Disclaimer:I do not own any of the Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba characters/properties and I am not attempting to say I do while making this fictional, and fan-made, story. They are owned by Koyaharu Gotouge, Shonen Jump Comics, Ufotable, VIZ Media, Aniplex of America, and any other party(ies) associated with the official release of this series.
The character Aiya, as well as the seamstresses and other various people, are of my creation. Any resemblance to these characters (real or fictitious), be it by name, appearance or characteristics is purely coincidental.
Chapter Rating: Mature
Chapter Warning(s): Mentions of PTSD, war, death, and suicide.
Manga Spoilers: Spoilers of the Mugan Train arc/movie (up to chapter 69).
Chapter Terminology:
Bento: a lacquered or decorated wooden Japanese lunchbox.
Honorifics
Sama: Very polite. Used as a deep respect of someone of a higher position than your own. (Politicians, monks, figure heads, ect…)
San: Polite equivalent of Mr. or Ms.
Kun: Male close friends, peers, or lovers. Can be used for children and adults.
Chan: Female close friends, peers, or lovers. Can be used for children and adults.
Yobisute: The act of not using a honorific after someone's name. Can be seen as vulgar or impolite but can also portray extremely close friends or married couples.
Aiya slept without worry throughout the night. Her chest rising and falling steadily in the cooled autumn room. Soothing sounds of light breathing escaping her lips in the serene moment in time; for Sanemi slept beside her.
With the nature of his profession, Sanemi was typically on missions, patrol, or, in the unusual occasion he had a night off, would pace the halls of their home throughout the night. Sleeping in short spans during the day between training regiments.
This night was a rarity as he laid beside her and permitted himself to sleep without the sun's protection. Aiya knew the mission he had recently returned from was a taxing one, but for him to do such a thing was unexpected. She did not question it and welcomed the change by curling up next to him. Succumbing to her own fatigue at the sound of his stable breathing.
Dreams of childhood memories and honeyed wishes filled her subconscious when something jabbed her side, waking Aiya with a jolt. Heart pounding, alert green eyes scanned her immediate area. Night was a sensitive and terrifying time of day for the people within the estate and being nudged awake was never a good sign. With heavy breathes Aiya rose to her forearm, expecting to see Sanemi, or one of the resident Kakushi, waiting to lead her to another location. Yet, there was none, and it was simply her sitting alone in the still darkness. Until sharp exhales of air came from the futon next to her.
Sanemi's body was curled into an uncomfortably tight ball. His jaw stiff, and teeth grinding against each other. His nostrils flared with every struggling breath and sweat dewed his forehead.
Aiya placed a hand on his arm, her finger pressing into his skin. She had walked in on him in similar situations during his daytime slumbers. The weight of her hand typically enough to sooth him back into a relaxed silence. However, this time, at the feel of her touch, his body flinched and drew away from her.
That was when Sanemi began to moan. A deep, horrifying sound, shaking Aiya to the bone. His body trembled as his fingers coiled into themselves. Skin red and hot with strain. Drawing closer to him, Aiya leaned over Sanemi's body. Taking a hold of his arms, she shook him.
"Sanemi." She called out to him. He needed to wake. Her heartbeat quickened at his worsening state. Throat dry, her voice broke. "S-Sanemi!"
Tightly shut eyes snapped open. Purple iris slim against the expanding pupils. A scarred forearm was across her chest before she could register he was awake. In one fluid motion, she was pushed off him and flipped to her back. With his forearm still locking her to the futon mattress, he raised his opposite arm in a fashion resembling him holding a blade. She knew this stance; it was one of the forms he studied in the dojo of their home. The air around him thick with the aura of death. Making it hard for her breath regardless of the arm pushing into her chest.
Despite his movements, his eyes were what scared her most of all. Glazed drunk with hatred and pain in a way she never seen before. Glowing against the moon's light, they peered down at her through the darkness. She had never shied away or been afraid of him before, even with his attitude and constant outbursts. But this, this was something different entirely. He was possessed. Hungry for her head to be detached from her body. This was no long Sanemi. The man who would hold her against him with strong arms or return from mission with gifts from neighboring villages.
This was the Wind Pillar.
The crazed swordman she had always heard about in stories of the other slayers. A mad man who would fly into battle. Bathing in demon blood and reveling in their death. Perhaps it was the familiarity of his night's work. Or it could have been years upon years of this relentless and fruitless lifestyle. But he wanted, and would kill her, and she did not even raise her hands to defend herself. Knowing, by his eyes alone, she could do nothing to stop him.
Then, as if a light had gone off in her mind, Aiya understood the initial odd looks people would give her when they found out about the two. Fear. Panic. Confusion. Worry. Who wouldn't be worried for her safety, having experienced these eyes before?
His chest rose and fell in short haggard breaths and his eyes, for the first time, left her. Glancing back and forth within the dark room, his terrorizing features lessened as confusion at his surroundings broke through. Aiya dared to take a breath, rising her chest against his heavy forearm. Deranged eyes darted back to her and, as if seeing her beneath him for the first time, all remanence of the hardened warrior shattered and drained from him. A horrified expression in its wake.
He removed himself from her with one quick movement. His face pale and worried as a hand reached out to her. How could two vastly different people inhabit the same body? This whole time, is this what he acted like towards others? Was he putting on some act for her sake? Was the person before now the real him, or was the madman?
Will she ever know the real him?
She rose to a sitting position and jumped at Sanemi's fingers on her arm. Aiya leaned away from him. Even with their gentle and cautious demeanor, she found herself unable to be touched by him at this moment. An action causing the Hashira to look away from her and draw his hand back to himself.
Looking down, Aiya noticed her yukata had become loose. The cotton fabric revealing the skin of her upper chest while slipping from one shoulder. Taking the folds in her fingers, she securely wrapped the cloth around her body. The tips of her ears burning.
"I-I'm going to go out for a while."
Without looking at him, she stood and walked away from the bedding. He did not speak, but she could feel his eyes on her as she left the room.
-x-x-
Sanemi's chest tightened as Aiya drew away from him. A deep, hollow ache he hadn't felt in years threatened to swallow him whole. She had never done this before, and he did not know how to respond to it. He was used to others flinching away yes, but not her. Never her. No matter what he had done, she had always deflected it and stayed her teasing, defiant self.
Then again, he had never attacked her before tonight either.
She had never seen that side of him before. Always able to keep that part of himself in check while around her. The side that was reserved for battle and death, and he was unable to do anything as he watched her slip through his fingers. Observing her thin and reclusive form as she rose and left their room.
Was it even their room anymore?
Sanemi sat and listened. Her footsteps were soft, and he found himself straining to keep a lock on her. Thankfully, none of the exterior doors had been opened, signifying she had not deserted him yet. His hands clenched as they lay upon his lap. He wanted to go to her. Say something to her during this time. Yet, he did not. He merely sat and waited. Not knowing what to do or say in this situation.
The tightening of his chest grew as the cool night did little to stifle his rising temperature. The thought of her walking out into the night, losing her, sent waves of panic washing over him. It was the last thing he had wanted. It had only been a few months since her relocation into the Wind Mansion, but it had been over a year now that she had infiltrated his life. Weaving her way into him and burring herself deep. An intense, unapologetic need consuming him-
Need?
Did he need her?
Swallowing hard, alone in the dark room, he allowed himself to freely think.
Yes, he did.
He needed her to be awaiting his return. A futon spread in the master's suite of the mansion, ready at any time with citrus scented bedding. He needed her fidgeting hands, searching for something to do when she was stressed. The bento she insisted on making every morning, despite him telling her he seldom ate during the day. Her chattiness at supper, retelling the seamstresses' gossiping chain with what was filled with illogical rumors.
He needed her straightforward smile staring up at him. Always at him.
Not the fear painted eyes of someone who had given up on life and accepted death…
Her footsteps were loud. While in his own thoughts, Sanemi had not noticed her approach until she was at the room's entrance. With a painfully slow opening door, Sanemi's eyes lay on her. Her face pale and on the verge of breaking as small tray clasped in her hand.
She looked anywhere but at him while stepping into the room. He wanted to look away as well, the odd sensation of shame creeping through his body, but he remained in place. Unwilling to take his eyes from her and let her slip away again.
She sat next to him, placing the tray, which held a small cup of tea on it, next to them on the floor. Aiya's body was stiff, rigid, and straight. Looking more like an attendant rather than a woman in her own home. How he had wanted to touch her, return to the comfortable familiarity of a few hours ago. His hands rested in his lap, willing them to keep off her frame. What had happened between them was unintentional, but it had happened. Forcing the event away would only harm the recovery at this point. She had to make the first move and he needed to wait.
She never looked at him, regardless of his constant focus on her. Every intake of breath, every movement he tried to decipher and find a hidden meaning behind them. Anything to fill the gaping hole of her silence towards him.
When she did move, she leaned forward. In Sanemi's heightened state, it appeared she was raising once again to her feet. Unwilling to let her out of his sight, he lunged forward and nearly grabbed her wrist. Realizing what he was about to do, he stopped and recoiled. Her eyes went wide, the sudden movement startling her. But as she looked into his eyes, her fear melted, and she put a hand to the side of his face.
"You are always in such a hurry, you never let me finish." Removing her hand from his face, she picked up the small cup of tea and handed it to him. "It will help."
Sanemi blinked as he looked away from her gentle face. Taking the cup, he put the rim to his lips and slipped the hot drink. The honey sweetened liquid was cooled by the lavender buds brewed within. Soothing his raw throat and unhinged nerves.
He let out a heavy sigh and allowed his shoulder to drop. "I thought…" He could not finish, and it was now his turn to avoid her attentive stare.
"You thought I was going to leave?" She pondered. His eyes glanced at her as he took another drink of the tea.
Receiving her answer, she smiled and scooted closer to him. "I will admit I was scared, terrified even. I have never seen you like that. Is that what you are like on missions?"
His eye shut and he thought about lying, but didn't. "More or less."
Finishing the tea, he placed the cup back onto the tray. "It was something I never wanted you to see."
She chuckled dryly. "It was something I needed to see. Frightening as it was, it would be stupid of me to think that this life has not affected you. Please excuse the expression, but we all have our demons to face. Some more than others-" Her hand touched the top of his. Cold fingers hesitating before spreading across his skin and lacing their fingers.
"And I want to be here for you. I-I want to help support you."
Sanemi looked to Aiya. Her green eyes focused and welcoming. Drawing him in with warmth, openness and understanding. Then, she leaned in closer. The side of her body pressed against his arm and her head rested on his shoulder. He could feel her body shaking against him and he gave her hand a squeeze.
"What was the dream about?" Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.
Sanemi closed his eyes. Shocking and horrible images flashed across his memory. Death. Chaos. Blood. The moon. Red. Black. Screaming. All of it coming together at once. Blurring and stringing several different encounters into one solidified event.
"The life." It was painful to say. His lungs crushing under the weight of it all.
"Was it because of Rengoku-Sama, the dream that is?"
Sanemi's body tensed, but he did not answer. His former peer was not directly within his nightmare, but the news of his death had agitated Sanemi. Driving him further into a stress induced corner.
"It's alright if it was. The news of his death sent waves of shock throughout the estate. I went to see Senjuro-Kun the other day, the poor thing is still such a mess." Raising her head from his shoulder, Sanemi looked down at her. A deep sorrow casting over her face, making her appear older, more beaten down than she was.
Sanemi knew she too was morning the Flame Hashira. In her own way, while still attending to her duties within her small gossiping world and pushing forward as best she could.
Pressing his forehead to hers, his heart rate increase. "Yes…and no. I think it started because of Rengoku-San. He was one of the strongest, yet he still fell. If he was able fall, then what chance do any of us have? What is the point?"
The sudden movement of her body made Sanemi almost loose his balance.
"You can't think like that!" Her hands were at his face. The ghost of her momentary depression slipping away for a monster ruled by alarm. "Rengoku-Sama was strong, yes, but he was not the strongest. And-And he could have become stronger. You all can become stronger. You all could live and see an end to this war!"
Sanemi allowed a smirk to spread across his lips as a hand came to the back of Aiya's neck. Fingers lacing through her hair. "There is reason why they call it the Endless War you know."
Aiya puffed out her cheeks. "No, I believe this war will end one day and Muzan will finally be dead. There will be a day where everyone can sleep throughout the night and all this loss won't be for nothing."
There was a childlike innocence to her words, and it made him want to believe such an idea was indeed possible. An end to all of this evil, death and suffering. A day they could live by the sun and not the moon.
Pulling her into his arm, Sanemi rested his head on top of hers. Inhaling the scent of her hair, he allowed himself to dream. Imagine a day in which her words would be truth and not fairly-tales told by orphaned children in their cruel reality.
A/N: Here is the forth installment. Thank you so much to everyone who is supporting this fic. I know writing about an OC is kind of a taboo subject, but I am truly grateful people are enjoying this series.
I hope you all enjoyed!
Silk Series Playlist:
"Hurts Like Hell" - Fleurie
"Hallelujah" - Demon in Me
