Kamado Kie had always been a simple, practical woman. She had her priorities: Her children, her husband, other people, herself, her home, and then everything else.
When her husband, Tanjuro had passed, she'd been right there by his side. He hadn't woken up to give her a final farewell, he'd just slowly stopped breathing those painful, raspy breaths. They'd buried him next to his parents, and it had almost killed her to say goodbye so soon, but she found her priorities hadn't shifted much in her life following.
It hadn't been easy, but they'd managed and fallen into a sort of routine where each of the children pitched in when and where they had to, usually with time to play afterwards. She'd been immensely proud of them. Even little Rokuta had found ways to help. Often his 'helping' hindered more than it actually helped, but he was trying, and that was enough for her.
All of her children had been hard-workers (albeit some more than others, she thought of Takeo with a fond shake of her head), happy and loved. Losing their father had left an enormous hole in all of their lives, but they'd pressed on. And she'd felt so blessed to have such wonderful children come to her.
Then Tanjiro had changed.
In one day – one night, even.
The day he'd half-stumbled, half-ran out of their house and into the morning snow without any of his winter protection. In his sleeping clothes…
And he'd come back so different. The stark contrast between her innocent, naive, optimistic child and the hardened warrior that had returned… He was still her Tanjiro, but at the same time, he wasn't. She'd known it then, but the months since had only reinforced her observations. She would never have thought to catch her son looking at his own hands in disgust, as if he could see something on them no one else could… blood? Dirt? Claws? A combination thereof?
She could never bring herself to ask, though. It reminded her too much of… When her father had come back from the war with Russia, he'd had a similar look… and had been missing a leg. Sometimes he'd just stare at where his leg should be with a sort of longing that she'd thought initially meant he wanted his leg back – understandably so, in her opinion. But later, after his death, her mother told her it had been more complicated than that. He felt like he hadn't given enough at times. Like maybe if he'd given up more of himself, that more of his comrades would have come home.
She'd hated seeing that look on him, and hated seeing it on her son more.
And then there were times Tanjiro would just stare at her with the most pained expression. She wasn't sure what exactly about her seemed to hurt him so much. When he looked at his brothers and sisters (when he thought no one was looking, of course), he just seemed sad. But it was like something about her physically hurt him.
She hated that too.
But he wouldn't talk to her about that either. Or anyone, really.
Not the few times she'd managed to muster the will to try.
Except Nezuko. He'd talk to Nezuko. Just… not about anything he seemed to really need to talk about.
And the rest of the time, it was like someone had taken her Tanjiro's personality and intensified it ten fold. He went from being happy and content and optimistic to practically beaming with that grin of his, excitedly rushing around when doing his chores or just interacting with his siblings and Urokudaki, and looking at the future with a sort of desperate determination bordering on fanaticism.
No, it had crossed the line between fanaticism and normalcy long ago, she suspected. All of his energy and effort seemed to either go into interacting with his siblings or training to defeat this… Muzan person. And he seemed to have forgotten that he could no longer go without food or sleep (although she didn't think demons could go without both either, and thus wasn't sure if that was a hold-over from his previous… lives or just him pushing himself harder than he ever had before).
It scared her, mainly because Tanjiro had never been one to hide his feelings. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and every single one of the emotions he showed was real and genuine. Every smile, every grin, every sigh of contentment. If he'd been a sun lighting their lives before, he'd almost become a summer sun now. He'd been warm, but now his heat and light grown to a point of trying to scorch away any darkness from their lives…
He was burning himself out.
And it would kill him.
She couldn't help her concern for him. She also worried about the effect his new personality had on his siblings. Nezuko was already pushing herself to the limit to learn the breath of water style. Takeo – as lazy as he could be – had to push himself to start his training and chores, but once he got into it, he could be more intense than Nezuko – just about as intense as this new Tanjiro, even. Hanako had already started asking when she would start training, as had Shigeru and even little Rokuta liked to pick up a stick and swing it like his siblings did their wooden swords.
Kie herself was making more progress than she realized, according to Urokudaki. She may only climb the mountain once or twice a week, but she did so every week, and concentrated on her breathing whenever she could. She hadn't progressed nearly as far as her children, though, and knew she likely never would. That was honestly alright with her as long as she could defend herself and her children somewhat.
Still, unlike her children, she knew how to stretch herself without pushing herself further than she could handle. She'd had some success when stepping in with Nezuko and Takeo, but not Tanjiro. She'd tried to get him to rest more, gotten Nezuko to step in when she could, persuaded his siblings to ask him not to push himself so much, but then he'd just turn his energy on them and push himself that way. Eventually, she'd gone to Urokudaki. She was both more worried and relieved when she found out he'd apparently also tried to get him to stop (or at least slow down) as well. Neither one alone had been enough, it seemed.
So, together, she and the cultivator made plans, then contingencies, and then they'd confronted Tanjiro. They had set some firm boundaries and restrictions on his training, both of them reminding him that no matter what he remembered from his other lives, he was hurting himself now by not resting. He was human right now, and that included physical weaknesses. Urokudaki had then told him outright he would not okay him for the final selection until he learned to relax and rest. Once he managed to do that often enough, they would only okay him to become a demon slayer if he could promise he would continue to allow himself time to recover after he'd passed the Final Selection.
That more than anything else had gotten to him and she'd finally seen an improvement in how he treated himself.
She could only hope he would keep his promise and continue to take care of himself when he became a demon slayer.
That he would stop punishing himself.
She'd reminded him that he couldn't save everyone, and that trying too hard to do so would just hurt (or even kill) him – and anyone he could have helped – more. That seemed to help him too.
Kie hated putting so much on her thirteen year old son. No matter how many lives he'd lived, he was still thirteen. No matter how many memories he had, he'd never reached the age of 20. No matter what else he'd done…
He was still just Tanjiro, the little boy who used to beg her for rice crackers and who loved watching his father dance and who would jump on his younger brother to take a burning pot to the forehead for him…
If anyone could give her hope for the future, it would be him. He had the knowledge and understanding far beyond his years. He had the scars and trauma that no one of any age should have. He was the sun breaking through the clouds, but also the sun scorching the earth around him at times.
And he was her sun; her son.
And she hated having to let him go so soon just as much as she'd hated letting go of his father. But she knew she had to… far too early, but it had to happen. And she could be grateful she was alive to be there when he left for the Final Selection. She had to hold herself from running out to meet him once he returned, practically skipping along and whistling a song she'd never heard before.
Everyone ran up to greet him (except Nezuko who was on the mountain and Urokudaki who watched from a distance, although he looked far more relaxed now than he had since Tanjiro had left), and finally he reached Kie. He grinned up at her, without a scratch on him, and threw his arms around her. She immediately returned the embrace and held him close to her, tears gathering in her eyes.
"I'm home, Mom," he whispered.
"Welcome back, dear one," she replied in the same tone.
"I passed, you know."
Her breath hitched for just a moment, but then she forced herself to relax, pushing past her heartbreak at him growing up so soon as it reared its ugly head.
"I know."
He leaned back and looked up at her – when had he gotten so tall?!
"Are you proud of me?" he asked, worriedly. He must have smelled her sadness (what an odd thought, but one she'd gotten strangely used to).
She sighed and rubbed a hand over his short hair. "Oh, my dearest. You could fail every test in the world and I would still love you. But yes, I am proud of you. You never have to question either of those. I just…" her breath caught again and she had to stop herself from just bursting into tears right then and there. "You're so young." He opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. "I know you have several lives behind you, but my dearest, your body is thirteen. I… I wish I could keep you with me and safe forever – that is what any good mother would want for her child.
"But I know it isn't possible." She took out a small protection charm she'd gotten from the nearest Shinto temple. "So here is your welcome home gift. Whenever you see it, remember me – remember us all, and how much we love you."
He took it with careful hands and then clutched it to his chest.
"H-hai!" he said, then quickly tied it to the sash around his waist.
"What is that, Nii-chan?" Shigeru asked.
"Can I see it?" Hanako butted in.
"Me too! Me too!" Rokuta insisted.
Huh… where was Takeo? Kie looked around and saw Urokudaki practically dragging the boy back to training while he held his arms out for them. It was a good thing he couldn't cry on demand or he'd have false tears running down his cheeks. She shook her head fondly and gestured for him to go with his Sensei.
"So," she said as she turned back to her eldest, "come inside and tell us what it was like while I finish cooking dinner."
He grinned and looked down at his siblings. "Who else wants to come listen to me talk about the Final Selection?" he asked.
"ME!" three young voices cheered.
They all filed inside and Tanjiro gladly spoke of the walk he'd taken, the people he'd met and the end of the exam. She noticed that he rarely spoke of the demons he killed, except to say that he'd fought them, won and prayed for them.
She wasn't sure what to think of that last one. Demons were evil, according to Urokudaki, and yet Tanjiro had been one and still retained his own kind nature. They killed and ate people, and yet he felt sorry for them and knew their plight. They fought and destroyed; he protected by taking their head… but he prayed for them.
She decided that every time she prayed after that, she would include a thought for all demons who had died that day.
Somehow, she suspected few else would.
But she would.
For Tanjiro.
xXx
Haganezuka Hotaru didn't really like… people.
To be fair, people didn't really like him either, so he didn't see much of a reason to try and change it, but his general dislike morphed into outright loathing when people pushed that dislike onto his swords! They didn't have to like him to appreciate the fine craftsmanship that shone in his work! He didn't really care if they didn't like him, but to not like his swords… they were innocent in all of this! And they were very good swords. He made sure of it.
So when demon slayers tended to ask for other sword smiths, he felt both relieved that he didn't have to deal with such idiots who couldn't see or understand true beauty when they saw it, but also sad that… well, they couldn't see true beauty when they saw it. Rejecting his swords was far worse than rejecting him ever would be.
As such, he tended to make blades for beginners – people who had just passed the Final Selection. A man of his talents! Honestly!
It made his blood boil every time he thought about it.
And yet, every time, he couldn't help but hope that this next one would be one of the few good eggs in the world; that they'd see (and maybe even start to understand) how amazing his work was! Or at least be appreciative.
But no one had as of yet.
Still, he could hope, he supposed.
He didn't like to hope, though. People always destroyed it.
It was one reason why he disliked people in general.
However, he still longed to make the sword that would take a Demon Slayer up the ranks to become a Hashira – to be numbered among the best. Maybe this new kid would be the one?
Then he'd met said new kid and… didn't really know what to think. The boy was, for lack of a better word, bright. The kind of bright that made Hotaru either want to shy away or attack… because no one that bright was ever honest.
And yet the boy was. Somehow he could tell that too… but he didn't know how else to treat said boy.
Or his family.
(Hotaru decided almost immediately that he disliked brats more than he disliked people. They asked questions he didn't want to answer. And they. Didn't. Stop.)
Still, they all had some kind of red coloring somewhere in them (mostly the eyes) but the boy he'd made the sword for – the one with the red hair and eyes – would surely be the one who turned Hotaru's work of art into the coveted red blade…
But it had been black.
The very opposite of the impression the boy gave off.
And very much not red.
Not.
RED.
Just another let down. He should have known. And… he may not have reacted well, jumping at the boy like that. Didn't mean his sister and brother had to attack him! And then get between him and the boy… which only frustrated him more.
After some rather loud arguments, some nasty glares and the demon slayer he'd given the blade to trying to mediate (who ever heard of a demon slayer mediating before?!), everyone finally calmed down again.
Then the kid said something about sun breathing and that was why his blade was black and… honestly, Hotaru had just had enough by that point. Was sun breathing even a form? Shouldn't it be some sort of derivative of flame? Why was he here with the water cultivator?
He doubted the boy would make it as far as a Hashira…
Yet another disappointment. At least the boy had still thanked him for the sword, so not a complete let down...
And yet…
He paused in his stomping on the round-about road leading to his village to look back over his shoulder towards Urokudaki Sakonji's place of residence. At least two of those kids had been training… perhaps they would produce the red blades?
And if he started on those blades now, really taking his time to sharpen them…
Yes…
Yes, that might work.
And it would give him an excuse to not have to interact with anyone who wasn't an actual swordsmith!
With a new skip in his step, he picked up his pace and hurried back home.
He did, after all, have lovely, perfect swords to make.
xXx
Nezuko hadn't had a chance to talk to her brother often since he'd come back from the Final Selection, but she had made sure to take him aside and insist on speaking with him. She asked him how he was doing and he assured her he'd been fine… and yet…
"Tanjiro," she said softly, "I know Kaa-san spoke with you, but… I worry. You're going to be going and killing demons."
He sighed. "Yeah… I am. Although, to be fair, even as a demon I killed other demons. Usually found a nichirin blade – they, sadly, aren't that difficult to come by if you know where to look," he paused and that sad expression she hated to see on him fell over his face. But then he shook his head and the smile came back.
It didn't do a lot to quell Nezuko's worry.
She wished she could go with him.
So badly.
"In any case, it brings them more peace than you may realize. I like using Gentle Rain if I can. It's quick and painless and…" He he took a deep breath. "I know they've done terrible things. I know they need to be stopped. But… it isn't uncommon for it to not be their fault. They have new instincts and few remember any reason to fight them. E-even you and I… the first time we… we were both turned…" he faded off, looking down.
Nezuko felt sick. The very idea that she'd been turned made her stomach twist into knots. The idea that Tanjiro had been turned made her even sicker. That he'd been a Waxing Moon… She'd asked Urokudaki-sensei about those and…
And she knew Tanjiro had gone through worse than she could possibly imagine.
She hated that her brother seemed to be keeping that back… to protect them, nonetheless. She had a feeling that it would get harder as time went on and that eventually it would make protecting them harder too…
So she had to become a good demon slayer before that happened… so that he would trust her.
Either that or get him to talk about it every now and then. Even if he found it painful…
But only when he was ready to share it…
But he would be gone… and…
She really hated this whole situation. Why couldn't Muzan have just left them alone on their mountain? They wouldn't have grown up learning how to fight with swords. They would have just… lived…
She wanted to make him regret that mistake more than anything else. Except protecting her family…
"Demons…" Tanjiro went on, slowly, "people being turned into them… that's the worst part. More often than not, it's like the best part of them just vanishes – all those memories. It took me… too many times to learn how to resist that. And my way of trial and error isn't exactly something other demons can use."
No, she supposed it wasn't.
"Losing the memories… that's worse than being so fundamentally changed. Your memories make you who you are… and Muzan taking that away…"
He grit his teeth and looked away.
Determinedly, Nezuko reached down and grabbed his hand, holding it and squeezing it tightly. "We'll get him, Onii-chan. This time… I'm sure of it!"
Tanjiro looked down at their hands, blinking, before looking back up at her with the soft, warm smile that he so rarely showed these days. Then he reached up and patted her hair. She squawked and glared at him. He just smiled.
"Yeah. We will."
"Just… don't take risks," she insisted. "Assume he's after us – after you. Be careful, Onii-chan… and," she paused, biting her lip. "Come home, Onii-chan. Losing you would hurt us just as much as losing us hurt you."
For several seconds he just stared at her, but then he reached forward and pulled her into a hug.
"Never change, Nezuko. And I promise I will be as cautious as I can and come home."
She clutched at his Haori – the typical black and green checkered one, not the blue one Urokudaki-sensei had given him. It smelled like him – like safety.
"I love you, Nii-chan," she whispered.
"I love you too, Imoto-chan," he said back.
They just sat there for an undefined amount of time before he finally stood back, looking more at peace than she'd seen him since that day.
"I have to go," he said.
"Come back to visit often," she said.
He smiled. "I'll do my best."
She frowned, but realized that would be the best she'd get out of him before nodding.
"I'm going to go train. Say goodbye to everyone else before you leave."
He chuckled. "Of course. Train hard, Nezuko."
She nodded firmly. "Hai, Onii-chan!"
With that, she turned and headed to the training ground behind the house to practice her swings as she'd just come down from the mountain. She was getting faster at it, even if the traps had gotten more deadly lately.
She had to push herself so she could go out and fight with her Onii-chan.
Because they were family. And just as he would never abandon them, they wanted to support him…
That's what real family does.
xXx
AN: Thank you to TimeLordTim and Quathis for their help on this. :D
Discord: discord. gg/EVUrHMd4za (no spaces)
NGL, Next chapter is one of my favs. :3
