CHAPTER 2

Every day, someone came to change the position of his bindings so as to not damage his skin, and every day, Tanjirou's loneliness grew with the tingling brush of someone's fingers on his body. He had no sense of time other than that one marker, his waking hours looking forward to the sliver of light that fell through the crack of the door when it opened. He spent his time in a daze, the sensation of hunger was an ache he was resigned to, the dryness of his lips when his equally dry tongue flicked out in an attempt to wet them. Surely they couldn't leave him there much longer without him dying of thirst? But every few flashes of light came with a small cup of water he choked down, leaving him nauseated where it sat in his empty stomach for hours.

He had woken up in this gentle oblivion unable to move at all and without any scents of people outside of his door. Instead, there was the overpowering smell of decay, and Tanjirou knew from many years of experience exactly what a dead body smelled like. He did not know exactly how long he had been unconscious, but there was nowhere where his body was in pain. It did not matter if his eyes were open or shut, there were only darkness and his own thoughts to occupy him.

At first, Tanjirou had asked how long he had been there, when had he arrived? But the guard gagged him with a scrap of cloth. Then he strained against his bindings, seeking an escape, but that left his wrists raw and red and made the guard knock him out with some awful-smelling substance. Tanjirou supposed that damaged goods weren't useful to whatever organization had taken him because his wrists and ankles were bandaged when he woke up.

Tanjirou liked to think he was smart enough to learn from his past mistakes, but the first time they had forced water down his throat he flinched so hard he ripped blisters into his upper arms and neck that still hadn't gone away. Those hadn't been bandaged until the next time the door was opened.

Tanjirou had prepared for pain, physical or otherwise, but maybe his enemy knew him better than he thought. Even after their family of eight had become a family of two, he was never apart from Nezuko for long, and finding friends in Zenitsu and Inosuke brought that feeling of belonging back into his life again. Not to say that Nezuko wasn't enough, but she was distant and still only one person. To be alone now, without even the notion of a presence outside his door, was worse than he ever could've imagined.

He remembered, so long ago now, when Nezuko had her first child, she had been so warm in his arms. Tanjirou had held children before, his siblings, his friend's children, and each time it had been so very warm, the hope of a child, that new spark that would change the world forever. He always ended up crying when holding a baby, that overwhelming feeling of happiness overtaking any peaceful expression he adopted.

What he'd give to feel the weight of such a wonder in his arms again, just something to remind him that he was real again.

Tanjirou began to drift again. He never fell into a true sleep, meandering among dreams and memories to pass the time in between the event he marked the days by. The door was due to open soon, not by any minute now, but soon. When it did, the buzz of human contact would ache and fulfill a tiny part of him at the same time. Tanjirou knew he couldn't be idle for long, even in his mind, but as the days passed his thoughts only became more incoherent until he found himself in his present state. He almost hated himself for it, the inaction, the hesitance. But he would endure. He had before.

The door opened, the sliver of light cut across the room and lay a shape on the back wall.

The smell of the person walking in was indistinguishable from the corpse that lay outside. Tanjirou looked to see a familiar face, the only one he had seen without some form of mask. Sutekina's bright pink irises glowed unnaturally in the dark, and she leaned back against the door to shut them in complete darkness yet again.

Her footsteps were light, barely able to be heard over the pulse in his own ears. Her gait was sure and steady, undeterred by the lack of light. She stopped in front of him and stood unnaturally still, staring with that piercing gaze, almost like a demon's in its intensity.

"I came in here to congratulate you, Tanjirou, but as I see you now I'm not so sure if that's warranted." She brought that corpse-smell closer, sickly sweet and palling. "Of course days of dehydration and hunger will do that to anyone. It's a wonder you haven't passed out. Not that you've been doing a lot of physical activity, I'm sure."

Tanjirou's shoulders ached from all the strain they were under. He looked at Sutekina tiredly.

"There's a story about a god called Loki. After Loki was captured from the net where he was shifted into a salmon, he was bound by the entrails of his youngest son to the rocks at the bottom of the cave, and acid dripped into his eyes from a serpent placed above him by Skadi, another goddess. This punishment was in retribution for the death of Baldr, whom Loki had killed." Sutekina looked at her cupped hands, imagining the bowl.

"His wife, Sigyn, would hold a bowl over his head to catch the venom, and every time she went to empty the bowl, the poison would fall into his eyes again and Loki would scream." Sutekina looked up at Tanjirou. "They say his agony was so great it shook the very earth."

Tanjirou coughed, once, twice. It didn't help the rasp in his voice. "Why are you telling me this?"

"There is no Sigyn to help you, Tanjirou," Sutekina continued, ignoring him. "I hope you know that, and I hope it knows you." She stepped closer, indicated only by the movement of her eyes. "Just as there is no snake, and there are no children to destroy in front of you. You are alone- though that may be an indication of your strength, it casts away your caution. Recklessness isn't something I expected from you, but they say never to meet your heroes."

"Am I your hero then?" Tanjirou asked quietly.

"No. That would require something more than a drawing and whispered tales," Sutekina said. She offered the cup to him, bringing it to his lips. Tanjirou felt a part of him unwind at the fact he wouldn't die of dehydration just yet.

"Why are you being so kind?" She still hadn't answered any of his questions. She blinked at him, tilting her head in a similar way to Overhaul.

"Is this what you see as kindness? The gentleness of things? A warm presence to comfort you in the midst of trials and tribulations? No, Tanjirou. I am not kind, and my gentleness comes from a place where kindness can never go. Never mistake me for kind, or lovely, because I've allowed myself to be claimed by rot and all that grows here is poison." She came yet closer, trailing a finger down the side of his face, his skin tingling where she touched it. "You would be able to do me no greater kindness than to slip back into the space you were in when I came in."

Tanjirou took a shuddering breath, in and out. His mind wanted to run, to plan, to fight, but he knew he had allowed himself to become useless. The only thing he could do was categorize information, review it, and even that was taxing to his muddled thoughts. Of course, he had played a high risk for a high reward, and this was the price. He would make sure that it didn't cost him too much.

Tanjirou snapped back into awareness when Sutekina's grip on his chin became painful. He looked up in shock, or surprise, and found only coldness in her eyes and the tilt of her smile.

Sutekina was a poet. The way the words turned into each other made sense, the way that the ligaments folded among the flesh made sense, and the strings connecting the two made sense. The synapses between them flashed more brightly than the sun, and Sutekina had the sun in front of her for poetry to fly in red ink.

The air chilled her teeth when she smiled, and Tanjirou winced at the opening of the gates. Scalding ink poured through her mind, she convinced herself that pain was pleasure, and she pulled his chin up sharply. The noise of pain she had wrought from the instrument that was a man only inspired her to create an orchestra of melodies, each coaxed from the ache of a joint and the peel of a finger.

His arms were held out in imitation of a different god than Norse, one more holy than any mortal could hope to become, though the stories painted both of them as pillars of kindness and sincerity. Of these people, only one was cuffed in metal and shadow, and only one had the relief that death brought in its sweeping cloak. Sutekina only brought agitation in her wake and sought to amplify the pain of living with everything she owned. She took hold of his arms and twisted them against the cuffs, cutting rings around his wrists.

It was her duty, her purpose, it was what she was designed for, and underneath her practiced hands, flesh would sing. So many people took the cookie-cutter designs of sonnets and limericks and filed them with meaningless odes to the breeze, but Sutekina cut the material for her verses from the most lovely thing of all. She grabbed his left shoulder, the one with the half-healed slice, and parted the skin slightly, allowing a stream of sluggish crimson to flow down the concave of Tanjirou's spine.

Sutekina was a poet. The words she wrote were thorned and metallic in the moist way blood was when it was half-dried in cloth. She laid out epics in bones and sinews, petals of marrow scattered among the letters and between the lines. She knew exactly how far she could push without causing permanent damage, and so she danced along that tightrope with the ease afforded to her by practice and the assurance that she was within her permissions.

Soon his breathing switched to match the rhythm of the poem, or her poem switched to dance on the tightrope of his pumping blood and the twitch of the cells in his body. His eyes became polished to emotionless gemstones in endless fractures of burgundy, the white sclera reflecting the rings of her irises when she looked at them. His mind was far away, which meant his body was a garden of possibilities, and there were always new seeds to be sown. Their roots would clamber through flesh and bring new life to an otherwise useless thing, strings swarming from a puppet and thread stitched tight against the skin.

His body began to shake, too slow to mimic the thrum of a guitar string. He strained against himself in his attempts to breathe properly, gasping for air that his body wouldn't take in. Sutekina stopped, rhythm broken. She sighed at the watercolor bruising at his joints, the marks on his skin that showed the displacement of his cartilage. The tapestry of pain she had caused was yet incomplete, but the resigned panic in the subject's eyes wasn't proper inspiration enough to continue.

The sliver of light flashed again and the sound of metal clattered against the ground, breaking the rhythm further. A shuddering gasp escaped the subject, a scream from the threshold. "What are you doing?"

The guard ran to the subject, pushing Sutekina aside. "Crap, crap, crap, he's not breathing, we need to get him down from these restraints!" The guard looked at her. "What are you doing! Help me! The subject is having some sort of attack!"

Laughter bubbled up from her throat. Sutekina could breathe just as little as Tanjirou for a moment. She stood off to the side while more guards and doctors rushed in, giggling while they spoke in terse murmurs and rushed to administer their cures. She laughed as they grabbed her by both shoulders and shook her, demanding to know what she was thinking, why she was doing this-

And later, when she was locked in an isolated room and her laughter died down, she would think of the look on the guard's face and start laughing again.

Kaiyo, despite only having been apprenticed to Kouun for a month, had developed the skill to know when her mood would change before anyone else could. He only had to stay quiet and watch her hands still at her side to an unnatural degree, the quiet before the storm as it was, and he knew her anger would explode. He wondered, half-seriously, if he could get her to therapy. It would make her easier to work with, less eggshells to step around. But that didn't matter, Kaiyo had made his choice and couldn't back out now.

Case in point, and the reason Kaiyo was thinking about otherwise irrelevant things, was that Kouun's hands had gone very, very still as soon as she had seen Sutekina's face. At an off glance, Kaiyo could see Miazuma's lips twitching at the corners in anticipation of Kouun's anger. Kairo wished he was like Overhaul, gone to do whatever yakuza stuff he did when he wasn't collecting his due from the hospital.

Sutekina bared her teeth in an approximation of a grin when she noticed Miazuma looking at her. That was all she could do before Kouun exploded.

"You sadistic bitch. This isn't your pleasure farm!" Kouun stormed up until they were nearly nose to nose, trembling with the force of her emotion. "You weren't even supposed to be looking at the subject's files, let alone in contact with it! You've only been here for two weeks and you've already overstepped your bounds."

As Kouun yelled down at Sutekina, her hand rose in preparation to slap her. But Miazuma raised a hand to stop her and she subsided, practically hissing, back into her chair. Kaiyo blinked at how easily she had stopped. Though her moods changed suddenly, they lingered in her quickened gait and deliberate movements.

"Sutekina, please sit down. There is a chair here for you." Miazuma spoke softly, and Kaiyo marveled at how loud their voice sounded in the silence. Sutekina sat down, completely unmasked, and wasn't that bold? Miazuma set their hands down on their lap. "How are you finding your time here, Sutekina?"

"Oh, It's lovely. Thank you for asking."

"I am glad that is so. I am afraid that last time we spoke was not very enlightening about anything besides your… passion for the medical field. May I ask what you did before you came here?"

"Well, nothing really. I was just living out in the open until I heard of the opportunities Overhaul provides for people with my sort of talent."

Something cold and syrupy began oozing into Kaiyo's marrow. He had heard those words before, from a different person at a different time.

"I see." And somehow those two words were calm and lightly given. "Overhaul is a generous person to find staff for my hospital, I will have to ask him about any new arrivals when he is here next."

"You're lucky Overhaul isn't here to punish you," Kouun interrupted, her voice heated. "He wouldn't be as merciful as Miazuma-hakase." She stopped suddenly, sitting back in her chair. Miazuma's head was turned to her, though Kaiyo couldn't tell where they were looking due to the blue veil they wore over their eyes.

"As Kouun has informed us, Overhaul is currently off the premises as he usually is. He will visit again soon to discuss progress with me." Miazuma continued smoothly, not a hint of emotion in their voice. "What was your goal in visiting Kamado Tanjirou last night?"

"I just wanted to see him. I've admired him for a long time, and thought to see how he was coping with his… punishment. I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up." The easy smile on her face flickered to something like menace. "He was pathetic."

"What makes you say that?"

"He was incoherent, his ribs poked out from his skin, and his flesh parted under my hands like water. I thought such a legend would be more resilient, so I tested him and he failed yet again. He'll be much stronger after this."

Miazuma shifted their hands so that one was on top of the other. "Do you know this from experience or your intuition?"

"Do you know how easy it is to take control of someone?" Sutekina responded. "All it takes is the right responses to get them to trust you, to rely on you for guidance, and you can nudge them towards the things you need. The perfect, prim little underling. Obedient. They'd never think you would have a brain under all of those bones."

Sutekina smiled at Kaiyo, as if sensing the growing horror in his stomach. 'We are alike,' her eyes seemed to say, bright and unwavering. 'You and me, we're from the same place.' And it was true. Rejected by the world for some reason or another (though Kaiyo had a suspicion of why she had been) and ending up in the only place that would take them and wouldn't ask too many questions. In the overwhelming influx of new staff for the failing hospital, somehow they had been noticed and become apprentices of senior staff.

["Hello?" He whispered, throat dry and lips cracked. "I need to speak to Overhaul, or um. Whoever owns this place."

The figure, tall, imposing, silent. It was a summer night, hazy and late enough that the sun had already set. Light shone out of the room behind them leaving their body shadowed behind the brilliance of it.

"Oh, um. Sorry. Its just I don't have anywhere to go and I heard- well, I can." He took a breath. Started over. "I'm here to offer my services for this hospital in exchange for a place to live. You don't have to pay me, or anything. It would be really helpful and I can learn anything you need me to, but i already know a lot so- not to sound arrogant but I mean I jus-"

The figure held up a hand to stop his sentence. They took a step forward, so the light was cast on their face, and all of Kaiyo's words fell away at the set line of their mouth. He stared at them for a few moments, waiting for anything like an answer, and they nodded.

"Come in please. Have you been outside long?"

"Y-yes."

"You may work here. I will get you a glass of water.

"Oh, thank you." And then Kaiyo realized what they said. "Oh! Oh, thank you, I won't let you down, I promise!"

They just smiled and led him inside.]

"And how did you come to this facility? I did not hear from Overhaul about you until a few weeks ago."

"Overhaul found me sitting on the doorstep of a pawn shop. I used to talk to the owner but he doesn't like me much anymore." Sutekina's voice became heady with the childish notion of telling a secret. "Of course, he doesn't have a cat anymore either."

"Hm."

[Sutekina's face was pressed into the red rust of the bricks and the tang of river-smell in the back of her throat was the only thing she could understand in the brain bake of the noonday sun. The storm had left her wet and feeling the stuttered and muted feelings of waxing apathy- there was nothing she could do but lay against the wall, curled up, eyes wandering. Something scuttled along the alleyway, unafraid as if sensing that she was kin. A rat, and she was reminded of the rotting smell in the corner where the brick met gray stone.

She shifted to look at it better, and the rat froze. It was looming and stark against the red brick across the way. Its eyes glittered like black beetle stones. She loosened her grip on her arm where they were crossed, and lunged to grab it before it could run. It writhed in her hand and she brought it close to hold against her chest, curling back up. She squeezed and it twitched, twitched, and fell still.

Meals came from anywhere, after all. A red deeper than the brick ran rivulets down her chin.

"Hey. What are you doing?"

She froze, turned around. Smiled. Tiny hands and tiny feet lay in a line, the ribs were too small to separate.

"You're very good at that, aren't you. How would you like to learn to be a doctor?" His eyes glittered gold and dark, but they were just as lifeless as the beady beetle shell eyes of the creature in front of her.]

"I do not have any more questions. Is there anything you would like to do before your punishment?"

"No, I've already done what I needed to."

"Then I will call someone to escort you to your room. You will be on probation after your initial 3 days of remaining alone."

["What did I tell you about using that villainous quirk in front of me? You know what happens now."

"I-I'm sorry I-"

"If you were sorry you wouldn't have done it. Come here." He grabbed Kaiyo's arm, hard. He didn't cry out at the pain, not at this point. He marched him to the Dark Room and closed the door behind him, leaving Kaiyo alone in the dark.

Sobs came in heaving breaths, as quiet as possible, not willing to risk His ire at the noise. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to I'm sorr-]

Sutekina only smiled, a self indulgent little thing as if she knew what was running through Kaiyo's head, mocking him for his weakness, his disgust. Kaiyo began counting his breaths. He couldn't show weakness here, especially not in front of Miazuma and Kouun, even if it was in the pace of the air filling his lungs.

Miazuma made a gesture and a guard watching on the outside of the door entered the room to restrain Sutekina and take her away. Kaiyo felt the spiking tension in his bones drain away as her silhouette retreated. Miazuma turned their face to him, frowning slightly in an unspoken question. Are you alright? Kaiyo nodded almost imperceptibly.

Kouun had then taken it upon herself to make him a liar, standing up and exploding once again, whatever righteousness that had been in her fury drained by her hatred for Sutekina, and Kaiyo was lost to the present once again.

[Kaiyo nodded sweetly, that little smile tilting the corners of his mouth. "Yes, I agree"

"Right?" He scoffed, "And obviously people should stay the way they are, as they were made." he turned to Kaiyo, finger poking into his chest too close too close- "Remember this: you stay away from people like them- freaks, all of 'em."

"Of course."

"Damn kid, can't even think enough to respond other than a 'yes sir, of course sir.' What did I do to get such a idiotic kid."

Kaiyo didn't know what he wanted from him. He just wanted to be alone.]

Miazuma stood up, stopping Kouun in the middle of her rant about disrespect and proper punishments, and Kaiyo's rampant memories. Why had Sutekina shaken him up so much? She was just another person, and Kaiyo would have to learn to live in her presence just like he had with Kouun and Overhaul and all of the rest of the sick people in this sick place.

Kouun's fists clenched at her sides and she stormed out of the room, leaving just Kaiyo and Miazuma alone. They were isolated from each other by innumerable things, and yet a few feet held the apart.

"Kaiyo," Miazuma asked quietly, filling the silence that had returned once again. "I am sorry you had to listen to this. I do not like it either."

Kaiyo let out a breath, shuddering. "I'm fine. I'll have to get used to it sometime right?" He tried to smile but it wobbled on its way and he was ever grateful for the mask covering his face.

Miazuma regarded him silently for a few moments. "Of course. I did not mean to insinuate that you could not. I believe it is your off shift coming up? You may leave early for that. If Kouun asks for you please tell her that I have given you permission."

"Thank you, Miazuma-hakase." Kaiyo stood, scraping together the remnants of his dignity for a short bow in Miazuma's direction. The gratefulness he felt thankfully didn't slip into his tone, but he felt it as strongly as the horror he had felt before. "Am I dismissed?"

"Yes." They turned away slightly, sitting in their chair again. Kaiyo hesitated for a few moments, but began the long walk back to the living quarters. He took another deep breath, he kept forgetting to breathe, and glanced back in time to see Miazuma put their face in their hands.

Maybe Kaiyo was less alone than he had first thought.

It was the most beautiful day Tanjirou had seen since yesterday. The sun sparkled over the raindrops still caught in the leaves and the crevices of the flowers; Nezuko's children, Nemire and Tanjerou, both sat in the grass among the rows of the garden. Tanjirou sat on knees that ached too much for someone of 24 and watched them play with the dolls Nezuko and he had made when they were little. Nezuko herself was humming a tune to herself while she sewed in the other room, a familiar tune about a little rabbit. Tanjirou smiled softly to himself and looked over the children further down where the flowers cascaded down the hill. A figure walked slowly up the winding dirt path, well traversed over the years since they had rebuilt the Kamado family's small home into one free of blood and the dark memories that came in bright red.

The man who walked up the hill was tall, holding a thick stack of paper- and with that hair it was unmistakably Senjurou. He looked up with those bright eyes and raised a hand in greeting, shifting the things he was carrying in his other arm. "Tanjirou! Nezuko!"

Tanjirou waved his hand, and the children ran towards Senjurou, Tanjerou tripping in all the clumsiness of a two year old. Senjurou didn't dare put down his precious papers, stumbling as Nemire ran into his legs. Tanjirou couldn't hear what they said to each other but Senjurou's face was mock serious as he spoke, only smiling once he had brought Nemire and her brother to childish indignation. He looked up, almost breathless from his boisterous laughter. Tanjirou couldn't help but think of his brother.

Finally, leaving behind a pouting Nemire and Tanjerou toddling after him, Senjurou sat down at the place Tanjirou had set for him. Nemire ran towards Tanjirou and put both of her hands on his knee, leaning forwards in earnest.

"Ojisan, Senjurou was being mean again!"

"Oh? What did he say?" Tanjirou placed a hand on the side of his face, widening his eyes in surprise.

"He said I was only three when I told him I was four! He didn't listen!"

"Hmm." Tanjirou pretended to consider, glancing towards Senjurou with glittering mirth in his eyes. "That does sound mean. How about you go tell your mother about it, I'm sure she can set him straight."

Nemire stood there, arms crossed, before huffing and doing just that. Senjurou looked at Tanjirou, raised an eyebrow, and Tanjirou let his heart open up into laughter. Tanjerou took the opportunity to clamber into his uncle's lap, grabbing a handful of the old checkered haori.

"Senjurou, it's been too long, how are you?"

"Oh, everything's great, the estate's been cleaned up and father's agreed to help me with some of my recordings of the history of the Corps," Senjurou said, a conspiratory smile coming to his face and a carefully teasing hand coming to his mouth. "I've even got him to do his own laundry!"

"I think that's an even more impressive feat than trying to maintain all of those dusty records. Are you sure you don't just want to run into the woods and become the second Inosuke?"

Senjurou laughed again, loud and happy. Tanjirou couldn't help but be swept up in his mood, adjusting Tanjerou to one side of his lap so he wouldn't put pressure on his nerveless arm, smiling broadly.

"Where's Zenitsu, by the way, if he had been here I don't think I would've gotten away with bullying his daughter so easily."

Tanjirou waved a hand, careful not to jostle the toddler in his lap, "He's out training his students at the Lightning Estate. He always complains about them but you can tell how much he cares about them, you know how dramatic he is."

"And you? How have you been since the last time I saw you?" Senjurou's smile softened to something more gentle, something that belonged to him and not the legendary blood of the Rengoku family running through his veins. Kyojurou had shown him that gentle smile once, but the eyes it carried were filled with pain and blood, and it had soon been hidden with the glaze of death.

Tanjirou clutched Tanjerou closer to his ever-looser haori and brushed his hair out from over his ruined eye. "No better, and only slightly worse. They said it would get worse the closer I got to twenty five."

"And how old are you now?"

"Twenty four and three months."

There was a short pause filled with the rustling of the leaves and the quiet conversation between Nezuko and Nemire. Senjurou's gentle smile wobbled and his bright eyes grew wet, but he took a slow breath and his hands stopped trembling.

"Have you talked to anyone about it?"

"No, but they know. Nezuko keeps inviting everyone to visit the family, just so I can see them again. I can't travel very far now."

"Kami, imagine having so many people over, all of those girls from the butterfly estate. How can you stand it all? I think I'd take a leaf out of Aoi's book and be busy 'studying medicine' all the time."

"You know I'm a horrible liar, Senjurou. I could never get away with anything. I'll just have to put up with it." Tanjirou sighed dramatically, feeling the ache of his joints more acutely with the heavy motion of his shoulders.

"Shall I put that in the books? 'Tanjirou suffered endlessly under the constant onslaught of friends and family for years… Until he disappeared to live with the rabbits in the woods and was never heard from again.'"

Tanjirou laughed, not because the joke was creative or witty, but because there was a relief in being happy despite whatever goodbyes he had left to make. Senjurou's smile broadened. He held out a hand for little Tanjerou to play with while his uncle tried to compose himself.

"Senjurou, you never fail to make me laugh."

"Good! Then I've made you better for now, and that matters more than you feeling worse later!"

"Thank you," Tanjirou said, letting Tanjerou sit on the table and feeling something warm spike in his chest. "Truly."

Senjurou only smiled more widely, his eyes saying what Tanjirou doubted in the latest hours of night. You deserve to be happy. And Tanjirou felt it.

Tanjirou's respite had been at first painful, and then overwhelming, but finally he was calm enough to think. They had fed him (assuring him that it wasn't poisoned, that they had his health as a priority-) and bathed him in a shallow tub of cold water, fearing he'd drown if the water was too deep and he had another coughing fit, and now he was clothed in a somewhat newer hospital gown. He was allowed to rest in the most comfortable bed he had sat on since his reawakening, and something in that stung him. Allowed to rest. Allowed to bathe and eat. Even in his last capture situation he was allowed to do things himself, allowed to be a person. But that was too much to ask of these people, and he couldn't if he tried. A mixture of dehydration and the coughing had left him straining to whisper, that, however, did not stop the rest of his- attendants? Captors? From whispering. Their speculation led to only more questions about what it was truly like here, and how Tanjirou would live his life when he eventually escaped.

The door opened quietly with only a click of the lock. It was a sound that had him flinching back from nothing, a quiet gasp escaping from his aching lungs, and then a cough. Miazuma hurried their pace to reach him when they noticed this, their hands open as if to catch him. One of the assistants stepped forward and spoke.

"Do you need anything?"

"No, thank you Himejima. You may go." He bowed, inclining his head, and left with his watch partners.

Tanjirou watched Miazuma wearily, fingers tight in the pristine white sheets. Miazuma straightened their posture, retracting their hands but still letting Tanjirou see them. The bottom half of their face twitched in a slight frown and then their hands folded within each other.

"Will you let me speak or will I be punished for that too?" Tanjirou usually didn't give into the impulse to be rude or impertinent, but it was the only thing that had come out in the tenseness of his posture.

"No. You will not be punished." Miazuma returned evenly, as if they hadn't heard Tanjirou's tone. "I have come here to talk to you, and inform you of two things."

"What, then?"

"I would like to apologize for the behavior of my subordinate. She had no authority to speak to you, let alone punish you for a perceived slight." The frown deepened on their face. "The situation is being taken care of, and I would make up for it if I had the means."

Tanjirou blinked, slightly startled at the admission. "Why are you apologizing?"

"Sutekina is my new personal assistant, and she is now my responsibility. I will take responsibility for her actions." And Tanjirou was reminded of the moment when he had found out of Giyuu's promise in case Nezuko ever ate a human. The horror that someone would throw away their life for something they didn't need to, that wouldn't make a difference other than robbing the world of their presence. The paradox of selflessness becoming selfish, if it ever did, and who would care if you threw your life away.

But that was not here, and that was not now, and so Tanjirou tried to distance his heart from what had been Before and would never be again. "Why am I here?"

"Overhaul asked us to study you." That was it. No dodging, no remorse. Their expression had even softened somewhat from the ability to be apathetic. "He brought you here to me 17 days ago to learn about how your body works."

...It had been that long?

Tanjirou had lost so much time in what had felt like only a few days. How many more hours would he lose in this place? How many hours until his body gave up completely? His heart pounded in his chest. He would not panic.

"May I ask what the cause of this illness is that you are experiencing?" Miazuma said.

Tanjirou was quiet. He remembered asking the same question to his father in much more childlike words, but the answer he gave was not the same one he had gotten. "It's a curse. For daring to take more power than we are given. For learning such a cruel art, even if it is to be kind and release someone from their existence as a demon." Tanjirou looked down, his smile gentle. "But it was worth it to be kind, because in the end they were released from their suffering, and I was happy to give my life so that others would be happy as well."

Tanjirou held tight to the bedsheets, wishing instead that they were his father's haori and that he was in his lap, listening to another grand tale of spirits and heros, smelling the scent of his wisteria and fire and warmth- but now he was cold, the haori that had held his family's scent was destroyed, and he was in front of a person who would never have to learn what a demon was. He would always cling to those memories in his heart, and he drew from them the strength to look on the face of his enemy.

That only left the question as to whether Miazuma was an enemy or not. It had been easy to see the demons as an enemy, unfailingly evil however pitiful their circumstance may be, but this was a human being just like him and Tanjirou wondered what they would do to be cruel when what they had done to him was born of a place of simple curiosity.

"Is there anything to be done to get rid of this curse?" Miazuma asked, more quietly this time, standing still as if any noise from any movement would shatter the air.

"No. It can only be delayed." Tanjirou watched Miazuma's reaction, catching a swift expression as it flitted across their face: one as if they had just had a thought occur to them. It was swiftly replaced by sadness as the truth of Tanjirou's fate set in.

"I am sorry. It must be hard to live knowing that you only have such a short time left."

"Not really, I've accepted it." Tanjirou smiled gently at Miazuma, looking at him with two surprisingly clear eyes. What a blessing it was to be alive again, and with a working arm and eye. Miazuma leaned back; they had been leaning into Tanjirou'd words without noticing. They nodded in response, though whether it was with dissent or not he didn't know.

Miazuma slowly pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat in it, taking care that their cloak wasn't folded under them. They sat with perfect posture, hands flat on the top of their legs but their upper arms plastered to their sides. When they turned their head to look at Tanjirou again, the veil they wore fluttered up to reveal a flash of a gemstone-blue sclera.

"There is a group of students that have come into the hospital to study some of the patients here. If you are willing I would like you to do a demonstration of your techniques to them. I will not force you, but I think it would be an easier way to learn of your abilities."

Tanjirou looked at them sharply, catching their meaning. Miazuma was clearly in a position of power here, and they were offering him a small amount of freedom in choosing. The second part of their explanation led Tanjirou to a deeper understanding of their opinions- they didn't approve of what had happened to him in his stay so far, and that caught against Tanjirou's heartstrings. They were forced to be complacent with what Overhaul wanted, no matter how much that grated against what Tanjirou had seen of their gentle nature.

But the preposition went unanswered. Tanjirou was well aware that they had differing intentions, and he had been burned in the past for his feelings slowing the quickness of his blade. But could he really throw away his instinct to be kind so easily? He didn't want the ruthlessness he had learned to become the only part of him that mattered, and there was never any harm in being kind.

"When is this going to happen?" He asked, trying to gauge exactly the type of hand Miazuma had extended to him.

"Whenever you feel you are ready."

Tanjirou considered that for a few moments. Were they concerned about his health or simply being courteous? He had to move carefully, he barely knew anything about the place he had ended up in, and if this future was anything like the train he had ridden so long ago, he needed to be sure of what he was doing. Besides that, his health was priority. He couldn't wait too long or else he wouldn't have the strength to do anything, and the usage of his breathing forms might only accelerate his illness.

"I think we should talk about this situation more," He replied And then I would be willing to go."

"Thank you, Kamado," Miazuma said, giving Tanjirou the first smile he had seen on their face. "I hope you feel well, however temporary it may be."

Tanjirou laughed a little, quietly. Miazuma stopped, tilting their head. "Did I say something funny?"

"No, no. You just reminded me of an old friend."

Most of the stars drowned in the light coming from the streetlamps below, but the moon stood a cold clear soldier over it all. The moonlight cast from its vigil hovered over the velvet of Miazuma's gloves chilled their fingers, though the glass of the window was warm through the thin material. The streets here were quieter than any other part of the city, only the occasional sweep of headlights across the asphalt and one or two shadowy figures stumbling from alley to alley. Sighing slightly through their nose, Miazuma looked away from the street and into the reflection cast by the light of the room behind them.

The room was small, cold modern decoration, but nicer than any of the bare-bones facilities Overhaul had paid for to keep his projects. Sleek chairs, a high view over the city, and Miazuma felt so out of place among it all: the gloves they wore were secondhand, the hospital they owned only through the kindness of others. The windows were spotless and Miazuma suddenly pulled the hand that was on them to their side, holding it tightly with their other. They turned to the door, hearing it slide open smoothly.

"Good evening, Overhaul."

"Evening, Miazuma. A lovely one at that." Overhaul made a sweeping gesture over to the chairs. "Please, sit down. I hope you haven't been waiting too long."

"I have only been here a short while," Miazuma lied. They took Overhaul's invitation and sat, crossing their legs at their ankles involuntarily, their fingers slotting neatly together in their lap. Overhaul lounged to one side, his elbow propped up on the armrest and his head resting on a half-curled fist. He didn't seem inclined to speak and Miazuma didn't have anything to say. The silence stretched on for a minute, two.

Finally, Overhaul spoke.

"It's a lovely night. I took a walk earlier, stopped the car early so I could approach the hospital by myself."

"It is almost the Winter solstice," They replied. Wasn't it cold? They meant.

"Is that so? Well, in any case it was refreshing. The stars are so clear." Overhaul leaned back, comfortable in Miazuma's taciturnity. The heating clicked on quietly in the wall left of the door. "How has your sister been?"

"You would know that better than I."

"I suppose so." Overhaul closed his eyes. Miazuma remained still, waiting for a reply. The silence was neither hostile nor friendly, and Miazuma was keenly aware of where the difference split. "Haven't you talked to her at all lately? I thought, since you cared about her enough to deal with me, you would care enough to talk to her."

"Her and the rest of my family have not talked to me since I left to pursue medical school." They tilted their head. "Why would you ask if she had spoken to me? You already know this."

"Just making conversation. Most people find small talk pleasant instead of diving straight into business."

"I do not understand why you would not bring up the…" They paused. "Business first."

"Because that's not… well. I don't have time to explain that." Overhaul sighed. "Her job is secure, her bills payed. Anything else you want to know?"

"What about… her."

"I usually don't keep track of individuals that aren't targets that well." Seeing Miazuma's expectancy on their face, he continued. "However, I think she recently adopted a cat."

"Thank you for telling me."

"You know what I don't understand? Is why you just can't talk to her yourself. If you really did take the time to make sure she would be able to live comfortably."

"She doesn't want to see me."

"How do you know?" Overhaul refrained from his usually colorful language, marking them as apparently 'not an enemy' for now.

"I left her alone in that household and never looked back. You already know this, we talked about it in our first meeting and many others besides. Why do you seek to bring it up again?"

"...It doesn't matter." But the lines of his arms were suddenly held stiff and harsh, and Mizauma wondered why the mention of family had tripped up the normally infallible Overhaul. The air grew heavy.

"What is the purpose of this meeting," Miazuma said, giving a small concession to escape the suddenly uncomfortable atmosphere.

Overhaul dropped the nonchalant posture he had been in the entire meeting and leaned forward. He had forgone the long, beaklike mask in favor of a simpler black one. "Things have been… changing in the Shie Hassakai. And that means things will also be changing around here."

Something like fear shot through Miazuma's chest. They took a breath and let it flow away. The hospital was still optimized for Overhaul's uses and the debt they owed to the organization was still larger than they could pay on their own. "And what does that mean for our arrangement?"

"Its been 3 years since my acquisition of Eri, and there has barely been any progress with my project with her. That in addition with the revelations about Kamado's medical condition… our deal just isn't tenable any longer. The shareholders don't want to put any more money into the projects here. You don't owe me anything, but I won't help you any more."

"I see." Even though the hospital still relied on the deal for staff and mitigation of certain taxes and a million little things- Miazuma nodded, and took another slow breath. Considered their words carefully. "And what will you do with the subjects?"

"I won't do anything. You can kill them, maybe. Try some riskier experiments. Either way I won't take them with me. I'm washing my hands of everything here."

Miazuma nodded again.

"Truthfully I'm as disappointed as you are, I expected such a figure to be…" His eyes narrowed. "Better."

"He sacrificed many things to destroy demonkind."

Overhaul quirked an amused eyebrow. "And how many of those 'things' he sacrificed were his comrades?"

Miazuma had no answer for that. Instead they placed their hands more firmly on each of their thighs, fingers straight and providing a pressure that reminded them of why they were there. "Will I be seeing you again?"

"I think it would be better for you and your sister if we didn't."

"Then this would be goodbye?"

"Yes." Overhaul stood, dusted every inch of his clothes, and gave one last, long look at Miazuma. His eyes reflected the ever-growing brightness of the moon, the pale skin that was visible of his face unwrinkled with a purposeful blankness. Then he bowed.

"Mia- Kayama Akagare. You're still using that name?" Overhaul continued at their nod with an eyeroll. "Kayama Akagare. Well met, and goodbye."

"Goodbye, Overhaul." Miazuma watched the man walk out the door he came from; watched the sliver of light on the floor narrowing away as the door shut with a soft click. Then they sat, considering.

Overhaul had never been a kind person, not to anyone. He had been cruel and dehumanizing to anyone other than himself, a hypocrite, a disgusting example of delusion and the corruption of power. He had only accepted Miazuma's offer to hold his experiments after asking what they wanted in return first. He had done a thousand things that would mean Miazuma and people like them would never be human in his eyes.

And yet.

And yet Miazuma found they would rather have to put up with Overhaul than do what they wanted to do next. They found their gaze drifting down to their gloves again, the color of the fabric barely visible in the lowness of the light.

"Well met and goodbye," they echoed quietly. Miazuma stood, adjusted the veil over their eyes, and glanced one last time out over the city. "Goodbye is one word for it."