakama before but it would probably give her better movement anyway without having to rip her yukatas. She looked over to where Kumeno was sleeping and decided that he would probably be asleep long enough for her to put it on. She wasn’t worried about Sanemi, they lived in the same house since birth.

Quietly she moved away from the door over to the corner furthest from the two boys. Figuring out how to put on hakama was much easier than she had thought it would be, but her first try had the hakama dragging on the floor because she tied it at her waist. Her brows pitched, that couldn’t be right. She thought back to that lady at the market– the tie had been up to her bust, in an empress waistline. She retied it. This time they didn’t drag on the ground.

Sumire did a few spins and kicked her legs to find her range of movement– she could do the splits. How had she never worn these before! Then she found the best discovery. It had pockets that you could access through the slits on the hakama. Immediately she transferred the hair comb to one of the pockets along with the bracelet.

Sanemi’d probably lose it if she handed it to him. One day– one day.

–0–

Sumire sorely underestimated how long it took for boys to wake up in the mornings. The host came by at some point and left three trays of food for them. Sumire ate hers without shame for not waking them. She was hungry and food was food. She did at some point kick them to let them know that they were being lazy. But she will take to the grave that she gently nudged Kumeno, but kicked Sanemi in the ribs to wake up.

Sanemi was grumpy to high hell, but he did eat and get dressed. Thereafter it was time for them and Kumeno to part. It wasn’t a huge affair but it did call for just a bit of disappointment that they would have to go their separate ways. Sumire was hoping that he would take them to his cultivator but his crow ended up commandeering the moment and telling him of a mission up north.

He gave them vague directions to head west until met with a tangerine orchard. And at the very back of it would be a house with a large open field that didn’t have anything but flat compounded dirt. Sumire could only imagine what that expanse was used for. She shuddered.

They waved goodbye as they headed their separate ways. Sumire couldn’t help but look back just once to see him speeding away towards danger. She hoped that they would meet again so that she could talk. Neither of them knew how long it would take to get where they were going– so to conserve the meal that they had gotten that morning they traveled at only a fast walking pace.

They didn’t talk much on the way there, only about who it was they might find that was going to teach them. Sumire realized hours too late that Kumeno never told them the name of the cultivator. She mentally facepalmed when she thought about it. She’d just have to hope that whoever lived in the orchard knew their names.

It was very late afternoon encroaching on dinner when Sumire finally spotted in the distance rows and rows of freshly maintained tangerine trees. They spanned nearly as far as she could see. Little spots of orange littered every lush foliage. They looked like little lights. The sun was just closing in on the horizon– She didn’t want the cultivator to have gone to bed by the time they got there. Sumire turned to Sanemi and asked if they wanted to run to the house before it got too dark.

The trip didn’t take them very long to get there, as they walked down the row of perfectly trimmed trees Sumire could see a small house that had to at least have two or three rooms in it. And to the right of it, she saw the aforementioned dirt field. It wasn’t any bigger than the fourth of a city block. And was filled with tamped-down soil that had dried to the point where even a gentle breeze could pick up dirt and move it.

There were also patches of something dark closer to the center of the field. Sumire frowned at the sight. It didn’t spell well for them if what she could guess was probably their training field already had blood in it.

Aprouching the door Sumire raised her hand and knocked. She waited for a moment but she heard no movement. So she knocked again. This time she heard a very loud curse and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Then the door slammed open.

A katana was thrust out into Sumire’s face, she ducked and then heard–

“I told you to get the hell off my property! I wasn’t interested two hours ago and I’m not interested now!” The voice was slightly gravily but very clear and demanding.

Sanemi pulled Sumire away from the blade and they looked at each other and then back at the door. The woman finally seemed to have noticed that it wasn’t whoever had been at her door earlier and sheathed her sword.
“Oh– my apologies.” The woman pursed her lips and stared at them for a moment.

She had salt and pepper hair and she had fine wrinkles all over her face and was probably in her fifties or late forties.

“What are you two here for? Hopefully not beg for my tangerines. Cause you ain’t getting any– you’ve got to pay.” The woman’s eyebrows stitched together in an impressive frown.

“No– ma’am. We were sent here by a previous student of yours. Kumeno Masachika.” Sumire summoned all of the manners Ma taught her to make sure she didn’t mess up this introduction. Even if this woman was already turning out to be less than pleasant.

“That’s what the brat’s letter was about. He was going on and on about how he found two very promising students.” She looked them up and down. Sumire could guess what she saw. Two well-dressed kids, who looked like they probably hadn’t even seen the inside of a winter storm. If only she knew.

“What else did he say?” Sumire was a little curious about what Kumeno had said about them.

“That you two had been wandering around at night using your marechi blood to kill demons. Which is utterly unbelievable–” The woman gave a disbelieving chuckle. “ –who in their right mind would do that?”

Well… neither of them had been in their right mind at the time. And it is still debatable if they were now. Instead of protesting Sumire just pulled up the sleeves of her kofurisode. Exposing dozens of healed cuts. Some were little slivers and others were thick and roped from a lack of concentration when cutting.

The woman’s face took on a mild surprise for a moment before turning into a dark frown.

“Do you know how stupid you are for doing that?” Sumire felt like she was being judged to her very core.

“You don’t get to judge what it was we did after our family’s death.” Sanemi came to her rescue.

She still had a pitched expression– “Tell me you at least had some training.”

“Yeah, we had been taught by an old man named Katsumi Ryo. Who was convinced that we were going to blow our lungs up.”

The woman’s face flashed quickly through several emotions before landing on hysterical laughter. She held her face in her hands laughing almost a bit manically. Sumire and Sanem shared a look of ‘What the fuck?’ Nothing they said was even funny.

It took a moment but when she did calm down she said–

“Good lord– this is the biggest irony life has ever given me –That’s my Pa, the old bastard still kicking? I haven’t visited in some years now.”

“Wait… what. What’s your name?” Sumire’s brain felt like it was going to catch fire with how much she was trying to make sense of this.

“That brat didn’t tell you my name– before he sent you here?”

Sumire just shook her head. The woman pinched her eyebrows together and closed her eyes. It sounded like she was whispering a curse under her breath. Then she sighed and looked up.

“Kay, alright. My name is Katsumi Piko–” Sumire’s brain was blown. The Piko. Katsumi’s daughter! The fuck? She was already putting together the pieces but what!

“ –And what might your names be.” Did Kumeno not tell her that either? Dude.

Sanemi went first, clearly not as dazed as she was. “My name is Shinazugawa Sanemi. And this is my twin–”

“Shinazugawa Sumire.” She finished for him.

‘What the fuck?’

How–what?! When did this happen? Seven years ago Sumire had stumbled upon Sanemi’s future trainer’s father! What. Perhaps the plot wasn’t all that far away as she thought. Because clearly, it had been under her nose this whole time!

Piko nodded. Then she looked over to the horizon at the setting sun.

“You two can come in for the night. In the morning I’ll decide whether or not I’ll take you two on as students.” Piko stepped aside and motioned them in.

Inside they kicked off their zori and then turned to the rest of the house. There were three doors against the back wall and in the center of the room was a short table–with tea set –with a few cushions around it. Next to it was a hearth. The right wall had a counter that spanned the length of it. Also sporting a sink– Which felt like a large luxury. But other than that there wasn’t much other than the left wall housing shelves with scrolls and books on them.

Piko moved passed them toward the table.

“Tea?”

Sumire nodded– Sanemi just kinda shrugged. They moved to sit at the table with Piko.

“So– what is it the old man taught you?” Piko sips her tea, looking at them over the rim.

“He taught us total concentration breathing constant. And…a breathing technique but he transferred it to fist fighting so he added on more defensive moves.” Sumire summarized the last seven years of their lives in two sentences. She felt scammed.

“Did he perchance say what the breathing technique was?” Piko set down her glass and leaned forward. She had an intense look on her face. It made Sumire nervous about what she was going to say.

“...wind…breathing–” Sumire paused, watching Piko’s reaction.

“He taught you what!?” Piko looked like she was going to have an aneurysm.

“Fuck! Fuck that old man!” She turned around to shout at the wall.

What had they gotten themselves into?

Chapter Text

Sumire never got a reason for why Piko was so…angry– at what they had learned. But she had a suspicion that it had to do with the fact that she was going to have to retrain them in the basics. Which would be a good thing. They both probably had a dozen bad habits that needed to be broken. 

Piko showed them to the room farthest to the right. It was almost a glorified closet but there was enough space for two futons and a small writing desk. And to Sumire, she was just glad that they got a space away from Piko. The bathroom was the room in between Piko’s and their room. They didn’t have any other clothing so Piko gave them both a set of jinbei that were two sizes too big. Sumire had to wrap the string twice around her torso to get it to stay. 

She figured that it was better than nothing. That night Sumire was sitting on her futon observing the wood grain on the window, remembering just barely the patterns of the wood that had been in the bathroom of her house. All while Sanemi was lying down on his side under the covers. 

“Hey–Sumire,” Sanemi whispered looking at the wall behind her. 

She hummed, also not turning her head to look at him.

“What do you think it is Piko will make us do?” This time she did turn her head. Sanemi just kept staring at the wall. He looked like he was deep in thought. 

Sumire thought about it for a moment. But decided to be honest instead of saying she didn’t know.

“Probably run us into the ground. Make us work ten times as hard as Katsumi ever made us do.”

“Why? What purpose does us learning something new serve?” His eyebrow crinkled in thought. He was probably thinking about if any of this was worth it.

 Sumire was quiet again– why were they doing this? So that they could avenge their family or that is why Sanemi and Sumire were doing it. But Sumire– she was also doing it because there were going to be things in this world that only she could stop.

“Because if we don’t do anything– then our pain means nothing.” She knew it sounded harsh. But she couldn’t very well say that it was because the people they would grow fond of would die. 

Sanemi’s eyes widened. Then he gained a grimace on his face. Sumrie cringed inside– she hadn’t meant to make him relive the scenes. 

“You’re right– I guess.” Then he added softly. “I don’t want to be in pain anymore Mir.” 

Sumire softened, she scooched over to his futon and pushed him over drawing herself under his blanket. Then she hugged him close to her. She didn’t want to be in pain either– didn’t want to look up to the sky and never see the beauty of the point. 

“I don’t either.” She whispered just as softly. “But I also don’t want Ma’s spirit to be left to wander. I want to get rid of every demon who walks this earth so that no one else has to be in pain.” ‘So Genya doesn’t either’ went unsaid. 

Sanemi nodded. Sumire gets it she does– but if they back out of becoming demon slayers the consequences will be– something out of a nightmare. No matter how much both of them don’t want to. She knows that deep down, they could never leave this path. Because if they did they would never get the satisfaction that they want. 

They drift off to sleep like that. Filled with grief, that Sumire knows can be transformed into razor-sharp anger. 

–0–

KNOCK KNOCK

Sumire sat straight up gasping, she panted and grasped at her heart. 

“Look alive! You have ten minutes to meet me in the training field.” Piko yelled loudly through the door. Sanemi just groaned and rolled over.

Sumire leaned back on her palms. Closing her eyes for just a moment– flashes of that exact sound thundered through her head.

‘Fuck Piko.’

Sumire got dressed– Sanemi rolled over again and pulled his jinbei on. Sumire would say that she was tired but after that awakening, it felt like electricity had gone through her. Quickly they met Piko out in the yard. The sun had barely risen and was glaringly bright as they tried to look at where Piko was standing. 

“Kay–I’m going test where you both sit in terms of raw skills. Like endurance and the like.” Piko raised her hand out and pointed to the rows of tangerine trees. 

“You two are going to run twenty lanes of the orchard. The same one over and over or twenty different rows– I don’t care.”  Then she clapped her hands. Sanemi and Sumire just looked at each other. 

“Well? Get going!” They couldn’t see her face but they heard the annoyance in her voice. They both took off. 

Both of them ran up and down the same row. Neither of them knew how fast Piko wanted them to go nor if she expected them at a certain time. When they finished they both just stood there not really out of breath or sweating. Piko looked at them both and frowned pitching her brows together.

“Kay– I should have clarified. I want you to do that again but as fast as you can run. Don’t wait for the other if they fall behind.” This time when she clapped her hands they took off. 

When one of them would fall behind the other it became an incentive to get ahead of the other. It became a race to see who could do it the fastest. This time when they finished they still weren’t out of breath but Sumire did fall over from trying to stop in time when she finished. 

“That was abhorrent. Is that the fastest you two can go after mastering concentration breathing?” 

Sumire pushed herself up from the ground, Sanemi chimed in displeased with Piko.

“Wasn’t the point of it just to make you a little stronger? Or at least be able to have really good endurance?” Oh, you sweet summer child Sanemi. She’s going to kill them. 

In one second Piko was gone the next she was right in front of Sanemi. His eyes bugged.

“That is what total concentration is used for. You two have it backward– curse that old man –which isn’t necessarily bad. It just means you are going to be doing a lot of endurance and strength exercises. Before we even pick up a katana.” Piko’s mouth twitches up in an evil grin. Sumire felt a shudder go down her spine. 

This was definitely Katsumi’s daughter. 

–0–

Out of all the things Sumire hates most in life exercise had never been one of them– until now. It had been actual years since she had been out of breath. And right now she was struggling to lift fifty pounds of solid rock over her head while Piko watched her do her eightieth rep. It had been nearly 2 weeks since arriving here and every moment felt like Piko was trying to kill them.

 She wondered how it was that Kumeno was able to survive this training. While it wasn’t hard to breathe necessarily the strain that was put on her body made her feel like she was struggling to breathe. She knew it was a mental block put there from how unused to exercise her body was.

But after the fact Piko had ‘tested’ them, she had been very quick to point out where they lacked the fundamentals and where they didn’t. One of them being that they had trained their lungs to the max. But their bodies barely had any muscle on them. 

And Piko insisted that if they were to get faster and stronger they couldn’t just know how to breathe. Sumire was a bit skeptical on that front. Because she had a memory of Tanjuro pop into her head at the exact moment she had said that. The difference for Sumire though was that Tanjuro had technique masted to a level that she didn’t. 

So therefore he didn’t need to be healthy or strong. Which was where she wanted to be at some point. She would just have to work her ass off to get there. And right now she was just barely getting started.

After the first month, the first snow fell. It looked magical for all of two seconds then they were forced to run the rows until Piko felt satisfied. It was also the same time when she allowed them to hold a bokken. Sumire felt like she was waving around completely dead weight. Even when she drilled, it felt more like she was holding a pipe than something that could potentially hurt someone. 

Piko was a ruthless instructor when it came to the sword. If they missed an instruction, the price was more exercise. So they learned to always be attentive to her. If she wanted something done they did it without argument. The first week had had a lot of that. Sanemi and her weren’t used to someone telling them how to properly do things. Even when listening to Katsumi they never really did what he wanted without him smacking them over the head– lightly of course…

Sumire’s hands bled often throughout learning to hold and swing the bokken. But every time she felt like she was going to drop it, she summoned every bit of her rage and grief to continue holding the handle. She dipped into to it like an old glove, it fit and worked every time. She used it to propel herself forward.

 Swing the sword repeatedly in mind-numbing drills in the cold. It was during these weeks that the training hurt the most. Their skin was still soft and bodies were unused to long hours of practice.

Piko would leave them in the cold for hours at a time giving them just simple instructions on how to swing the sword. She never said for how long or how many. But when she came outside again and they were still at the exercise– Sumire couldn’t help but get the impression that she was pleased. 

Like she had expected them to stop or slack off. Sumire also got the impression that Piko was being harder on them because of their previous training. She didn’t have to teach them how to use TCB or even TCBC. So it probably gave her far more free range to make them do things twice if not three times as hard as a normal person would have had to. 

She drilled them in reflexes like a madwoman. Throwing spare bokkens and even real swords at their heads and feet to make them more adept at dodging fast-moving objects. She also made them do sprints between two lines drawn in the dirt so that they could increase their speed. It wasn’t all too difficult work. But Piko made sure to never let their egos get out of check. If it wasn’t that fact that their breathing was fine. Their bodies had almost become more bruised than skin. And their muscles were sore beyond belief at the end of each day.

After Piko made sure that basic sword forms were drilled into their heads and enough reflexes she was sure they weren’t going to cut their hand off– she began her work on the wind breathing technique. It wasn’t anything that Sumire had expected, but it was also everything she expected. The katas coupled with TCBC made everything ten times easier and also ten times harder. 

The movements were easy, they practiced slowly until they could do it at full speed. But when Sumire got to the breathing she had to break the habit of breathing like she was fighting with her fists. 

She had to do extra drills repeatedly to relearn how to breathe when fighting with a sword. Piko would have them stand in the middle of the field and breath to the rhythm of the kata while performing the movements.

If they got it wrong she’d swiped them off their feet with her foot. Sumire thinks that she was trying to teach them how to continue breathing even if they fall. But that took far longer to grasp than actually learning any katas. 

–0–

-     4 months since arrival     -

“Again,” Piko ordered from the sideline. Snow fell in dancing rivets. Landing on Sumire’s hair and clothes.

Sumire and Sanemi had repeated the first kata repeatedly without stopping for the last hour. Sumire was positive that had she not had her prior training she would have fallen over after two run-throughs. As matter a of fact she was glad Piko had trained her muscles because of how demanding the effort of producing a full wind kata was. 

“What— is the– point of– this?” Sumire breathed in between breaths. She didn’t want to mess up the rhythm that she had going, if she did she wasn’t sure she could continue. Breath in– heat coursed through her, she dashed a step– swing –she released it all in a horizontal slash. A large wave of destructive power flew off her blade and into the empty field beyond. She focused on her footwork. Breath in–

“You two need to learn many things that had you started fresh would have been easy.” Piko frowned. “But the both of you don’t struggle the same way others do– so you both are going to have to find what your breaking point is and break it again.”

At some point, Piko realized that Sumire and Sanemi didn’t struggle to breathe even after long periods of exercise. So she had taken up making them repeat drills that would be difficult for even a well-experienced demon slayer. Naming made them repeat katas until they dropped.

Piko tacked on after a moment– “Because when you learn to fight I can’t have you two unexpectedly learn of what your limit is then you die because you couldn’t break through it.” Harsh. 

They continued like that, occasionally Piko would tell them to switch to a different kata. At some point Sumire’s arm became jello and her lungs felt as if the cold was stabbing into them with real knives. Piko called it a day after they both dropped their swords multiple times. She had yet to teach them any fighting, which made Sumire a little more than frustrated as that was what she wanted to learn. 

Later that night Sumire was in the bathroom thinking about where it was in her progress. As the water fell from the shower head, Sumire looked at the callouses on her hands. It felt like they hadn't been there just yesterday. 

Her body was leaner now. With more muscle mass on her body. Some of her scars stretched strangely over the added tension on her skin. And her hair had grown a little longer than her shoulders. It was still choppy but long enough now that she had to put it up in a ponytail to keep it out of her face. 

Sumire wonders how Misturi felt when becoming a demon slayer. It took her three months to learn flame breathing and create her style. And in another three months, she became a hashria. What struggles did she face? How long was it until she could perform all the flame katas without failure? 

Sumire was already able to complete all the wind katas without failure. But it was her muscle endurance that struggled to keep up with her. She would burn herself out before she could learn to dance forever. She had to make her body stronger. Breathe more fluidly- waste less movement.

Sumire felt like she wasn’t learning anything. But she knew that wasn’t true. She had drilled the forms into her head. She could perform them in her sleep if she had to. But even though wind breathing was harsh on the body of a normal person, it felt like she could grasp it better even if for a moment. 

Her thoughts from years ago began to pop back into her head. What would happen if she did create her breathing style? She wanted it to be as powerful as she could make it but that would mean that driving it from something would only take it further away from the source.

How would she create something so powerful it can be in a league of its own? If she wanted to do that she would have to get Piko to teach them how to actually fight. Not just drill.

Chapter Text

‘Breath in– fill your lungs – push the oxygen to your mussels – breath out–

Again’

It was five months after the twins' arrival. And Sumire was getting tired of not being able to progress to the next stage: fighting. She wanted to move on– go faster. She already had a good grasp on the techniques, the breathing. She could do them for hours, her body had become hardened from outside temps and long days of strength training. 

So she confronted Piko about it. 

“Why won’t you teach us to spar yet?” They were sitting at the low table in the kitchen. Piko sat closest to the bathroom– Sanemi was taking a shower.

Piko pinched her brows like she normally did when contemplating. “I’ll keep it straight with you Sumire. You and Sanemi carry a lot of anger in you probably derived from grief. And while it is a good motivator–” 

She paused, picking out her words carefully.

“ –I worry that it will make the two of you more violent…if not just volatile. Once I allow you to progress you will shoot off at speeds I don’t think I’ve had in a student.” She frowned.

Wasn’t that supposed to be a good thing? That they were excelling fast?

“Isn’t that…good?” Sumire was confused so much for her last life’s knowledge.

“Yes– and no. You guys are going to burn out one day because of the anger. You won’t have anything to fall back on–” Piko sounded frustrated.

“Not true. We’ve got each other–” And Sumire even more so because she didn’t understand.

Piko interrupted her. “And what happens if one of you decides to move on from hurting? You are two people, not one.” Sumire paused– she knew that. But they were the same…If one let go the other had to understand that and if they couldn’t then that was on them. She knew that did Sanemi know that?

“Once I teach you to fight. It will be on the both of you to determine how far you go. If you burn out that's on you. If you excel and keep going then congratulations you figured out the trick.” 

She can do that. Sumire will not burn– she will dance forever.

Sumire slammed her hands on the table– leaning forward. “I can do that– I’ll prove it to you.” She would, she wouldn’t burn. 

If possible Piko’s frown deepened further. She narrowed her eyes. 

“I’m not going to make it easy for you to get to Final Selection. I have had a lot of children die. Masachika was the sole exception in the last 10 years.”

She’s not a child. Maybe this was less about how fast they would excel and more about Piko worrying they would end up dead too early. Burning on their emotions before they realize what really makes them fight. 

“I’ll cut you a deal– you and Sanemi have to land a hit on me in combat. Then and only then– will you get to go to the final selection.” Sumire’s eyes widened. 

She saw Piko’s plan– she was going to make them frustrated and try to get them to give up. This wasn’t the test Kumeno probably got. She didn’t want them to burn where they would die. She would do it where they could still walk away from this. No– they couldn’t walk away from this. She would show Piko that she could do it. Show her that she would beat her stupid deal. 

“Deal–” Sumre reached her hand forward to shake Piko’s. Her hand felt firm and weathered but no less strong. 

–0–

Perhaps Sumire should stop making impulsive deals. With herself and with Piko. She taught them– oh did she. Sumire’s face slammed into the ground. She got up– only to be shoved back and have the wind knocked out of her. 

Bruises littered her skin– blood dripped from her nose. Sumire was haggard, it felt like everything was on fire. The cold did nothing to quell the burning of her lungs. Learning to fight was nothing like basic exercise. She could barely make her lungs function under what was essentially a beatdown. 

“Get up. You wanted to learn– so get back up.” Piko demanded, she slammed her foot into the side of Sumire’s gut flinging her across the field. She rolled to a stop. Slowly she pushed herself up. Sumire understood now why there were blood patches on the field. 

Sanemi lurched forward, “Hey! –” but Piko held her hand out and he stopped where he was on the sidelines. 

“No– you can’t help her. She wanted to learn to fight. I’m going to teach her how to get back up even when her entrails hang from her body.” Piko was being harsh– but Sumire understood.

Sumire’s body had long ago stopped feeling the pain. But she could feel her muscles spasm and contract under the pressure. Her mind gave up on frustration. It was just the drive to prove that she could do it. That she wouldn’t fail again. She gripped her bokken. 

Piko was beating her down, trying to get her to understand that she didn’t need to excel. But she had to. Piko didn’t see that– she saw a girl that was too angry– too volatile and that would get her killed. Sumire couldn’t die. Not now not ever.

Sumire raised her bokken and shifted in the first stance– clenched her teeth and hissed–  then she flew. Piko told her that when sparing against Sanemi she was not allowed to use techniques until she allowed them to. But against her, all bets were off.

Piko ducked under the attack, open-hand striking Sumire in the gut. Making her fly back, she skidded doing her best to not fall over again. 

“The only way for you to learn is to fight. I can teach you all the sword drills in the world and it would never compare to physical pain.” Piko was unarmed– but they both knew that she would never need anything to beat them. 

“Pain drives home the point. Makes you remember, you never make the same mistake twice.” As harsh as Piko’s method of teaching them to fight was, it was effective. In the first week, Sumire was covered in bruises, wounds from her sword, and a multitude of bloody noses. 

During the second week, She learned how to keep breathing after being shoved to the ground. How to strengthen her diaphragm beyond just TCBC. Learned to fall without breaking anything. Piko had no style of fighting, which is what made learning dangerous for them. The whole idea was that they created their own style of fighting based on wind breathing and their own knowledge of sword drills. 

Which for Sumire opened up an entire avenue of questions. Mainly during this period could she work on her own breathing style if she had to create her own fighting style? So she went to Piko at the end of the second week and asked about other breathing styles. 

“Why would you want to know about other styles?” Piko was shelving away scrolls that she had pulled out earlier and Sumire was sitting at the table drinking tea. Sanemi was out in the field practicing drills. 

“I want to create my own.” Piko paused then she laughed– not a chuckle. A full-bellied laugh. 

“Hah– Kid you may be a natural at wind breathing– but you are going to have zero luck creating something new.”

“Could I at least try?” Sumire started to sound a little unsure of herself. She had to at least give it her all.

“I don’t know jack about other styles. And even if I did I don’t have the time to stop and teach it to you. Your body and spirit were made for wind breathing. Just be happy that you figured that part out.” Piko roughly shoved a scroll onto the shelf. 

“Can I learn on my own time? What about books– do you have any on the styles?” Sumire frowned. She would learn how to dance forever even if it killed her. She would kill Muzan.

Piko looked back to her shelves, then she pulled out several scrolls and a few tomes and tossed them at her. Sumire caught them easily, when she opened the first one she found it to be a book on flame breathing, it was rather large comparatively to say the thunder or flower breathing, which they barely even qualified to be scrolls. 

“You can learn on your own, I won’t stop you. But when you fail remember that wind breathing is what your body was made for. Not anything else” Then Piko grabbed her haori and went outside. Presumably to spar with Sanemi. 

Piko was wrong, she would make her eat her words. Sumire looked at the books and scrolls. She wouldn’t fail. She couldn’t. Why was Piko so negative, maybe she didn’t want Sumire to get her hopes up.

‘How many times have you said that? How many times have you failed?’

If she didn’t want to fail she needed a plan. Which first started with identifying what it was she wanted out of her style. 

‘Fast enough that no one would ever land blows on me, strong enough that no one could ever defeat me.’

Her words from years ago resonated in her. She had said those to herself after the first time Kyogo had beaten them. That was her goal at the time. Back then she had succeeded but it took her years. She didn’t have years anymore. She would have to bleed to get there– maybe that is the reason she failed to save Ma or her siblings. She didn’t bleed enough, didn’t break enough. 

So what was it that she wanted– Muzan to burn, bleed. But she couldn’t just learn flame breathing, she couldn’t just cut him. She wanted to battle him with elegance. She needed to be fast enough that his blows met air. Be fluid enough that she never had to stop dancing. What she wanted was sun breathing. But she couldn’t have that. 

So how could she get something like it?

Sumire laid the books and scrolls out in front of her and went to the shelf to grab blank paper and a brush set, then she rushed back to the table. 

Every style derives from sun breathing because it could never be replicated the same. Everyone who learned a technique learned one based on their strengths. So…that made the strengths of every style were all the strengths of sun breathing. So to create a strong style all Sumire had to do was take the strengths of all the main styles and mash them together to create her style. What would she call such a thing? 

It would be a bastardized version of sun breathing. Taking the best parts of a style and mashing it with others. Using techniques she knew she could achieve more. She wanted Muzan to burn in hell for taking Ma from her. Wanted to make it up to her siblings– knowing she could conquer anything that came her way. 

Sumire thought of fire– of where she wanted Muzan to end up. She wanted retribution. She wanted to rain hellfire upon everyone who stood in her way. Wait–Hellfire– that’s what she would name it. It didn’t sound that bad, it embodied everything she wanted. To send those she hated to a place of damnation. 

‘Hellfire breathing.’ 

It rolled off the tongue. For now, she’d keep it, the name could always change but the style itself was what would be hard to create. She had to take into account styles she had never tried before. Her lungs would kill her if she just switched between different styles. She had to make it her own. 

–0–

Sumire worked late into the night, and when Sanemi had come in from training he asked what she was doing but Piko spoke for her telling him she was chasing a pipe dream. Sumire glared at her but just returned to what she was doing. 

She went through every scroll and book, she picked out the main katas that the styles were known for. She listed them– she would have to come back to them to practice them one by one and then change them to what it was she wanted.

She thought about what it was that she wanted her style to be known for. Did she want it to be harsh and offensive like wind breathing? Or fluid and elegant like water and flower breathing. What about the power and passion of flame and thunder? Or even oppressive like stone and sound.

What she wanted was sun breathing, she wanted the power and the elegance that it brought. She wanted the heat and destruction that it delivered to her opponent. She wanted her blade to feel like the pits of hell had come forth to deliver death. And she would learn to dance forever, just like she promised herself.

Chapter Text

Huff huff–

Breath– come on–

Sumire counted her breaths– augmented them to her body. They were harsh– but she could feel the oxygen being pushed into her limbs, her brain, and her eyes. It felt like too much like her organs would burst. TCBC could only do so much to help balance her. The sky was bright with the morning sun. Sumire stood stock still a ways off in the training field. She faced the sun. Just breathing. She couldn’t fight or even move with any of the katas she created yet. Which was to say she was only able to do four of them. But every one of them made her head feel light and her heart beat double time. 

But she could feel the power, if she ever got to the point where she could move– then she would be unstoppable she could feel it. Her body was like a vessel or a cup. TCBC had already expanded her cup ten times the amount of the normal cup and drilling wind breathing had increased it as well. However, Sumire's bastardized concoction was almost too much for her cup, she could feel it just when it was about to spill over. Or aka she was about to pass out. 

But she had expanded her cup again and again and now she could just barely hold one kata at a time. She couldn’t reliably switch over to another like she could in wind breathing but it was progress. It had been 7 months since their arrival and Sumire had worked night and day to try and figure out how to create a strong technique within the first month, and the second she had begun training it.

She had ten planned techniques. Each one could be performed right after the other. Or at least she should in theory be able to. The last one connects to the first one and it can start all over again like a cycle. Sumire might have gone a little overboard in analyzing what she remembered of sun breathing. 

And to say she was mildly disappointed with her progress was an understatement. Don’t get her wrong, she is proud that she was able to manage what she was able to do at all. Because she feared that Piko had been right and that she would never be able to create anything– but now she can shove it in her face when she finally gets it. 

Sumire has taken to using the entire morning to expand her lungs, how is that even possible she doesn’t know. But she’s doing it because she can feel the progress. By noon her entire body is thrumming and pulsing hot, it feels like she's gone feverish. The first time it happened Sumire had worried that she would get the slayer mark. But now she is used to the feeling, she knows that it is just her body getting used to the intensity of the breaths. 

In the afternoon Sumire takes a break from her routine. When she finally lets go of the breaths it feels like her whole body will collapse onto the ground. Her lungs cry with relief and her muscles instantly grow weak from the lack of simulation. She stagars inside and flops down at the table to eat something quick then goes to practice her fighting. 

Sumire might just be tired, and maybe that is why she doesn’t glimpse the look Piko gives her, but she feels like she is going to pass out, if only from exhaustion. She’s been putting herself through this for over a month and only now has she made significant progress. In the beginning, she could barely breathe for more than a second before becoming winded. Then she would start over. And she would do her best to hold it even if for a second longer. Once Sumire managed to hold it sufficiently, she started to feel tired. It’s almost like she needed to be breathing that way all the time, just like TCBC, so she didn’t get winded if she stopped. 

Perhaps that was another thing she should try to complete. But maybe at a later date when she could do them all while moving. It was frustrating seeing all the steps she had to accomplish before she got to her goal, but she knew that would make it all the sweeter when she got there. 

Sanemi had been skeptical in the beginning, and incredibly worried when she had passed out the first time. However after he realized that she wouldn’t back down from this, he just let her do what she pleased. But he did warn her that if she kept passing out he would keep her from doing what she was trying to accomplish. On one hand, she knew that his threat could be empty, but on the other…he very well could end up getting worried enough that she was endangering herself and needed to be stopped before any lasting damage was done. 

Sumire found it endearing that he cared so much for her. But then again every time she thought about that she also thought about what had happened to the well-being of her family and it all made sense why he would be worried for her. 

Either way, she pushed it from her mind doing her best to not think about the atrocities that had happened that night. All thinking about them did was make her feel like more shit. Which further prompted her to try to train until she passed out. 

It wasn’t a healthy cycle, Sumire knew that. She knew that, but it felt good– or well better than emotional pain. It made her body feel like it was going to explode, making it feel more pain. In the back of her mind, she desperately hoped that she would never get used to the feeling of her vessel getting stronger so that she could block everything out just by breathing a certain way. But the more she did it the more immune she became the stronger she became. 

It was like a drug, and it was as much a motivator as avenging her family. Of course, there was also the pain of Piko’s teaching. Which left Sumire with more molted skin than she had ever seen in her life. But just as she had thought two months ago, it was effective. She and Sanemi had learned at speeds that Sumire couldn’t even compare to anything. Her fighting style had developed into a harsh and quick manner. 

But she also tried to retain a style of grace when she fought—twirling and bending in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Thats what she wanted though, was to confuse people when they saw her style. She knew the movements of the style she was creating, but she didn’t breathe with them in sparing yet. Instead, she simply practiced their movement so that when it came time to try she wouldn’t falter so bad. 

Almost every one of them had the grace of water breathing. The twists and turns, but they also carried the intensity of stone, flame, and wind. Her seventh kata– was a mercy kata. She created it to be as swift and as calm as possible. She didn’t think that she would use it very often, as she knew she wouldn’t feel any sympathy for the demons. But she had remembered her Ma when she made it. How much pain she must have been in when Sumire threw that knife into her head. How scared her soul must have been. It’s the only reason it exists, for the off chance she meets a demon that deserves her mercy. 

–0–

Later that evening Sumire is sitting out on the engawa, just staring into the distance wondering how long the sunsets were now that the snow had melted. The snow had melted…Holy Shit! Their birthday! How in the world had she forgotten about their birthday? Had Sanemi forgotten too? 

Was she so engrossed in getting stronger that she forgot about that significant day? How old were they? Probably close to 14 and a little less than half, if she was judging by the snow. 

Sumire had an inkling that she was forgetting something else too but that it didn’t feel as important as forgetting her birthday.

She’ll figure it out later, it doesn’t bring her any dread so it's probably not important.

–0–

Clash–

The clack of wooden swords rang out across the field, Sumire pulled her sword away and crouched low swinging at Piko’s midriff. In a flash Piko’s bokken had deflected Sumire’s and it went flying out of her hands and stuck into the dirt ten yards away. 

Piko struck her foot out and Sumire barely dodged out of the way. Trying to get back to her sword– flipping backward in an impressive display of flexibility Sumire wrenched her sword out of the ground and attacked again. Swinging in a harsh arch that was part of her first kata, but she didn’t breathe with it. 

Piko deflected again and shoved her back with wind breathing, Sumire stumbled but remained upright. 

“Why ain’t you breathing when I see you using your kata? How else are you going to learn to use them in a high-strung situation?” Piko twriled her sword in a bit of bordum. But Sumire just stared at her like she had gone mad.

“You do know I can barely move–”

“And? –Look the only way your body could get used to it more quickly is to use it. Besides, I know that you can hold at least one of them till noon, therefore you could probably use them in sparing.” 

Sumire was skeptical, what if she connected the movement and the breath but nothing happened? Or what if It proved too difficult and Piko smacked the crap out of her while she was moving? There were a lot of things that could go very wrong. 

“Uh…” But how else will she know it works? “Okay, I’ll do my best.” 

“That’a girl! I still don’t approve of this but if you are that set on it you need to be able to use it reliably.” 

Sumire was about 5 yards from Piko almost the perfect distance for her first kata. She shifted her feet– clenched her teeth, welcoming the burning and the filling of her cup. She pushed the oxygen to her limbs to her eyes, to her mind. Everything became sharp and instant. 

Just standing there Sumire could hold it, she could keep breathing like this for a long time, but now she had to move with the flow of breath. Sumire hissed steam fled from her mouth. 

Breath in-dash, left foot–

Swing–

Sumire dashed forward, right left right, She swung her blade in a clear horizontal arc, and her body burned. She felt her muscles ripple under the pressure, under the speed – at which she moved. Just in time, Piko’s bokken came up to meet hers. When the two collided the impact of Sumire’s blade crashed against Piko’s and broke the bokken in half where she struck. 

The tip went flying out to Sumire’s left. 

Beath out–

The burning ceasest. Her lungs didn’t feel as terrible as when she first started but they still begged for more air– Sumire paused there like she was suspended, panting. Piko’s eyes were blown wide. She too had yet to move her broken sword. 

“My…Isn’t that an interesting discovery? Just how were you able to move that fast? Hmmm.” She tossed her bokken over to the rack, it clattered against it and fell to the ground. Piko sounded oddly curious. 

She had been nothing if not dismissive towards Sumire when learning, but now she looked pensive. As if she had to come to dissection she wasn’t she she liked. 

Piko sighed and rubbed a hand over her face, “Alright. Clearly, you are capable of doing your katas–” Sumire was elated, “ –but, you need to drill them just like I had you do with wind breathing.” She was no longer elated. 

“It’s strong, but it took you a lot of flipping time to release the kata. Which means you need to drill so that you can do them reliably.”

Suddenly Sumire felt a lot like she had when she bargained with Piko to teach her to fight. 

But she also felt her first grasp of victory.

–0–

-   9 months since arrival    -

Two months passed in a flash, and Sumire pushed herself further and further, she could do all of her katas, or well she could reliably do the first five, but after that, she had more work to be done. 

In the time that Sumire had slowed down with wind breathing and created hellfire breathing, Sanemi had doubled down to match her progress. His will served as his catalyst to move faster and do better. Piko had allowed them to spar with techniques now, so long as she watched to make sure Sumire didn’t take a head off on accident. 

These spars showed her that she wasted a lot of movement in her style, which in turn made it harder for her to breathe and continue to the next kata. Piko being the woman she was remedies this by drilling Sumire double time to make her react faster, the faster she had to react the less time she had to make mistakes…it was painful. And reminded Sumire of when she went face-first into the dirt the first time she asked Piko to teach her. 

But the pain made it more real and made her realize that if she wanted to be better she had to break herself, create new habits, and ditch the old ones. She felt like a shell while training. She didn’t feel her pain, didn’t feel her anguish, She barely registered the outside world. It was like the only thing that mattered was getting to the next step. Becoming better. 

And that's what she did. 

–0–

 – 11 months since their arrival –

The mid-summer sun drilled down onto Sumire’s shoulders. The heat became more and more unbearable the longer she drilled her katas. Her feverish state becoming increasingly more difficult to regulate. 

Huff–huff. 

‘I’m going to die out here–but I can’t stop.’

Sumire didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to have to come back to this later when she was even more tired. But she needed to lower her temp, if she didn’t she risked heat exhaustion. 

“You can regulate your internal temperatures through TCBC, but it takes a lot of focus on your body, especially if you're already doing an exercise.”

Katsumi’s gravely voice rang through her head. And it was like a light bulb went off above her head. She could do that but how? He didn’t explain– but…if she thinks about it her body is circulating a lot of oxygen very fast, her muscles are generating heat, and her natural cooling system– sweat – is not helping in the slightest anymore. 

This means that she needs to…slow down the how much heat her muscles are generating, while also continuing to exercise. Good god, no wonder she hadn’t learned this, it feels impossible. 

Breath in–

Her muscles contract, but instead of letting them move on their own Sumire squeezes them, slowly letting the oxygen reaches each limb, then release. For a few breaths, she repeats, clutch, slow, release. Not noticeably at first, her body becomes less feverish, the red flush of her skin fades a little and her skin feels clammy and less like it was set on fire. 

Breath out–

Slowly she feels what Sumire assumes is her normal resting temperature. 

‘Yes– ah but now I have to exercise… ‘

Can she regulate while doing a kata? Does that impact the hit? Will it change how fast she moves? Slowly Sumire thinks about what muscles she has to move for her first kata, then how she could continue to regulate her temp while still moving. 

‘This is going to be a long day…’

–0–

-   1 Year Since Their Arrival    -

“You two think you're ready?” Nods of both twins' heads “You both are going to sorely regret that.”

Piko’s voice was rye and rang true to their ears out on the field. It was early morning, the normal time when they would start their training, but both Sumire and Sanemi had concluded that they wanted to get to the final selection. They couldn’t waste any more time on training. 

 Sumire readied her bokken “We’re ready–” Sanemi stepped up next to her.

“We’re both gonna land a hit on you, then you won't be able to stop us from going to final selection.”

Piko had a strange look on her face, not one that Sumire could indefinitely place. She looked nervous, but she also looked proud. But she also had a hard look on her face, she knew something they didn’t, but Sumire didn’t particularly care, today even if they fail– they will keep trying until they succeed. And if it comes down to the extreme they’ll go to the final selection on their own, which Sumire doesn’t think is possible because Piko has to write her letter of recommendation or something like that. 

But the point is their going even if Piko tries to stop them. 

“Okay, one at a time then. Sanemi, you’re up.” Piko watches as Sumire steps back and she squeezes Sanemi’s shoulder. But then Piko does something that neither of them were expecting. 

She walks over to the sword rack and picks up two real katanas. She tosses one to Sanemi, who to his credit doesn’t fumble the catch, but his eyes do blow wide open. 

Sanemi held the sword a little awkwardly, clearly a bit uncomfortable after only training with a wooden bokken for a year. “Wait what…why did you give me a real katana?”

“If you two are going to go to the final selection, you can’t expect that a bruise will kill a demon. If either of you can cut me, and draw blood, you can go.” 

That wasn’t the original deal, but technically a cut is a hit. Is Piko expecting them to hit her? Or does she think that the prospect of drawing blood from her will make them falter? It certainly will not, both of them want to go, they want to get stronger. To start on their path to revenge. 

Sanemi grips the katana just like his bokken. “That’s fine. Bring it.” He adjusts his stance, and Sumire can tell that he’s going to try to be fast and brutal. 

Sumire breathed using her technique to sharpen her eyes, she didn’t want to miss a second of this fight. Sanemi clenches his teeth, Piko readies herself, and both of them watch each other. Seconds pass, both of them waiting for the other to make their move. 

Within half a second Sanemi launched himself across the gap, and Piko parried him. Sanemi continued with a frontal assault not letting up for a moment. The moment Piko got a second of breathing room Sanemi could kiss his victory goodbye. 

Sanemi was a blur to anyone but Sumrie, She could see him in perfect detail from her breathing. He released kata after kata. Never letting up– Piko had a slight scowl on her face. Sanemi was keeping up with her, or it was more like Piko was just barely keeping up with Sanemi. Sumire could see the strain in Piko's arms. The way she had to rely more on her legs than her arms. 

She was doing her best to not falter and doing a damn good job. If Sanemi let up for a moment Piko wouldn’t hesitate to end the spar. Or should Sumire say battle? Piko knew both of their fighting styles very well, so it was an uphill battle for both of them. 

Five minutes– then ten.

It was a very long spar for it to be between people and not a demon. The reason Demon Slayers strive for endurance and not just strength is because demons can always just lose an arm and keep going while a human can’t. 

But for Sanemi to still be on the offensive, meant that he was sticking to his plan. Piko had yet to get a kata in, because she had been on the defensive, and Wind breath had not a single defensive move. This meant that she still had quite a bit of energy left, and Sanemi was going to start losing steam soon if he didn’t do something radical. 

Sumire watched in wrapped attention. Every blow could be the last, every step could prove fatal. The clang of the katanas was new to her ears, it made it feel as if the stakes were life and death. Not really but it was the principle.

Sumrie heard a grunt, then Sanemi was flying back and Piko advanced. Sumire’s heart skipped a beat– no no. Get up, Sanemi!

Sanemi’s back hit the dirt and Piko was over him in a second going to press her katana on his neck, in a split-second decision Sanemi kicked his foot out hinging his calf around Pikos knee, and pulled. Piko’s weight became unbalanced and she pulled one of her hands away from her katana to catch herself. Sanemi used the split second to raise his sword– Piko’s eyes widened, and she tried to roll out of the way using the momentum– but in a flash, Sanemi swung his sword and landed just barely nick, a small drop of blood fell on the dirt as Piko rolled away a second too late. 

Huffing Piko stood up, brushing herself off. “That was a dirty trick– but applaudable. I didn’t teach you to play dirty, so this must be from when you defeated demons on your own.” Even though it was just a nick, it was passable, fighting another human was nothing like fighting a demon, humans were smarter and possessed the better resource of knowledge. That statement however didn’t include any of the demon moons.

Sanemi got to his feet, “You never said that honor was something used to fight demons, so why should it apply here?”

“Fair enough– I suppose you pass, can’t say I’m happy about that. However, now Sumire has to hit me for you to go.” 

A shudder ran down Sumire’s spine when Piko turned to look at her. She was not going to let her pass if she could help it. Something about Piko always made her drill Sumire twice as hard as Sanemi and beat her down with insults double the number of compliments she gave to Sanemi. It was like she desperately was trying to keep her from achieving her goal. But it backfired on Piko, because all Sumire wanted to do was excel, to pursue what she thought would give her peace.

And succeeding in finding it she would.

Sanemi turned to look at her, “You got it Mir, show the old bat that you are twice as strong as her.” He held a thumbs up, and PIko swatted his head at the phrase old bat. 

Sumire just nodded and switched spots with Sanemi, taking the katana from his hands. It was strange, Sanemi’s fight felt like it was easy like it was a walk in the park. But Sumire knew that the hit he got was pure luck. Piko could have done several things to negate what happened, but she didn’t. So what did that mean for Sumire? That Piko was going to be twice as hard on her, she only had to keep Sumire from going, and then Sanemi wouldn’t be able to go either. Why? Why do all these things keep them from doing what they want? Piko surely could care less about them if they were to end up dead. 

“Alight girl, you ready?” Truthfully, Sumire’s heart was pumping adrenalin like crazy, and her mind could barely keep up with every thought she had. But on the outside, her face was blank and her eyes just as dead as they had been since that night. 

Sumire nodded. This time Piko didn’t wait for her to make the first move. She advanced as fast as a viper. Using kata after kata, Sumire grunted as she bore the impact of the Piko’s blade. Sumire parried and ducked. She was immediately stuck on the defensive, which was a downside for her, her katas required her to concentrate for at least a second to find her flow, but if Piko never let her have that moment then she would be stuck like this until she wore Sumire out. 

Sumire had to win and had to prove to PIko that she wouldn’t burn. 

Instead of allowing Piko to continue she needed to create a moment. Rule number two, if the enemy doesn’t give you time, create time. On the next parry, Sumire pushed with all her strength back on Piko’s sword, making her have to draw it back to ready the next strike. Sumire used that single moment to dive between Piko’s legs, rolling into a squat, Piko turned around to unleash the fifth kata but it was too late for the effect to cow Sumire onto the defensive.

Breath in–

‘Fifth Kata- Clear Buring View’

Sumire swiped her katana in two clear arcs one above her to disperse the wind kata and another in front of her to push Piko back. Piko brings her blade up to deflect, but before Piko can get her sword into another kata Sumire is already in front of her.

Breath out– breath in–

Piko grits her teeth. Sumire pushes Piko into defense. Sumire thrusts her blade towards Pikos neck, but Piko blocks– Sumire winds her right foot back and slams it into Piko’s knee. Piko’s eyes widen in pain but she stays upright. 

Sumire clutches her muscles, dropping her weight onto her left heel, and spins, steam hisses from her mouth. She whispers in her mind.

‘Seventh Kata– Golden Wheat Field’

Sumire spins away from Piko’s block, the momentum carrying her blade around in a wide circle, aiming at Piko’s other shoulder. Piko’s blade comes up to block hers, and the resounding clang from the impact echoes through the field. 

Everything suspends in motion for a second. Sumire’s lungs heave, Piko’s eyes have a wild look in them, and most importantly–

Sanemi calls from the sidelines. “You got her! Hows that you old bat!” 

Sumire looked at where her blade met Piko’s, her blade was just barely sunken into Piko's upper arm. And Piko’s sword stopped the blow from becoming more serious. Sumire had been faster– faster, she had done it. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. 

That was so fast, why had that been so fast?

Sumire with-drew her blade. “Sorry Piko…I hadn’t meant to–”

A hand planted itself on her head. “Yes, you did kid. Don’t ever say you weren’t trying to do something. I know you wanted to pass at all costs. Even if that meant cutting off my sword arm.” 

Sumire’s eyes were saucers, she hadn’t meant to try to cut off Piko’s sword arm, that's just where the blade went– oh god. 

“You…pass–” an unsatisfied look passed over Pikos face. “Which means you’ll both be going to the final selection this August.” She ruffled Sumire’s hair pulling parts from the ponytail it was in. Sumire swatted at Piko’s hand. 

August was…next month. Sumire thought that they could go at any point, it makes more sense though that there would be set dates for such things so that the organizing would be easier. 

One more step. Then they would be home free to kill demons.

Chapter Text

For an entire month, Sumrie felt like her anticipation was going to crush her. She was excited on some level but at the same time, she was nervous. Like something was bugging her body, but nothing close to the dread she had felt. 

The morning of the day they were to go to the Final Selection, Piko woke them twice as early as she normally did. The sun had yet to rise, it was still pitch dark out and a smell of freshly cooked food waffed to their room. Sumire and Sanemi wandered out to the table still dressed in their Jubei and sleep still ever-present on their faces. Piko was getting the teapot off the hearth, then she turned to them.

“Well? Eat up, you won’t have the time to dally today. You’ll have to run for nearly half the day to reach selection.” Piko waved to the table, Sumire went to sit down at her usual spot, and Sanemi followed bumping into her back from his lack of awareness. 

He’d never really been a morning person. Sumire observed the food Piko had dished out; Miso soup, teriyaki meat cubes, and rice…how familiar, it brought flashes of Sumi tugging on her yukata, of the cut she gained while listening to her sing. 

Sumire doubts Sanemi remembers the meal they had that night, but she does. This same meal served her a reminder of what she had lost. Of what she had failed to accomplish. Sumire didn’t feel hungry anymore, but wasting food was a death sentence. Slowly she picked up the bowl of miso. 

“The meal is light so you don’t end up encumbered later on your run, and by the door–” She points, Sumire follows with her eyes “ –are two bags of provisions and some bandages because I know you’ll use that suicidal method of killing.” Sumire brought the spoon to her mouth, the soup was still steaming.

Piko scowls, “Eat up.” Sumire stared at her small reflection in the spoon, then she pushed the spoon in her mouth not giving it more than a thought. The taste brought her back to when she was sitting on the floor holding Koto. When she looked out the window and thought how dangerous it was to have them open. 

It hurt like a physical weight, remembering every second leading up to their deaths, why hadn’t she done something, why hadn’t she changed the script? She could have put all of her siblings in a corner, and put her futon in front of the door– why was she so stupid?

The miso was gone before she even registered that she had finished. She ate robotically, putting each piece of meat in her mouth then chewing, then she ate her rice with the same monotony. When she looked back at her plate every last morsel of food was gone. Thinking back on that night Sumire doesn’t think that she finished her food, only that she cleaned up and went to bed. 

Sanemi too was about done, Sumire excused herself from the table and went to their room, she changed into the clothing that the lady at the wisteria house had given her. It was a bit small, the hakama was about two or three inches above her ankles now. Sumire had grown quite a bit from the last time she had worn something like this. But she would be damned if she showed up to the final selection wearing her training jinbei. She folded that up and left it on the floor next to the door.

Sanemi came in just as she finished, she looked around the room one last time, observing the same wood patterns that she had come to memorize. And the small writing table that they never used, except for the few times they tried to arm wrestle. A small part of her would miss this small room, but most of her couldn’t be more glad to get rid of it. She had spent some of her worst minutes in here. Beaten and bruised. 

She turned and shut the shoji behind her. 

Sumire could see the sky just barely change to light. They would have to leave soon. Sumire took up the bag that Piko had procured for them and slung it over her back, it was a single strap that went over her shoulder but was tight enough that it was snug to her back. Then Sanemi came back out but he was still in his training jinbei, Sumire guessed that his clothing no longer fit him since he had grown a lot more than her, but was still nowhere near the height Kyogo had been. 

She held out his bag to him wordlessly. Piko came out of her room holding two sheathed katanas, both identical to each other. Standing before them she handed the one to each of them. The sheath was black and shiny like it had just been polished. The pommel is a simple oval and the handle is also wrapped in black. It was a common katana. The only difference was that on the top side of both of them was a carving of a name, Sumire’s name specifically, she could guess that Sanemi’s had his as well. 

The only thing that would ever distinguish this katana from what Sumire could guess were dozens littering around the grounds of Final Selection. Sumire wondered if Piko did this as a send-off, if Kumeno too had a katana with his name on it. 

“These are impure nichirin swords, they will kill a demon but they won’t change color.” Piko stared at them silently before wrapping her arms around them and tugging them close to her in a tight hug. Sumire was caught off guard, Piko wasn’t one to ever show affection– so this was strangely sweet and disturbing, a lot like Katsumi.  

Neither of them said anything, worrying that the moment would be shattered and Piko would go back to her raging self. With a final squeeze, she let them go, but she kept one hand on each of their shoulders. 

“You aren’t allowed to die, understand.” Piko leaned in close, “You two have so much potential, don’t you dare squander it.” 

Then she turned them both around and pushed them towards the door, both of them barely had a second to get their zori on before Piko pushed them out the door and shut the shoji behind them.

They looked at each other, then at the door. Piko just kicked them out of the house after hugging them– was she dying or something? Sumire just shrugged, and Sanemi just looked incredulously at the door, then Sumire grabbed Sanemis and started walking down the rows of tangerines, almost all of them were ripe now. 

The sun changed the sky slowly, and by the time they got to the end of the row they picked up the pace into a quick run, They were nowhere near their top speed but still very fast. The road to the final selection was dusty from the lack of rain and there were few trees even when they got close to what Sumire thought was the mountain where the selection was held. 

There weren’t any rice patties at the base of the mountain. Not even a single home. Everyone must know then that this mountain is dangerous to some degree. Or maybe someone owned the land around it and kept people from moving here so that they wouldn’t get hurt. How considerate. 

The closer they got the more detail of the mountain Sumire could see. At the base were majestic wisteria trees, beautiful purples, and pinks glistened in the afternoon sun. Curtains of petals created physical bars for the demons that lurked in the darkness of the thicker wooded areas. Following the path to the base of the mountain, Sumire spied a trail lined with more wisteria trees.

That must be the path up to the starting area. It was rocky and steep, the sunlight streamed through the branches of the wisteria, dotting the earth in little splotches. Sumire thought that at one point she would have found that too beautiful, but now it was nothing more than another thing in this world that was covered in a greyscale. 

They had slowed to a walking pace to get up the mountain, it was barely noon, so they had quite a bit of time to waste before they had to start. It was peaceful and quiet, Sumire felt the air around her, felt the lingering worry in her mind, but she brushed it off. Her body thrummed with the anticipation of getting to fight demons, without having to make them loopy. She felt excited by the prospect of blood lust. 

Only probably an hour later did they reach the top, the wisteria trees bent into a perfect arch as the last few steps turned into stone stairs. Across from the entrance they were at was another one, but it looked much more sinister than the one they stood beneath. The clearing in front of them was empty, Sumire looked around for signs that anyone else was there. At every far right of the clearing sat a very young girl, who was sitting beneath a wisteria tree, a butterfly perched on her pointer finger. 

Sumire couldn’t see her exact features from here, but she could make out black hair tied up in a bun with a hair ornament that looked like a butterfly. She had thick bangs parted in the center that changed to a deep purple. She looked serene and had yet to notice that she or Sanemi were even there. 

Sumire fumbled with her memories, the clip in the girl's hair, it was so similar, so...much like another woman she remembered. Butterfly–butterfly…Kanae had two clips in her hair, but her younger sister only had one. Shinobu. 

That little girl was Shinobu. 

Sumire felt entranced by seeing someone from her memories. To Sumire, this world had never been a game, never had it seemed like the characters were dictated to a script. She was the sister to a boy who never had a twin, she was her own person in this world. Which ment that she was a change in the fabric of the world. 

But just because she was here didn’t mean that the world stopped turning, that the predetermined path would stop sewing. But her existence proved change was real and to some extent possible. She would just have to prove it. 

Sumire grasped Sanemi’s hand and pulled him towards Shinobu. He stumbled after her, their footsteps scuffed across the dirt patch, and Shinobu’s head shot up to meet Sumire’s eyes. Sumire raised her other hand and waved, still making her way over there. The butterfly startled and flew away. 

Shinobu scowled slightly at her. Sumire felt mildly intimidated but persisted nonetheless. Shinobu seemed pretty young to be at the final selection. Sumire vaguely knew that Kanae died after Kumeno because Sanemi became a hashria and Kanae had been there. 

At the time Kanae had been…18 probably and Shinobu was there when she died and there is like a four-year age gap…so she was like 11 or 12, right now– holy fuck. No wonder she was so small. Sumire remembers her being short but like right now she was like a child.

“Hello, my name is Shinazugawa Sumire and this is my brother Sanemi, please take care of us.” Ma would roll over in her grave if Sumire ever forgot her manners. She could only be so polite, but first impressions were important. 

Shinobu gritted her teeth a little, “My pleasure. Kocho Shinobu.” Wow, she was blunt, and more expressively angry, good lord what did Kanae's death do to her? 

A small awkward silence passed before Sumire cleared her throat, “Is it alright if we sit by you, there isn’t anyone else yet.” What in the seven hells was she doing?! Sumire never wanted to talk to other people and now she was willing to put herself next to a homicidal Shinobu. 

“Be my guest, even if there are a dozen other trees you could sit under.” Rude, but applicable, Sumire would feel the same way if someone bothered her peace. 

“Thank you.” She gave the smallest of bows before tugging Sanemi down with her to sit on the opposite side of the tree from Shinobu, gotta give the girl some space. 

For a while they just sat in silence Sumire observed all of the little specks of dust and petals, She looked at the glossy black sheath that she had received this morning, it was an unfathomable weight on her hip. But not unwelcome, just different, everything felt different. There was never any semblance of the place she had once called home anymore. Except for Sanemi, he was part of what she still clung to when she thought about home. 

“What are your guys’ styles?” Shinobu’s voice was slightly startling, but Sumire calmly looked over. “They’ve got to be something harsh, I can see all the damn scars littering you.” 

So she had been observing them? Sumire didn’t know why she was surprised at all this was something she would have expected from someone so smart. 

Ignoring the blatant insult, Sanemi leaned forward to look at Shinobu, “I use wind breathing, but Sumire created her own. Don’t know anything other than it hurts like hell to get hit by.” Sanemi unconsciously rubbed his calf.

A small oopsy when Sumire had first begun training her katas with the breathing. Unleashed one at half-strength and nearly took Sanemi’s leg off. Sumire also hadn’t tried to explain her style past what its intended purpose was. Which Sanemi just nodded and took as an answer. 

“Oh?” Shinobu’s eyes lit up with a fascination. “What is it based on? Wind? Mine is based on flower breathing.” She was looking at Sumire like she was something could dissect. 

Deep in the recesses of her mind, there was a fear, small and unassuming the same fear that she had when she thought Sanemi had abandoned her. When she made up the lie about Katsumi’s daughter. The fear that she would be ridiculed for knowing. Being shunned for not changing what she could have stopped. 

“My style isn’t derived so much as an amalgamation of all types of breathing.” Sumire didn’t elaborate, she had a strange want to see what conclusions Shinobu would come to. 

“All styles? That’s mad, how could you make something from all styles let alone one or two?” Shinobu frowned but leaned forward her hands just slightly twitching, like she wanted to see if she could understand Sumire better if she just put her hands on her. 

Sumire leaned in to match Shinobu’s encroaching enthusiasm. “It’s true, I spent nearly a month putting all the forms together and picking apart different breathing styles and making them into my own.” She felt a little like gloating. 

“Upsured– what is it called? Are the individual katas just different breathing styles? Or as you said your own? In the event what you say is true, how can your body manage it?” Shinobu leaned closer with every question, it looked like she was about to fall over. She was so different from the woman she saw in her memories. 

The questions didn’t phase Sumire, “Hellfire breathing– and I used other styles as a base then transformed them based on my fighting style. I have been learning concentration breathing since I was six, so it was easier than if I had started from scratch, but still incredibly difficult. I took…” How long did it take her to make her style? “...seven months? Ish.” Sumire tilled her hand in a so-so motion. 

Saying how long it took out loud made Sumire pause for a moment. Did that time frame technically make her a prodigy for this kind of stuff? Misturi took 3 months, Tengen took… almost a year, and Sumire didn’t know how long it took Shinobu to create Insect Breathing. 

“Oh wow, were you raised in a legacy house like the Rengoku’s?” 

Legacy? Oh– Flame breathing, she wasn’t supposed to know about the Rengokus. But technically her book did mention them so… How did Shinobu know about the Rengokus? Probably Gyomei.

“No, we both learned wind breathing, but I wanted to create a stronger style so stopped learning wind breathing, and made my own. What about you? You said you your’s was based on Flower breathing.”

Sumire shuffled her bum a little, her legs falling asleep. She sat back up so didn’t fall over either. Talking with Shinobu made her eager like she was six again and learning TCB for the first time. 

“Ah– mine is called Insect Breathing. Unfortunately, I’m not very strong, but I’m pretty fast–” Sanemi snickered behind his hand, “ –Oh shove it, not everyone can be tall!” Sanemi just burst out into further laughter.

Sumire felt her sweat drop at the look on Shinobu’s face, Sanemi was so dead. Sumire knew Shinobu was 11-ish right now, so she would gain a few more inches but probably not much more. 

Trying to distract Shinobu from killing Sanemi, she asked– “So how does it work?” 

Shinobu’s face twitched but formed back into a keen interest. 

“Well, technically I only have four katas, which is really all I need, because I use poison to kill demons.”

Something about the way she said poison made Sumire rethink asking her about her style, she already knew about it, but it was the polite thing to do!

“Poison? How would you even poison a demon?” Sanemi chimed in, and to his regret, Shinobu whipped her blade from thin air and pointed it directly at Sanemi’s face. Which was right past Sumire’s head. 

He jumped back and Sumire stayed as still as possible hoping Shinobu wouldn’t hurt her. 

“My sword is specifically made to pierce a demon's skin, see the lack of blade in the middle, I can’t use it cause I can’t cut a demon's head off. So– I just poison them.” Shinobu shrugged her shoulders and sheathed her sword. 

“That’s pretty cool you know? And not to mention resourceful.” Sumire couldn’t help herself, it was true though, Shinobu was so driven to become a demon slayer that she found a way around her lack of strength. 

A small flush crept up on Shinobu’s ears. “Thank you– your style also sounds quite…powerful.” 

It was the effort that counted, Sumire gave just a small smile before her face fell back into neutrality. Their conversation drifted into silence again but this time it wasn’t so awkward. 

After a few minutes, a couple of people came through the entrance. They wandered in the center of the dirt clearing and just stood there looking around, Sumire didn’t see anything about them that screamed important or I affected the plot. They looked like regular kids, some with a few scars, some that looked frazzled out of their minds. 

They paid no attention to the three sitting in the shade, all absorbed in their own minds about the upcoming trials. 

Shinobu didn’t exchange any more words with the twins, but it felt like the three of them had a silent pact to watch out for each other. More and more people filed into the clearing. The sun was a little after midnoon. There were maybe four hours til nightfall. 

Sumire shifted her weight again, she went to stand up to get in a stretch, Sanemi looked up at her and tilled his head imperceptibly. Sumire just barely shrugged her shoulders in an impassive, ‘I want to move around’. Sanemi just slightly nodded, looking pretty comfortable where he was. Shinobu didn’t give her a second look. 

Sumire decided to scout out everyone in the crowd and inconspicuously do a head count so that she could estimate later on survival rates. She walked the perimeter of the clearing, trying to not look like she was doing anything but walking, as she walked across the entrance to the clearing she smacked into a chest that had been moving full force. 

“Ack–” Sumire stumbled backward, her eyes closing for just a moment– large hands steadied her by her biceps. 

Sumire opened her eyes and nearly gaped– “Sorry about that! I was just so excited to get to this flamboyant~ trial of death– that I didn't see ya walking!”

‘Holy Shit.’

Standing in front of Sumire– holding Sumire –was none other than Tegen-motherfucking-Uzui. Or should she say Uzui Tengen– What the fuck– how many other future hashria went to the same final selection? Before her silence could be interpreted for anything else Sumire spoke up.

“It’s alright–” gently she steps back away from his hands, “ –It’s my fault I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.” 

Uzui looked pretty similar to his later image, he had his gem head and gold bands but his hair was shorter and he was wearing what Sumire assumed was his shinobi outfit. To keep Ma from rolling in her grave, Sumire does a short bow introducing herself. 

“I’m Shinazugawa Sumire, please take care of me–” Looking back into his eyes she asks, “What are you doing at final selection– if I may ask?”

As soon as the words come out of her mouth all she wants to do is stuff them back in, how stupid! He’s here to become a demon slayer– duh!

But instead of stating the obvious he takes her redundant question in stride. “Uzui Tengen– and to flamboyantly fillet demons of course– why are you here?” is he going to say flamboyantly every time he speaks?

A smile flashes across his face, it quite literally rivaled the sun. 

“Well–” Sumire tapped a finger to her chin, up playing the dramatics of the conversation, “Mostly to enact revenge on demon kind for what they did to my mother and siblings.” A tight-lipped smile formed on Sumire’s face. That might have been a bit much, she could have phrased that in several different ways. 

To his credit Uzui didn’t seem put off by the sudden proclaim. “I see, well I wish you the best of luck with that! Don’t burn yourself out. Or if you do it better be with a bang.” He laughed sharply, but it didn’t disturb Sumire. He reached a hand out and patted her on the shoulder, then walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

For someone so enthralled with being flashy and showing off he surely doesn’t like talking to people. 

‘Or maybe he doesn’t want to get attached and find out you’re dead after the trial.’

That sounded more like the real reason. Sumire continued with her walk, in total by the time she got back to the shaded area, she counted thirty-two participants. That was a lot really– Sumire wondered how many of them would make it out alive. 

She would just have to wait and see.

Chapter Text

Seconds trickled by like sand in an hourglass, Sumire waited and watched, one hour before the sunset a new face appeared at the entrance to the clearing. Her hair was a stark white, her eyes a dazzling dull purple, and she moved with so much grace that Sumire wasn’t even sure she was a real person. She looked like a spirit, drifting over the dirt, her geta didn’t make so much as a sound as she made her way across the field to the other opening in the field. 

Sumire turned to Sanemi and nudged him, pointing her head up at the woman. Then she turned to Shinobu, but she was already standing and brushing off her yukata. 

“Come on, Lady Ubuyashiki is here, we will start soon.” Shinobu didn’t wait for them, so they scrabbled up to follow her. 

Sumire hadn’t remembered the lady’s name, but within seconds she put together who the lady was. She was Ubuyashiki’s wife, from her memories she could just barely remember her face. She didn’t seem to have changed much. 

Shinobu made her way to the front of the crowd nearest the entrance, she must want to beat the crowds, the demons will probably target the slowest. They followed right behind her. Sumire leaned forward and tapped on Shinobu’s shoulder. She hummed but didn’t turn around. 

“Would you like to stay together the first night, just to scout the area and find a spot that we can all rest in during the day?” Sumire whispered in her ear. 

Shinobu showed no outward reaction but nodded. “For the first night. And we can make a camp in a wide field and return to it during the day to sleep.” 

Sumire nodded but realized that Shinobu couldn’t see, and inwardly facepalmed. She’s acting like she hasn’t interacted with a person in ages. Well, a normal person. Sumire turned to Sanemi relaying what she asked Shinobu, he pursed his lips in displeasure but nodded. She knew he wanted to go slaughter demons, to go buck wild without the reputation of dying. 

It was smarter to go about it this way, it was likely that they would get to kill demons as soon as they stepped over the border of petals. A hush fell over the crowd and little whispers of what was happening floated around. 

“Welcome to Final Selection, I hope that you all are prepared to face what lies beyond this point.” Lady Ubuyashiki’s voice was airy, and light, but it held a note warning. It wasn’t loud either, but she projected her voice well over the crowd. 

“You will have to survive seven nights, using your wits and strength to succeed. On the eighth morning, you may return to this clearing.” Her eyes flicked across the crowd of people, her eyes lingering on some people. For a moment they locked with Sumrie’s.

Dull violet met dazzling mauve. She looked like she could be her mother. But Sumire’s genetics were one in a billion, they would never be passed onto her children– if she ever had any.

She continued– “If at any point you believe that you will not be able to finish, you may return and you will be sent home. You will not pass if that is the case and must try again to become a Demon Slayer.” 

Sumire wasn’t aware that was an option, it would certainly help reduce the number of deaths if so. If they could even make it back to the clearing before getting eaten. 

“There are forty-five minutes til the sun sets completely. You will be given these minutes to explore the mountain–” She steps aside, and waves a hand towards the darkened entrance. It looked like the waiting mouth of a beast. “ –You may begin.” 

The moment those words leave her lips, Shinobu is racing forward, Sumire grabs Sanemi’s hand and chases after her, and a flash of white and gold passes in her peripheral– Uzui. Sumire passes through the arch of wisteria and immediately the air turns rancid. Sumire has smelled many bad things over the last few years but this might be the worst. 

It smells like splattered fecal matter and copper, the fecal matter most likely from unfortunate test takers who got disemboweled. They continue forward just enough sun keeping them safe for the moment, but every second it falls further out of the sky, Sumire feels no fear. She feels like everything is falling into place. 

Sumire can hear the demons in the woods, burrowed deep in the earth and hidden in thick pine to keep out of the sun. She can feel the vibrations of howls through the air, like a signal. They keep running Sumire had been right that the demons would go after the slower people. They’re starving and likely want the easiest meal. 

Sumire wonders if Lady Ubuyashiki can hear them dying during the first hour of the test. Does she wait there listening to all of the death? Not that it matters to Sumire. 

It didn’t take long to find a clearing, not even a single demon had attacked any of them. They could hear the people who did get attacked though. Screams, viscous and blood curling. Sumire had no urge to help them. They were fools– why come to a test if you didn’t train enough for it? Especially as deadly as this one is. 

That was harsh, maybe, but Sumire wasn’t as kind-hearted as she used to be. When you see death, it changes who you are, for better or for worse. Shinobu didn’t seem to care for them either. Sanemi possessed a look of indifference, they all carried the same opinion it seemed. 

The clearing wasn’t big, only seventy or so yards in diameter. But she could see on all sides of her which was the important part. Sumire wasn’t sure what they were going to do after this. Her plan wasn’t to go searching for the demons but to lure them to her. Why waste that energy? 

The sun faded, and the glittering stars lit up the sky. 

Did she want to fight a lot of demons this first night? Yes, yes she did, Sumire had waited a very long year for this exact moment. To make the demons feel the same pain that she had. The sky had darkened, and the trees stood like imposing bars around the field, the moon was full and just starting its first orbit of the night. Everything carried an eery glow, and the shadows bounced and twisted. 

She drew her katana, and slowly with the same hand awkwardly rolled up her left sleeve. She might want to warn Shinobu though.

“Kocho-san, me and my brother are Marechis, I was going to use my blood to draw demons here if that's alright with you?” Shinobu might want to leave them if they attracted too many demons. They’ve never had to fight more than one at a time, but that was a year ago, with their bare fists. They had swords now. 

Shnobu hummed, “Spares me the trouble of having to find them myself I guess. How many more cards you got up those sleeves?” 

More than she could ever know, Sumire gave a small deceiving smile but didn’t answer. Then cut just a shallow rivet in her forearm. In the dark, her blood looked black as it dripped down her arm and landed on the grassy floor. 

One moment then two– then a shout and another, The echo of the word marechi came from all around them. Sumire cringed a bit inside– she might have just endangered Shinobu terribly. She had no idea what her skill level was. There was a russel from behind Sumire, she didn’t bother to turn. 

She heard a shink, then a thud. Sanemi’s footsteps traveled back to her side. She put her left hand on her handle, readying herself to move. The snap of twigs and the howl of a feral demon drew Sumire attention it came from behind Shinobu– a demon hurled itself full force out of the trees right for Shinobu’s back, but the girl had already drawn her sword and leaped to meet it mid-air. 

Her blade was fast, but Sumire could still see it, she wasn’t at her full potential yet. Shinobu pierced the demon in several spots, jugular, stomach, and bicep. All places close to the primary arteries. Sumire was fascinated as she watched the demon fall and writh on the ground. 

A guttural growl echoed right in front of her. Eyes bright and stark against the dark trees– 

‘I saw luminous eyes through the dust. Bright against the night’

Sumire could feel its presence, she shifted her right foot back; hoisting her sword to her right shoulder, her body poised to strike fast. 

Beath in–

‘First Kata–  Whirling Inferno’

Her muscles ripple– heat pushes through her limbs, Sumire clenched her teeth hissing as air escaped from the corners of her lips. 

She launched off her left foot– one moment standing still and the next her blade swung through the air with a satisfying shink as her blade sliced through the neck of the demon like butter. They hadn’t even had the chance to move– their body disintegrated into the air. 

Sumire watched the ash drift aimlessly before disappearing. 

‘That was…easy.’

Her mind replays the feel of her katana flowing effortlessly through the bone and muscle. How easy it was to glide across the forest floor and end the demon. How– freeing. There was no struggle no pain, she wanted to feel something– but she felt nothing but ease. How disappointing. 

Sumire looked back to her self-inflicted wound, the blood coated her arm now– leaving a sticky feeling. There was no pain from the cut, nor was the wound bleeding anymore due to the clotting. 

Behind her Sumire could hear Sanemi and Shinobu fighting demons– quick and light on their feet, she only heard the demon's guttural growls and panting. Sumire looked at her blade coated in a thin sheen of blood. She flicked the blade ridding it of the foul substance. 

Then she brought the blade back to her arm pressing lightly on an uncut piece of skin. The metal was cool and light. She wanted to feel something for her efforts, wanted the struggle of fighting an opponent that could give her the relief of feeling nothing but the thrill of the fight. 

It would be just like the others littering her skin. Sumire stood there just looking at the blade and at what she might feel if she dragged it across her skin, a splitting and then a sharp sting, then nothing. She knew the pain would barely settle into her skin. She saw her eyes just barely in the dim reflection. They held nothing, no fear or distress. 

‘I might as well light the lantern again.’

‘No– tell them to go to bed–’

Sumire’s right arm burned from the bite mark.

‘A low growling echoed throughout the house. I saw luminous eyes through the dust.’

‘I heard gasps and cries. Then silence.’

She failed them– slicing her arm would do nothing, but at least she would be able to feel the pain her family had felt. Sumire would bleed for what she failed to do– atone for her shortcomings. 

‘For an instant, the moonlight filtered through the wrecked door–’

‘Ma…’

“Sumire!” Sanemi–

Her eyes flew up, time slowed– pointed claws of a demon inches from her face –Sumire ducked to the left but she felt the claws rake the side of her forehead. Sumire hissed as she rolled and crouched low, blood flowing into her right eye and blinding her. 

The demon was drunkenly swaying, its eyes dilating rapidly. 

‘Don’t get distracted– that’s how you die.’

Heat pulsed Sumire’s one good eye, her body lunging forward using the demon’s disoriented mind to catch it off guard. 

Breath in–

She swung up cleaving the demon’s torso in half, she didn’t use a kata, no need it was just as easy to do without the use of breathing. Blood dripped down the contours of her face, falling from her chin and staining the white flowers on the kimono. 

“Sumire what the hell! Why were you just standing there?!” Sanemi marched over to her shaking her by the shoulders. 

Sumire wasn’t too sure why she had zoned out so badly. She just thought about how she wasn’t in pain– how she wanted the pain, wanted relief.

“Sorry– got distracted.” 

“That’s how you die!” 

‘I know.’

She focused passed Sanemi’s searching eyes. Shinobu was still fighting demons in the clearing behind Sanemi, she was doing well, but Sumire could see her breathing heavily. 

“Kocho-san is getting tired–” Sumire nodded her head towards her. “I am fine, I just needed the reminder of what happens when I don’t pay attention.”

Sanemi felt apprehensive about what she said, how badly had she zoned out? He squeezed her shoulders in a silent– ‘I’m here’. Sumire’s lips twitched but Sanemi caught it and he nodded back. Then he stalked back to the center of the field. 

Sumire is not far behind him. She had forgotten that she couldn’t afford to be distracted in the field. Even with her current skill, she wasn’t strong enough to just dodge a point-blank attack. 

–0–

The first night became a reminder of what she was here to do– what her end goal was. She nearly failed because she had wanted to feel pain, so to remedy this she worked herself to the bone. Running, dodging, playing with the demons, Sumire tried to exhaust herself but was unable to make herself even out of breath. 

When the sun rose over the mountain it had become clear that they were on the east side of the mountain, making the demons who had wisely stayed away run to the west where their burrows and trees were. 

It was also clear how dirty they had become from only a single night. Sumire only felt tired from a lack of sleep, her body was barely even sore, but she did feel dirty. The blood from the wound on her forehead had dried and now pulled at her skin. Her arm had begun scabing. The white flowers on her kimono were now a rusty shade of red. Her tabi had been white but from all of the dust and blood had become a nasty shade of brown. 

Sumire hated how dirty it all felt, and how little her body cared about the exercise she had endured. There was also a feeling in her lower abdomen that felt painfully similar to something she had experienced before. It was more of a physical pain rather than a mental distress. She brushed it off and instead focused her efforts on finding a water source to clear herself.  

The sun fell through the trees making little sun spots that littered the forest floor. Shinobu and Sanemi were in the middle of the field eating a little of their rations. Shinobu looked like she was about to fall over from exhaustion. While Sanemi just looked over to Sumire. 

“I will be right back. I’m going to go find a water source to clean up.” 

His eyes were shown with concern but they held trust in them and he just nodded. Shinobu didn’t say anything or even look in her direction. 

Sumire nodded and turned to walk out of the clearing, she left through the same spot where she had killed her first demon of the night. As Sumire walked she heard no sound of wildlife, not even insects, it was unnerving but still rather peaceful even though this mountain held so much death on it. 

She listened carefully for the sounds of a river or a water source. Parts of the mountain were steep and required more effort to get around. As she hiked over a rather steep part of the terrain Sumire heard the trickle of rushing water. 

Over the small incline, there was a small stream that ran down the mountain, the water was fresh and fast-moving meaning it was probably safe. Sumire moved to kneel next to the stream, it wasn’t big enough to bathe in but she could use a little of the bandages that Piko packed to help scrub the grime off. 

It might be a bad idea to strip down but Sumire felt irrational about her state of being at the moment, the want to be clean— was overwhelming, and it made her feel like how she and Sanemi had been on the streets. The never-ending dirt and blood and body odor. After arriving at Pico’s Sumire felt the need to be clean all the time, especially after training. 

Slowly and with care to preserve the current state of her clothes she removed her hakama and laid it out to sit on and folded her kimono, placing it in a neat pile next to the bank. As Sumire underdressed her undergarments she noticed something wrong with her underwear. There was a spot of blood that looked rather fresh, the discomfort she had felt earlier in her lower abdomen had bloomed into a tender pain spreading from her back to her navel. Barely noticeable with her high pain tolerance, but still there. 

‘Did I get injured? Was I internally damaged?’

No, she didn’t– she knew she hadn’t been even close to injured after her head wound. Maybe she had been too wrapped up in fighting to realize her organs had been damaged. Sumire feels like she’s missing something here. She’ll investigate after her skin no longer feels gross. Leaning over she grabbed one of the rolls of bandages and tore off a piece with her teeth to use as a washcloth. 

Scooting close to the stream she dunked the cloth into the water– it was cold probably even colder from the night. Wrining out the cloth Sumire wipes her face down with the best approximation she can. Wiping until no blood is present on the bandage, then slowly wipes down her body riding it off the sweat clinging to her. 

| Mild Blood warning / Gross Bodily description |

When Sumire got to her legs she stopped in a mixture of shock and sudden knowing. Maybe she had been so out of it she hadn’t noticed or she was just unable to feel it, but the inside of her thighs and vulva were coated in a thin sheen of sticky blood. Her body seemed to excrement thicker clots that moved like a string of drool.

‘Ew, I’m bleeding– no shit Sherlock! Did you think you would get to live this life without a period?’

Sumire knew she was missing something way back when she remembered their birthdays or felt that small discomfort yesterday morning. She forgot about what makes a woman a woman, a fucking period. 

‘Ugh– did this have to happen now of all times? I must be a late bloomer this time around.’

And now she was a walking magnet for demons because for some fucked up reason all of her blood her to be delectable. 

‘No wonder there are so few women demon slayers.’

It was disgusting, well technically it was just blood and uterine lining, but still, there was always something about period blood that was gross. And Sumire had no way to stem the flow of blood, especially if this was the beginning of the cycle. She couldn’t very well go commando without getting even more gross. 

‘Aggghhhh’

Sumire looked over to her the bag that Piko had packed, hoping to the gods there was something that could help her get through the week. But she should know by now that the gods don’t answer any prayers. At most, she had more bandages…and a small sewing kit. No. Please don’t tell her, she wasn’t going to have to sew a pad out of bandages. 

‘Get to it– fuck!’

How annoying, first she gets injured then her body decides that this is a perfect time to become a woman. Why couldn’t this have happened when she still had Ma? Sumire felt a strange twinge of regret at not doing any of the ‘girly’ things that Ma had wanted her to do. She barely had any knowledge of how proper women dressed or did things like dealing with a period. By modern standards, she knew how, but there weren’t any of the modern luxuries here. She rarely saw her Ma have to deal with one. Mostly because in her last years together she was pregnant but still.

Sumire knew how to do basic ties on her obi but couldn’t do any special form of sewing or artisan craft, or put her hair up in the traditional style. She regrets quite a few things but those are all just extra kicks to the dead horse she’s been beating. 

Carefully and mostly clumsily Sumire stitches together bandages thick enough that she reasonably shouldn’t bleed through. She had no idea how heavy her flow would be nor what to expect in terms of pain. But it would have to do, it was unlikely that it would hamper her fighting. Cleaning up the rest of the blood Sumire placed the hodgepodge pad in her underwear and reclothed herself. It’s a good thing that it was only really the outside of her clothing that was dirty. 

Taking a few steps Sumire cringed– the bandages chafed her legs and felt itchy. She took another step–oh fuck no, maybe it would be better to just go commando and bleed everywhere. No that would be gross. Sometimes Sumire hates being a woman– but maybe now she won’t have to suffer being flat-chested anymore. This life might have something good come out of it then. 

–0–

The night had been exceptionally sucky. Sumire had thought that her high pain tolerance would shield her from the brunt of the period of pain. It turned out that her organs didn’t have a pain tolerance and that technically she got the pain that she wanted without having to scar herself. It made for a challenge whilst fighting demons. Because of the magnet it created, Sumire was wholly more worried for Shinobu than herself. 

And Sanemi was off doing his own thing that night because Sumire promised him that he could go around the mountain after the first night. She stayed with Shinobu knowing that if she left she ended up exhausted and possibly dead– which would not bode well for any interaction with Kanae in the future. 

The second night was nearly the same as the first including the excess of blood that Sumire had to clean up the next day. She slept like a rock in the middle of the clearing, and at some point, Sumire thought that Shinobu had come and rested on her. But she can’t be too sure cause she was so out of it. 

When they woke at sunset Shinobu asked if they could just stay in the field like the first night, and Sumire wasn’t feeling too adventurous so she figured that that would be a good choice. She didn’t fully grasp why Shinobu wanted to stay with her, for all her bullheadedness there might have been another emotion underlying her perceived logic.

The third and the fourth night were strangely quiet, very few demons came to bother them in the field and Sanemi had been out and about only returning when the sun came up. He was covered in blood but he didn’t seem to even register it. Sumire held a hand over her nose and pointed to where the stream was. He glared at her but still stalked off towards it.   

Sumire doesn’t remember much after the fifth night, mostly because it felt like all of the nights blended into each other. It felt like it was all the same, when her sword swung through the neck of a demon, when she laid down to sleep, when she cleaned her amalgamation of a pad. It was like she was back to being a shell, with no new input to change her state of mind.

 Sanemi seemed to have the same mindset, he looked zoned out when he returned with all the blood that covered him– whether it was his or a demon. Sumire felt a lot like she had after the initial death of her family. Numb.

Shinobu stayed with Sumire throughout those five days, and if Sumire had been more lucid in those days she would have said that Shinobu was the one who became attached first rather than Sumire. 

Shinobu always insisted when the sun rose that she wrap her wounds and told her to lie down if her cramps ever got too bad and that she would protect Sumire if she ‘failed to recover’. Which was a sweet gesture but Sumire knew her limits and also knew she would never fail again, but it was kind of funny seeing Shinobu strongarm her into laying down. 

She was a lot like Teiko in that way, always trying to get Sumire, or mostly Sanemi to play with her or take over her chores. Shinobu was more like she was trying to impersonate someone older than her, probably her sister. 

Sumire wasn’t used to that kind of treatment, being taken care of she means. It felt very awkward to have someone 3-ish years younger than her doing the things she was most certainly capable of. So in retaliation, she killed every demon that came into the field and did not let Shinobu risk her life. In some ways it felt wrong to let her do that, she was only 11. 

Shinobu reminded Sumire of Genya quite a bit, almost to the point it hurt to look at her during the sixth night. Sumire logically knew that it was because she was sleep deprived and dirty and several other things affecting her mental state but…Shinobu was 11. Genya was nine right now– where was he? Where did he go after he disowned them? 

That might have been another front that Sumire failed on, and her excuse was that he hated her so she never tried to track him down. It was flimsy and sucky to use that as an excuse to not find her little brother.

‘I hate you– you're a demon! –’

Sumire’s heart clenched any time she remembered his words and looking at Shinobu it hurt tenfold. She was just a child, a child that had seen the good, the bad, the ugly, and still came out on top.

Why was it that the gods never answered her prayers?

‘They don’t exist– they dropped me here so something must be real–’

The seventh night was…megar, sad? It was just unfulfilling, the few demons that did make it to the field Sumire killed. Shinobu was leaning more on sleeping through the night and had been since the sixth day. Sumire just told her to keep sleeping, and Shinobu didn’t argue with her. Sumire placed her bag under her head and laid Shinobu’s haori over her.

There was no struggle to get her to sleep because she was so tired she physically couldn’t fight. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Sumire had to carry her out the next morning. Sumire watched the stars that night, they glittered against the night. Little pricks of white– to the left of the sky Sumire recognized only two constellations.

The big dipper– and Orians belt. Sumire never knew where the bull was, but she always knew where the hunter was. Perhaps it’s because she was also a hunter. 

The air was quiet and dull, the only thing Sumire could hear was her heartbeat and Shinobu’s breathing. Shinobu looked so peaceful in her sleep, so much younger than when she was awake, even if she was already young. 

Sumire didn’t understand what it was that she was feeling, there was a strange longing in her chest when she looked at her. 

“Sumire-nee! Sumire-nee! Spin me Spin me!”

‘I laughed as Sumi rushed me, hugging tightly to my yukata.’

“Spin you? Won’t you get dizzy?”

“No! Can you sing too? You say it is like a merry-go-round , whatever that is.”

“How many more things are you going to ask me to do– huh? Fun ain’t free you know?”

“I did all my chores~ Ma says that you did too!”

‘I hummed tilting my head in consideration’

“I suppose that you earned it–”

‘I grabbed Sumi’s hands and began to swing her around in a tight circle. Laughter swam in the air.’

“Sing Sing!”

‘Sumi’s breathless laughter rang through the air. I scrunched my nose a bit but relented.’

“Bicycles, tricycles, ice cream candy~

Lollipops, popsicles, licorice sticks~

Solomon Grundy, Raggedy Andy~

Tweedledum and Tweedledee, home free~”

The night air was humid and wet. Sumire thought about the golden wheat field where she had some of her most beloved memories. Where her family now rested. What did that field look like now? 

Where were their souls? Had they moved on? 

Sumire stared at Shinobu, how much pain would she endure if Sumire failed her as she failed herself? She was strangely attached to the young girl, she didn’t ever want to see her break or buckle. Sumire could hold the weight for her, just like she did for Sanemi.

Chapter Text

Come morning Shinobu was still very much asleep, so Sumire with the help of Sanemi carefully placed her on Sumire’s back. While Sanemi carried their bags. The sun drove away any danger that might force them into an awkward problem. 

They didn’t run on their way back mostly because Sumire didn’t want to wake Shinobu and because a week without a proper bed had made her quite sore and tired. 

It was still fairly early morning when they crossed over the wall of petals, and Sumire noted that there was only one other person in the clearing, aside from Lady Ubuyashiki. The wisteria washed away the rancid scent of death. It was starting to be a little weird how many people possessed white hair. 

In all his flamboyant glory was Uzui, he was standing in the center of the clearing, clearly bored out of his mind. It didn’t take more than a second for him to notice that they had made it over the entrance. Uzui waved his hand wildly as if his practically sparking demeanor didn’t create an unseeable eye sore. His expression brightened as they made their way over to him. 

“You lived! I have to say despite your appearance when I first met you it looks like you survived with only a few wounds!”

Uzui’s voice was loud and for a moment Sumire wanted nothing more than to shush him because Shinobu was sleeping. 

Sanemi looked at her with an incredulous look, but Sumire just shrugged back. Universal sign to go with the flow. They shuffled to be about a couple of feet away from him.

“And who is this little thing that you grabbed? I saw you run in after her when we started.”

He gestured with his hand, rotating his wrist smoothly like he was putting on a show. Oh if Shinobu was awake this man would be dead.

“This is Kocho Shinobu, we met because we were the second people to arrive and she was the first.” Sumire introduced Shinobu for her.

“What Sumire means is that she weirdly decided to introduce herself to the only person she could talk to.” Sanemi shoved her under the imaginary bus.

“My introduction was very normal–”

“We could have minded our own business but you went– ‘Let's go over there she looks lonely.’” His voice pitching to Sumire’s voice.

“I sound nothing like that! Nor did I say that!”

Uzui watched with thinly veiled amusement, his hands planted on his hips.

He Interrupted the quarrel– “So you are a chatty person? With how you spoke to me prior I would have assumed you were more reserved.”

Sumire paused stumped for a second. 

“I’m not. I just happen to be rather cranky after having to spend a whole week sleeping on dirt–”

“Cranky is one word for it, I think psychotic fits better–” Sanemi gave a cheeky smile. 

Sumire thought that she was going to have a blood vessel pop. “Shut up! You are so lucky I’m holding Kocho-san.” 

–Speak of the devil and she shall awake, with a sharp intake of breath Shinobu grumbled a short— ”Shut up.”

All three of them stared at her for a moment, then proceeded to go right back to bickering.

In a whisper yell, Sumire retorted– “My patience is at an all-time low, and right now if you don’t shut it– I’m going to give you fresh scars to match mine.”

Uzui not regulating his voice, “A fight– how brilliant that you still have enough energy left to threaten it! Although for someone as small as you surely you would lose.” 

Uzui laughed in her face, and Sumire felt her eye twitch.

“Sanemi, hold Kocho for me.”

“What–”

–0–

So…Sumire didn’t win the wrestling match against Uzui but she did give him a run for his money. And if her running away with his headband at some point didn’t count for a win then she didn’t know what did. 

They had settled down after a while and took up a spot close to where they had been when they had first arrived. Sumire took Shinobu back but ended up having to hold her to her chest instead because she clung like a koala in her sleep.

By noon there were only four other people to make it to the clearing, they all looked exceptionally haggard. Their clothing was torn up and they had a thousand-yard stare. 

 Sumire tried to ask Uzui when they were going to get their ores but he was napping. His headband over his eyes. Sumire had the strongest urge to rip it off his face and throw it into the middle of the field. 

Sumire was also starting to get mildly worried for Shinobu because she had yet to wake up. Sumire’s two running theories are that– A, Shinobu is actively using her as a personal chauffeur so that she can keep sleeping, or B, is tired enough that she can barely stay conscious. 

Either one is fine but the first one makes Sumire want to drop Shinobu because her arms are getting tired. 

Another hour passes, or at least Sumire’s approximation of an hour. She had been close to nodding off when she heard the soft airy voice that she had heard at the beginning of this test. 

“Welcome back my children. I’m glad to see you are safe. It is wonderful to see that there are eight of you this year.”

Lady Ubuyasiki’s voice carried across the field all the same. Sumire shifted to stand, hoisting Shinobu with her. She may or may not have jostled her a little too much to see if she would wake up. She barely moved but her fingers did clutch tighter into Sumire’s kimono. 

‘This little shit–’

Either way, Sumire wasn’t about to drop her so she carried her over to where Lady Ubuyashiki was addressing them. Sanemi, close behind and Sumire thinks that she heard Uzui stand but she can’t be too sure. 

Sumire adjusted her arms under Shinobu's butt and legs to put most of her weight on her hip, her arms were starting to go a little numb. 

“First the kakashi will take your measurements then administer your uniform. Then I will engrave your rank.” Wow straight to business, she doesn’t mess around here. 

Ubuyashiki’s eyes swept the survivors.

“There are ten ranks; Mizunoto, Mizunoe, Kanoto, Kanoe, Tsuchinoto, Tsuchinoe, Hinoto, Hinoe, Kinoto, and Kinoe.”

What about Hashria? Wait no that's like a specialized rank so it would make sense that it wouldn’t be listed. 

“As of now, you all are Mizunoto, rank 1.” Her voice sounded final, and Sumire shifted a little uneasy at the tone. 

“Now you will be given you Kasugai crows. They will be your guides and partners so treat them with respect.” Lady Ubuyashiki raises her hands and claps twice with resounding force. Like she was summoning a demon or something. 

For a moment nothing happened then a caucpany of caws echoed above Sumire she tilted her head up to see eight sleek black crows dive to their respective person. Sumire saw two dive straight for her, and panicked for a second, then realized that the second crow was likely Shinobu’s. But then panicked again because they were head straight for her head and she couldn’t protect herself without dropping Shinobu.

Sumire closed her eyes and tucked her head to brace for the impact– but it never came. Instead, she felt rather large talons grip her shoulder. She cracked her eyes open and found that one of the crows had landed on the shoulder that didn’t have Shinobu’s head. 

It looked rather large to be a crow, it still had glossy black feathers but its beak was curved and its spine had a different curvature. What? Sumire saw out of the corner of her eye that the second crow had landed on Shinobu’s head and it was much smaller than the one on Sumire’s shoulder.

‘What the–’

“Oh, would you look at that!” Sumire inwardly startled a little at the loud voice.

Slowly she turned around so as not to disturb the person or the animals she now was carrying.  

“You got a raven instead of a crow! How flamboyant to be chosen by something other than the typical crow.” A loud cawing could be heard after Uzui said that. His crow seemed offended by the word typical.

“A raven?” That made a lot more sense why the thing was so damn big. Nearly the size of her head. Also, choosen?

“Yes! They must have run out of Kasugai crows, lucky you!” 

“Yeah, lucky me.” Sumire looked at the raven again, the thing looked huge right next to her face like that. 

It was like really weird that people were able to train crows like this, or in her case a raven.

“What is your name? Or do you not have one?” Might as well be polite while she waited to get her uniform. 

“Katsu, Shinagzwawa-sama.” Woah– this raven had a deep ass voice, who trained him? And second, the ‘sama’ part was weird but also scratched an itch in her head that she hadn’t even known was there. Did she have a superiority complex? Probably. 

“Pleasant to meet you Katsu.” Sumire didn’t say anything after that and neither did Katsu. He was oddly quiet. Shinobu’s crow on the other hand had nestled in her hair like a nest. 

How did the crows know their names? Probably from the recommendation letter that was sent out when Piko said they could go. So they told the crows beforehand? How did they know which people would survive? Maybe that is why they had to wait til noon before being told that they were now demon slayers. 

Sumire felt a nudge to her shin– she turned around and saw Sanemi standing in front of her. 

“It’s your turn– and I suppose hers.” Sanemi nodded to Shinobu and then stared weirdly at Katsu. Sumire just shook her head. Sanemi shrugged and didn’t ask. 

Sumire turned and carefully made her way to the Kakashi who was taking measurements. It was a woman, and thank hell for the small mercies. But then she realized that she didn’t know if she had to ‘wake’ Shinbou. Seeing her small distress the kakashi smiled or her eyes curved up. It could have been a sneer for all she knew. 

“Don’t worry I can probably guess your sizing and hers.” She guesgestured head. She sounded sincere enough. Sumire just nodded. 

When this was over she was never carrying Shinobu again, she abused the power of being carried. 

The lady walked around her holding up a tape measure and a stick, for what Sumire could never guess. Then she hummed and walked over to a rather large black bag that held what she assumed were uniforms. 

She pulled out two bundles, one just slightly smaller than the other. 

“Here you are, two female uniforms.” 

Wait did she say, female? Does that mean that she has to wear a fucking skirt? Oh hell no. Shinobu probably wouldn’t appreciate that either. 

“Ah…I’m very sorry but do you happen to have the male uniform or at least pants that can be substituted.” Sumire bowed her head as best she could so as not to seem rude to the lady. 

“Uh– yes? I think so but they might be a bit big I don’t know if we have one in your size let alone hers.” That's fine, really she could live with a baggy shirt.

“That is okay, I’m sure Kocho-san wouldn’t appreciate a skirt.” 

“If you say so.” The Kakashi shrugged and turned back to the bag, this time pulling out two buddles that were larger than the others by a margin. Sumire hoped Piko knew how to sew. 

Sumire shifted Shinobu’s weight again, most of it resting on her back hip now, and reached out with her right hand to take the bundles and tucked them under her arm. 

Her predicament was becoming increasingly more precarious with each new thing. Hopefully, Shinobu decided to stop being a brat and wake up. This was good work though, it was also slightly appreciated that Shinobu was small and only made it up to just below her shoulder. 

Then she turned to see that Lady Ubuyashiki had brought out the nichirin ore table. Everyone that had gotten their uniform had already picked out their ore. Was she going to have to pick out Shinobu’s ore too? 

‘This kid! What the hell was wrong with her?!’

At least she had future blackmail and witness. Sanemi was at the table looking over the ores with mild interest before grabbing one that was medium in size but looked extremely rugged. It looked sharp and uncut, very fitting in a way.

Sumire looked at the table as a whole– there were thirteen ores randomly spaced over the red velvet table. She felt no particular draw to any of them, but she did see one that was rather smooth compared to the others. It looked like one that Shinobu would pick, despite her ruff exterior and hormonal rage for an eleven-year-old, it felt like that would be hers. 

Sumire nodded with her head to the smooth ore, “The one in the back, that is smoother than the rest– I think that Kocho-san would like that one.”

Lady Ubuyashiki looks at Sumire for a moment contemplating. “Is Shinobu-chan unable to pick one herself?” 

Sumire was caught off guard by the fimiluatry that Lady Ubuyashiki used. But it made sense– Sumire didn’t think that Kanae was a Hashria yet but Gyomei most certainly was, and he was who trained them. 

Then Sumire looked down at Shinobu and raised an eyebrow. “Well– if she cared she would wake up–” Sumire felt Shinobu’s fingers dig into her kimono again.

‘Again– little shit–’

“But I’m sure that she wouldn’t mind that one, if she did she would have objections.” Her fingers loosened. What was up this girl, little brat was more like it. 

 Lady Ubuyashiki smiled just slightly, clearly having cuaght on that Shinobu was awake but didn’t care enough to have objections.

“Very well, which one would you like dear.” 

The fond name reminds Sumire of Ma. She pushed it out of her mind and looked back to the ores. She looked directly at the ore in the center, she felt no draw or want, other than her deep-seated need to feel pain so that she could dispel her mental agony. 

The center ore was larger than the others and had sharp juts of rock all over it. It looked like all of the other ore but it was the only one she was looking at. 

“That one. In the center, larger than the others.” She didn’t give more instruction than that but  Lady Ubuyashiki knew which one it was. 

She wrote on a small tag and then tied it to the ore, repeating it for Shinobu too. Then put it into a small bag with the other ores that had been chosen. Sumire couldn’t bow so she just nodded her head as low as she could. Lady Ubuyashiki only smiled and returned the gesture. 

Sumire’s arms ached, but it was nothing compared to Piko’s training. She turned around to look for Sanemi, only to find him…bickering with Uzui. What. Did Sanemi crack his head open or something?

SanemI turned away in clear anger, but there was something different about it compared to when he was angry. Sumire will address that…later. 

First, she needed to have a talk with Shinobu about this carrying thing. 

“So…Kocho-san, why are you pretending to sleep? Is something wrong or are you just trying to hitch a free ride?”

Sumire felt Shinobu’s head nod but she didn’t hear anything come out of her mouth. Slight irritation crept up on Sumire. She should have been more specific. 

“Yes, to which one Kocho-san?” This time Shinobu paused longer, almost as if she was contemplating whether or not she should answer.

In a voice quiet Sumire could barely hear– “The…first one.”

Sumire’s heart dropped, what was wrong– was she injured or did something else happen?

“Kocho-san, what happened?” Sumire’s voice was low and serious like she was dealing with something revealable. 

Another short pause–” My foot. I landed on it wrong…and now I can’t put weight on it.” Shinobu’s voice was quiet, almost embarrassed. 

Oh— oh, that was probably why she slept through the last night. She wasn’t tired she was injured…and probably embarrassed so she didn’t say anything. But she had slept a lot the sixth night as well…was she injured then too or is that when it happened? 

“Kocho-san…” Oh, she shouldn’t even offer this– “ –do you need help getting home?” 

‘Dang it Sumire! We don’t have time for this! Piko will kill us if we don’t get home soon.’

‘But…we have Katsu now…he could tell Piko–’

‘No— yes!’

“I can get home– it’s okay, I don’t want to hold you up–” Shinobu starts trying to wiggle out of her grip. But Sumire just hoisted her higher on her hip, startling Kastu and Shinobu’s crow.

A little manhandling never hurt no one.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with it. Katsu can tell my cultivator that I’m alive.” Sumire looks over to her raven.

“Are you able to send verbal messages?” Katsu nods, “I need you to tell Katsumi Piko, my cultivator, that me and my brother will be back a day later than scheduled. Please.” Katsu doesn’t seem to take any offense to the lack of true manners.

“Caw– can you please tell me where she is, Shinazugawa-sama?” Whoops, why did Sumire think that he would just know where she was?

“Oh sorry– Katsumi-san lives dew east, in a tangerine orchard. Her house is the only one for miles.” Sumire felt light embarrassment for that but tried to hide it. 

Katsu nodded, then flew away hitting Sumire in the face with his wing. Rude– but she wasn’t much better. 

“Alright, Kocho-san mind telling me where you live?” She was doing this? Yep– what better way to make friends with important people than to force contact? 

“It is south from the entrance to the mountain, about a half-day walk. I can get home myself, it’s okay–”

“Nope. Too late for that– let's go get Sanemi.” 

–0–

Sumire went to tell Sanemi of their unexpected detour, to which he only glared and complained that he was tired. But truthfully she would have dragged him there whether he wanted to go or not. Sumire also made him hold their uniforms so that Sumire could hold Shinobu better. 

The trip to what Sumire assumed was the butterfly mansion, she wasn’t too sure if that existed yet, was not as bad as she thought it would be carrying Shinobu, who was probably ninety pounds soaking wet. The poor girl drew the short stick of the genetic lottery. 

The road was dusty from a lack of rain, but it made no difference on their already disgusting clothing, by the time they saw a building the sun was setting over the horizon and the half moon was just visible in the sky. 

The closer they got the larger the building got, some walls spanned along the whole perimeter of the building. From the outside Sumire could see wisteria trees poke over the top of the wall. As they stepped inside the front gates they could see the front of the mansion in better detail. It was a huge two-story building with classical Japanese architecture. 

The only not typical thing about it was that the front doors were larger than the standard width and height. Surrounding the building was a huge garden that Sumre couldn’t see with too much detail due to the setting sun. 

Just as they were going to walk up the stairs the front door slammed open and a blur of back and pink tackled Shinobu and by extension Sumire to the ground. 

Sumire’s butt hit the ground hard. “Ack–!” Shinobu gripped on for dear life shouting something about being careful.

“You’re alive! Thank the gods, you’re alive!” The voice was light and melodic at its core but the sound of relief was present over all of it. 

Sumire looked over Shinobu’s head and saw bright pink eyes staring right back at her. 

“Oh hello, sorry for knocking you over. I hadn’t thought that out much.” Then the woman gave a blinding smile. 

‘Oh shit.’

Chapter Text

Regarding introductions, the one Sumire had with Kanae was far from the worst– Piko waving a sword in her face had been pretty sketchy. But her one with Katsumi-san might have been the worst simply because it was downright rude. After the initial embarrassment on both Shinobu and Kanae’s part, Kanae invited them inside to get cleaned up and spend the night. 

She had been insistent that it was unsafe to travel at this time of night, given their wounds, their fatigue, and the distance from home…she came up with almost every excuse to get them to stay.

Sumire wasn’t sure why Kanae cared about helping them, even if she was a doctor. Or at least she thought she was– But Sumire had a feeling it had to do with Shinobu’s instant pleas for Kanae to stop talking to them. She seemed to like to tease her sister a lot, and Sumire could get behind that. 

Right now though they were sitting in a small infirmary room, the room only holding three cots that they were sitting on and a counter with shelves and drawers, which probably had more medicine in them.

“Hey be more gentle!” Shinobu let out a shriek of anger. 

“I am being gentle, you are just moving quite a bit.” 

Sumire could hear the smile in Kanae’s voice even if she couldn’t see her face. 

“That's a lie, this is a lie, I’ve treated pulled ankles before and never had this much pain!”

“It’s possible you might have fractured it then. A good thing you had some friends to help you get home then– aye?”

Shinobu’s face flushed like a tomato. If Sumire didn’t know who Kanae was she would have assumed she would be dead. 

“They’re not my friends–” Shinobu looked over at her “We’re not friends!” Ouch.

Shinobu let out a yelp of pain as Kanae finished bandaging her foot. Sumire could only assume that she purposely squeezed it. 

“Don’t say things like that, Shinobu. It’s good to make friends, especially with two very cute twins.” Kanae swept up from the floor grabbing all the excess equipment dumping it on the counter and reaching for new supplies. 

Sumire had to physically stop herself from letting her jaw drop open. 

‘What–Cute?!’

She felt like she might have a heart attack. No one but Ma ever called them cute— Kanae is practically a stranger!

“They are not cute, both are covered in scars from head to toe.”

Thank you Shinobu– wait, hey!

“That’s insensitive Shinobu–” Kanae moved over to Sanemi and cupped his face with both her hands, smushing it a little. Then she turned his head to Shinobu. “See look at his face, so adorable!” 

Kanae must have no self-preservation, Sumire met the girl tonight, and she has no background knowledge of how Kanae acted before her death so this was all…a bit much. Was she really this eccentric? And she really only a year older than them?

Sanemi looked like he was going to have an aneurysm though. He had gone stock still, barely moving a muscle in his face or his body. 

“Give him space Kanae! Don’t invade other’s bubbles!” 

Wow, Shinobu’s emotions felt like a pendulum swing from one extreme to the other. First, she insults them then she defends them. 

Sanemi tried to open his mouth but clearly couldn’t, whether it was from Kanae’s hold or he was unable to get anything to pass through his mouth. This was the best blackmail Sumire had ever gotten on Sanemi. 

“Alright alright, I’ll stop harassing your friends~” Shinobu hurled an extra roll of bandages across the room, missing Kanae by an inch. Kanae cackled in delight.

She dropped her hands, and Sanemi sagged with relief. His face was red though. Then she took up a white cloth and a bottle that smelled like rubbing alcohol and wet part of the rag. 

In a gentler voice to Sanemi– “This is going to hurt a bit alight, if it’s too much let me know, kay?”

Sanemi just nodded his head. 

Within a few moments, all of the wounds on Sanemi’s hands and arms had been carefully cleaned and wrapped. Kanae patted his arm giving him a gentle smile then turned to Sumire. 

“Alright Miss Savior, what kind of wounds do you have?” 

‘Miss Savior?’

“Ah.. only the one on my head and this one here on my arm. I…” Sumire wasn’t too sure if a period counted as a wound. But maybe Kanae would have some helpful advice for it. 

“Technically it’s not an injury–” Shinobu snorted. “But I started my first menstruation during the test, and I don't…know how to…uh–” Sumire felt awkward, normally this wouldn’t have been a problem talking to another girl but she just felt weird asking for help at this point. 

“Oh my– that’s quite the dry spell of luck you had.” Tell her about it. “After I patch up your injuries I can give you some tips for them, ya?” 

Sumire nodded, not trusting her mouth to say anything not embarrassing. Kanae started with her forehead wound, gently wiping away any of the leftover blood, and probbing the skin to see how healed it was. 

“I’m afraid to tell you that this wound is going to scar pretty bad, a lot of skin was ripped out and it won’t form back to what you're used to, not to mention it is really deep. You should be happy that your skull didn’t have any fractures from it.”

Well…that certainly wasn’t the worst news she could have been told. 

“It’s okay. One scar to the dozens of others I already have.”  

Kanae pursed her lips and gently smoothed down the side of Sumire’s hair. She had such a kind look on her face. 

The second thing that happened was that Sumire’s face flamed red at the contact. 

Sumire suddenly understood Sanemi’s reaction. Kanae had a strange effect on both of them. 

–0– 

Ten minutes later, Sumire was in the bathroom holding a small ‘disc cup thing’. It was strangely similar to a modern menstrual disc, only slightly more lumpy and less well-made than the silicone ones she had seen before. Kanae had tried to explain how it was made but Sumire only held a hand up and said she didn’t want to know. Despite her period being over at this point, it wouldn’t hurt to practice it for the next time. 

Kanae had told her it was the best solution to her menstrual problems in the field because it would keep all of the blood inside . Exactly like a menstrual cup or disc then. Sumire had never had experience using a menstrual disc before, but it couldn’t be all that different from a tampon– could it? 

Sumire recalled Kanae’s instructions to a tee. 

“Alright, firstly you're going to fold it like this.” Sumire had still been slightly horrified at the size when folded. “Then it depends on the person, some find squatting easier, others like to stand, I’ve witnessed people lay down before.” That had horrified Sumire. “Then you’ll push it up until you feel it hit your cervix, then you kind of have to push it around so that it ‘cups’ the cervix.” 

Sumire had no idea that instructions could be so direct and yet still be vague. And not knowing every exact detail about this made her very nervous. Kanae had said it would be a good idea to wash her hands too, but she would be okay in a pinch. Sumire would never be okay if she had to put it in or remove it without clean hands. 

But the only good thing about that was that Sumire’s period only lasted maybe three to four days when it came to the flow bit. So she would only have to do this like four-ish times a period. Then maybe wear one of the thicker underwear that Kanae also supplied to catch what was left. 

Sumire scrubbed her hands practically raw in the bathroom sink and the disc. Even being reassured that it was clean Sumire just felt better knowing she too had cleaned it. Next came the hard part, she knew she used to put tampons in sitting down, and if she did it standing up it probably wouldn’t go in right if you were a beginner. 

So Sumire stripped her still bloody hakama off, and just to make sure she didn’t get anything else dirty she also took her kimono off. So now naked and afraid, Sumire decided it would be best to squat down and try to insert the disc. 

Her first try was a complete failure, had she not had a previous life to go off of she would have panicked when she hit her pelvic bone first. But where she failed was where she panicked when she had to use her fingers to push it up further. That had grossed Sumire out for a second and it fell out because it hadn’t even made it past the canale. But then she thought about all the blood and guts she has stuck her hands in and sucked it up telling herself that she was being a pussy. 

This second attempt went…better. Sumire got it up there but then realized that she didn’t know how to tell if she did it right. So she used the same logic she used with a tampon and stood up to see if it was uncomfortable. She felt a slight stab of discomfort, and quickly sat back down, and tried to maneuver it around a bit, she felt it slide back just a tad and the lip that she had been pinching slipped out of her hand and went up. For the third time in these last few minutes, she panicked, again. Because now she couldn’t grab it, but she could touch it. But Kanae had said it was supposed to ‘cup it’ so maybe that's what it was doing?

So removing her hand she stood up, and she felt nothing. So it was probably in the right spot? Hopefully. Despite her panic about not being able to grab it, she decided to leave it for now and deal with it when she wasn’t, naked and afraid. 

–0–

Kanae set them up in a room with two Western-style beds and fresh sets of clothing, which were just hospital wear but it was much better than what they were wearing. And discreetly Sumire had dumped her clothing in the mess hall trash. They didn’t fit her anyway so not any harm for it. 

When she got back to her room Sanemi was already asleep and Sumrie had the urge to push him out of his bed onto the floor, but refrained if only to spare the others in the building a fruitless sleep. 

The mattress was springy, and the blanket was just a quilt, but it served its job well enough. It reminded her of her previous life’s bed in a way. Sumire stared at the wall, rethinking the day's events. She had enjoyed herself and even liked the week of final selection to a degree. But now there was a blank spot in her chest, resting right beside her heart that no longer felt full. 

‘What now?’

‘Now you fight demons.’

‘Just fight? There is nothing else?’

‘Isn’t that what you wanted for yourself?

‘I want revenge against Muzan for turning my mother and causing a downward spiral in my life.’

‘Then that is what you do.’

‘Is that all I’m meant for then? To fight? I know that I will stop at nothing to achieve that goal but…I will be miserable with sacrificing my life just towards that. Didn’t I have other goals once?’  

Sumire had thought about it many times. What else might she want out of life? Truthfully to make it go back to what it once was, where her days were filled with sunshine and smiles. But that could only ever happen if Muzan was dead. 

But there was a time when she had goals, goals much different from now. In her last life, she had many goals, but her memory was always foggy. She could remember most general things. But never true details. 

But the thing was that she knew what it was like to have ideals and dreams, that you framed into goals. But whoever that person had been was now gone or at least their core value as a person was. She remembered small things about her previous life. Most of her memories were from her early life. 

But Sumire was capable of still holding on to the mental maturity of an adult. Which left a wide gap between the ages of like 17 to 30. What happened to make her forget so much? Was that just reincarnation, and why did it just now bother her that she could only remember when she was younger? 

Sumire didn’t fully understand either why it was that she remembered the manga either. Maybe it was her time spent in the womb that forced those memories to life or maybe this life always was going to remember that story to better perceive the world around her. 

She didn’t know. There were far too many unknowns, Sumire has built her life around knowing . Even before everything went to shit. But there were not only several years in which she couldn’t predict but also barely vague details in which she could prepare. 

Sumire’s current goals were pretty simple– one, save Kanae from being absorbed. Two, save Kumeno from getting killed by the lower moon.  And on the off chance that she has the time figure out where Murichro lives and save him too. But that might be the most difficult one because the only lead would be Lady Ubuyashiki, and Sumire isn’t allowed to know where she lives until she becomes a Hashria. 

And while all of those goals are well and good– it still leaves Sumire with a cold feeling in her chest, like she is missing what is truly important. By now she has learned to never ignore her body's pains, but this one isn’t the same. But it still means something. 

Nothing made sense, and yet everything still did make sense. It was irritating, Sumire was missing something and the world was waving a giant red flag in her face and she couldn’t see it. No matter how much she thought about it Sumire came up empty on what bothered her heart so badly. 

At some point, she had fallen into a light sleep only to feel herself toss and turn all night. When she finally slipped into REM sleep she was out cold. 

–0–

The colors behind her eyes blurred and when she opened them it took a second for them to focus. 

‘The room she was in was stark white with beige curtains and a large hospital bed in the center. Sumire could hear beeps, whirling, and even a hushed whisper from her left. The edges of her vision were foggy like she was looking through a frosted lens.’

‘Many wires and tubes were attached to whoever was on the bed. It looked like a woman with her face and body wrapped in bandages, brown hair peaking out from parts of the wrappings.’

‘The heart monitor beeping slowly…so slowly like she might die at any moment.’ 

‘It must be a dream. Where am I?’

‘Then her vision blurs and it changes from night to day and night to day, over and over again. Figures of nurses and doctors blurring around the woman.’

‘Sumire instinctively knows that the woman is her .’

‘She can sense the time passing, and over time the woman's face is revealed, deep burn scars wrap around her face, her eyes undamaged but her body incapable of moving.’

‘Then the senary changes and melts into another room, one with light beige walls and cream colored sheets, and the Woman is staring out a window, there is nothing behind her eyes.’ 

‘She stares and stares, finally, someone tries to talk to her, but the Woman wants nothing to do with the nurse. Doctor? They were wearing scrubs.’

“Who are you?” ‘The woman asks so blankly.’ “Where am I?’ 

‘The doctor looks surprised. Then asks if she knew who she was.’ The woman only shakes her head. 

“Sumire.”

Then Sumire’s vision blurs a little as she looks into the woman's eyes. There’s nothing there, her soul– it lost its way. Hospice. This was Hospice. 

“Hey Sumire. Wake up.”

The Woman looks directly at her like she can see her. She mouths something to her. Abruptly her vision of the woman fractures and turns black, and the last thing she sees is her mouth moving.

‘Remember what happened?’ 

“Sumire– For God's Sake, Piko will kill us–get up!”

Sumire feels her stomach lurch and then her cheek and left arm hit the floor– immediately on high alert. She lifts herself and whirls only to find Sanemi cackling in glee at having shoved her. Immediately she is put in a bad mood at the rough awakening. 

“Fuck off Sanemi.” Sumire grumbles under her breath. 

‘What was that dream?’

“Woah, don’t go getting your panties in a twist– you were sleeping like the dead.” His tone is full of condescension, and Sumire would love nothing more than to shove him out a window at this very moment. 

Sumire stares hard at him for a moment– 

‘You’re an adult, don't do it. Don’t do it Sumire.’

Next thing she knew she launched herself across the bed between them and tackled Sanmei to the floor with a resounding thump. Sumire struggles for a moment before using her legs to pin Sanemi’s in between her calf and thighs. And grabs his arms in the want to immobilize him, but his upper body strength proves to outperform hers. 

And he flips the tables and grabs her wrists attempting to push her backward up off of him but her legs are resolutely holding his in place. After a bit of tussle, they both conclude that they won’t be getting any further in this brawl because they managed to incapacitate the other in a draw. 

Sumire blames the bed for this loss.

“Whatever, let’s go get breakfast.” Sumire sighed heavily through her mouth, she didn’t even know why she was engaging in this type of behavior. 

Sanemi narrowed his eyes but let go and Sumire untangled the hold her legs had been in and stood up. Though, she should have seen this coming– Just as she started walking to the door Sanemi reached over and whipped her up and over his shoulder and used his arms to pin her legs from kicking him. 

“Hey! What gives! Put me down– I’m not going to breakfast like this you ass hat!” She could practically hear the smile he was giving. 

“Nah– you're acting like a brat. So I figured you needed to be carried like one, ya?” Sumire dug her elbows into his back trying to make it as uncomfortable as possible to carry her. 

“This practically broader line abuse Nemi!” She was pissed but could also feel a small tug at the corner of her lips. 

He walked out the door into the hallway and Sumire reached out and shut the door before he got too far away from it. 

The hold was only slightly difficult because their height difference wasn’t really all that much. 

‘Why is he taller—’

“You’re not struggling hard enough for me to even feel like you can use your own feet– besides I thought you would like being carried with how much you do for others.”

Sanemi was being a smug little bitch and if he wasn't her brother then she would have pummeled him into the ground by now. Not that she wouldn’t do that normally. 

Sanemi walked around another corner, and at the end Sumire could hear a couple dozen people, probably eating and talking to each other. But Sumire had a flash of embarrassment when she realized that Sanmei was still holding her and walking for the door to the cafeteria. 

Immediately she put up a fight at the thought of having to be seen like this in front of strangers. 

“Put me down– right now, Sanemi or so help me–”

“So help you what? It's fine–”

“No, it's embarrassing and you know it. Put me down!” Sumire tried to pry herself up and make it as difficult as possible for Sanemi to hold her. But even though she could see him struggling she wasn’t doing enough to slow his pace to the door. 

‘Hell no. No no no no–”

She kicked her feet in an attempt to hit him where the sun didn’t shine. But he grabbed her feet which caused her to be hoisted farther up where her waist had been on his shoulder– was now her upper thighs and the pain on the backs of her knees caused her to have to flop over as to minimize the pain. 

“For fuck sake put me down!” She was nearly positive that people could hear her yelling. 

She was being dangled upside down basically.

“I do not want to be near your ass Sanemi–!” Smack– Sumire had raised her hand and slapped Sanemi– She heard a yelp and the tension on her legs loosened a little and she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled her legs up. But he gripped them tightly again, 

In all this time he still hadn’t stopped moving so the approach to the door was a little less than ten feet. Sumire had to bring out her ultimate move to stop this shit. Using both her hands she reached under Sanemi’s shirt and tickled his sides. 

For a moment nothing happened, but then Sanmei’s footsteps faltered, and a wheezing gasp came from Sanemi. Then a full-blow cackle–

“HA–ha– gasp , Sum- ire! Hey! Gasp ” His footsteps faltered and Sumire could feel his arms trying not to loosen, so she kicked her legs violently not letting up on the tickling. 

He had stopped moving forward, but a second too late, Sumire realized she had nothing to catch herself with when Sanemi unceremoniously let go of her legs. 

Sumire felt gravity put her face first into the floor. 

THUD

“You bastard!” Sumire’s face collided with the ground for the second time this morning, followed by the rest of her body. 

“HA ha HA– Wheeze ” Now Sanemi was laughing for real, at her pain and misery.

And before she could get her bearings to tear him a new one she felt a hand wrap around her ankle and drag her, to her horror she whipped her head up and saw that Sanemi had reached the door and opened it. 

“Oh HELL NO!” The distinct feeling of embarrassment washed over Sumire, and a fluttering of nerves paraded around her body as if they owned it. This was not the impression she wanted to leave on people.

Sumire felt her back slide along the floor and over the threshold of the door, as Sanemi effortlessly pulled her into the room. Immediately Sumire felt eyes bore into her skin. Dozens of people watching this absolute shit fest. Her skin felt aflame as Sanemi dragged her along the floor towards the buffet area where the food was being served. 

‘I want to die, I want to die, I want to die–’

Sumire just covered her face with her hands. She didn’t even try to stand up or fight back at this point, it would just be better to let the ground swallow her whole–

“Sanemi put Sumire down.” Perhaps the gods were watching out for her– in the form of a 4-foot ankle bitter known as Shinobu. 

“This is her fault for acting like a brat.” 

Slowly Sumire peaked out from behind her hands to see Shinobu standing with a white apron tied around her waist and a crutch tucked beneath one arm. 

“Sumire is fully capable of walking, there is no need to treat her like a toddler.” There was a seriousness in her voice that signaled that Shinobu lacked the sarcastic aspect of this whole thing and was defending her honor even if it was quite unnecessary. 

‘I have mixed feelings on that. Shinobu– girl, you sure you’re not trying to be my friend?’

There was still a crowd of people in the room watching this go down. 

Sumire could see the antagonist's gears turning in Sanemi’s head. He was going to mess with Shinobu. Which might be the worst thing he could do at the moment if Sumire was right about Shinobu wanting to be her friend. 

“What you gonna do? Poke me to death?” Sumire could hear the smug smile in his voice. Where the fuck did he get this confidence from?

‘He’s so dead, Love you, bro. I’ll see you in hell.’

Shinobu’s eyes narrowed, and a gave a look that sent shivers down Sumire’s spine. Sanemi clearly playing that he was not phased by it took it a step further. 

“There ain’t nothing you could do with your foot crippled like that.” 

‘Gods, you have made an enemy for life Sanemi– Shut up and apologise!’

For a single moment, the eyes of everyone else melted away, and Shinobu’s clear rage was the only thing inhabiting the room. Then in the next Sumire saw the blur of Shinobu’s crutch move so fast that it was barely visible. 

CRACK

“ACK!” Sumire’s foot dropped, from what she could gather from that split second Shinobu’s crutch had slammed into Sanemi’s wrist where he had been holding her foot. 

“Crippled my ass. Injury or not– like hell, I’ll let you get away with speaking to me like that.”

Sumire felt awe wash over her at Shinobu’s calm and collected rage. Was she really eleven? But then another thought crossed her mind.

‘Do I endorse Shinobu, or do I defend Sanemi?’

At this moment, Sumire realized she had made a very stark choice. Despite how petty it was, it would still impact her relationship with them for ages. 

But like hell, she would pass up the chance to make Sanemi pout and become closer friends with Shinobu. So getting to her feet with a just slightly unsteady sway she joined the conversation. 

“That's for dropping me on my face twice in twenty minutes.” Sumire was still kinda pissed about that. It throbbed dully, certainly not high on her pain scale but enough that she could feel the blood rushing to it. 

“He dropped you on your– oh wait I can see it now.” Shinobu whistles low at Sumire’s injuries. 

“Just another injury to add to the growing list.” 

Shinobu raised a thin eyebrow. Then she turned back to Sanemi, who mumbled something about assholes and traitors. 

“Next time you pull something like that, you better hope my foot is still injured.” For as stupid as a threat as it was, it felt genuine considering she wasn’t opposed to physical violence. 

Sanemi was glaring wholeheartedly at Shinobu and Shinobu fully returned the stare with a shit ton more venom. Perhaps it would be better to deflect this to another topic. Just then, Sumire caught a whiff of what was being served. It smelled like Miso and spiced meat. 

‘Food–’

“Hey, what’s for breakfast?” 

The reaction Sumire got was almost akin to dumping cold water on Shinobu’s head but without the snapping or death threats. Her head snapped over at breakneck speeds. 

“It’s miso and teriyaki strips. There is a sweet– macha daifuku with red bean filling.”

“Wait really!” Sumire fricking loved daifuku– especially red bean filling. Taking nearly no time at all she grabbed Sanemi and on instinct grabbed Shinobu too, and practically dove for the food line, which luckily for Shinobu was close, and not so lucky for Sumire to get reprimanded with a sharp hit to the ankle. 

But all was worth it when on her plate she held a soft green dough ball that looked like the heavens above had done something right for once. Sitting down at the table she barely glanced at her other food before devouring the sweet. It had been over a year or so since she had had one. 

She can remember Ma making it for her birthday– and she made ohagi with sweet filling for Sanemi. It was probably one of her last best memories. 

That numbing to her heart came as she stared at the last bite of the daifuku. The red bean paste felt a little too sweet the more she let it linger in her mouth. The smell of the miso emphasized the feelings of numbness and brought forth memories she would rather not think about.

Something nudged her left arm, Sumire looked up to see Sanemi staring at her in the ‘you good?’ look. And in response, she stuffed the daifuku in her mouth like a chipmunk chewing with her mouth open. The randomness of the action sparks a disgusted look from Sanemi and a laugh from Shinobu. 

“That’s gross.” Despite the weird swirling of emotions in her stomach Sumire smiled, well as well as she could with food in her mouth. 

“Don’t do that— EWW!”

–0–

There hadn’t been much of interest after breakfast– The only notable thing would have been Shinobu and Sanemi’s death glare match. To which both seemed to have met their match. But Sumire had willingly ignored it in favor of gathering her very few belongings. Which was her katana and her bag or cloth tied like a bag, which had her uniform in it and other random food scraps. 

Kastu had yet to return so he must have made it to Piko. Hopefully– otherwise they were in for it. Sumire looked around the small room once more– their quilts neatly folded and pillows stacked on top. The sun was peaking through the sheer curtains on the left side of the room, either bed spaced just perfectly on either side of the window, with a nightstand next to each bed. 

Sumire wondered if she would ever see this room again. If this little picture of normal would ever be present in her memories of blood lust and anger. She slid the shoji door shut, and a little chalk puffed from the track— clean and well-maintained. It was pure despite all the atrocities this room had probably seen. Sumire turned and walked down the hallway not looking back. 

–0–

“Hey, Sumire.” Shinobu’s voice startled her a moment.

Sumire turned around just as she was leaving the gates of the mansion. Sanemi was a few strides ahead of her. Shinobu stood on the engawa and from a distance her face looked to be screwed up in indecision. 

“Thank you.” Her voice was still loud and brash, but the undertone of it meant something. Sumire must have stared a tad too long because Shinobu added–

“For getting me home– not that I couldn’t have done it myself–” Sumire cut her off with a gentle smile, one that Ma used to give. 

“It’s no problem, I would have helped regardless.” Shinobu’s face tinged a little pink from how easily Sumire brushed off the concern. 

‘I wasn’t obligated to help you– Shinobu. But I did it because no one should have to brave this awful place alone.’ 

Sumire turned back around following Sanemi out the gate. 

–0–

Getting back to Piko after a night spent in a bed was much easier on her body than if she had traveled home after a week of sleeping on dirt. It was before noon when they had left, they hadn’t seen the hide nor tail of Kanae but that might have been expected as she was a fully fledged demon slayer. 

And the weather was still unbearably hot for mid-August, but it wasn’t much of a problem for either of them. Although Sumire never taught Sanemi to regulate his temp, he might have just been pushing through it because Sumire wasn’t having an issue with it. 

Which was kind of funny but slightly worrying– heat stroke was no joke. Why did that rhyme?

Mid-afternoon was when the tangerine orchard finally blessed their eyes again. Some trees sported white blossoms and others already showing ripened fruit. And Sumire didn’t stop Sanemi when he reached out a snagged one off a passing tree. 

Walking up to Piko’s front door was something akin to a wild fever dream riddled with anxiety, because there was no way to predict what would be on the other side of the door, nor how Piko would react. 

Slowly Sumire gathered every little bit of courage she had and opened the shoji. Fully expecting yelling, or perhaps a pot to hit the floor, or even Katsu’s squawking, if he even did that. But instead, it was complete silence. 

Where the light streamed in through the open windows Sumire saw dust float– and on the table was a pot of tea but it gave off a scent of overly brewed tea leaves. Which meant it had been there for some time. The sink had a few unwashed dishes that looked to have been left there only to not be washed. Which was very unlike Piko– she was quite literally the definition of discipline. 

Kicking off her zori Sumire wandered farther into the house, keeping quiet. Sanemi coming up behind her. Something was weird about the house and where was Piko? Why did she leave it in such a state? 

‘Maybe she was worried– Piko worried? That sounds kind of outlandish, maybe she had a guest over and got drunk or something.’

The house wasn’t that big, really it was only four rooms the main one, the cupboard closet that they stayed in, the bathroom, and Piko’s room. So if she was in the house still it’s likely that she was in her room. 

Sumire had never seen Piko’s room in the year that she had been here. It was kinda like the only place that Sanemi and her knew to be a no-no spot. But it was more disturbing than anything to not see Piko up and about taking care of her house. 

So with quite a bit of care, Sumire walked over to Piko’s bedroom door and slowly slid it open, the wood sliding smoothly over the chalked track. The room was mostly dark with only a little light illuminating the room from behind them.

For a moment Sumire was surprised to see that the room was almost the same size as theirs had been– only more furnished. There was a folding screen blocking the backmost part of the room with only a small opening to get behind it. 

In front of that was a dresser and a kimono rack that held one of Piko's most worn haori. To the right-most wall before the divider was a small kneeling desk that was overflowing with parchment and an ink well and brush not properly cleaned lying on top of blank paper. Effectively ruining it. 

Sumire looked over her shoulder to see Piko’s zori in the entry. So…she must be here? It certainly looked like it. 

“Piko-san?” Sumire called tentatively as she turned back, she hoped that she was behind the divider, a little bit of worry was starting to naw at her chest. 

Sumire didn’t hear anything respond to her so she tried again. 

This time a faint russel sounded from behind the divider. Sumire lit with a bit of hope. “Piko-san? You alright? We’re sorry we got here a day late.” 

Sumire felt Sanemi nudge her back in the ‘that was your idea way’. There was a slight groan and the popping of a back– damn Sumire knew she was old, but didn’t realize Piko could act her age. There was more shuffling and then Sumire heard one of the shutter locks flick open and more light flooded into the room. 

Then Sumire heard a low mumbling that sounded suspiciously like ‘How long was I out for?’, and then the half-pulled back part of the divider pulled inward to reveal a slightly disheveled Piko who was dressed in essentially a nightgown. Sumire stood stock still not knowing the protocol for this, especially since she had been ready to be yelled at. 

But then Piko looked up and noticed them standing in the doorway and locked eyes with them for a moment. Then another– it was like she couldn’t believe what was actually before her eyes. Sumire knew they both probably looked like crap but did she have to stare that hard. 

“Piko-san? You alright– ack!” Before Sumire could finish her question she was being squeezed to death in a hug. Piko didn’t say anything but Sumire could feel her stuttering lungs through the hug, and it sounded very much like she was trying not to cry. 

‘I had no idea Piko cared this much– you dolt she didn’t want us to die, her father trained us. She would be very upset if she let his students and now her students die.’

Sumire carefully wrapped her own arms around Piko, feeling Sanemi do the same only one of his arms was around her instead. Sumire was taller than Piko but not by much– but that was all it took for her to think of Ma, to think of how many times she had wrapped them in the same suffocating embrace. 

Tears that Sumire didn’t think she still had slowly dripped down her face– it wasn’t that she didn’t care about Piko, it was just that it was difficult to accept someone into her heart. Maybe Piko felt the same way after watching so many of her students die. Better to keep them at arms length than to welcome breaking your heart over and over again when they fail to come back. 

“I’m so glad you're alive.” Piko’s voice was shaky at best but it conveyed every emotion that she had ever probably felt about them– annoyance, joy, contentment, pride. How long had it been since she had a student live?

Sanemi spoke for her, clearly not as choked up. “Well, you told us we weren’t allowed to die so…” 

A choked laugh escaped Piko– “You’re a damn right kid– If you two had died I would have quit training all together.” She released them from her grip and strode passed them into the main room. 

“So who’s up for some celebratory dessert?” 

There’s the Piko Sumire knew.

Chapter Text

Sumire had mixed feelings after Piko and their reunion, she was sitting at the table with Sanemi while Piko went about cleaning up her mess from what Sumire assumed was the week that they were away. It was strange to have seen Piko in a state of unease or even anything past what had been her normally hard exterior. 

Maybe this is how Kumeno’s relationship with Piko was– because right now she was acting very grandmotherly. She was giving off a joy that Sumire had never seen on her and her shoulders looked ten times lighter. It was almost like a switch had flipped. 

Which Sumire thought was weird but she got it— Truly Piko had been holding them at arm's length for so long but now she didn’t have to worry that her training was a bust and that they were dead in a ditch somewhere. But…it was just so unnerving to see her so…happy? 

“What types of sweets do you two like? I have limited supplies so choose wisely.” Piko still had her back turned to them as she went about washing the dishes in the sink and prepping bowls and cutting boards.

Sumire looked to Sanemi– ‘You choose’. And he shrugged his shoulders but complied. 

“Do you have the ingredients to make ohagi? Specifically the sweet kind?” Of course, he would ask for the sweet version, he had a bigger sweet tooth than she did and she would eat daifuku any day of the week, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

Piko paused her movements and looked over to where she stored most of her dry goods. Then nodded.

“I should, yes. If you want you can start it yourself.” Sanemi didn’t need more than that to get him moving, Sumire stayed seated though. Not that she didn’t like ohagi she just preferred the daifuku’s texture more. They were pretty similar though just different shells that hold the red bean paste. 

Sumire folded her arms and laid her head down, an unexpected wave of exhaustion came over her. Physically it made sense she hadn’t really slept very well last night even if it had been on a pretty decent bed. But flashes of the dream popped into her mind. Of the woman's scared skin and her eyes ever looking for answers that she no longer had. 

‘Remember what happened?’

No, she didn’t. Sumire didn’t remember how she had gotten those scars. Or what injury to her head had landed her in the hospital on death's doorstep? It was so bad that she ended up in hospice and not back home with her family, of whom she only remembered what they looked like when they were younger.

Sumire knew she remembered hospice because technically those had been all new memories from that point on. And everything before the age of 17 she remembered because it had come to her while in the womb. But in her previous life, she could not remember any of those memories. 

So her reincarnation had something to do with her ability to remember. The manga she knew that she had read while in high school so perhaps that is why that information is at the forefront of her memories. 

But in retrospect, it had never bothered her until now that she could never remember much. When she had been a year and a half, she had figured out where she was, and prior to that her goals had just been to start fresh. Because Sumire had had a feeling that trying to start over would have been much better than trying to understand what went wrong and where. 

Sumire’s life was as Shinazugawa Sumire now, so it shouldn’t bother her about how she died in her last life, nor should flashes of her memories spark anything of importance in her. 

But they did. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, trying to pin what emotion where. Sumire had been someone once– a person with goals and wants –but she had goals and wants now, she wanted to kill Muzan bring vengeance to her family, and succeed where she had failed so many times. 

She felt hollow at her core, there was no more comfortable joy that filled the space between her ribs. No joyful smiles that brought contentment to her mind. She had both in this world and the last lost who she was because of a tragedy, whether it was her fault or not in the last world is debatable but in this one she knew it was. 

She had the knowledge to stop something awful and she failed, would she fail again– that was uncertain, but she knew that she would give her all to try and make she that she didn’t. Sumire wouldn’t let anyone slow her down this time. 

That made her heart beat a second faster, the knowledge that she could do something, that she was no longer six and so small that anything could snap her neck. But false promises had become her foundation. She would have to fix that. 

But for now, she let the exhaustion take over and let herself drift into a dreamless void. 

–0–

Sunlight filtered in through the shudders, lines of warm fiery rays casting across Sumire’s face. She could see bright oranges and yellows mixing with splotches of red from her eyelids. A little body shifted next to hers. And then another one landed on her chest pressing the air from her lungs. 

But Sumire did her best to lie still to make them think she was asleep. She was trying very hard not to smile. 

“Nee-san~ Nee-san~...Wake up please!”

“Sumire-nee, Nemi-nii needs your help with the ohagi!” 

Another body smaller than the other two pressed its head into the base of her throat. All the while giggling and babbling in baby speech. Joining his sisters because it looked like fun. 

Then all of a sudden the weight on top of her chest was gone and a squeal of excitement tumbled from her sister. 

“Ahh! Put me down Nemi!” Sumire heard shrieking laughter all around her and the little head that had been on her throat lifted and was now trying to shimmy on top of her chest where Teiko had been. Giggling all the way. 

“You need to let Mir rest– she just got over her fever!” Sanemi her savoir in the flesh. 

Sumi’s voice rebutted– “But you always ruin the ohagi!” 

There was an offended sputtering from Sanemi, then another squeal as he lifted Sumi from her left side. Leaving Hiroshi lying on top of her chest. Sumire slowly brought her arms up to cradle to the boy to keep him from falling. Tucking him close she rolled onto her side to get more sleep. 

He just continued to babble, not once did Sumire open her eyes the moment was perfect– 

The sounds of Hiroshi’s babbling melted into white noise as the sun behind her eyelids faded and slowly Sumire enveloped into the void once more. 

She floated in the nothingness feeling the most contentment she had in a while. 

“Mir?”

Sanemi? She couldn’t feel her body– she drifted without reason.

“Hey–” a small rocking sensation prickled from her shoulder. “ –Mir, are you alright?” 

Of course, she was– couldn’t he feel the embrace of the void?

“Mir you need to wake up. It was only a dream, it’s okay.” 

Why would he be telling her it’s okay? Of course, she was okay. A small feeling broke in her chest, a small plucking of her heartstrings, and it played a sorrowful tune. It hurt a lot, it felt like she was being stabbed in the chest with a bunch of little needles. 

Another rocking motion except this one was a bit rougher. It jostled her nothingness and gave a physical weight to her limbs. Slowly each one of her limbs was given a weight so large that it felt like she was falling.  

“Wake up Mir.” Sanemi’s voice was much louder than it had been.

And the falling stopped and she was aware again. Slowly she lifted the weight of her head. Opening her eyes and seeing glossy colors with a blur of a liquid blinding her ability to see. She rubbed her eyes. Feeling tears on her palm. She didn’t remember crying? 

“Are you alright?” This time Sanemi’s voice was lighter but not condescending. 

Sumire’s voice was rough from the congestion of crying, “Yeah– I’m okay, I–” She had a dream about her siblings. “ – I had a nice dream for once.” She stared at her hand for a long moment. 

Sanemi huffed but didn’t say anything that might ruin the feeling of melancholy. He understood that nice dreams were few and far between. Instead, he slid a plate in front of her with an ohagi on it, the freshly steamed sweet brought another prickle of needles to her heart but she waved them off in favor of showing appreciation. 

She leaned over to Sanemi wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her head into his neck. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Sanemi shrugged and returned the hug. 

Sumire had a feeling that Piko was in the room but didn’t have the energy to keep up her act of nonchalance around her anymore. After all, if Piko was turning over a new leaf then Sumire had maybe just a little room in her heart to show her how vulnerable she could be. 

–0–

There hadn’t been much to do around the house while they waited for their swords. Katsu had taken up residence with Piko’s old crow and they were now best buds. Sanemi’s crow was just as quiet as Katsu but had also taken to hanging around the other two. 

After the first night, Sumire learned to remove ‘The Disc’, and it turned out to not be as scary as she had initially believed it to be. Still mildly gross, but doable. She didn’t have a good place to store it so she ended up wrapping it in a cloth that she put in one of the pockets that housed her hair comb and bracelet. 

Sumire had taken to changing her morning routines to do more meditation and in the afternoons cleaning up the grounds and helping Piko harvest all of the tangerines. It was a nice break, even if it made her skin crawl at the feeling of not moving or working out as much. But realistically Sumire knew that she wouldn’t get a moment of rest in the next… god knows how long. 

During the middle of the second week, Piko went to the nearest town, which for people like them wasn’t all that far of a trip. 

When she got back she had a rather large buddle in her arms all different colors, some with organic patterns and others with repetitive patterns. She had dumped them on the table and called the two of them over. She had found their lack of clothing rather pitiful. 

Which is exactly how she phrased it. Both of them were given a ‘semi-formal’ which Piko said was only what the ladies at the store had said, and told them to wear it whenever they wanted. Sumire’s looked a lot like her old kofurisode, just the kimono was black with lots of random colored flowers spread around the whole garment, but it had the same tan-colored hakama. 

The whole thing was a bit bigger than necessary but Piko had planned for them saying they would grow into it. Sanemi more so than Sumire. He was at the age where any day he could shoot up from what Sumire assumed was 5’ 5 or so.

She was very much salty over that and planned every day for his downfall to be short. 

Piko had also picked out some jinbei for the both of them, mostly sleepwear. But she said that for the first few years, it was likely that they would be practically living in their slayer uniforms. Which did not sound appealing to Sumire. 

The kofurisode became Sumire’s normal wear for the next week or so before when their swords were scheduled to arrive. She didn’t get to keep her training jinbei, and she wasn’t about to try and wear her sleepwear or hospital wear all the time. 

At the end of the second week, Sumire had gone to Piko to ask if she could teach her how to use her hair comb. 

“You want what?” Piko looked mildly confused, and Sumire couldn’t blame her in all the time Sumire had known Piko not once had Sumire expressed the want to embrace traditional hairstyles. 

“I got this comb from my Ma— and I want to wear it in honor of her.” Sumire shuffled a bit. 

Then she blurted out– “But I don’t want to wear a traditional style, I just want to wear a bun or something, a ponytail works too.” 

Sumire held the comb in her hands staring at it intently, she couldn’t bring herself to look at Piko, it was slightly embarrassing that she was unable to do this herself but it was a simple request and the worst she could be told was no—

“Uh– sure? It would be smart to wear your hair up– you might end up with the same haircut you came here with if you don’t.” Piko let out a sharp laugh, but Sumire just frowned. 

As much as she loved her twin she didn’t want to look like him all the time. 

“So… are you able to or…”

“Yes yes, let me go get a few things and I’ll show you how to put your hair up in a way that won’t come down easily.” Piko waved her hand then turned around and walked back into her room. 

A few minutes later she came out with white sinew string and brush. 

“Here let's go to the bathroom so you can see in the mirror, I don’t want to have to do this twice.” 

Geeze okay– Sumire was ushered into the tight bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Behind her, she saw Piko get a stool and push it so that she would be taller than her. 

“Okay first things first– you need to brush your hair.” Piko took the brush and carefully pulled out knots and made Sumire’s hair completely smooth. 

“Then– you gather all your hair like you're about to do a ponytail.” Sumire saw and felt Piko’s fingers brush against her scalp using the brush to straighten out how her hair laid back. She pulled all of her hair to lay just a little higher than the back of her head. Some of her hair fell out in the front, making choppy bangs, might have to take scissors to it later. 

“And then with the sinew– because of the texture of the string your hair won’t slip –you give a little tail, then a little up from the start of the string you pinch it to the base of the ponytail with your hair so you don’t drop any–” Sumire watched intently through the mirror. A small part of her heart tearing as she watched Piko do her hair. 

“Then you wind it around the base until it is your desired secureness. Usually, I do about 6-8 winds before it becomes uncomfortable or too much.” Sumire felt her hair tighten almost like she was using an elastic, but far more finicky.

“And if you did it right you can let go of the hair and it will stay, then you cut the end of the sinew and tie that tale with the other one we left at the beginning.” Sumire watched as Piko just pulled the string until it broke and then tied it with the other tale end. 

“Alight– I would say that's the hard part but I’d be lying. Now for the bun part.” 

Piko readied part of the string in a loose granny knot, the circle about the size of her fist. 

“Kay, once you ready a knot like this you can start the bun–” Piko grabbed the majority of the ponytail and began to fold it like an accordion. 

“This part takes a lot of practice and dexterity–” Using one hand she pinched the center of the accordion and with the other grabbed the sinew knot and tightened it around the accordion to keep it in place.

“But over time it gets much easier.” Then wound the string around it a few times then tied it off. 

“Comb please.” Wordlessly Sumire passed the comb into Piko’s waiting hand. 

“This is the easiest part– Take the teeth of the comb– pointing to the sky – and push them into the string of the accordion, then push the teeth forward into the base of the ponytail.” Sumire felt the teeth of the comb dig into her scalp and then rest snuggly to the shape of her skull. 

“All done– takes a few tries when you first learn but it should become like second nature to you that you won’t even need a mirror.” Piko stepped down off the stool and reached out with her hand and ruffled the choppy bangs that had fallen out. 

Sumire batted her hand away. “Thank you, Piko-san.” 

“No problem, kid.” 

–0–

Sumire spent the next morning making sure that she could replicate the hairstyle well enough that she wouldn’t have to ask for help to do her hair. Sanemi complained that she was in the bathroom way too long. But on her final attempt, she got it pretty close to how Piko had had it. Feeling proud of herself she came out of the bathroom ready to rub her achievement in Sanemi’s face.

But as she went to open their shared cupboard she heard a knock at the front door. Pausing her current mission, she redirected to the front door and opened it. 

On the other side was a tall man– no like really tall. When Sumire opened the door she was at chest height with the man. After her initial shock, she craned her head up to see a pinkish coral mask with a long pointed mouth and exaggeratedly furrowed eyebrows. 

Almost like when a kid pouts but their expression is not believable. The man was wearing a hyottoko mask– which meant that he was their swordsmith. A giddy excitement built in Sumire’s chest at the thought of getting her katana. 

“Hello young lady– my name is Kanamori Masao.” He bowed deeply at the waist. “I’m here to deliver the swords of Shinazugawa Sumire and Shinazugawa Sanemi.” His voice was deep, she was kind of expecting it considering how tall he was. 

“Oh– yeah, I’m Shinazugawa Sumire–” She did a quick bow, “Come in I’ll get some tea and my cultivator.” 

Turning around she didn’t wait for a proper edict as she was just so excited so she ran to Sanemi and hers room slamming the door open.

“Hey! Hey! The swordsmith is here go make some tea while I get Piko!” Then she sped off before he gave his answer. 

This time she knocked politely on Piko’s door, which opened before she could even remove her hand. 

“I heard, go and sit at the table.” Piko’s face had what Sumire knew to be her normal resting face, which looked to be an impressive scowl but Sumire knew better. 

Sitting at the table across from where the Swordsmith was, Sumire watched Sanemi pour tea for the four of them. Piko on her right and Sanemi on her left. The swordsmith or Kanamori was placing two long boxes next to each other, beside him. 

Once they were all seated– it felt a little awkward, but the excitement Sumire was feeling made that seem small –Kanamori shifted his mask away from just his mouth to drink a little of the tea. 

He set the cup down and shifted his mask back. “Thank you for the tea, I do quite like jasmine. Now I don’t have much in the way of fan fair so I’ll keep this rather short.” He reaches down grabs the closest box and hands it to Sanemi. But doesn’t grab the other one, the anticipation was killing Sumire. 

“But I do like to see the reaction of those who get my swords, especially if they change color. The ore that the sword is made out of is special in the way that it is capable of killing a demon if you cut off its head. Almost akin to the sun, because these ores are taken from one of the highest mountains where the sun shines year-round, charging them.” 

His voice was kept at an even pace, and his explanation was not the one that Sumire thought that she would hear either, but she supposed that different swordsmiths had different deliveries. Sanemi pulled the wooden slider out of the box and lifted out a perfectly black and shiny sheath with the katana inside. 

The diamonds on the handle were done green while the traditional black wrapping was on the rest of the katana. The guard was just a simple oval like the one on the blade that Piko had given them. Sumire supposed that only long-time demon slayers like Hashria got different colored wrappings and guards. You had to prove that you weren’t going to die. 

Sanemi unsheathed his sword and held it vertically with the pommel in his lap. For a few seconds the sword remained a dull gray, then from the base, a bright jade green rapidly spread to the tip of the sword. Sanemi’s face was one of slight awe. 

“That to be one of the quickest colorings I’ve ever born witness to.” Kanamori’s voice went up in a surprised octave. 

“You must be quite the strong wind breather.” Sumire looked over to Piko for a split second, her face held a measure of pride that could rival the flipping sun. 

“Hopefully you young lady are just as strong as your twin.” Kanamori reached down, grabbed the other long box, and passed it over the table. Sumire grabbed quickly feeling excitement, but at Kanamori’s words, she felt a bit uneasy with a slightly bad taste in her mouth. 

‘What if because of your style, the sword doesn’t change color? What if it disappoints Piko? What if you don’t measure up to Sanemi?’

Sumire brushed aside the thoughts and pulled the wooden panel out. Inside the sword looks to be a nearly identical copy to Sanemi’s. She absently hopes that they never get their swords mixed up. The glossy sheath is cool in her grip, her fingers leaving oily prints on the pristine sheath. 

Grabbing the pommel Sumire pulls the katana from the sheath. The dull grey metal gleamed in the light of the groom. Sumire set the sheath down and held the blade horizontally in her hands. Her eyes trained on the base of the sword. Anxiety pounded in her chest. Sumire held her breath. 

One moment– dull grey.

Another– still grey

Every second her heart pounded harder and harder, waiting for a color shift. Then Sumire almost thought she hallucinated it when she watched a bright crystalline lime green shoot out from the base of the sword, and within a second the whole blade was a bright crystalline green. 

Sumire exhaled in relief that her style hadn’t been a dud, but then had an overwhelming thought that maybe it was because green still signaled that it was connected to wind breathing. 

‘Was the sword only able to pick out that she knew wind breathing?’

“You live up to my expectations Shinazugawa-san. You both are quite powerful wind breathers, expected of twins.” Kanamori sounded proud that he had forged their swords. 

But to Sumire that was a punch in the gut. Her style…she had a different style! Technically she had no idea what color hellfire even was, but she assumed it was red or even yellow! But lime green? That was wind-breathing!

“My style isn’t wind breathing. Even though I do know it.” Sumire couldn’t help that she sounded a bit dejected. This wasn’t what she was expecting. 

“Oh? That is quite unusual, what style did you learn?” Kanamori sounded intrigued. 

“Ah…I made my own– I call it Hellfire breathing. I know that it works and Piko-san can confirm it– so I guess that I just am a bit disappointed that the color isn’t what I expected.” 

He brought a hand to his chin, he was quiet for a moment– considering. “It is possible that the sword only recognizes that you know wind breathing.” Sumire’s heart sank, she worked that hard– and for what? 

“Or– “ She held her breath. “ –that could be the color of what your breath is. Hellfire– I must say that I have never heard of that outside of religious reference. So forgive me, but if it is any comfort, in the world of smithing we deal in fire almost all day. 

At one point or another, our ancestors figured out how to change the color of fire by using certain chemicals. To change the color of fire to green one must expend a lot of time and energy to get a chemical called Copper sulfate. And by expediting enough energy to charge it, when burnt it releases a green flame.” 

Sumire didn’t know what Kanamori’s story was trying to tell her, but she could grasp that he was trying to give her some solace in that her style wasn’t a dud. It just was a way of telling her that she worked very hard and in that was able to produce something that took a lot of energy and work. 

“I think you get what I’m saying if your face is anything to go off of. You worked hard Shinazugawa-san do not let the color of your sword stop you from what you already know you have achieved.”

Sumire looked back to her sword, the green was kinda pretty…it still felt off but instead of gripping about it Sumire raised her head and gave a small smile.

“Thank you Kanamori-san.”

Chapter Text

It was burning– 

Twisting–

She hated– 

She loved–

It was passion–

Writhing altogether creating a cocktail of burning desire. 

The flames grew and grew, and for a moment they were pretty. Like watching a candlelight flicker in the dark, she couldn’t help but loom closer and closer. Only to feel the heat and try to pull back before she was burned. 

It was beautiful–

It was agony.

–0–

Sumire’s nerves were on fire– not because she had done anything strenuous but because she was waiting for Katsu to scream about her first mission. Or have Piko unceremoniously dump them both outside and tell them good luck. Neither of those happened. Which…Sumire couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or horrendously annoying because she couldn’t predict what might happen to her and Sanemi after getting their swords. 

Kanamori had left rather quickly, he seemed to not be a fan of dramatic displays. He also didn’t like the attention or praise he got for forging their swords which…Sumire got. Being praised for something that for you is either easy or you have just spent so much of you’re life doing without praise, feels weird. Even though she had expected him to be a weird sword fanatic like some others she knew of. 

So when he quietly slipped out the door, the excitement had only sunk in further, Sumire was fully expecting Katsu to burst out from somewhere and sweep them away so that they could begin their career of demon killing. Which didn’t happen. 

In her mind there was a way that she had seen this exact type of scene play out– Tanjiro was gifted his sword, his crow told him it was time to go, then he changed into his clothing and was pushed into the start of the status quo unable to turn back. 

Sumire should stop comparing herself and her life events to be even remotely similar to a boy who at the moment is like…eight right now. For as useful as the information of what she might go through– it doesn’t help when nothing like that happens in the first place. It leaves Sumire’s skin crawling with an itch that she can’t scratch because she doesn’t know.

Sumire hated that the next step in her life was covered by cloudy horizons. Because you can’t predict the jobs or when you get them. It’s near enough to have her itching to raise her sword to slash at something. 

Refraining from doing anything stupid, Sumire essentially just waited. In limbo before something– anything to happen. Sanemi too seemed to want to move to run. Piko could visibly see them practically tweaking. But she told them that they weren’t allowed to exert any energy because it could hinder their energy levels when they did get called upon. Sumire deadpanned her. 

Piko just rolled her eyes at Sumire’s behavior but ushered them to put on their uniforms so that they didn’t have to rush out the door later. Sumire’s uniform…was too big. She had it for two weeks and she had no idea how to take in fabric and never once did she think to take it to Piko. Even though she clearly remembered saying that to herself when she got it. Currently, there was no time to bother trying to sew it, so Sumire settled for tucking the excess of her shirt far down her pants and tightening her belt to the point where she had to put a new hole in it to keep it from sliding down her hips. Fuck puberty by the way– it let her down this time, she knew she was a late bloomer but really? It must be the lack of GMOs in this life, truly. 

How long was she going to have to wait until her body evened out and she got hips or even a bust? Hopefully not be too long, because this was starting to get sucky. She didn’t have a haori to cover any of the inconstancies in her uniform, so it looked rather bunched up around her calves and where she tucked in her shirt. 

Piko gave them both a bundle, in a very similar if not the exact same cloth bag that she had given them prior. The weight of it on her back gave Sumire a feeling of wistfulness, like she was leaving and didn’t know when she would be back and that struck a cord in her chest. It hurt but not as much as it had hurt when she left her home behind without looking back. 

Piko was her mentor, and she had stayed in her house for over a year, but Sumire didn’t feel like it was a place meant to be home. With her sword on her hip, she felt much like she did when she was ready for the final selection. Except this time there was no turning back, this was her life, and she would now have to see this through to the end. 

Feelings of apprehension weren’t new to Sumire but feeling like she was even having a tingling fleck of doubt or regret for picking this path was unexceptible right now. So she squashed them with a steel grip. The decisions that led her to this moment could not be regretted, because if she regretted them then she would never reach her goal. And she was willing to burn the world for that. 

It wasn’t until five hours from the sun down that Katsu and Sanemi’s crow came to tell them of their first mission– or their missions. Because they didn’t get tasked with the same one. 

Katsu’s deep voice reiterated her mission twice before going silent. “North-East North-East, There is a small village at the base of a mountain facing a newly turned demon that requires your assistance.” 

Sumire’s bubble of limbo popped and she was filled with excitement– but it quickly fell when she heard Sanemi’s crow. 

“South-South-West, South-South-West! A farming town is losing its most vital people to the production of food!” He was a rather loud crow she noted in the back of her mind– Sumire’s face froze mid-thought.

They were going to be split up? “Hey, what the hell Katsu!” Sumire whirled on her crow, sitting on the windowsill above the sink. 

“Who in the damned world said it was okay to put us on different missions?” Shouldn’t Ubuyashiki know that the two of them were trauma-bonded to hell and back? This was downright detrimental! 

Katsu cawed softly like he was consoling a child who was given bad news and NO she was not a fucking child! She just didn’t want her brother to be taken from her this early.  It hadn’t even occurred to her that that might have been a possibility. She knew that at some point they would have different missions, but the first one? This was cruel, she would have a bone to pick with Ubuyshiki later.

Sumire looked to Sanemi, his fists were clenched at his sides and his mouth was set in a heavy frown. But he wasn’t making any demands, it was very likely that didn’t think that he could.  A very strange feeling spread through her chest– it felt like…she was losing something that wasn’t gone yet. 

Sumire reached forward clasping her arms around Sanemi tightly, and he gripped back with just as much force. They were two halves of a whole, to Sumire it was like Sanemi was her heart beating outside of her body. It felt like she should put up more of a fight. Should demand that he come with her or vice versa. 

But she didn’t. She just clung to him and every second of their embrace felt like an ember in the wind. She could feel his heartbeat through his neck. Could hear his steady breath– why wasn’t she trying to fight this? Because she knew that it was inevitable, whether it was today or a year from now– they would be separated. 

“Katsu– you better tell your master that I want to have a mission with my brother!” And then in a quieter voice, she whispered 

“You better write to me, damn it.” I need to know you’re alive. Just barely above a whisper, but it didn’t need to be any louder. 

“Of course– if I didn’t you would probably cry like the baby you–” 

“I’m older– fucker!” Sumire let go of Sanmei to look him square in the eye. Unfortunately, their eyes were no longer at the same height, so she had to look up, but not that far. It still ticked her off. 

“Just because Mom said so– doesn’t mean that she couldn’t have—” Sanemi pouted, their light banter lightening the mood ever so slightly.  

“She couldn’t have mixed us up because all the doctors said the first one was a girl!” This was an argument they had had multiple times. She had no factual evidence that the doctors said that and Sanemi could never verify it. But she remembered their birth! 

“Yeah– well, I’m going to kill more demons than you and make the highest rank!” A shit-eating grin plastered itself on his face. Uh oh, he just issued the biggest challenge that he ever could. Become a Hashria first– not that he knew of those just yet. But he knew of Kinoe’s. 

“Oh yeah? Well guess what–”

Piko interrupted, “Alright that’s enough you brats! Your crows will start picking out yer’ eyeballs if you don’t start moving.” She moved to push them out her door, and they both stumbled on the steps to the house. 

“Just like I told you two before–” She leaned down and ruffled both of heads or Sumire’s bangs. “You aren’t allowed to die. Or I’ll kill you myself– understood.” Sumire nodded. 

“Good– get going.” Then she shut the door on them. Sumire thought that Piko did it for a reason.

‘If she says goodbye first, it’s not so bad.’

Perhaps, maybe Sumire could try the same thing. She searched for Sanemi’s eyes– maybe he thought the same. There were no tears at this parting. 

“Never look back?” Sumire didn’t know if he would agree. 

He nodded then added– “It won’t be for long, yeah? Just look forward.” He leaned in again, this time their hug was short and sweet, but filled with so many damn emotions that it could fill an ocean. 

When they parted and turned away from each other it felt like the ocean had overflowed and ravaged her emotions. No tears came– but her heart hurt. It stung and wept but Sumire put one foot after the other. She didn’t look back– ten feet, twenty. It felt like a sting was pulling taught between them and at any moment it would snap. 

Sumire stopped, only for a moment. Her brother was walking into danger— her only tether to the waking world. The only tether that loved her at least. She looked over her shoulder just for a moment. In the distance she could see Sanemi, he was only walking, not running, or fast walking. He didn’t want to look back it was a promise that they made at that moment. 

It held so much more meaning than saying goodbye– it meant that they wouldn’t drown in their past but use it to propel themselves forward– it meant cutting ties with what they knew and never going back because they couldn’t. 

But she would always love Sanemi, never would she abandon him.

Sumire turned around and took off. 

–0–

Katsu led Sumire on what she assumed was the shortest path there because it was clear that there was no path. He was leading her through brambles and dense forests, and the farther she traveled the more marshy it became, mixed with the late afternoon air made it quite humid. Not that the terrain or humidity caused any issues for Sumire, but it was good to take in details in the event that she would need them. 

It hadn’t been very long since Sumire started traveling and she was limited to how fast Katsu could fly, but she assumed that they had made decent ground within an hour of their departure. But as her body ran on auto pilote her eyes tracking Katsu, her mind wandered to Sanemi and of her aching heart. 

It hurt quite a bit to have to turn around and follow Katsu, and it hurt even more knowing that it was unlikely that she would see Sanemi after her mission. There was just no way to reliably know when the other was done with their set mission, nor could Katsu deliver messages quickly enough if he didn’t know where Sanemi was. When she was given a long enough break she would ask Katsu if he could spend the day trying to send a letter. 

Maybe that period of time could be used as downtime? Sending Katsu to deliver a message delayed when she would go on her next mission. Fucking brilliant, more time to sleep, or more likely shower. 

Where would she spend her downtime though? Most likely the closest Wisteria house and write letters. Pretty damn boring if you asked her, but that is a perk of being a new demon slayer, with very few responsibilities. 

Sumire flew over muddied ground and fallen trees as passed by everything in a blur. As she broke through the tree line, there was a large open field that housed rice patties, and further in the distance was a mountain on the smaller side of the scale. But at it’s base was a rather large town that looked to be in good condition. 

A ways away was a beaten dirt path that cut through the rice patties and straight to the town. Sumire followed it and noted the lack of people in the fields even though the grains had fully matured, it was peak harvesting season, and yet no one was out while the sun was still up. As she strolled down the road a large gust of wind plowed through the area kicking up dust and debris, before setting into a startling calm. Strange. Sumire would keep note of that, she continued her trek. There had to only be a few hours left until the sun set fully.

It was strange but Katsu had said that the demon was newly turned. Likely it was killing people in the fields if no one wanted to be out there even in the daylight. Did it like the water? Or was it just targeting people far from the village? Did it have enough cognitive abilities to even realize what a hunting strategy was? 

It was hard to say, but for all the tracking that a normal slayer would have had to do– Sumire could bypass and use her blood to draw it to her. And if it was newly turned then it shouldn’t even have the ability to resist it. Let alone be conscious of her being a Slayer. So she walked right into the entrance to the town, it was barren– and most doors and windows were shuddered tight. Slight breezes picked up and carried light dust across the ground, some creating little twisters.

It looked like a ghost town, but Sumire could hear and feel people around her even if she couldn’t see them. Walking down the main stretch of road she found very little evidence that vendors had been set up in the walkway. It was like they had erased any trace of themselves from the town on the outside. For people who didn’t know how demons worked, it seemed like a valid way to hide, but they weren’t aware of demons' enhanced senses. Sumire trended lightly on the pale dirt, watching closely for anything that seemed abnormal in this already bizarre town. 

As Sumire walked farther to the other end of town, the only thing that was a constant was the lack of people and the slight breeze that seemed to trail through the town. Almost like wind getting caught in a wind tunnel. As she approached the opposite end of town much older houses pillared above her blocking out the last rays of sun. The wood groaned and creaked with the shuddering wind that had begun to pick up in the last few minutes the closer she got to the end of town, closer to the forest. 

Sumire stopped to listen closer, perhaps it was hiding somewhere in these buildings waiting for the last of the sun to go away. The wind pushed her bangs and uniform uncomfortably, the excess fabric weirdly catching the wind and ballooning. She might want to invest in a haori or fix the size of her uniform! Just as she was distracted by her clothing Sumrie caught the tail end of shuffling from above her, Sumire turned her head at breakneck speed to the window on the second floor to her right. It was creaked open just enough that Sumire could see the silhouette of a little girl frozen there staring out at her. An odd knot of something formed in Sumire’s stomach, heavy and all-devouring. Dread.

The little girl's eyes were blown wide with fear; even from a distance, Sumire could see her shaking like a leaf. She wanted to call out to the girl but just as she would have tried to reassure the girl another silhouette appeared behind her. The knot in Sumire’s stomach tightened in warning– the same mote pressure that she had felt before. Sumire clenched her teeth, she didn’t waste a second on making the mistake that the silhouette might not be the demon. 

Breath in–

Sumire stomped her right foot down and spun on her heel racing to the side of the building. Her heart pumped, and fiery blood shot through her veins as she braced her legs to jump straight up to get to the window quickly. The energy coiled in her legs as she braced her left hand on her pommel. 

Breath out—

All the energy pumped to her legs as she vaulted in a straight vertical jump up to the windowsill using her right hand to brace the landing so that she didn’t fall into the room. Sumire heard a small yelp come from the little girl, but she didn’t stumble back. 

Sumire served the little girl still frozen in fear but now looking at Sumire with a little bit of shine in her eyes. She had black hair, lighter brown eyes, and a light pink bow tied to the end of a long braid. Behind her a young woman stood, dressed in a simple komon style kimono and her hair in a tight bun. She looked normal, with dark hair, and dark eyes, on the shorter side. She looked a little like Ma. 

The feeling of dread multiplied, causing tears to well at the corners of her eyes from just how urgent the feeling was. It was silent. Terribly so, Sumire only made eye contact with the woman. The woman didn’t say a word, didn’t move. It could be the girl's mother– but why did the girl look so scared? Something was calling Sumire to this room, even though there were only humans inside of it.

The rest of the room was dark, vague spots of furniture were dotted around the room and a thick layer of dust settled over everything. Wrong… Wrong– it was wrong. Where was the wind? Sumire could feel the last rays of the sun fade against her neck, like a trickle of warm water on a summer day. Before she was plunged into the dead of winter. 

“Are you two–” Sumire tried to ask if they were alright but the woman raised a finger to her lips and hissed in a universal sign of being quiet. Sumire shut her mouth. She felt the bite mark on her right bicep puls with white-hot fire. 

Every warning her body was giving her was going off, Sumrie looked back to the little girl only moving her eyes. In the rapidly dying light, Sumire caught the girl’s eyes expanding to the size of dinner plates, and in another second a greying hand shot forward and wrapped around the girl's bicep dragging her backward. The little girl cried out reaching for Sumire with her other arm. 

Sumire shot forward to grab the girl, her legs stumbling to unfold themselves for a moment as she tried to reach forward. The girl was dragged out of her range and Sumire’s hand closed around cold air. Fear shot through Sumire’s veins as the little girl was dragged into the darkness of an open door. Adrenaline soared through her body as Sumire shot up and dashed into the hallway. 

A rush of cold air blew threw the opening of the door and followed Sumire into the hallway. The hall was dark and very few details could be made out but neither the woman nor the girl were in the hallway– cold wind passed Sumire further into the home. She looked right seeing a slight difference in color on the floor. Sumire moved to the color, crouching and finding that the color, was a light pink bow. The same bow the girl was wearing. 

It was quiet again.

‘Where did they go?’

Sumire’s heart beat in her ears making it impossible to hear anything.

‘This went to shit so fucking fast’

Nerves roiled in her gut– she needed to find that little girl and get her to safety. Sumire stood up continuing to the right. Her footsteps sounded incredibly loud against the silence of the house. Her right hand shifted to hold the pommel of her sword. 

‘Blood– use your blood!’

Her blood– if that woman was the demon then it should just abandon the girl and go for Sumire. And if she wasn’t a demon then technically that girl was safe. Sumrie stopped moving, she rolled the sleeve of her uniform up and pulled her katana from her sheath and with little hesitance she drew it across her left forearm. In the darkness, Sumire could barely make out the cut, but she could hear the blood drop to the floor.

Drip drip drip drip–

Bang!

A door to her left flung open with a rush of cold wind. Sumire couldn’t see so much in the dark as hear or feel, which greatly disadvantaged her. Through the doorway grabbled speech flitted in random patterns. Before settling into a lower growl that set Sumire’s hairs on end. Unease filled her chest, she may have just greatly underthought her opponent. She hadn’t felt fear for herself in quite some time but there were too many things that made this distinctly dangerous. 

Uneven steps walked out of the room and a yard away from Sumire stood an incredibly tall and deformed demon. Or at least what of the blackened shape she could see. For a second Sumire froze– It was like looking at the monster in the dark that your parents told you didn’t exist. –Except it did.

‘Quickly! End it Now!’

Breath in–

There wasn’t much room to work with–

–0–

“Sumire.”

Piko stood at the edge of the training field shielding her eyes from the sun, watching Sumire struggle to create her fourth kata. 

“What?” Sumire was panting and sweat was pouring from her temples alarmingly. She didn’t bother to turn to Piko, just trying to do the movement again.

“It won’t matter how strong you are Sumire. If you underestimate your opponent, they will always have the upper hand.”

Sumire snapped her head to Piko. “I know that!” 

“Sure you know that, but have you experienced it? It's one thing to know that an opponent like Sanemi is only beatable because you know him and his strength. But to immediately think that your opponent is weak will put you at a disadvantage.”

Sumire grumbled to herself, before going back to her kata. She knew okay, she knew. But did she?

–0–

Sumire hoisted her katana above her head– and scrapped the ceiling faulting the blade in an unusable position. But she still had to execute the swing or else the breath would go to waste—

‘Sixth Kata - Cleave’

Sumire wrenched the blade in a forward swing, metal screeched as it cut through wood, and in the dark, Sumire couldn’t see the demon's neck, so she just had to hope that she would hit something!

A piercing screech rang out, and something wet splattered on Sumire’s pant leg. Sumire breathed in, just a little shaky. Did she get it? Was her shot in the dark successful? 

A cold wind blew from behind Sumire, as the demon assumedly turned and ran down the hallway before it’s footsteps disappeared completely. Sumire paused–

‘What the fuck just happened?’

‘Like what?’

Sumire followed after the demon or to where she last heard it. She came to a stop at the end of the other hallway and looked for where it might have disappeared. Sumire carefully peaked around the corner, her eye widened as she saw an open window at the end of the hall. The moon light peaking through making it much easier to see. 

She didn’t waste any time getting to the window, figuring that it must have been the demon's escape route, but how was it getting away so fast? Was…Did the demon have a blood art? A newly turned demon with blood art was a strong demon, which was even more concerning. Who gives a mission like that to a first-time demon slayer? 

Sumire pushed the shudders open further, looking for where the demon might have gone in the streets below. For a moment, she spotted nothing but the normal abandoned streets. The pale dirt still blowing in the… nonexistent wind. Why was it that she couldn’t feel the wind up here, well she could but only sometimes and only when the demon was moving around. So did that count toward it maybe having a blood art?

Wait, did anyone teach Sanemi about blood demon arts? Ah Fuck.

She’ll figure that out later. For now, wind meant that the demon was near, so she’d start there. Sumire hoisted herself through the window, bracing her legs to take the brunt of the fall as she rolled into a crouched position. Standing she walked over to the small twisters of dirt. 

Drip–drip–drip–drip–

GROWL–

Sumire turned to see the incredibly tall demon, dripping blood from the right forearm that Sumire had severed in the dark. It was incredibly grotesque, and it must have been hunched over in that hallway because it was gargantuan! It’s skin was a weird mix of skin tones and it had multiple human eyes plastered around it’s head. Why was it that the demon she fought always looked so gross, why could they be more like Tanjiro’s or something? 

As Sumire took in the demon, she noticed two things: one, that it was still under the effects of her blood, swaying just slightly in the wind, and two…that on the stomach of the demon was the face of the little girl with light brown eyes frozen in fear, dark hair ratted, and her mouth hanging open in a silent plea. 

Sumire felt sick to her stomach, that roiling from earlier mixed with that dread nearly brought her to her knees to dispel the feeling. She had failed that little girl–

‘She could have already been dead— and how do you know that?’

‘It could have led you to that room on purpose– and if it didn’t?’

Her eyes trail back to the main face– or multiple faces, that it had probably stolen from the others it had killed. 

It would be easy to kill it in the blink of an eye how repugnant this demon is. How loathsome it’s appearance and method of killing. She had thought that maybe it was using the water– no it was stealing people's faces and luring them to their death. Before Sumire was a slayer, before she had undergone that night, she had thought that, in some capacity, demons may not be all that bad, that they were just misunderstood. 

But staring into this…this thing’s eyes, Sumire found no trace of the humanity that was supposedly there. Only a husk of whomever used to pilot the body. Demons are a parasite. They take and take and take. And Sumire’s job was to stop the infection. She understood now that it wasn’t just about revenge— it was about ending the blight on humanity. 

The demon continued to sway, taking a step forward and lumbering slowly toward her, maybe twenty feet away. 

Breath in–

Sumire steadied her feet– she would end this for the souls trapped in the parasite, just as she did for her Ma. 

Sumire lifted her sword right above her head with both arms, her left foot planted in front of her right. 

‘Sixth Kata - Cleave’

Her blade swung down in an impressive downward swing, the tip of her blade barely ghosting the ground. A resounding BOOM blasted through the street, and a shock wave of dust spread out from the epicenter of her blade. In front of her, the demon staggered and then froze. Then a blooming line of slickly black blood appeared running down the middle of the demon, down the middle of the little girl’s face. Slowly– so slowly the demon's body began to split apart, the two halves of it’s body collapsing to the ground. Black blood glistened in the moonlight as it seeped into the pale dirt. 

Sumire stared and stared– and finally, she watched as the body began to crack and wither into ash. A light breeze blew the ash away, to where Sumire didn’t care. 

‘That was easy.’ 

‘That was sickening’ 

It reminded her of Shuya, he was an outlier in their little family, with light brown eyes. Bright and naive. How full of life he was, Sumire prayed that he was somewhere full of sunshine and warmth. 

Sumire turned away from the demon, she didn’t bother to check the rest of the town or do whatever clean-up shit or after stuff she might have needed to do. She wasn’t even tired, she sheathed her sword and began walking away from the town, there was no one to tell her she did a good job, no one to see that the parasite had been taken care of. 

Sumire didn’t know where Katsu was, nor did she know where the nearest wisteria house was. That was it? Did she get another mission now, or did she wander until she was given a task? She didn’t know but she did know that she had a clearer vision of what it was she was doing. 

Sumire wandered down the road between the rice patties, uncousously she began humming a tune that was ingrained in her soul. She wasn’t tired but the song always made her want to sleep.

The flapping of wings echoed behind her, sharp claws dug into her shoulder. Her humming stopped and the air was still. 

“Where do I go from here Katsu?” Sumire could barely hear her voice. 

“Rest– Or you can take another mission –Caw.” 

‘Another mission wouldn’t be so bad. Hopefully, it’s close.’ 

“Lead me to the next one. Please.” 

“Of Course, Shinagzwawa-sama” Katsu lifted off her shoulder leading her south to her next mission. 

—0—

Sumire managed to complete two other missions that same night, only one of them garnered her injuries that were not self-inflicted. She ended up at a Wisteria house– courtesy of Katsu  –very early in the morning, most probably 4 or 5 AM. She knocked on the front door and was immediately greeted by a short old woman who barely came up to her chest. 

The woman only took one look at her before pushing her into another room with a yukata and a pair of slippers. Sumire took that time to also wrap and treat her wounds, they were all hidden underneath the yukata sleeves. When she exited the room the old woman took her clothes from her and pointed in the direction of the bathing rooms. 

Sumire thanked her and wandered down the hall until she found split bathing rooms, she barely blinked as she walked into the women’s and grabbed one of the white towels off the shelves. And headed for the showers. As she took out her hair, Sumire realized that the old lady had taken the silver bracelet with her when she took the clothing. 

Sumrie hoped that she wouldn't steal it. It was unlikely but you could never trust a new face. Sumire sat on the stool in the shower, weary of her wrapped injuries, as cold water soaked into her hair and down her body. 

It was hard to piece together her thoughts, they were sporadic. One moment she was thinking about the missions she’d had and next she was thinking about her family and how much she missed them. It was September. The date of her family's passing had already come and gone. Neither of them had visited their family's graves. Maybe one day Sumire could get them a proper grave. One with a family headstone– her breath stuttered in her throat. 

Maybe…No, another time. Sumire washed and rinsed her body in the cold water, goose bumps covering every inch of exposed skin. Shutting off the water she grasped blindly for the towel, missing it a few times before she grabbed it off the ledge. 

Sumire toweled her hair, and then meticulously dried off her body. Standing she grabbed the yukata, but paused to put it on as she saw a full-length mirror at the end of the room. A small tremor entered her hands as she examined her body in the mirror. 

Starting at her head, her eyes searched her forehead, and the newly formed scar reaching across the right side. Her eyes locked with her own for a moment then moved downwards, tracing her shoulders and the minimal scars that litter them, she jumped over the bite mark on her right bicep and traced over her barely growing breasts, they were scarcely the smallest B. A huge sign of her underdeveloped body– or she hoped it was, that meant that there was room for development. 

Her eyes fell to her stomach, it was well-toned from only a year of hard training. And her hips jutted out with more bone and muscle than flush tissue and fat. She scanned over the only part of her that seemed “womanly”, a healthy patch of white hair grew slightly curly, it went over her labia and a little way up far below her naval. 

It was the only part of her that looked like a woman’s. If Sumire were to cut her hair again she would look like a boy, if a boy had gangly limbs with parts of their body still filling out. Which they did but not like a girl's body. It bothered Sumire that she no longer had the body of a woman. 

She can remember the feeling of her curves and breasts, of her previous first menstruation. By seventeen in her last life she had looked and acted like a woman. She didn’t have either of those now. 

She is practically barbaric to her previous self. Whoever she was as an actual adult. Sumre turned away quickly, grabbing her yukata and tying it around herself. She didn’t know where her room was, but she didn’t have to wander long before the old woman found her and led her by the hand to a rather large room probably meant for sharing with multiple people. 

While there weren’t any other people, Sumire couldn’t help but feel rather lonely in the large area. Without Sanemi, it made the silence deafening. A futon was laid out with a tray of food and drinks placed next to it. Sumire made her way down to sit in front of the tray, noting that there was a cream-colored soup and a bowl of tempura next to a bowl of rice. Each one still steaming. 

The drinks, on the other hand, were rather strange because there were two. One was a tea noted by the pot that had been left in the room and the steaming cup. But the other smelled familiar. Sumire brought the cup to her nose to sniff it. Almost immediately recognized the tangy and sharp smell. Sake. 

It was spiced clearly, making them just the aroma much more clear than traditional sake. For a moment, Sumire had a moment of disgust. So much of this life had been cruelly warped by the influences of alcohol. Many, many beatings and torturous moments. But somewhere in her soul, she didn’t hate the beverage. 

A different part of her thinks that when she smells the sake, she remembers fond moments, moments spent laughing and talking. Sumire didn’t remember those memories anymore, but she could feel them. 

Hesitantly, Sumire brought the cup to her lips, taking a small sip. Call it curiosity. The taste was much more mild than she had been expecting. There was only a slight burn as the liquid trailed over touge as she swallowed. Sumire didn’t feel different, she knew alcohol was supposed to have an effect, but only when enough of it was ingested. She wondered for a moment how much this body could handle. Vaguely, she recalled that if she didn’t eat anything and she kept drinking, she most certainly would feel something.

So she set the cup down and proceeded to eat her meal. She couldn’t find the effort to care about the taste, but recognition told her that it was good. When she finished, she pushed her tray out of the way, took the cup of sake, and stood up. Walking over to the shoji, Sumire slid the door open and plopped herself down on the engawa, crisscrossing her legs. Which made her indecent but Sumire couldn’t give a rat's ass about that part. 

Slowly, Sumire took a small sip of the sake as she watched a thin line of blue sky rise from the mountain in the distance. 

‘Better not tell Sanemi about the alcohol’

Cause that would go over splendidly. Sumire figured that if she had never had a previous life, she too would be scared of alcohol. But something told Sumire that it wasn’t the inebriation that made her father an asshole, if he was dumb enough to die to a rival, then he was probably a big enough ass when he wasn’t drunk. Besides she would rather die than ever become like Kyogo. 

She took another sip, thinking about that little girl from her first mission. She had no idea if that little girl was dead when she first saw her or if Sumire had just been that slow to grab her and keep her from being turned into a meat puppet. Her failure there didn’t hurt as much as when she had failed her family. But she had still been too slow to keep the girl safe. 

She had killed the demon in one blow, but she was too fucking slow to grab the girl. Sumire wanted to pull her hair out but refrained. And her other missions– well they weren’t as terrible as the first but one of the demons had gotten the jump on her because she underestimated it’s speed. 

Sometimes, Sumire swore she lacked a brain when thinking. 

Gradually, Sumire drank the entire cup, not feeling an ounce of guilt at the mostly minuscule betrayal of her younger self and Sanemi. As the sun crested the top of the mountain, Sumire finally felt a light burn at the tops of her ears, and a flush creeping across her cheeks. Her equilibrium didn’t feel off as she moved her head which was a good sign. 

It was just a nice buzz. Even better to fall asleep with. Sumire stood up and only stumbled about half a foot, alright, so maybe it did a little more kick than intended, but this body’s never had alcohol, sue her. 

Shutting the shoji, Sumire slumped down into the futon, pulling the covers high over her shoulder. 

For once, she didn’t feel so bad.

Chapter Text

Sumire opened her eyes with a gasp– greedily drinking down air.

“Ima?”

Sumire was facing out a window, the sky didn’t have a single cloud blocking the beautiful blue. 

“Hey Ima, can you look at me?” 

Who’s Ima? Sumire looked down at her hands, they looked wrong. They were pale and scarred with painful burns. The voice made a distressed noise and finally, Sumire turned her head. 

“There you are, sweetheart.” Sumire saw a young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, smiling gently at her. 

“Are you feeling good enough to answer some questions for me?”

Sumire nodded, of course, she was. Only slightly confused by her surroundings. All she was doing was sitting here, staring at the sky. It was really pretty.

“Awesome! Alright, can you start by telling me where we are?”

Sumire furrowed her brow. She was…they were– Where was she?

“It’s okay to not know where you are– right now we are sitting in the St Austins Hospice.” The woman smiled gently with a slight grimace at the corners of her lips. 

Hospice? She was in hospice, she remembered that she had been there. Why though? Hadn’t she…wasn’t she dead? Why was she here?

“You’ve only been here for two weeks, so it's perfectly normal to not know where we are.” The woman crossed one of her legs over the other, picking up a clipboard and writing something. 

“Can you answer something else for me?” Sumire nodded, slightly confused.

“What is your name?”

Her…name? Her name was Sumire. The woman stared directly into Sumire’s eyes. 

Why was the woman asking her that? 

The room suddenly felt much hotter.

“My name…is Su–” her words caught in her throat. “My name. My name is…” Her voice wobbled. Her name was Shinagzwawa Sumire. Her name was Sumire. Just say it!

“It’s okay Ima, everyone has had trouble remembering their name before.” The woman smiled sympathetically. 

“I…I– I didn’t forget!” Tears flooded the edges of her vision. Her name was Sumire! Her brother was Shinagzwawa Sanemi! Sweat began to gather on her temples.

“Of course not sweetheart.” Stop–don’t say it like that. “Now Ima can you answer a different question for me?” The woman’s smile faded a bit. 

Sumire swallowed and nodded. Why was she so upset? And why was this woman calling her Ima?

“Okay, what is the last thing you remember?” The woman's smile was gone, she stared at Sumire blankly.

She…She…was– it…She went to– to sleep. Yes. And she ate some food and–

“That's not what happened, Ima.” The woman’s voice was expressionless and the gentleness from her eyes was gone. 

“What…” Sumire’s voice was barely a whisper. 

“I said– what happened Ima?” That’s not what she said. The tears in Sumire’s eyes welled and blurred her vision. The room was incredibly hot– too hot. It was burning her. 

“I don’t– what are you talking about?” Sumire found her voice for just a moment. 

“Don’t lie to yourself Ima. We all forget sometimes, but now it’s time to remember.” The woman’s face formed a frown.

Sumire’s skin burned. It was agony. She wanted out– please, please let her out.

“You can’t leave Ima.” The woman uncrossed her legs and set the clipboard down. 

Sumire couldn’t breathe, her lungs hurt. They shouldn’t hurt– Sumire coughed. They burned– 

Sumire choked out– “Stop– please. Stop calling me Ima.” Tears fell from her eyes. Her name was Sumire. 

A strange look passed over the woman’s face, then she burst out laughing. Sumire’s lungs constricted tighter. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve been lying to yourself Ima. You may have forgotten quite a bit– but you remember your name.” The woman abruptly stopped her laughter. Sumire was confused, but she was also scared– She couldn’t breathe right. The woman frowned again and tilted her head like a cat.

“Tell me Ima. Do you even remember who I am?” 

–0–

Sumrie’s breath hitched and she lurched up clutching at her yukata. Her breath was heavy in the dark room. Pulling her knees to her chest Sumire rested her forehead on them. 

‘Who was that?’

Sumire brought a hand to her forehead to wipe away excess sweat. Her whole body felt feverish. Sumire hadn’t felt genuine fear in a while…but that was bad. Even now just as she had woken up she can only remember the last part of the dream. 

“Tell me Ima. Do you even remember who I am?” 

Ima. Sumire knew– she knew that that name was once hers. But the knowledge of it was hazy like it wasn’t an important thing to remember. Because that wasn’t her name anymore. That life was over. Dead. 

And the woman? Sumire had no idea who she was, she felt familiar but Sumire had no idea who she was or what she meant to Su… well what she meant to Ima. Because she sure as shit didn’t mean anything to Sumire. 

Sumire didn’t remember anything important from her last life nor had she done anything that would trigger any sort of memory. Or at least she didn’t think she did? Was it the alcohol? She’d have to drink again to know for sure. 

Slowly Sumire looked up and into the darkness of the large room, she must have slept all day. Why hadn’t Katsu woken her up to send her on a mission? It’s not like she had anything better to do, and if she slept until morning she was for sure going to be cranky. 

Maybe…Maybe this was a good time to write a letter to Sanemi. She just had to find the materials to do so. If she had her bag it would be a piece of cake, Sumire is nearly positive Piko put ink and paper in there. 

The room itself was dark but the shoji doors were lit from behind indicating that someone was up and moving around. Or at least there were people around. Sumire scanned the room noting that by the entrance to one of the doors closest to her was a small bundle on the floor. 

Perhaps that old lady was faster than she gave her credit for. Sumrie pushed the quilt off of her legs and wobbled slightly to the bundle. On top Sumire found a pale note that she could just barely make out the writing of in the dim light–

Your uniform is cleaned and your sword has been polished. I found your bracelet sitting in one of the pockets. I gave it a shine and left it under this note. Your crow tells me that you are to rest for a while before heading out, but it is ultimately up to you my dear. 

Thank you for your service.

  - Fujiwara Hatsue

Fujiwara… that's a pretty old family. Sumire knew that the Wisteria house crest was Wisteria and that was the crest of the Fujiwara clan, but it hadn’t occurred to her that they might have been the same entity helping the Corps. 

Sumire lifted the note and let out a breath that she didn’t know she had been holding. There sat the silver bracelet that she managed to get from Ma’s belongings. Sumire will never know the story behind it– nor how her mother came across it. She doesn’t know why she took it with her, but maybe it was to have something that would remind them of Ma and their siblings. She meant to give it to Sanemi before she left but it skipped her mind during their departure. 

Well, all the more reason to have a mission with him to be able to hand it over. Sumire picked up the bracelet pushing it over her wrist and letting it rest over her scarred skin. It looked like it had been cleaned. 

Underneath the bracelet was her bag and beneath that was her uniform, she scooped them up and plopped herself down on her futon. Dropping her stuff next to her she rifled through her bag pulling out a brush, an ink well, and a couple pieces of paper. 

Laying them out in front of her, Sumrie barely took a moment before she began writing about the first thing that came to mind.

–0–

Sanemi, 

I’m gonna be honest these missions suck. I mean at first I thought that they were a bit much considering I am new to being a slayer, but after I defeated the demon– I realized just how boring it is to just exist after being done with a mission. Katsu just had me go on more missions,  which wasn’t the end of the world but, I’m bored man. What is it you did after you finished your mission? I’m sure you found something interesting to do other than sleep. 

Anyway, I also had this weird dream but I can barely remember it now. Just something about me forgetting something, apparently it had freaked me out though and I woke up. I haven’t had very many night terrors but, this one was different. Don’t worry about it though I’m sure it was a fluke because I’m annoyed at being away from you. Not that I miss you though– I’m going to achieve the highest rank first and you can’t stop me! 

By the way, do you know about Blood Demon Arts? It's when a demon has a supernatural power that aids them in battle kidda like our breath. 

Stay safe, don’t die or I’ll kill you myself. 

Love

 - Mir

–0–

It was short and sweet. And there was no reason to fix any of her spelling or grammar, cause she was sure Sanemi wouldn’t care. Sumire set the letter aside to let it dry fully and looked back to her other papers. It wouldn’t hurt to send Katsu on another delivery. 

–0–

Kocho Shinobu,

I completed my first mission just yesterday, it was rather disturbing. Which reminds me has your foot healed up? I don’t know the time frame for bone fractures but I would assume that it is more than two weeks. 

Get this, Sanemi and I got assigned different first missions– it was awful and now I’ve got a bone to pick with whoever makes those mission requests. 

Hey, what is it that you do after missions? I went to a Wisteria house but I must say that I’m rather bored, does your sister know how to spend downtime after a mission? 

Sorry if this message is all over the place, I don’t have much to talk about. 

Best of luck

 - Shinagzwawa Sumire

–0–

Shinobu’s message was very much lackluster. But it would have to do for now, if they converse more then they might have more to talk about in the future. Sumire looked at both letters, then sighed she would probably have to write one to Piko as well or suffer her wrath. 

–0–

Piko,

I am relatively uninjured after my first mission, no I did not get my ass beat, thank you. And no I’m not telling you how I was injured, I’m sure you already know how. I’m still pissed that Sanemi and I had different missions, is there a way to change that or is it that we are at the whims of someone else? Let me know, please. 

What did you do after your missions? I am almost bored to tears, and the only thing that I know I can do is go on more missions. I’ll take any suggestions at all, please. 

Also, you neglected to tell me or Sanemi of anything related to blood demon arts. Did it just escape you for the year you were training us? 

Your favorite student

 - Sumire

–0–

Well, that wasn’t so hard, not much to talk about with people but Sumire was sure Piko would be able to give her something entertaining to do after a mission. Knowing her she might end up saying training– she is so tired of flipping training. But it would be cool to learn other techniques– like the transparent world. Sumire would be unstoppable if she learned that. Bummer that it was never really clear how you unlock it, it's similar and different for just about every person. 

Sumire set Piko’s letter to the side to dry and picked up Sanemi’s and began to fold it in thirds, but then stopped because she didn’t know how it was that it needed to be folded to send it. She’d only ever seen it be tied to a crow's foot, but three letters is kinda a lot. But Katsu was a strong bird, bigger than his crow counterparts. 

Sumire folded all the letters realizing that she had no idea where Katsu was, however, that old woman, clearly did. Fujiwara. What a crazy coincidence. But it made sense clearly as the demon slayer world was based on the real one, well that made things awkward -wasn’t this one the real one now? – Anyway why make up fake families when you could just use convienatnly already theme-appropriate ones? 

Sumire stood making her way to the shoji and nudging it open with her toe. Not bothering to shut it behind her before she surveyed the hall, barely recalling the way to the washrooms. If she wandered around long enough surely she would run into Fujiwara. Sumire left her door open, turning left. The hallways were fairly long and the corridor she had been placed in was relatively silent, which was weird. She would have thought there would have been other Slayers in the wing, or hell in her room?

But there was no one, Sumire was alone in this part of the building, which felt a bit strange. At worst though this would just leave her longer to find the woman. Which was her top priority currently. 

Only it seemed as though the old woman had a sixth sense for knowing when someone was up and about and found her first by sneaking up on her. 

“Is everything alright dear? Did you need something?” The woman’s voice was quiet but in the silence, it sounded like a gong. Sumire tried not to whip around too fast.

“Oh– hello, Ma’am! I–I was wondering if you knew where my raven was. I need to deliver some letters– and…uh I didn’t know where he was.” Damn, that was fucking awkward, but it did the job. 

“Ah– yes Katsu, he’s running an errand but I can take those for you and ensure he gets them to the right people.” The woman stretched out a hand— she seemed nothing if not kind and polite but Sumire still hesitated for a moment before handing her letters over, it’s not like they contained top secret information or anything—just Sumire’s complaints. 

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Sumire bowed a ninety but she heard the old woman's rebuttal at the politeness.

“It is my honor dear, you do what a thousand of my ancestors could not.” As Sumire lifted her head she found the old woman bowing low, internally she panicked a moment. 

“There is no need to bow Sobo, you have done a great deal for me. Allow me to help you tonight as a form of gratitude.” Sumire bowed thirty degrees and her hands to together in front of her. Fujiwara couldn’t refuse someone asking to repay her in thanks, but if Sumire had said ‘Let me help you– I have nothing else to do.’ The woman would have sent her away as it is ‘not her place’. 

Fujiwara frowned recognizing the ploy, but didn’t refuse– “I suppose that if you truly want to you could help me with an influx of laundry that just came in from some slayers that finished their missions.” She turned not waiting for Sumire to be told what else before she continued. “I’ll show you how to remove all of the stains and patch up rips in the uniform, it takes time and I only give back quality work.” 

Which was code for if you mess up you’re not done until it’s perfect. Which Sumire could do. 

–0–

By the time the sun rose into the valley Sumire’s hands ached from washing and stitching up clothing. But she wasn’t tired, just thoroughly done with this shit. But she learned quite a bit, like how to get stains out of clothing and how to sew properly, which made her feel a bit raw on the inside, the final selection had barely been two and half weeks ago and Sumire still thought about her shotty pad work. It always felt like the world was moving on while she was stuck here watching it happen in slow motion. 

When all the work was finished Fujiwara told her that she could leave, that she had nothing else for her to do, but Sumire figured that was a lie for multiple reasons that she didn’t want to know about. 

Returning to her barren room she hadn’t seen anyone on the way back but she had heard people snoring and blankets shifting. So there were people just not where she was. Weird. 

But she wasn’t a hostess so what would she know about placing people in rooms? Her door was still left open when she stepped inside. Sumire folded her futon and quilt placing them in the corner, and frowned when she picked up her uniform. It was still too big, and she didn’t have any techniques that would allow her to be able to change the size of the garment. 

Maybe…the town near had a seamstress that she could ask to take it in, while she waited for Katsu to return. She had her kofurisode to change into so…fuck it; it was not like she was busy anyway with it being the early morning. 

Sumire changed into her kofurisode, bundling her uniform in her bag and tucking her sword into the waistband of her hakama. Cleaning up the ink and paper Sumire gave the room a double check before she opened the door and swept out of the Wisteria house. 

–0–

Sumire would like to say that she was totally smart and independent enough to find that seamstress on her own…but considering that she hadn’t asked directions before leaving… yeah guess how that went. The wisteria house was on the edge of a decently sized town, but what actually concerned Sumire was the fact that it was only an hour past sunrise and she couldn’t find a flipping seamstress.

She could theoretically ask for help…but she was too damn stubborn for that. And on some level, she was enjoying the sightseeing. She had received a few stares that felt like thinly veiled insults, but she ignored them.

It also took her an embarrassingly long time to remember that she needed to put her hair back up at some point. It was hanging down a little ways below her shoulders. It was late enough after sunrise to see street vendors begin to pull out and sell breakfast options, or just begin shop for the day. 

‘Just ask for help!’

There were certainly enough people around that she could just ask until she got an answer, hopefully the first person would be able to tell her.

Sumire looked around the main street that she was on, and found a young woman also dressed in a kofurisode, moving large flower pots out onto the street from a shop. Sumire strode over, stopping rather quickly in front of her to make sure she didn’t disappear before she got to talk to her. 

“Miss, excuse me– um…could you tell me if there is a–” The young woman snapped her head to Sumire, her eyes widened dramatically. 

“ –seamstress around?” The young woman stood up quickly wiping the leftover dirt on her hakama, backing up just a step from Sumire.

The woman was quiet for just a second “Hattori-san is just down the street–” The woman looked over her shoulder quickly. To some building behind her.

“It says her name on the front of it– can’t miss it –excuse me.” The woman stepped around Sumire back into the shop giving her a wide birth, pushing fabric strips aside, and disappearing into the store. 

‘What a strange lady.’

At least she got an answer, Sumire walked down the street scanning the plaques nailed to the sides of the buildings. Her eyes caught on one that read Hattori Clothing & Repairs, it was tucked cleanly between two larger buildings. The shop doors were open, so Sumire pushed the curtain to the side and entered the narrow shop.  

The smell of jasmine incense hit Sumire’s nose like a wall, the entrance to the store was lined with bolts of fabric, each intricate and original to itself. A small well of something bloomed in Sumire’s chest at the beautiful fabrics. But she didn’t let herself linger on the feeling.

A few stands held incredibly well-made silk kimonos and haoris, each made with a different pattern that rivaled the other's beauty. Clearly whoever made these, took incredible pride in their work. Sumire couldn’t see very far into the store but through the lined shelves she could see a desk at the back, and an older woman pinning dark purplish-plum fabric together on a work table.

Sumire didn’t want to startle her out of her work so she made her footsteps louder than necessary. 

As she approached the back she spoke– “Pardon me, Ma’am.” Sumire rounded a corner, standing more than five feet away, and bowed slightly out of politeness, though she felt a little more than uncomfortable standing in this shop. 

Sumire heard the fabric stop shuffling and the old woman's voice spoke, soft and light– “Hello, dearheart. What is it I can do for you?” 

Sumire lifted her head to look at who she assumed was Hattori-san. Her hair fell back from her face and Sumire could swear she saw multiple conflicting looks cross the old woman's face, fear being one of them. But the woman's dark blue eyes just settled on a gentle expression, not showing an ounce of the fear that left a sickening feeling in her stomach. Sumire had only been feared by demons. She knew the look, it was disheartening to see it on another human face, perhaps that young woman was also scared of her. 

Sumire lowered her eyes, not wanting to look her in the face. “I’m sorry to bother you but I need to resize a garment of mine, it's uniform and…and um…I kind of need it relatively quickly but, if you are able I can pay?” 

“Gods you are so awkward! Get a little more confidence talking to strangers!’

Sumire looked up again to see the woman’s reaction– “I can do that for you no problem–” She smiled at Sumire, “I don’t have any prior obligations. I’ll need to take measurements though, do you have the uniform?” Sumire worldlessly pulled her slayer uniform from her bag, the clean garment– thank god it was clean –and handed it to the lady, the white kanji of Slayer front and center. 

Before she even took it the woman said a line that left a freezing feeling in Sumire’s gut.

“You’re one of them.” Sumire froze completely, those words scared her and made her feel like she was doing something that wasn’t right. Sumire opened her mouth to say an excuse or something, she didn’t know–

“I can do this for you for free, no need to pay.” The woman’s wrinkled hands grabbed the uniform and set it on the desk. Sumire blinked and the freezing feeling melted into confusion. 

“You’re…you’re not upset?” Sumire felt distantly dizzy, the feelings in her stomach not making sense. 

“Why– oh, no dear. Most people in this town are not so receptive to Slayers.” Sumire tilled her head, “Why, well the reasons vary, but most are jealous of the Fujiwara’s status, and that left generational greed.” 

The old woman rounded her work table and pulled out a long measuring tape, also snagging a paper and pen to assumidly write out measurements.

“Thats…I never thought that people would even know why the Fujiwara were involved. But I hadn’t been wearing it when I arrived in the town, people were still…”

“Rudely staring– frightened? I am ashamed to say that I too saw your face and sword, I thought that you might have been trouble. I apologize for that–” An odd feeling sunk in Sumire’s chest. “But when I saw the uniform I knew immediately why it was you had those scars, but you are also quite polite, so scars or not I would have served you.” 

“Consider my prejudiced reason for why this resizing is on the house.” The woman’s face was still projecting kindness, and her voice was gentle. Sumire had mixed feelings about the information that was just said, part of her wanted to walk out and never look back, but another part of her respected the woman for speaking her mind. 

Sumire didn’t know this woman’s name, so she bowed at the waist– “I’m Shinagzwawa Sumire, my apologies for not introducing myself earlier.” Picking herself back up.

“No worries dear.” The woman slightly bowed, “My name is Hattori Mai, It is a pleasure to meet you Shinagzwawa-san.” 

Before Sumire could stop herself she corrected the woman– “Just call me Sumire, Shinagzwawa-san is my Ma.”

Sumire’s heart beat fast– and her mind halted, but Hattori-san didn’t seem to notice. “If you say so dear. Now let's get those measurements shall we?” She gestured to Sumire to remove her outer kimono and absently she let it hang from where it was tucked into the waist of her hakama. 

She…Sumire just said– it was a turn of phrase that she said all the time to people who knew her family. Sumire pursed her lips to keep from making any noise. ‘Is’, she should have said ‘was’...gods, her chest hurt. 

Hattori-san wrapped the tape measurer around her bust, torso, and arms– Sumire knew that Hattori couldn’t see the rest of her scars, but as she bound the tape around her bicep it rubbed against the scar tissue of the bite mark uncomfortably. 

“Is it possible for you to remove the sleeves of the uniform?” It would serve a few purposes, but mostly, the material if taken down to the proper size would rub against the tissue constantly, and the uniform was made out of tough material, not soft. 

Hattori-san looked at her quizzically for a moment– “I’ve got a lot of scar tissue on my arms, and the uniform would rub against it.” 

“I could just leave the sleeves bigger– the material of the uniform is meant to protect you, you know?” How did this woman know so much about Demon Slayers? Weren’t they a secret?

Hattori measured her height to the waist and Sumire put her kimono back on tucking it back. 

“I know, but…I well– do you know of Merachi blood?” Sumire knew that it wasn’t well-versed knowledge in the corps of all places so she didn’t expect– 

“I do. Don’t tell me you let them scent your blood– that’s incredibly dangerous!” 

Dajia-voo washed over Sumire, fucking Piko. 

“My blood’s a bit different, it makes them woozy instead of stronger just by scent. I promise I wouldn’t be using such a method if I didn’t know how to fend for myself.” Sumire waved her hand placatingly. 

Hattori placed her hands on her hips giving her a mothing look. Sumire was tempted to crumble but held firm in her uneasy smile. 

“How do you know so much about the Corps anyway?” Sumire interest had been peaked regarding the knowledge that Hattori so casually dropped. 

Hattori rounded her work table moving the purple and black fabric out of the way. Laying out her uniform, it looked huge in comparison to either of them. 

“When do you need this by?” Sumire paused– 

“Probably tonight, but if it takes more time–” 

“I can do that– it's just alterations. And I know quite a bit because of my niece. She married a man who became a Slayer. A right lunk that man is.” 

She flipped Sumire’s uniform inside out. 

“Ah– sorry to hear that, how old is your niece?” Sumire grimaced at the poor girl, her husband would probably end up dead. Unless he managed to be one of the few who retired. 

“She’s probably younger than you, she’s sixteen, stupid family traditions of marrying young they said. I think it’s a right load of horseshit.” Hattori-san was making precise marks with white chalk along the inside seams, double-checking her measurements. 

Ah, this is going to be awkward to explain then.

“I’m fourteen. My fifteenth birthday isn’t until January.” 

Hattori-san set her chalk down to face Sumire, her face twitching randomly. “You’re telling me–” her voice was terribly calm. “ –that they send children, barely functioning preteens, to fight demons!” her voice rose in strength the more she spoke. 

“Uh….” Well, shit she didn’t really have anything to say to that. 

“Are fucking kidding me!” This woman who was incredibly gentle and calm when she first met her was now raging like a typhoon. 

Sumire just watched and listened as Hattori-san ranted relentlessly for several minutes, not including Sumire in any of her words. Ubuyashiki better pray this woman never gets ahold of him. 

Finally, Hattori’s anger simmered– “Arg– I’m sorry dear, but that just eggs me so much that just— ARG!” Sumire just gave a tight smile. 

“Even my niece's husband isn’t an adult yet, but at least he’s older than her and she swears on just about everything that he is strong enough to be Slayer.” Hattori-san breathed a heavy sigh, “Listen I’ll have this done before nightfall, but you need to be careful Sumire– you look like a strong young woman –but things happen in the blink of an eye.”

Sumire lips evened out into a gentle smile. “I know Hattori-san, and I’ll be alright– maybe one day you could introduce me to this niece of yours and I could find out if I know her husband or not.” 

Hattori-san sighed again, “I’ll definitely tell her about this, anything else you would like done to your uniform?” 

“Uh…” Sumire only wanted the sleeves removed. “No, I don’t have anything else to add.”

“Alright, do you have a haori? Does it need any patching?” 

“I don’t have a haori, never…never thought about it.” Only thought that it would get in the way. 

“That’s alright dear, be back a couple of hours before sunset in case I have to make adjustments.” 

“Yes Ma’am, thank you for helping me.” Sumire bowed at the waist. 

“It’s no problem dear, you do what most can’t.” Hattori gave an easy smile, how many times was she going to hear that phrase? Sumire nodded her head and slowly maneuvered around the racks and shelves to the front door. 

When she stepped out into the still early morning sun, Sumire felt a weight lift from her shoulders from being inside that shop. It reminded her too much of her Ma, of her sisters, the ‘womanly’ things that she should have taken part in when she should have. And that slip up of her name, gods– her heart twisted as if it was s wet towel being wrung out, and her palms were sweaty. 

‘Is’

‘Was’ 

Her Ma was dead. How many times was she going to say that to herself before she stopped saying it? It didn’t change the outcome. It didn’t change the aching casming pit in her soul. It didn’t do anything but remind her that she was a failure–

Gurgle— grugle~

Sumire jolted back into reality hearing her stomach rumble so loudly. Wasn’t that embarrassing? When was the last time she ate? Last… no yesterday morning technically. No wonder she sounded like she was starving, Sumire could feel her stomach eating itself now.

Maybe she should find something to eat as a distraction and because she wouldn’t have to spend her little pocket change on clothing repairs. 

Sumire walked back down the street and now far more vendors had set up and were advertising their food, a fresh batter smell wafted into her nose. Immediately I recognized it as tempura. She could taste the flaky perfect crisp from here. So she gravitated to the vendor, walking slowly and staring at a small menu that was hung on the side of the owner’s cart. 

Already knowing she was going to get a large plate or several of the flaky goodness, she turned her head to the owner– but found him glaring at her with disdain clear on his face. Sumire blinked a moment confused and almost tempted to look around to see if he was actually looking at her. 

“Um…can I–”

“He won’t sell to you, Miss! How about some good’l yolk and rice!” Sumire whipped around to find a scrawny young man waving his hand in greeting toward her. She looked back to the tempura stall owner, his mouth now set in a gross sneer.

Sumire grimaced slightly– perhaps Hattori was right, her scars and sword scared people. So instead of getting to enjoy the amazingly smelling batter, she made zero fuss and turned to the young man’s stall. 

“Rice and yolk? Isn’t that a bit difficult to cart around out here?” Sumire made a bit of small talk to ease off the gross sludge that began to leak into her chest.

“Not as difficult as tempura! But I do it because it’s a staple– really when have you not had it at least once a week?” The young man talked with his hands readying a rather small bowl in his hands. 

“I guess you’re right–” Piko made if often sided with meat for more protein. “Could you give me your largest bowl, please, I'm starving.” Sumire slid onto one of the cart's portable seats, pushing the strips of fabric that acted as curtains off her head. 

She watched as the man raised an eyebrow at her request, but she raised an eyebrow in response as her stomach rumbled rather loudly– enough for him to hear. He laughed so contagiously that it had Sumire smiling a little in return. 

Just as she got comfortable watching the young man dish up the rice Sumire felt a tap on her shoulder– “Hello miss? I’m so sorry to ask this of you but–” Sumire turned on her seat as she heard the voice of a young boy, clearly in the mists of puberty. “Are you able to spare us a few yen to get some food?” 

Pushing the fabric to the side Sumire saw two boys probably about her age maybe older, the one who tapped her on the shoulder had black hair and black eyes, while the other she couldn’t see well because he was turned away and partially hidden behind his friend. He clearly had long black hair and some sort of red patterned haori. 

But what really grabbed her attention was the battered demon slayer uniform on the one in front of her, and most likely on the other one as well. Did they just finish a mission and did they not have any money left on them? 

Where were their crows to direct them to the wisteria house down the street? Sumire looked back to the young vendor and then back to the boy in front of her. 

“I’ll do you one better, give me just a second.” Sumire turned back around and she could hear the nervous-awkward energy coming from the boy. 

“If I pay you a bit extra can I take that bowl to go– I can return it –I just have to help these two get to where they need to go.” Sumire pointed with a thumb over her shoulder. Clearly, they needed a bit of help. 

The vendor gave a look of contemplation. “Promise to return the bowl?” 

“Absolutely.” Sumire gave a serious face. 

“Then don’t worry about paying extra, just make sure you return it– or so help me…” A vaguely threatening look crossed his face. 

Sumire threw her hands up in defense. “I promise, swear on my life.” The vendor smiled and pushed her the bowl of steaming rice and yolk. There were three yolk instead of the normal one and the bowl of rice was nearly as big as the pot you might hang over an irori. Sumire grabbed a pair of disposable chopsticks and dug around in her kimono sleeve to pull out what was probably more than the needed amount of yen for the meal. 

She slapped it down on the table and took her bowl before the vendor could try to give her extra money back. He seemed like a nice guy, no need to make his day a little better.  

Ducking under the fabric curtains and sidestepping the young boy who tapped her on the shoulder she stood out closer to the middle of the street holding her bowl in front of her rather awkwardly due to the size. 

“My name’s Shinagzwawa Sumire–” She did a slight bow the bowl threatening to spill over if she bent any more. “ –and you are?”

“Oh–Ah my name is Nakano Murata–” he gave a quick bow at the waist, “ –and this is…” Murata gestured to his partner, and very slowly the boy with long black hair turned around– Sumire did her best to not show any surprise at the face of the boy or the name that came from his mouth. 

“Tomioka Giyu.” His voice still possessed a boyish pitch but his monotone was wildly impressive for someone that same age as her. 

‘Holy shit– Holy shit– Holy shit!’ 

‘Both of them– both of them! Look at them– they’re so young!”

She derecognized the pattern of his haori now– but here in a random town? Were they on a mission? When did they get here? Did they just get here? Where are their crows? Why do they seem so tired and worn down– how old are they– did they become slayers before her and Sanemi?

Sumire snapped herself out of the spiral and did her best to seem normal. 

“Pleasant to meet you,” act fucking normal… “anyway instead of giving the two of you some yen– why don’t I just show you where the nearest Wistera house is and Miss Fujiwara can take care of you.” Sumire balanced the bowl on her hip and snapped her chopped sticks open, repositioning the bowl to rest on her stomach so that she could eat without dropping anything. 

“Apologies for me eating while we walk, I haven’t eaten since yesterday…yeah yesterday morning.” Sumire began walking only stopping to look over her shoulder to see if they were following. They were. Why was there no protocol for finding someone who was integral to the future?! Sumire turned back around shoving the rice and yolk into her mouth where they couldn’t see. It was pretty damn good, even if it wasn’t the tempura that she had been hoping for. Rat bastard. 

It was probably a disgusting sight– but she was hungry as all hell, so a little embarrassment could go fuck itself. 

Murata began some small talk, sounding incredibly grateful that Sumire didn’t respond with one-word answers like someone else he knew. 

“So…you have a sword and you know about wisteria houses– are you a demon slayer by chance?” He had caught up to her walking beside her not seeming to care about her ravenous appetite as they walked. Giyu followed closely behind as silent as the wind. 

Sumire swallowed fully before responding, “Yeah, I am getting my uniform resized at the moment so I have to wait until this late afternoon to get it.” 

Murata frowned for a moment. “Why would you have to resize your uniform don’t they measure you at the final selection?” Sumire was nearly halfway done with the bowl and her appetite barely felt quenched. 

“Yeah–but I didn’t want the female uniform so I had to get a male one instead and the smallest male uniform was still way too big on me so I just now got the chance after my first mission to resize it.” Sumire dug back into her bowl, noting that there was about five minutes to the wisteria house. 

“Wait, you just went on your first mission! You look completely unharmed! Well you know…aside from the…the…”

“Scars?” Giyu chimed in. Sumire looked back briefly, his face and voice still completely blank. No wonder people thought that he was rude– but Sumire was no better really, she just learned not to say such things out loud. 

“Most of these scars are self-inflicted” Murata briefly looked ill “ –except for the major ones. Like my forehead–” She pointed with her chopsticks. “And a few others ones on my arms. But I have a special Merachi blood that makes demons woozy, so I just slice my arm open when I need the extra help.” 

More like anytime she has the excuse to harm herself– shut up brain. 

“That's…interesting.” Murata stuttered. 

“That’s stupid.” Giyu’s footsteps pulled up next to her other side. Maybe he was more talkative than Sumire gave him credit for, still too socially inept to know that he was being rude though.

“That’s what they all tell me. I’ll add the advice to the donate pile.” She was not in the business of listening to people who hadn’t experienced what she had–

‘Giyu has– He lost his sister because she was protecting him— I failed to protect my siblings.’

Giyu remained silent at her sarcasm, and Murata looked incredibly uncomfortable at the information that had just been dropped. 

“So…how old are you? Sorry, that might have been rude—” Murata raised his hands and his voice pitched. 

“I’m fourteen, no need to sweat it, not like I'm a grown woman anyway. If I had been might have taken offense.” Sumire wishes that she was– if only to ditch this prepubescent body –technically she was a woman now– shut up. Her responses are far snappier than she had been intending but she wasn’t inclined to really care. 

Murata looked like he was constipated clearly not knowing how to deal with Sumire’s personality. 

“How old are you?” Might as well be polite, wait…she was talking to them like she would talk to Sanemi– ah fuck. No wonder Murata looked uncomfortable he couldn’t read her as Sanemi could. 

“I’m sixteen and Tomioka is fourteen as well.” Sumire blinked. Giyu was fourteen? Did that mean that he attended the final selection last year? At thirteen? No wonder Sabito ended up dead, that was way too young. 

“Cool– when did you attend your final selection, mine was two and half weeks ago.” Sumire began to struggle to get the last of the rice from the bowl, as she couldn’t tilt the bowl to get it into her mouth. Wasted food sucked. 

“We attended the one in February, there are two a year…uh yeah. So we’ve only been at this for about seven months. I’m pretty lucky to be alive these days– pretty sure Tomioka is the only reason for that.” Murata seemed uncomfortable mentioning the final selection, which was probably for Giyu's sake. 

Sumire hummed not really knowing how to relate to being unable to defend herself. She’s always tried to get stronger, always known that it was the only path forward. Why don’t other people do the same?

Murata cleared his throat. “What was your first mission like– because I have to say, mine sucked. I mean, I nearly died, my arm got broken and I lost my sword– my smith was going to kill me, he hadn’t even handed it to me for twenty-four hours and it was gone– poof –I swear!”

Murata got pretty worked up over talking about his– well there was no better way to put it –inadequacies. Being weak was something Sumire understood, but when you don’t do anything to change that fact, well, that becomes inexcusable. 

“Uh…my first mission was just kinda—well disturbing…I failed to reach a little girl in time, or at least I think I did. She could have been an illusion that the demon used to lure me. But when I finally confronted the demon the little girl’s was…merged? With the demon, it was really gross, and it was clear that she was dead so I…well I did my job.” Sumire stared straight ahead, she didn’t really want to see their reactions, she knew that she had failed, but she didn’t need more reminders of how fucked up it was.

Or how it twisted her insides breaking parts of her soul down, down, down—

“That sounds awful– I’m so sorry that that happened. That little girl probably wasn’t someone you would have been able to save anyway.” Sumire stopped in her tracks, surprising Murata enough that he stumbled a bit and Giyu just slowly came to a stop looking back at her.

Sumire clutched the bowl tightly in her hands, anger rising through her hot and heavy, she stared crudely at the few rice grains that she couldn’t get stuck to the bottom of the bowl. 

“Is that how you rationalize their deaths? By telling yourself that you would have never been able to save them in time?” Sumire was tempted to drop the bowl just to see the pieces shader–shader like her soul. 

She looked up sharply, finding Murata’s eyes. Her voice rose in rage, “Do you just pray that at the end of the day, it is your hide that gets saved?! When you become a slayer– you do it for the protection of others. No matter your intentions, the job is to kill and eliminate demons before they can kill us!” Sumire’s jaw tightened and she had the urge to rip, to smash, to cut.

Murata looked confused and fearful, his voice wobbled– “No–no that's not…I became a slayer to avenge my family for being killed—”

“Let me ask you something— do you know what it is like to watch your family die in front of you? Or did you only see the aftermath?” Sumire stalked forward and Murata took a step back. 

“Because I know exactly what it is like to see life flood from my family's eyes– and I would do everything in my power to go back to that exact moment and be stronger, and defend them better!” Sumire pushed into his space again, her face contorted into angry lines, her teeth bared. Murata put his hands up in peace, but he stepped backward again.

“Listen–I I didn’t mean it in a bad light alight I just–” 

“You just what? You are trying to defend not putting every ounce of your life on the line to defend innocent people! It’s one thing to be weak– but it’s another to not try to get stronger at all!” 

Sumire was absently glad that they weren’t in town anymore, people would hate her even more than now if they could hear her. 

“I–I” Tears well in the corners of Murata’s eyes clearly Sumire was taking this way too far, but she couldn’t let this drop, wouldn’t– If she had just been a little bit faster– a little bit stronger–

“I can see the Wisteria house from here.” Giyu’s deadpan voice cut cleanly through the tension ready to burst. 

Sumire’s shoulders dropped, but her anger didn’t fade, she took the out of Giyu’s words and stalked away marching a little ways past Giyu before walking at a reasonable pace. She needed to cool off– needed to train or something where she wouldn’t be bothered. But she had to drop these idiots off first.

Murata didn’t try to talk for the rest of the short walk, staying far behind Giyu, using him as a barrier between him and Sumire’s wraith. When they got to the porch of the Wisteria house Sumire just nodded to the two of them and stepped out into the open field behind the Wisteria house, it was covered in tamped dirt just like Piko’s yard. 

Sumire set the bowl down on an engawa close to the field, she could return it in a little; she just needed to do something with her body.

She Didn’t draw her sword– no she breathed in, changing her rhythm, falling into a stance that she had long since mastered since she was ten. Her stance was wide and she shut her eyes, focusing on her raging heart. In the dark– she could hear everything around her.

The birds flying high above, the grass rustling in tandem with the shallow gusts of wind. Everything in this world had life, so who was Murata to decide that one little girl was not worth fighting for?

One palm out in front of her in an open-hand strike, the other tucked into a fist at her side. She felt the dirt beneath her zori, felt the dirt slide beneath her sole and ground. She filled her lungs to the max capacity. 

She slid her right leg back shifting her defense to offense, beginning the sequence of martial arts she had learned incredibly young, still ingrained into her soul. 

Every form was designed to break down the enemy– Sumire felt her body move in tandem with her breaths, with the sun beating down upon her. She moved, speeding up every strike and bow. Her hair whipped around her face like hissing snakes, but her closed eyes made no difference to it being in front of her face. 

She never once opened her eyes– not needing to –she just had to be so sure that her movements were her own that she would never falter. 

Murata had no idea what that was like– why decide that you will take revenge for your family but not try your best to achieve that goal? How ignorant of morals do you need to be to say– well I'm too weak to do anything might as well let them die. 

Anger poured through her moves pushing her faster and faster– each form becoming quick precise blows. 

It wasn’t his fault– we all do things differently —but he needs to understand that you can’t just take the path of revenge without doing anything to get there. 

Heat built up in her body pulsing through her veins, it burned— it ached, it wanted out– 

Sumire compiled all of her energy into a single blow thrusting her right fist out in a strike– 

A yelp of pain echoed through the courtyard– Sumire’s eyes flew open and her anger simmered out quickly as she searched frantically for the source– she hoped she hadn’t hurt anyone.

There in front of her was a young man holding the right side of his face, slightly frazzled by the energy that Sumire had released, but standing. Black hair– tall, and dressed in a Corps uniform, looking freshened up comparatively to Murata and Giyu. The man looked up and Sumire could see his face– the same face from over a year ago. 

Round green eyes, horizontal scars running across his jaw, and deep black hair. He had grown taller somehow, and much less boyish in just the year since they had seen each other. 

‘My name is Kumeno Masachika. A pleasure to meet you–’

Sumire’s stomach emptied out, it felt like the world had slowed and then frozen. 

“Kumeno-san…” 

Kumeno raised his left hand, waving to her. “Sumire-chan. Long time, no see.” 

Chapter Text

Kumeno smiled slightly, then winced as his face contorted in pain.

“Oh shit–” Sumire dashed forward, sliding a bit on the loose dirt. “I’m so sorry– why did you stand there?!” 

She held her hands up, just hovering, distressed that she didn’t know how to help; it wasn’t like he was a little kid who needed comforting. It must be meet important people day or something.

He rubbed the back of his neck– “Ah, well, I thought that I recognized your fighting technique. I’ve only ever seen it once, and it is pretty unique. And I kinda took a gamble– seeing as the last time I saw you, your hair had been shorn pretty short.” 

‘He saw the tail end of a fight with a demon a year ago.’

Sumire fought an embarrassed heat rising on her ears, “I guess so–what are you doing here?” Ah, stupid question!

“Oh– I just healed up after a nasty mission and was getting ready to get some more supplies.”

He looked back towards the entrance to the Wisteria house.

“As I was leaving my room, a new pair of Slayers came in– one was saying… well, none too polite things about a ‘Shinaguzwawa. ’” Kumeno had a pinched expression, and Sumire’s embarrassment fell back into the heated anger that she had been trying to work off. 

“That son of– ARG!” Sumire turned towards the Wisteria house, not bothering to care about the other people inside, and shouted–

“Talk to me when you become a fucking man Nakano! Your job as a slayer is to fight those who can not fight for themselves!” A flock of birds had flew off the roof at the noise disturbance, she hoped that he heard her that motherfucker–

“I see that your anger hasn’t dwindled any.” Sumire turned back in embarrassment, crawling back up on her at his small smile. 

“Uh…he deserved it, talking the way he did– Anyway.” A million things slammed into her mind at that moment, all things she needed to be prepared for. “You’re going into town?”

“Yes– did you want to come with me? I don’t know if you’re busy or if you hav–” Kumeno started to ramble, but Sumire cut him off. 

“I’m not busy– not til later anyway –I’ll come in with you, I’ve got to  drop this bowl off at a vendor.”

Kumeno smiled again. “It’ll be nice to catch up.” Sumire went to grab the rice bowl and turned around to see him waiting for her. 

It was…it reminded her of Sanemi and her departure. Except this time, she got to walk toward the one waiting for her. 

It was a nice feeling, she decided.

–0–

Kumeno had to stop by a few different stores, some for paper, first aid supplies, and even well-preserved food. She had asked him about that one, and he said that there was one time after defeating a demon he had been so undernourished of food that it took him days to find a town or a Wisteria House to help him when he had been stumbling around in delirium. 

Sumire bought some too, just in case. But when she asked about the Kakashi that should have helped him, he said that they only come to clean up; if there isn’t anything to clean, then there is no reason to dispatch them. That made her blood boil a bit. 

She knew that large-scale events like Mount Namaguto required a lot of Kakashi but… huh. It didn’t even cross her mind that Kakashi might not be dispatched if there was nothing to take care of. The demon turns to ash, and if there was no damage to the surrounding area, then…

Wow, anyway Sumire managed to drop off her bowl without the Vendor seeing her, slightly afraid that he might demand that she take back the extra yen.  

By probably ten or eleven o’clock Kumeno and her were stuck just wandering around the town, most people not bothering to look at them, and others glaring outright. 

“People here sure aren’t friendly–” He chewed on his lip slightly, nervousness radiating from him, but he continued to stand tall, resisting hunching in on himself. 

“Nope– had a dude refuse to sell food to me this morning. And before that, the Seamstress in town told me that most people see anything relating to the Corps as a bad thing.” Sumire shrugged her shoulders– but the inky sludge was crawling back over her lungs again, constricting them.

Kumeno’s voice broke her from the feeling– “That's weird– What were you doing at the Seamstress?” 

“Oh, I guess I skimmed that– my uniform was too big because I wanted to wear the male one. And I just got the opportunity to fix it after my first mission.” Sumire played with the bracelet on her left wrist absently as they walked down the street.

“That makes sense for you–” Sumire did a double take. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? Huh?” Sumire put her hands on her hips as she sped up to get in front of Kumeno. he stopped suddenly, nearly tripping over her. Sumire looked up at him– which made her a little more furious. She needed to learn how to look intimidating if she was shorter than people.

His face took on a weird, placating smile, like he was talking to a rabid dog or something– not far off. “Ah– I didn’t mean anything bad by it. What I meant was that you aren’t the type to just stop at the standard presented to you. We’ve only spoken a few times, but I can see it pretty clearly.” The annoyance washed off her mind, and Sumire regrettably felt like she had overdone her reaction, but like hell was she going to apologize for it. 

“It’s alright– I’m just still upset with that stupid Nakano guy. I don’t like people telling me that I can't do more than I already have.” She backed pettled to her original walking position.

In the distance, she could see the Wisteria house and the empty training yard that sat out back. An idea formed in her head. 

“Hey–” He gave a high hum. “ –do you want to train? I’ve got a long while before I can pick up my uniform, and I don’t know if you have anything that you need to do but–” She picked at her bracelet again. 

“Sure, I haven’t been assigned a mission yet, but I think that would be a nice way to kill time.” Sumire’s smile sharpened.

“Let’s see how you fair Masachika.” Sumire gave a knowing smile, It was only fair if he got to use her first name, even though that was meant so that he didn’t confuse her and Sanemi. Not that he would these days, but the point stands. 

Kumeno blinked at her but laughed at the title. Sumire scowled a bit after she turned away from him; she’d been hoping to embarrass him like when he caught her off guard. She’ll just have to try harder then.

It only took a few minutes to get to the field. Sumire barely spared Kumeno a glance before she navigated to the middle of the field, stretching her arms out above her head and making sure that her breathing was firm. 

Kumeno stood ten yards from her, also stretching. Sumire shook her hand out–a weird nervousness fluttered over her. There were only two people she had fought against with a katana. Sanemi and Piko. And now another wind style user taught by the same teacher. 

How did he fight? Like Piko? Did he create his own style like them? Did he rely on breaths, or was he all techniques and forms? Sumire didn’t know– and suddenly, she realized that it wasn’t her nerves that she was feeling but excitement at the prospect of a fight with unknown properties. 

“Do you want a countdown or…?” Sumire called out, drawing her katana from her sheath. 

Kumeno drew his. “I’ll count for you if you want?” Sumire shrugged, then nodded. 

Breath in–

“One.” 

The sun heated the dirt beneath them. 

“Two.” 

Sumire felt her muscles expand, taking in oxygen.

“Three–” 

Her eyes locked on Kumeno’s.

“GO!” Breathe out–

Sumire sprinted forward, Kumeno stayed stationary– firing off the first wind Kata. She could feel the release of energy hurtel towards her; she rolled under it, getting back on her feet in a lunge—

Breath in– 

‘Second Kata - Crimson Moring Horizon’

Sumire swung her blade up the force of it forcing her to spin on her knee still planted in the dirt, following the momentum she released the second part of the kata, aiming at Kumeno ankles the timing of the slashes and closeness of her attack forced Kumeno to back step realsing a Kata in turn that would absorb her attack. 

Unfortunately, a byproduct of spinning like that was her hair– whipping around and blinding her to Kumeno’s next attack– between the stands she knew he landed not far away, and Sumire used her kneeling position to dash forward, the wind pushing her hair out of the way. 

“Third Form: Clear Storm Wind Tree–”

Ahh shit–

The third wind form was probably the closest thing to a defensive strike the technique had. Basically, the user creates a tornado around themself with several dozen slashes. The result of the breath is that everyone on the outside becomes minced meat.

Of course, this only happens if the user is strong enough– and Kumeno, with a year of actual slaying under his belt, could theoretically accomplish it. 

But the weakness is that because of the centrifugal force, the form requires the user to not protect the top of themselves. Leaving an opening. 

So, in the last second to dodge the attack, Sumrie jumps up above Kumeno, her sword raised above her head, reading a kata to disrupt the force of Kumeno’s. 

Breath in–

‘Thrid Kata - Fake Radiance’

Sumire brings her sword down her body following as she does a summersal mid air and for the first time this entire fight their swords connect–Kuemno bringing his up to keep Sumire from landing a blow on him, not that she would actually hurt him but the point stands. 

CLANG– 

Ear shattering metal on metal. 

Sumire saw Kumeno winced and smiled in all of a second or two, Sumire decided how to end this fight. 

As her body falls from the air, she uses all of the muscles in her abdomen to bring her feet up, curling herself into a ball–then she extends her legs out, shoving them into Kumeno’s chest. 

It was fighting dirty. 

But as they say ‘All is fair in Love and War.’

She falls head first not being able to see how Kumeno took the hit, her hands find the ground first the momentum forcing her to bend her elbows into the fall– with as much force as she can she extends her elbow back up the force pushing her up in bend back onto her feet in a crouch, her katana in front of her defnsively. 

 Kumeno, still reeling from the hit, managed to release a kata to keep Sumire at bay– unfortunately for him, she was at the wrong height for it to be effective.

Sumire continued to squat low under his oncoming attack– balancing all her weight onto her right leg, using her left and right fingers on the ground to balance her weight as she swept her left leg out, feeling her calf collide with Kumeno’s knee. 

The force of her blow, as he unbalanced his weight in the wrong position, had him flying into the ground, his shoulder impacting on the dirt, hard. Without a second to breathe, Sumire was up and thrusting the blut side of her katana to his neck.

Kumeno coughed– that kick might have knocked the wind out of him– oops. It took him a moment to gather his bearings, but when he did and he realized the metal digging into his neck, his eyes widened in surprise. 

“Not bad, but I think that you could use some improvement–no?” Sumire chuckled at the expression on his face, he looked stunned, but not in a bad way. Sumire pushed her hair out of her face, it had become tangled during the fight. UGH– she’d have to brush it out now. 

Looking back to Kumeno, she sheathed her sword, reaching down with her right hand extended to help pick him up. He stared at her hand for a moment– “Wow, first time getting knocked down by a girl, I didn’t think you would be this shell shocked.” 

Sumire smiled teasingly but couldn’t help but think that that wasn’t like Kumeno, not in the slightest. But technically, she got her embarrassment revenge. It wasn't like she was fighting at her full potential just now, so perhaps she was just using a better strategy to win the fight?

Her words seemed to jump him into action– “No– Piko-san is a girl–” 

“A senial old woman,” he continued, without daring to a response. Grabbing her hand and Sumire pulled and backed up at the same time, tall fucker. 

“ –I just…you surprised me is all. Hadn’t been expecting your skill level to be above mine. Not that that is a bad thing, of course.” 

“Well, from what I got from you is that you’re favoring breath techniques over physical form. I try to make my physical form a fluid motion with my technique.” Sumire brushed the dirt off her hakama, not that you could see it as it was the same color as her pants. 

“That’s a good way of putting that– demons are usually too slow to react to my techniques but your display sure made me remember all of the times Piko drilled into me that it’s important to remember physical forms.” he laughed at his mistake– Sumire can’t remember the last time someone had reacted so humble to being beat by her. 

Not that she had fought many people, but Sanemi sure didn’t like to hear her critiques. And she was sure that most others would be salty if a slayer who just took their exam beat them. But he was surprisingly receptive. 

“Your breathing technique– I was under the impression that you knew wind breathing.” Kumeno cocked his head, well if he wasn’t an arrogant asshole then surely he could take the knowledge that she made her own in less than a year. 

“Oh– uh.. I made my own. I wanted something more powerful, and I know wind breathing, but I’m not as well versed in it as you or Piko.” Sumire waited for the hidden jealousy to filter past his eyes, but no such thing happened. 

Instead, unbridled surprise and intrigue lit up his face. “Wait?! Wait– how did you do that? I was wait– how?” he tripped over his words in an attempt to express his disbelief. Sumrie was caught off guard by the direct interest in her ability to create a breathing style. 

Piko had repeatedly told her that it was a waste of time and something that she did not approve of. And Sanemi never really cared about her style, only that she was happy with what she was trying to achieve. 

“I–I…uh, it’s a long story.” She leaned back from how Kumeno was beginning to lean into her space– it was Shinobu all over again. How did she find such strange people?

“Well we’ve got a while—only if you want to of course—I don’t want to force you to explain—But it sounds really cool—Does Sanemi also have his own style—wait what did Piko think of it—-or or–” Sumire slapped a hand over his mouth. 

Gee, she had no idea this guy was such a chatterbox. A muffled ‘sorry’ came from behind her hand. Man, she was way too much of an introvert for this. 

“Alright, I’ll answer your questions–one at a time, though!”

She removed her hand, and he venimently nodded– this was going to be a long conversation. 

–0–

Sumire made no exaggeration when she said she talked all day. From the time of their only one spar to a reasonable time to go pick up her uniform, she talked. She did use this time to put her hair back up, so brownie points to that.

To say she was parched was an understatement. They ended up on the engawa because standing in the middle of a training field was a little weird even for her. But—Kumeno asked. SO. MANY. QUESTIONS! 

Who does that?!

Sumire doesn’t even have enough emotional battery to ask a wisteria house attendant where the restroom is. 

So when the sun began to hang lower in the sky, she gratefully took the invitation to shut the man up, if just for a second. 

“ —Does that mean your style is really just–” Sumrie interrupted him, by her Ma’s will she was trying to be polite but her encroaching limit of social interactions was coming up on empty and she still had to talk to Hattori-san. 

Honestly, she hadn’t even known that she was this inept at social interactions because she’d only had to interact with the same five people her whole life. 

“Kumeno–sorry to interrupt, but I have to go get my uniform before nightfall.” Sumire stood up, dusting off her hakama. 

“Oh, no worries.” he stood too, and Sumire thought that he would just fuck off to where ever it was that he had to go next but twenty feet from the Wisteria house she turned to see him following behind her. 

She turned back around, figuring that maybe they were just heading in the same direction. But five minutes later, he was still there, if not right next to her side. And she didn’t know how to tell him to go away– that was rude. 

But he was following her like a lost puppy! What was the right cue to get him to go do his own thing? Maybe she just had to wait until his crow came to get him or something, and then she would have plausible deniability when she says, ‘Oh–looks like you have to go.’

Was she being a little mean? Yes, undeniably, but she wanted some quiet space. He was not a person she would turn to for comfort because that person was Sanemi. And her heart didn’t have much more room for people who might end up dead anyway. 

So when she entered Hattori’s shop, she made sure to make her footsteps louder to not scare the poor woman. Not when she was probably the only person in this town that had any decency. The same jasmine incense wafted through the shop, dense and heavy. It almost immediately gave Sumire a headache this time. 

Sumire wove through the kimono stands and fabric racks to the back, where she saw someone working at the shorter desk, wrapping up a package in a thin balsa wood box. Hattori-san.  

“Hello.” Sumire stood awkwardly in front of her desk when Hattori-san looked up from her work and saw Sumire. Her eyes lit up in recognition and with kindness instead of that flash of fear. 

“Ah, Sumire-Chan, you’re just in time–” Hattori’s eyes trailed behind her to Kumeno, “Did you bring your parentner with you? Where was he earlier?” Sumire’s head buffered at her words for a moment.

“Kumeno isn’t my parentner, we…uh–we met about a year ago, he’s the one who introduced me to Slaying.” Then Sumire tacked on his age, since if Hattori reacted poorly to hers, then she wouldn’t be so inclined to nag Kumeno about why he allowed her to join. 

“He’s only a year older than me.” Sumire could physically see the tension that Hattori had built in all of a few seconds deflate. She practically heard the questions from Kumeno. 

“If I ever find out who allows children to fight those wretched demons, they better pray I’m nowhere near my fabric scissors.” Hattori gently opened and closed her incredible large ass pair of sissors that had been on the desk next to her. A shudder rolled down her back; Kagaya better watch out. 

Sumire smiled tightly; she hadn’t met Kagaya yet, but she couldn’t really bash his character either.

“So–you said I was just in time. Does that mean my uniform is ready?” Deflection. 

“Oh! Yes, yes, it is! Give me just a second–” Hattori-san ducked down, grabbing a buddle from under the desk and holding it out to Sumire. “You’ve got to try it on– dear, I need to make sure that it fits perfectly.” She was smiling at her and waiting expectantly. 

“Oh–okay.” Normally, Sumire might have just taken off her hakama and kimono and just had her under kimono on, but with Kumeno here, she wasn’t about to just strip down. So she turned to him and gave him a pointed look. 

But he only looked confused, so she clarified. “I need you to turn around so I can change. And make sure no one tries to walk back here until I give the okay.” 

He seemed to buffer for a moment then whipped around so fast that it gave Sumire whiplash, Hattori-san chuckled. Sumire was unimpressed and had no idea where either reaction came from. Kumeno wasn’t her brother, so changing in front of him wasn’t the most comfortable. But she had seven siblings; showering or being naked in front of them was the least of her problems.

Sumire untied her hakama and kimono, and Hattori took them and folded them up nice and tidy. It was rather easy to put her uniform back on; the gakuran was much tighter, and the collar went around her neck instead of sagging down obonisouly. The hakama were the right height, and her kyahan fit snugly around her calf. Her tabi were blessidly the right size, her zori that she’d had since the beginning of her stay at Piko’s were beginning to wear to an extreme, but Sumrie guessed she had maybe another month or so out of them. 

Her now-sleeveless arms felt much cooler than previously; she rotated her arms in a couple of pin wheels, testing out the mobility of the cut. 

Hattori had time to add some sort of horse hair lining to the arm hole because it was relatively easy to move her arm without worrying about circulation loss. 

Sumire watched her arm, noting that she had arm pit hair growing in. It was short at the moment and white like her hair, and she had two conflicting thoughts about it. On one hand, she didn’t really care; in this day and age, there wasn’t a need to remove excess body hair. She had seen it on her mother and, yeah, even Kyogo. However, her previous life's care and woman body image especially for her younger self came crashing into her. 

There was a weird pit of self-consciousness that roiled in her chest. Ultimately, she pushed it to the side, coming to the conclusion that if it was a problem, then someone would point it out. 

Sumire buckled her belt, surprised at the size of it; it had been resized to her waist. Hooking her katana in and did a spin, moving her legs and bending over to touch her toes. 

“Alright, Hattori-san, I think you outdid yourself. This is quite the change.” Sumire smiled widely at the old woman, gratefulness flooding her chest. “You’re good to turn around Kumeno.” Sumire looked over her shoulder at him, then back to Hattori. 

“Well, I don’t think I outdid anything with the uniform, honestly. You just look like someone I would rather never meet again. But– and I know you probably will fight me on this– but” Hattori grabbed the balsa wood box on the table and handed it to Sumire.

“I made you a little something extra to cover up. I mean this in the most polite way possible, but a young lady like yourself shouldn’t be walking around with that much skin exposed. Regardless of your profession.” She tutted, and Sumire skimmed over the first information and straight to the weight and feel of the wooden box. 

“I– Can I open it?” Sumire didn’t really want anything to cover her up, but if today was any lesson, then it was that she already had too many things that people judged her on unfairly; there was no need to give them any more ammo. 

“It’s your’s now, dear, don’t worry it doesn’t bite. I admit that the style choice of it was for a few reasons–”

Sumire set the box on the desk as Hattori spoke, lifting off the lid. Sumire saw a rich dark purple silk that immediately, from just the sight of the material, had her slamming the lid back down. 

“Hattori-san, I can’t accept this–it’s expensive! It–it’s just going to get ruined in the field. If you want me to wear something, I’ll find something less nice, but–but—” Sumire sputtered out her concerns, but it seemed they fell on deaf ears. 

“Nonsense, dear. If it gets damaged, then you just come right back here, and I’ll fix it free of charge. Now try it on. I need to see if you like the style; if you don’t, I’ll get you something else.” Her hands set on her hips, Hattori seemed set on Sumire having this haroi? She thought it was, but she hadn’t seen anything else other than the texture and color of fabric. Sumire let ot a suffering noise when Kumeno chimed in. 

“If you don’t want it to get damaged 'cause it nice, then just make sure that it never does–fight like it’s your own body.” He was trying to give her solutions to a problem that was bigger than the stupid fabric. 

“You silly boy–she doesn’t want it to just not get damaged; she’s thinking about all the time and effort that went into creating it, and to her, bringing it into the field would negate that time and passion by wrecking it. Not just because it’s pretty.” Hattori scolded Kumeno, and Sumire felt a bit of relief that Hattori understood why she was trying to refuse, but also worse because now it would be impossible to convince her to take it back. 

“Try it.” Hattori’s gentle voice was final in the decision. 

Sumire let out another whine, like a child, but pulled the lid off and took great care in removing the silk garment. It was lighter than she expected, and she could see that that was because it was shorter than a regular haori; it probably barely made it past her mid-back. It looked a lot like a future haori that her brother might wear. 

The inside was lined with black silk– “The lining is not usually silk on haoris, but you told me that your scars bothered you when they were rubbed against harsh or redistricting cloth.” Sumire thought she might cry at the thoughtfulness put into the garment. She had met this lady literally this morning, and she was just so nice. 

“Thank you Hattori-San.” Sumire slid the short haori over her shoulders and arms; the silk was cool against her skin, and the haori was a quality that gave it a certain weight to it that made it feel even better. The sleeves were baggy but not to the point where they hung very low. 

“But…why make me a haori like this free of charge–surely you need something, help around the shop, money?” Sumire tugged on the side of the haori, it ended just above her belt, which was already higher than her waist by a little. 

Hattori smiled at her, but not that nice old womanly smile, more like a saleswoman smile. 

“Well, dear. I need a bit more business these days, and if you do me some good will in spreading the name of my shop, then– well know that every time you come here to get repairs, they will be on the house.” 

‘Honestly respectible.’ 

Sumire sighed. “You know what– doable.” She still felt uncomfortable about having such a nice piece of clothing at all, really. They had never been able to afford things like this. Ma’s Kimono might have been the most expensive piece of clothing that they owned. 

Sumire tugged on the sleeve of the Haori again, making a noise of displeasure at the texture. It was so smooth and perfect—

Hattori scoffed, turned to her work table, and picked up a piece of fabric chalk. Before Sumire could question her, Hattori grabbed part of the sleeve of the haori and swiped the chalk against it. Sumire screeched like a banshee, jumping back and bumping into Kumeno.

“Hattori-San! What that fuck!?” Kumeno stumbled and grabbed her shoulders to stay upright. 

“Listen, it is just fabric. No matter the time or the effort, there will always come a time when it is no longer something you will wear.” She sighed, putting the chalk back. “The significance of the haori is so that you know that I care about you enough to make you clothing. But if you don’t wear it, that is almost a bigger crime.” She huffed. 

Sumire just stared longingly at the sleeve, rubbing her thumb over the chalk, which only spread it further into the fabric, changing it to be just slightly lighter and changing the texture of the area. But in her chest, Sumire felt a smidge lighter. By taking away from the perfection of the piece, it made it feel as though she wasn’t ruining it as much just by wearing it. 

Sumire sighed through her nose but bowed to Hattori, “Thank you, Hattori-San. I do feel a bit better about it.” She rose and saw Hattori smiling victoriously. And Sumrie had the urge to punch an old woman in the face, apparently, Kumeno knew enough about her to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder as a silent reminder that it was, in fact, ‘not okay to punch an old woman.’

“It’s no problem, dear. Oh– I think that your crows are ready for your departure. Right on time then.” Hattori clapped her hands together in a well-meaning ‘Yay’ moment. 

Sumire turned to where Hattori was looking and saw Katsu sitting on top of a kimono stand that at this moment seemed to prove more of a bird perch due to a crow sitting next to him. The size difference between the Her raven and presumably Kumeno’s crow was laughable. In Katsu’s beak, however, were an assortment of letters, one notably crumpled and the other two pristine. 

Sumire walked over, relieving her raven of the letters, tucking them into a pocket to read later. For carrying all of those letters, she better find out what his favorite food was. 

“Caw– Shinaguzawa-Sama, a mission has come in for you.” Sumire blinked, not expecting Katsu to just outright say that in front of a civilian, but clearly, this civilian knew far more than most Demon Slayers did. 

“What is it?” Sumire saw Hattori dig around behind her short desk again and pull out a small leather bag that looked to be filled with some sort of grain. 

“You were requested to deal with a demon south of here and for another slayer to accompany you as the danger of this mission outweighs the need of only one person.” Hattori had moved around the counter with the bag, opening it and allowing Kumeno’s crow to eat whatever it was that was inside. 

Katsu looked over to Kumeno’s crow just eating away at the seeds? Presumably seeds. But they were too busy eating to look up and acknowledge that, apparently, it was their turn to speak. Sumire heard Kumeno face palm behind her, and Katsu knocked the smaller bird with his wing. 

The poor crow flails at the larger wing, and a rather strangely feminine voice squawks at him. 

“I was eating–Oh, my turn.” The crow responding in a weirdly human manner to her raven was probably the least weird thing she had seen in the last seventy-two hours. 

“Masachika-San, after your recovery, your expertise in shrine behavior was required to help Shinaguzawa-San defeat the demon that has presumably killed the head Minko.

Kumeno inturpted his crow, “What do you mean presumably?” 

“There was no evidence that she was killed, unlike the others that were found dead. I request that you two make haste and find this demon sooner rather than later, as the harvest ritual is meant to happen in two days.”

Sumire frowned; she wasn’t used to this fast-paced movement from mission to mission. But so long as she wasn’t injured to the point of being out of commission, then she would have to keep moving.

‘No unforeseen problems will come from that, I’m sure.’

Sumrie turned more to Hattori and bowed again, “Thank you for the haori–” 

“Ah, get up dear, I like you and for people I like I do things for. Just make sure to stop in for a visit, ya?” Hattori pats Sumrie on the shoulder, passing her her buddle of clothing and walks back behind her desk, making little shooing moves with her hands. 

“Uh…Will do Hattori-San. Have a good night. Make sure to lock up well.” Sumire moved to walk past Kumeno, Katsu, flying up to sit on her shoulder. Sumire cringed just slightly at Katsu’s claws digging into the purple fabric but shouldered on.

Sumire’s headache lessened as she stepped out onto the street. The fresh air of the approaching night cooled the vendors as they rolled past, and they toted their carts to their homes. The sun was just cresting below the horizon from beyond the narrow street. 

Sumire felt a hand clasp her shoulder. “Well, ain’t that just awesome? We’ve got a mission together– what a way to come full circle, huh?” 

Sumire had a feeling that this would be a very long mission.

–0–

Sumire had predicted this almost immediately after leaving Hattori’s, but she was exhausted by the excess…perosnality, that Kumeno was. It was like he was a 1000-watt light bulb and she was a dead bulb that just wanted to sit in the silent dark. 

But she persisted. Just because he liked to talk didn’t mean that Sumire had a right to just be mad at him. So, she just let him talk about everything and nothing. Her responses taper off to grunts and yeses and nos. 

When they reached the outskirts of the town, Sumire had stopped to ask Kumeno how he planned on finding the demons. But then quickly decided that that was not worth it and just said that she had a faster method, aka, her blood. 

“What do you mean you have a faster way to find the demons?” Sumire looked at him– then at her now exposed arm.

Kumeno looked at her and looked at her arm– “No.” 

Sumire deadpanned, “It will be much faster and–”

“What part of no, you are not mutilating yourself to find a demon do you not get?” His voice was more stern than she had ever heard; she felt mildly reprimanded. He was the first to do so since Piko. 

“Did you ever even learn to track? How long have you been relying on this method?” 

Her silence was deafening. His big green eyes could have popped out of their sockets with how wide he opened them. 

“Sumire– Sumire.” She looked away– she couldn’t handle the reprimand of her techniques. They got results, and that’s all she cared about. She was tried mentally and physically. ARG!

“Whatever, let's do your method.” She was dejected. Even when Piko told her it was stupid, she didn’t feel this overwhelming directness to make him stop chastising her like she had done something inherently wrong.

Kumeno sighed. “I don’t want you to use that method because it’s self-destructive. It’s not healthy, and I may not know why you do it, but it’s not necessary to find a demon.” 

Sumire scowled; now she felt guilty about it. And she knew that it wasn’t necessary to find a demon. It was necessary to her, to her guilt. 

So she did what she does best: deflect. “So how do we find a demon, oh wise one~” Sumire turned back to Kumeno. He had a slight frown on his face, but he didn’t press. 

“Well, according to my crow, this area was recently afflicted by a curse, according to the townspeople.” He gave her a knowing look. 

She filled in the gap, “A blood demon art.” He nodded. 

“She overheard the residents talking about how the temple felt much less pure than in recent days, and then the head Minko went missing– Her ceremonial dance was supposed to be…Two days– wait well one day now. It was for the harvest of Kami– for the end harvest to be bountiful.” 

Sumire’s mind worked on that information. Likely, the demon wasn’t the Minko; if she just disappeared, then that meant that whoever the demon was had taken her. Killed her or hidden her for one reason or another. 

And to target a shrine… whoever the demon was must have been closely intertwined with it. So perhaps in this last hour of sunlight, they should find out if anyone else was connected to the shrine. 

“So-”

“Alright–” 

They spoke at the same time, an awkward silence echoed, and Sumire had a slight creeping feeling of embarrassment. So she spoke up quickly–

“Anyway, we should ask your Crow to see if anyone else has disappeared, likely basing it on the time frame of when the temple felt less pure. In the meantime, we could also ask around– gods, I hate talking to people.” Sumire grimaced.

“So you do know how to track a demon.” Kumeno’s voice was teasing, and a stupid amount of embarrassment flooded Sumire; she could feel her ears burn under his stare. 

“Screw off, just cause I don’t use your boring method, doesn’t mean I can’t use basic deduction.” She stocked forward– and Kumeno laughed at her actions, only making her walk faster. 

“I’m glad– do you want to split up or stick together to find this demon? Its likely that the more info we gather on the shrine then we will be abe to–” Sumire rudely interrupted him.

“I want to stick together– I’m not really fond of talking to people.” She absently scratched her cheek. 

‘Cause every word that comes out of your mouth to a stranger is fucking akward, it’s like being poliet means nothing to these jackasses.’

“Alright, alright. I’ll do the talking; you do the slaying–” He chuckled to himself at his own joke. Sumire rolled her eyes but found herself smiling a little at the stupidity of it. Even in her low energy state.

–0–

The sun set, and Sumire felt a bit rushed by the information collecting they had to do in an hour, but…Kumeno, ever the people person, was able to easily get people to cough up weird and mysterious things that happened in the past couple of weeks.

They were standing just outside the temple grounds, from what they–Kumeno–gathered, a grounds worker had gone missing about a month ago. And since then, the rest of the temple has been in disrepair no matter what the others do to repair it. It continues to be broken, several grounds keepers also noted that they could not access the ritual room or the shrine. It was like there was a barrier keeping them out. 

So, the Minko’s harvest dance was going to be replaced with a cleansing ritual that would purify the temple and hopefully appease the gods. 

Clearly, from that information, whoever the groundskeeper was had issues with the temple. And even bigger issues if they didn’t want the Minko to perform a cleansing. The best case scenario was that Minko was alive. In the worst case, she was dead, along with several others. 

As they approached the temple grounds, there was no one. During the day, there had been a few people from when they had walked by, but there was zero life on the grounds now. 

“So– you know I could speed this up–” Sumire had a hopeful expression. 

“Absolutely not–” Kumeno crossed his arms. 

“All it takes is like– a pin drop of blood– All I have to do is prick my finger on my sword it will heal in minutes.” Kumeno frowned so harshly that Sumire thought that his face might get stuck like her old mother used to tell her. 

His delayed response caused Sumire to feel mildly disappointed and guilty again–

“Let's look around first, then if it takes more than an hour to find anything concrete– I’ll allow a ‘pin prick. ’” He didn’t sound happy about it, but it was a huge compromise for Sumire. 

“Hell yes– let's go.” Sumrie turned pumped up by the slight approval of her methods, she stepped straight through the Tori gate that was the entrance to the Temple and Shrine. 

As her right foot passed through the gate, an awful gut-wrenching feeling paralyzed her. Her left foot followed, and she stopped– a large pit of suffocating dread opened in her stomach. 

“Kumeno…” Normally, she would feel shame at the twinge of fear in her voice– but this feeling was so oppressive and so familiar that she nearly doubled over to throw up. 

“What's wrong–” He came up to her side, his face told her that he didn’t feel the same thing as her. “Is there something we should–” Sumrie turned around, trying to take a step outside of the Temple grounds. If Kumeno said something else she didn’t hear.

Because her zori hit an invisible barrier. 

She brought a hand up and placed it flat on the nonexistent surface.

Fuck– Fuck fuck–

Stupid, Stupid– she should have just led the demon out– like her first mission, that was why it had been so easy she hadn’t had to worry about the demon pulling some stupid trick over on her. 

“Well, that is inconvenient.” How was he not panicking?

“No shit Sherlock–” Whoops– bad refrence—also not the time.

“Who’s Sherlock?” She can’t even appreciate the confusion because this shit just got a hundred times worse. 

“Doesn’t matter– now we have to find that stupid demon and fast– I’m not getting trapped here.” 

This was so not how she wanted to spend her night. 

Chapter Text

“All we have to do is find the demon, kill it, and we get to leave~ he says.” Sumire kicked at the loose gravel outside the temple grounds, her tabi catching against the stone.

They had split up about half an hour ago. Kumeno got to investigate inside the temple—something about his shrine behavior knowledge—while she got stuck outside, pacing the perimeter. She wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or just mind-numbingly dull. And then there was Katsu, perched on the shrine roof, watching her misery with the attitude of a cat.

By the second lap, she felt a huge wave of exhaustion. Over twenty-four hours with no sleep was catching up to her, her body dragging, her mind fogged over. She had spent last night sewing and washing clothing, and the following morning, she had been subjected to judgmental stares when she just wanted to eat. Then, as if the gods had it out for her, she ran into an absolute asshole—an important one, sure, but one who still needed a fuck ton of character development before she wouldn’t want to kick his teeth in.

And now she was here. With Kumeno. Again, not the worst thing, but in her current state, definitely not ideal.

The only thing she’d found was evidence of the damage the demon had done that the groundskeepers had reported: claw marks, broken stone, and the eerie silence of a place that should be teeming with life, even at night. She had circled the temple three times, checking for weak points, testing the barrier. The fourth time around, she reached the torii gate. She lifted her foot to kick at the barrier—only for her zori to swing through thin air. She stumbled forward, her stomach dropping as she pinwheeled her arms before catching herself. 

Kumeno’s voice rang out from inside the temple. Yelling.

“That was suspiciously fast.” Sumire flipped off the tori gate.

No way he took out the demon already. That meant something else happened—something bad. There had to be conditions on those barriers.

She sprinted for the entrance, heart hammering, as she saw a small abandoned lantern sway in the slow breeze. If he’d let her use her blood from the start, she could have drawn the demon out, weakened it, and cut off its head already. Instead, she was running in blind.

Kumeno’s voice rang out again, urgently sharp. “Sumire—don’t come in the front entrance! Find a different way in—the demon uses the barriers to—”

His voice cut out.

“Ah, fuck me.” Those were probably important instructions. Fantastic.

Sumire veered off-course, jumping off the engawa, and skidding on gravel as she made a sharp turn around the temple’s side. No windows. But as she looked up, she could see a roof opening. It was high, but she could make it.

She breathed in, gathered her strength, then launched herself upward. Her fingers caught the roof’s edge, and hooked her leg over and rolled onto her hands and knees, sucking in a sharp breath. She stood huffing–she’s so glad Sanemi wasn’t here to see that, she was way too tired for this shit.

In the center of the roof was a smaller square roof with all the sides open, and red curtains blew gently in the wind. Sumire crouched, inching closer, her gut twisted with uncertainty.

She had two choices, drop in blind or use her blood to lure the demon outside.

The problem was that she had no idea what the demon looked like, where Kumeno was, or what its Blood Demon Art did. She knew the barriers had to have some sort of rule on it which is why it disappeared.

What were the odds she’d be walking into a trap?

She chewed her lip. Kumeno would be pissed if she used her blood. But Kumeno wasn’t the one standing here with no information.

Fuck it.

She dragged her sleeve up. A barely healed wound from two days ago—She used her fingernails to rip up part of the scab. Blood welled up, dark and warm. Sumire grabbed the edge of the red curtain, smearing the blood onto the fabric. Then she slid down the tiled roof, perched on the edge, waiting.

Nothing happened.

Kunemo shouted, a hiss followed, then a loud bang echoed.

Sumire tensed. That was bad. Or good. No, probably bad. Kunemo was not as skilled as she was. 

She quickly inched back to the window, peeking over the ledge. Darkness. The moonlight barely reached inside. Silence pressed against her ears. Movement flashed from her peripheral vision, a figure scuttled into the farthest corner of the main room.

Sumire unsheathed her sword and pushed off, landing in a low crouch. The thump of her landing echoed. Damn it.

She watched, and for an imperceptible moment, Sumire could feel the presence of someone there. Demon? She didn’t think so, their presence was closer to a human's. And she didn’t hear the ragged breaths that she associated with rabid demons. 

“Show yourself. If you don’t, I’ll assume you're the demon.” Scare tactics were normally not how you comforted the people wrapped up in all of this. 

Sumire heard a shuffle and then a quiet voice.

“I…I am not that–that- thing.” A woman’s voice trembled in the dark. In the pale light of the moon, from the openings above, she saw a disheveled red hakama step into the light, a white ceremonial robe leading up to a young and very bruised face, to the point where Sumire couldn’t make out individual features. The woman was covered from head to toe with blood, and her clothes were wrecked beyond belief with cuts and holes. 

“What’s your name? Are you the head Minko?” Sumire turned her back on the woman, looking around her to see if there was anything else that might signal where Kumeno was and in what condition. 

“Yes–I am the head Minko–are you a…a–um?” The woman floundered for a name for what she was.

“I’m a Demon Slayer, I work for the Demon Corps. What’s your name?” Sumire found nothing in the recesses of the rest of the temple room. Nothing but an adjacent room that was completely dark, and the temple entrance that Kumeno had yelled at her through. The corridor to it was long, it made sense now why she couldn’t see anything the first time.

“There’s another one of you?” The woman’s voice was timid, but her question struck an odd note in Sumire’s mind.

“My…partner came in here. What did you say your name was?” Why hadn’t this woman answered her question about her name yet? And if she is in this room, shouldn’t she have seen Kunemo? Sumire began to trail along the edges of the room, looking for signs of Kumeno or where he went. 

THUD–

Sumire’s head shot up– nothing in the room had changed. The woman seemed to jump at the noise. Sumire narrowed her eyes at the woman. Sumire may not feel fear of death, but she did feel unease and fear for others. She looked to the dark room, The woman continued to look at her, not shifting her focus to where the sound had come from. Sumire’s wound wasn’t bleeding anymore. 

“You should leave. It’s not safe here. Just by the name of my job, the probable things you’ve see you should get to safety. The barrier on the tori gate is no longer there.” She addressed her firmly. Keeping her eyes on the dark room and the woman. 

She saw the woman's body shift to the side a bit, her knees looking like they would buckle. Something was very wrong in this room. Something was wrong with this woman. 

“I don’t think I can leave, Miss.”

What? Why? Sumire didn’t answer; her heart weighed heavily looking at this woman. 

Sumire looked toward the entrance. The corridor was long, but she could see the still flickering light from an abandoned lantern swaying at the far end, casting shadows that seemed to shift on their own. The torii gate outside was visible through the open entrance. Why didn’t she try to get out? Why was she not crying? Was she in shock? Where was Kumeno? Where was the demon? 

Something was keeping her in this room. A barrier? Or…

Keeping her movements slow, Sumire skirted the edge of the large room. Pillars of aged wood held up the roof, crimson curtains hanging between them, swaying slightly with the cool breeze that flew through the entrances.

She let her gaze drift back to the woman. In a better light, the details were clearer—her face was mottled with deep bruises, almost unrecognizable. Her long hair had fallen loose from what had likely been an intricate traditional style. And though she stood, something about her posture was all wrong.

Leaning. Hunched. As Sumire rounded another pillar, her breath seized in her throat. From the side, she could finally see the woman’s head fully, and behind her, a second figure stood. Smaller and paler.

Sumire’s mind reeled as understanding crashed over her. She had never actually seen the woman’s lips move. She had never seen her mouth open.

Because she hadn’t been the one speaking.

The second figure—its skin sickly, too pale to be normal—was dressed in the robes of a miko. Her ink-black hair spilled long and straight over her shoulders, and her head turned slightly—not toward Sumire, not even toward the woman, but toward the darkened ritual room.

She swallowed, a weird, nauseating feeling overcoming her as she looked at them.

‘It’s just like that little girl.’

“What is your name? I don’t think you told me.” Sumire waited and watched the demon and the woman’s mouth. 

The woman didn’t respond; the demon did. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.” 

Fuck…

That Head Minko was very, very dead. Sumire wouldn’t let this demon desecrate the woman's body. But–but on the chance that she wasn’t dead, Sumire would do everything in her power to save her. 

Sumire’s heart thundered. She didn’t know how the demon art worked, but an educated guess told her it had to do with its eyes. There are only two rooms, and Kumeno, alive or dead, was not in this one, which meant that he was in that other room. 

And if the demon was keeping him in that room, then he was probably alive. But if that was the case, then…what was she supposed to do out here?

Sumire could try to attack her, she could open up a new wound, or she could keep talking.

“Why?” Sumire carefully pushed the sleeve of her haori up, continuously looking at the demon behind the woman. 

“Your job is to save me– not talk to me.” The demon made the “woman’s” voice sound confused and petulant. 

Sumire felt the cool of her blade against her arm. She felt the edge of a scabbed cut–

“I suppose that’s true. But in that case–I apologize, Miss, I failed you.” She addressed the dead woman as Sumire sliced through the scab, and blood rushed to the cut, welling and falling onto the floor, some of it getting on her haori. 

The reaction of the demon was instant.

“Merachi! Merachi! Hah, hahaha, hah! I knew what I smelt early had to be true!” The demon’s voice was a hysterically high female voice. 

She hadn’t had enough blood last time. Kumeno must have distracted the demon from going after her and then gotten sealed in that room, and now Sumire was being led into a trap of the demon’s making. 

‘If I hadn’t waited at the roof, that woman might be alive.’

The demon snapped its head to Sumire– SHINK– the demon's claws released from the woman’s body, and she began to fall to the floor. Sumire dashed for the woman's body. The demon lunged for Sumire, but at the last second, the demon was knocked away by a torrent of wind. Fucking Kumeno. 

“Sumrie, what did I say about the blood!” She didn’t spare him a glance as she caught the woman’s body, gently setting her down on the ground. Sumire brought two fingers up to the woman’s throat to find a pulse as she responded. 

“Fuck off Kumeno– It’s a viable stratagy!” Sumire grunted as she searched for a puls

One second, then two. Sumire felt nothing. But as she drew her hand away, she felt a vein jump.

She pressed her hand back, thinking it a fluke. But after another three seconds, she felt it again- She wasn’t dead. Not yet. 

‘Thank goodness–’

Sumire sheathed her sword. 

She gathered the woman into her arms, hefting her up in a fireman's hold and turned sharply; Kumeno was holding the demon at bay, keeping it from getting to her. But she could see the wounds littering his arms and legs, blood wetting parts of his uniform. Calling out to him would be suicidal—one moment of distraction could mean his death.

If she got the woman outside, she could give Katsu orders and come back before anything got worse.

She moved as fast as she could despite the weight slowing her down, each step heavy and deliberate. The corridor stretched longer than she remembered, and as she neared the entrance, she called out, her voice cutting through the air.

“Katsu! Katsu, get a Kakushi right now! I’ve got an injured woman!”

She couldn’t see her raven from where she was.

“Caw—Right—” Katsu’s reply was cut off.

Impact–

Sumire slammed into something solid. The entrance, which had been right there, might as well have been a stone wall. The force sent her reeling, her head colliding against the invisible barrier with a sickening crack.

Stars burst in her vision. She staggered back, knees nearly buckling, but she tightened her grip around the woman, refusing to drop her. Her skull throbbed, her thoughts momentarily sluggish.

Great. Just what she fucking needed—exhaustion and a self-inflicted concussion.

The woman in her arms felt heavier, her weight dragging at Sumire’s already screaming muscles. She forced a breath into her lungs, forcing blood to her head to stay upright. Blinking past the haze, she turned, eyes scanning the temple’s dimly lit hallway. That lone, swaying lantern made it difficult to see past a certain point, but the demon was watching her.

Or rather—watching the entrance.

Something clicked. The demon had to look at where the barriers would appear.

That meant Kumeno had disrupted it earlier and gotten trapped in that other room. But… did that mean the demon needed walls for its Blood Art? Did it need doorways?

Sumire’s gaze flicked from the entrance to the woman in her arms.

She needed help now. If the Kakushi couldn’t get to her, then—

Setting the woman down, Sumire unsheathed her katana in a single, fluid motion.

Breathe in–

‘Fourth Kata – Burning Paradise.’

Two parallel horizontal slashes. Another two verticals. The wooden wall beside the entrance shattered, debris exploding outward. Wasting no time, Sumire hoisted the woman back up and squeezed through the opening.

A piercing shriek split the air behind her– She stumbled, her foot catching on jagged wood—there was no engawa here. Just a drop.

Her right ankle twisted as she hit the ground, a sharp burst of pain shooting up her leg. She gritted her teeth, shifting her weight to her uninjured foot before she and the woman could fully collapse.

A hiss escaped her lips. She exhaled sharply, testing her ankle. It hurt. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision, but it could hold her weight. Not broken, then.

Biting back a curse, she gripped the woman tightly and moved.The torii gate wasn’t far. If she got the woman outside, the demon wouldn’t follow.

Once past the threshold, Sumire carefully set the woman down, her hands moving fast despite the sluggish exhaustion creeping into her limbs. No amount of shallow medical knowledge would save her, but Sumire could at least give her a fighting chance. She hoped this woman had a strong will to live—she would need it.

Sumire tore strips from the woman’s already ruined hakama, tying them tightly around the woman’s torso to slow the blood loss. If there was internal bleeding, then at least she wouldn’t hemorrhage as quickly. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could do.

She gave the woman a quick once-over, nodded to herself, then forced herself to stand. Pain lanced through her ankle. She gritted her teeth and pushed through, sprinting back inside, her katana still gripped in her right hand.

As she neared the entrance, she hesitated, throwing a hand out in front of her. No way in hell she was slamming into another damn barrier.

Her fingers met nothing but air. The barrier was gone.

Unfortunately, it seemed this demon wasn’t stupid enough to put itself in a position where it had no advantage.

Sumire darted past the entrance. The lone lantern still swung lazily, its dim flame flickering in the stale, smoky air. A very, very stupid idea struck her. She could burn the temple down. No walls meant no barriers.

‘That’s really stupid, Sumire—’

Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed the lantern. She wouldn’t burn the temple down… yet. First, she needed to fight the demon and see if that was even a viable plan.

Her foot caught on a fallen beam as she rushed into the main chamber. She barely managed to stay upright, cursing under her breath. She quickly set the lantern to the side, inside the temple, far enough away that the demon couldn’t block her from reaching it if she needed it.

Her eyes darted around the chamber—Kumeno was losing ground. He dodged backward, his steps slowing, his breath becoming ragged. His back hit something that wasn’t there—another damn barrier.

Sumire’s stomach dropped.

The moment Kumeno lost his momentum, the barrier vanished. The demon pounced, using his falter as an opening. A blur of inky black hair, swallowing all light.

Sumire didn’t think.

She breathed in—

First Kata – Whirling Inferno.

She lunged.

The moment her foot hit the ground, agony flared white-hot through her right ankle. Her leg buckled mid-swing, throwing her off-balance. Her katana arced downward instead of across the demon’s neck, slicing clean through its leg instead.

Sumire hit the ground, rolling into the momentum of her strike, but the dizziness crashed into her like a wave. Her head pounded, and her vision blurred at the edges. Stupid. She clenched her teeth.

Kumeno was standing now, panting hard.

“You—you alright?”

Sumire had the strongest urge to roll her eyes. “I should be asking you that, asshole! Next time, we are not splitting up!”

‘Next time?’

She pushed herself upright and immediately regretted it. The ground wavered beneath her. Kumeno reached out, but she barely noticed—her eyes were locked on the demon, its severed leg already beginning to regenerate. All thoughts of the future or past felt wiped from her mind.

“Don’t get distracted—” Sumire snapped, pointing her katana at the demon while pressing a hand to her pounding skull. “That thing is getting up!”

Kumeno’s gaze snapped to it, and in an instant, he surged forward.

“Second Form: Claws, Purifying Wind!”

Sumire groaned, shuffling through the debris as fast as she could, trying to flank the demon. If it looked up, it wouldn’t be able to block both of them.

“Quit shouting your techniques, idiot! It gives them away!” She hauled herself over a fallen beam, the movement jarring enough to send another spike of pain ricocheting through her skull. She grunted, her own voice drilling into her brain like a hammer.

So many times, she’d wondered why people said their moves out loud. It was like giving their opponent a goddamn manual on how to dodge.

“Sorry—didn’t think about it like that!” Kumeno’s voice was muffled through the fog in her mind.

The demon hissed. A deep, guttural growl echoed through the chamber, rattling the walls, the sound vibrating in Sumire’s bones.

She tightened her grip on her katana.

One good attack. One good one. That was all she needed. Then she could fucking sleep. 

Sumire leaned against a tall wooden pillar as the demon focused its attention on Kumeno. 

She couldn't care less what tragic backstory this demon had from when it had been human. It was a groundskeeper dressed as a Minko. Clearly, whoever they had been was jealous. And when they got the opportunity to achieve the ‘power’ to become the head Minko, they allowed a parasite to take them over and turn them into flesh-eating monsters. 

Power to change their puny lives– is that how she heard it in her last life? Power made people into fools. Power…if they wanted power, they should have worked for it just like the rest of the world. Taking the short path only ever leads to severe drawbacks. 

Those who did not have a choice were the demons who deserved her mercy. This demon–needed a lesson in sucking it the fuck up. Sumire readied herself–she had one shot. 

Kumeno’s eyes glanced at her for only a second, but he nodded, dodging away from any doorways to keep the demon from using its blood art. Breath in—

Third Kata - Fake Radiance

Sumire pushed oxygen into her feet and calves, and thighs, forcing them to move as fast as she possibly could. Right foot– she gritted her teeth–left, she launched up using her good leg–not as high as she would have wanted, and her katana crested above her. 

Hot steam hissed through her lips, and Sumire’s eyes narrowed in on the demon's movement. Kumeno pushed it back with the force of a kata, right under her.

Sumire brought her blade down, her burning fury and pain practically manifesting itself in the air as a sweltering heat as she felt and saw her brilliant green blade slide through the demon's neck. 

Sumire rolled to her left on her good foot, her body collapsing out in a starfish next to the fallen beam. Her head pounded, but she raised it to make sure the demon was dead. Never since her first few months of training had she felt this tired. 

Her vision blurred, then righted itself, and she saw Kunemo staring mournfully at the demon's severed head. 

A flash of anger pierced her chest, “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for it?” Sumire grunted as she turned onto her side. Her katana was abandoned behind her as she watched Kunemo and the demon. 

Its body slowly faded, but its head nearly already crumbled to ash. 

“It's…That's not it.” Kunemo looked into Sumire’s eyes. “I feel a sense of remorse when I look at them. I wish I had met them sooner so that this wouldn’t have been their fate.” 

Sumire paused and narrowed her eyes, “That is the most naive thing I’ve heard in a while. A person who wants power isn’t simply going to change because they had a single conversation.” 

Sumire’s lungs seized, and she coughed. Instinctively, she covered her mouth with the sleeve of her haori. She cringed, but tears formed from how hard she coughed and escaped her eyes. Kunemo came to crouch beside her, placing a hand on her back. 

“That’s probably true, but you never know. There is always room for a little bit of hope.” His voice was irritable, soft, and his presence regrettably helped alleviate her anger. Sumrie allowed her body to flop onto her back. And opened her eyes to look Kunemo in the face. 

He had the same look she had seen back when she first met him. Sad, but not pity, just infinite understanding. 

Hope. 

She had hoped that the woman was alive, and was still alive at this very moment. But she didn’t hope for the demon, whose time had already passed. The human inside it made a foolish decision, and this is how it played out.