He felt like both a ghost and a dream. Maybe this meant he was already dead, or maybe something inside him had rotten, but Tanjirou stared at how Upper Moon Three killed Rengoku-san and him, the spectator, the survivor that managed to avoid tragedy only by casualty, could do nothing about it.

Like the ghost unable to touch anything or the dreamer that heard nothing as he slept, Tanjirou was unable to change things.

Getting up from bed, putting on the demon slayer uniform and sliding the wooden box on his shoulders were automatic actions, just like thanking condolences in his father's funeral had been, as all his siblings, neat and tidy, were placed in a line like bronze or silver figures. "Thank you very much for coming, thank you very much for coming, thank you very much for coming." It had been so many times he had said those words that Tanjirou appeared to fade away in thin air, becoming only the deep voice that was heard at a far away distance "thank you very much for coming" as empty as his chest had been back then.

Sadness was nothing new, mourning was nothing new, and this feeling, of becoming immaterial and following, step by step, the things he had to do and say, wasn't either.

The Summer Sun soaked his forehead with sweat as Nezuko scratched with her nails against the wooden wall on his back, maybe it was her way of comforting him, he didn't know. He would like to think so, but he didn't believe Nezuko actually knew about Rengoku's death, and even if she did, she wouldn't truly understand what it meant (a burden and a disappointment and a scar he'd carry for the rest of his life). That thought made something burn inside his chest, he ignored it.

The voice of Upper Moon Three clamored in his mind "pathetic, you're pathetic". Tanjirou would have loved to disagree, but since he couldn't, he'd simply keep on living to, one day, be able to.

He didn't know back then, but this same feeling would be the one to drag him down to Hell.

However, that moment was still far in the future.

The black shadow on Rengoku's crow in the distance stayed on his sight like a bright star that guided him in dawn. Of orange shades, a brilliant point in the sky, he did nothing but follow its lead.

It could be said that Tanjirou thought a lot and about a lot of things, so when he smelled a light scent of wisteria, it was already too late.

In a second Tanjirou, along with the wooden box, were tackled down to the ground.

"Are you stupid!?"

He had never seen Aya so messy or unkempt, sitting on top of him and looking so annoyed. She grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and shook him from side to side as she continued sputtering out gibberish nonstop.

So many were the words that came out of her mouth that for some reason his ears blocked them, and in the silence of someone that ignored everything around him, Tanjirou looked at her.

He couldn't believe that disaster was something Aya would have tolerated; stray strands of hair sticked out from her braid, as if half done, or maybe with trembling hands, settled on her shoulder. There were some buttons of her uniform undone, too, as the white shirt peeked in between the buttons that had been wrongly buckled. Even the suneates were wrongly tied, she didn't even wear the kote gloves. Lastly, she was completely soaked in sweat, and for someone he knew to calculate every move in order not to waste energy, he felt like she had pushed everything aside to go there by the way her heart made her chest pump.

"And don't you ever leave like that again! Do you think you can just do that stuff without telling me!? You're a complete moron!"

Aya's voice hit his ears again and Tanjirou blinked.

"I thought you hadn't been discharged yet." At his answer, Aya clicked her tongue.

"You haven't either." She scrunched up her nose and sent him a strange stare which he didn't understand. Later, he'd realize it was one of worry. "You can't just leave like that. Not without telling me. It's a long distance and you were planning on walking it by yourself."

Tanjirou tried to sit up and Aya took no time on getting off him, offering a hand to help him go back to his feet.

"You can't be so reckless," Aya finally whispered, and although she had yelled before, now she looked indecisive, nearly shy, as she played with her fingers.

"I was just off to Rengoku's house," he answered, even if his bones hurt and his blood burned.

The air smelled like blood as his happiness shattered.

He had never understood why demons smelled like it but now he did. Demons spilled their blood over the lives of humans and soaked them in it, dressing them in crimson clothes and leaving people like him the task to pick up the pieces and put them back together. Tanjirou didn't know how many times he'd be able to do it. Two already felt like too much.

Rengoku sat in front of him, ever smiling. The image got carved with fire under his eyelids.

"I want you to tell my brother Senjuro to follow the path he believes just. And for my father to take care of his health."

The tears, as hot as the insides that wanted to spill out from inside him, fell down his chin. It had been a long time ever since he tied them to cruel people that cared about nothing other than themselves.

He had to do this, he had to. Or else he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

"I don't care," Aya said, abandoning all shyness once she frowned. "You got stabbed, you can't make such a long way by yourself, especially while carrying Nezuko." She stretched out a hand to him, white palm inviting. Since Tanjirou took a moment just to stare at her, she insisted. "Come on, give me Nezuko's box and get on my back. I'll carry you from here."

Rengoku's crow waited, perched on a branch, with a curious glance as he eyed them both.

There was a part of him, tense and tugging, that told him he couldn't allow for Aya to carry him. The other one was tired.

Besides, he thought as he slid the box from his shoulders and Aya wrapped her arms around his legs and he did the same with her neck, Aya smelled too much like a mountain and Tanjirou knew that even if he tried, she wouldn't accept nothing else.

The way was peaceful and Aya hummed some children's song under her breath, it nearly felt like all those times his mother carried him on her back, when he was still just a child and not an older brother. His heart melted when listening to her voice, he didn't allow himself to think much about it, but he did let his head lean on her shoulder "just a little bit".

The crow flew down from the sky and landed on the doors of some house in the distance. It was then when the air started to smell like blood.

Tanjirou called her name but Aya didn't answer, he could clearly smell the metal nearby and there was a thin, tense chord that panicked.

The second time he called Aya gave him a nod, as if understanding what he meant although she kept walking. She didn't allow Tanjirou to get down on the floor until they reached the Rengoku residence, The smell of blood had destroyed his happiness. He should have listened to the other part.

Blood came out from Aya's nose, painting everything it touched as she hadn't been able to clean it, too busy carrying him and his sister, so the blood had ended up soaking not only her lips but further down, until it dripped down her chin and painted her uniform too. He didn't like such sight, he didn't like it at all.

When he fluttered around her she excused herself saying that he got stabbed and that her throat was nothing in comparison, in some sick game of who had the luxury of sacrificing more. Tanjirou would call her an idiot if he wasn't so busy taking care of her injury.

His green and black squares were cleaning Aya's lips, where he stopped for a moment, in contemplation (it would be easy to lean in), when she looked over his shoulder.

"Isn't that Kobayashi?" She whispered in confusion. Tanjirou turned around and confirmed it was.

Yuu was at the doors where the crow was perched, exchanging words with a boy not much younger than them and that looked a lot like Rengoku. Tanjirou tried to catch something from their words. Aya, leaning on his shoulder, seemed to be trying to do the same.

"Thanks for helping me with the funeral… and all that." The voice of who they both supposed was the younger brother, Senjuro, wasn't loud or booming like Rengoku's had been. For a moment his eyes got covered by a thin veil of tears, but he managed to prevent them from falling, offering Yuu a pitiful grimace. Yuu gave him the smile of someone tired.

"It's not the first time I do this, really, it's no biggie." His gaze got older by a few years in the matter of a few seconds. He then sent discreet glances over his shoulder before looking back at Senjuro. "Although I don't like the idea of leaving you alone with…," he sent a new glance behind him with something bitter on his face, "that guy."

Senjuro's fingers moved nervously along the broomstick, his natural estate seemed to be in the verge of tears. "I'm already used to it…"

"Even so, it's…" Yuu's voice vanished as he didn't finish the sentence. "He's a despicable old man, that's what he is."

Senjuro trembled, as if those words welcomed for something terrible to happen, as he became completely stiff.

"Not so loud," he muttered, and it was then that his eyes travelled over Yuu's shoulder who, taller than him, covered the sight of Aya and Tanjirou. "Hey," he started. "Do you know other demon slayers apart from my brother?"

Tanjirou astill had the sleeve of his haori on Aya's nose and both skipped a bit when Yuu turned around to look at him. His expression turned into a very weird one.

"What the hell?"

"Before you get mad at us," Aya huffed, recognizing Yuu's expression instantly and closing the little distance between them, dragging Tanjirou along with her. "We came because Rengoku-san told Tanjirou to give a message to Senjuro. Isn't that right, Tanjirou?"

She softly elbowed his ribs and he nodded, still with drops of sweat falling down his forehead.

"Senjuro, right?" He didn't have as many difficulty to breath as Aya did. "Your brother gave me a message for you and your father... " He looked at Yuu for a second, who stepped closer to Senjuro, still frowning. "I guess you already know what happened…"

The little Rengoku nodded with something heavy on his eyes.

"Yeah but…" His eyes slid from Tanjirou's pale face to Aya's bloody nose. "Are you guys okay?"

He was sure Aya would have exclaimed they were perfectly fine (at least referring to herself) but a booming voice interrupted them before she could do so.

"Turn back and leave! Whatever you want to say holds no importance!" At the doors of the house Tanjrou found a man that, just like Senjuro, held an uncanny resemblance to Rengoku. Just that this man, instead of smelling like nobel iron and passionate flames, smelled like alcohol. "Kyojuro became a swordsman despite having no talent, that's why he's dead!"

A growl came from somewhere beside him and Tanjirou got surprised when realizing that it came from Yuu, not Aya, who with a tough expression sent the man a glance filled with venom. He believed to hear him mutter something close to "stupid old man", with which he agreed.

This time Senjuro's tears spilled down his eyes. Aya, who he had seen so many times turn into something filled with anger and bitterness, now only wafted off sadness and pity as she settled a hand on the youngest Rengoku.

Her face was one of a white wooden mask, permanently painted with an immovable expression as she looked at that man without moving a single muscle. That inexpressiveness only made her big eyes stand out.

"People's worth is decided the moment they're born," he started, flipping the bottle of barley brandy around in the air. "Just a little part of them have talent, the other one is useless, simple trash!" Tanjirou thought about his worn out hands and how still he had been while Rengoku fought against the Upper Moon. "Kyojuro was like that! That was why it was clear he'd end up dead!" Or maybe it was clear he was a ghost that could change nothing. "Senjuro, the funeral is already over! Stop crying!"

And as his words echoed in a sunny Summer day, the only thing Tanjirou could think about in those moments was just how despicable that man was.

It was only when his words echoed on his ears that Tanjirou realized he was yelling. "All that stuff you're saying is very cruel! Stop talking like that, please!"

The gaze of Rengoku's father dared for him to even take a step closer to him. For some reason when looking at Tanjirou's face he paralyzed, as if having been kicked in the stomach.

"Shinjuro," Yuu started without even bothering on using honorifics, something weird for who Tanjirou knew was politeness incarnate. Even if he hadn't been able to smell his annoyance, he could have clearly seen it on his face. "We were already leaving. You can go back inside."

Aya by his side restlessly eyed the situation with a peaceful expression, a hand always settled on Senjuro's back.

"Go back inside?" Shinjuro wondered in puzzlement, paving the way to anger. "Go back inside!? That kid's making fun of me in my own home! And you want me to go back inside!?" He suddenly turned to face Tanjirou again. "You're a Sun Breathing user! Aren't you!?"

Aya stiffened and silently asked Tanjirou why he hadn't told her. He only gave her a confused grimace and assured, that if that was the case, he would have.

Wrath had always been uncontrolled and made people become unpredictable, so Shinjuro easily escaped Ayaka's sight and appeared on the floor a second later, Tanjirou under him.

Senjuro yelled, asking, begging, for his father to get away from Tanjirou. But pleads weren't enough when he heard a slap.

"Senjuro!" Yuu's voice was heard over Shinjuro's weight, that stayed on top of Tanjirou, struggling to do who knew what.

The wooden mask broke once Aya growled and pushed Shinjuro away with a kick to the face.

"Don't you dare touch Tanjirou." There was a threatening side to her voice but the thing that spoke the loudest in her were the eyes, that looked so deeply brown they were nearly red. She stretched out a hand to Tanjirou and helped him go back to his feet, but she didn't stop looking at Shinjuro, although this time, back to her wooden mask. "It's hard for me to believe you're related to Rengoku-san. Senjuro looks like a kind person but you, instead, only look like someone cruel. Stop fighting against children and act your age." She easily dodged the bottle Shinjuro threw at her and Aya squinted. Again, that same smell of sadness. "What a pity."

"Don't think you can just come here and try to teach me any lessons, brat." Tanjirou burned in anger but Aya stayed serene, with nothing on her face that wasn't impassivity.

"Tanjirou," Aya called, as he suddenly realized she was grabbing him by the shoulder. He clenched his jaw just thinking about the man and his words that rumbled, like reminders, in his head. "That man was a pillar."

"What about it?" he hissed. "This man's insulting Rengoku-san."

"The only one here who's insulting us is you! I recognize those earrings of yours, you're a Sun Breathing user!" He continued clamoring at the air about the wonders of the supposed original breath, Tanjirou remembered the blessing of the fire god. "Don't you think you can look down on us as if you're special!"

He believed the Dance of the Fire God to be the Sun Breathing, he believed that Tanjirou was someone strong that looked down on everyone else because of it.

Didn't he know about the guilt that burned in Tanjirou's chest at night? Didn't he know how weak and helpless he felt, like the ghost he was, because he could change nothing?

The sobs of the red Rokuta muffled every other sound, even the one of his own wrathful yelling when he ran up to Shinjuro.

"Why didn't you save us, Tanjirou? Why didn't you save us?" He didn't know.

He heard from Aya an annoyed snort.

Tanjirou's forehead rammed itself against Shinjuro's and they both crashed against the floor.

Oh, he had knocked him unconscious.

But not only him. To Tanjirou, the world felt like it was spinning.

A nap didn't sound so bad.

Ayaka stared with eyebrows slightly raised at the boy she was in love with, now on the floor and unconscious, besides Rengoku's father.

"I'm sorry for the trouble, Senjuro," started Yuu, who inspected the bruise on his cheek with expert fingers.

"I'll buy you some mochi as an apology," Ayaka suddenly butted in. "Which type do you prefer?"

Senjuro hissed in pain when Yuu touched a part of his skin that started to turn purple. "I… don't really like mochi."

To her, those words felt like a bucket of cold water.

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