(A/N: I got the idea for this story a little while ago while I was working on a drawing for my art class and completely forgot about it until recently. I confess, I haven't been watching Demon Slayer for too, too long, but long enough that I'm caught up with the current events and I'm confident that I can make something good to read.
That's all I needed to say for now, so I guess that means I better get to work (lol). I hope you have a wonderful time reading this story.)
X-V-o-0-O-0-o-V-X
It was snowing in the mountain-side village, a gentle falling compared to previous days that resulted in the thick icy white blanket on the ground. The sky was cloudy and gray, yet it was bright outside as the people worked. Some were shoveling snow away from the entrances to their homes and businesses, and others went about their day as usual.
The people knew they would have to start preparing for the impending harsh winter, but that day was otherwise a normal one. That was until the arrival of a newcomer in the afternoon hours.
A child, a young boy, wandered into the village grounds. His eyes were listless, devoid of all emotion, and tired as he walked slowly with an almost unsteady gait. Snow crunched underneath his feet, one foot clad in a frayed zōri, the other bare, red and raw from trekking through the icy conditions. He wore a tattered, loose yukata that nearly fell off his shoulders and his hair was unruly, poorly tied up in a small ponytail.
'How far have I gone? How long has it been?' his thoughts echoed his mind.
No one seemed to notice him as he weakly walked through the village, occupied with their work. Not even the children, who helped their parents or ran past him as they played together, noticed him.
His stomach growled and ached in hunger, and he shivered and rubbed his arms when a crisp breeze blew, nearly penetrating through his worn-out clothes. He could not remember his last meal or when the last time he felt warmth was.
A savory, pleasantly warm scent filled his nose, ahead of him he could see a group of people gathered in front of a shop, where a man and woman stood in front. Bowls with steam rising were set on a cart outside, along with a platter of freshly made buns.
"Come everyone, we have udon and red bean paste buns," the woman said.
"Please take as much as you'd like, you've all worked very hard," the man added.
The boy watched as the people took bowls and buns and started to eat. He saw the smiles on their faces, the joy as they devoured the warm meal.
He felt his stomach growl again and stared at the cart of food, 'They won't mind if I take a bowl, right?'
He took timid, shallow steps as he walked up to the cart, turning away and crouching down in attempts to make himself smaller, though he was still unnoticed by all who were there. Standing at the end furthest from the people, he reached up to grab a bowl.
The height of the cart was taller than him and the bowls were bigger than he initially believed, now that he was seeing them up close. He stood on his toes and lifted a bowl from the bottom with his palms, holding it over his head. It was heavier than he could have imagined, and the weight caused him to lose his balance, falling onto the snowy ground, spilling the warm food and breaking the ceramic vessel.
Panicked, he tried running away from the scene, but his arm was grabbed before he got too far and a harsh voice yelled at him, "Where do you think you're going, you brat?!"
He let out a cry as tears escaped from the corners of his eyes. He was lifted from the ground by his arm and thrown into a snow heap, sobbing from the stinging pain.
"What do you have to say for yourself?!"
"Absolutely despicable!"
"Awful child!"
"Filthy urchin!"
He could not stop his sobbing, though it hurt his throat and lungs. Why was it that no matter where he went, he was always treated like trash? Did no one in the world have a heart?
Amidst the anger of the villagers, there was a concerned gasp, "What's going on here?"
His crying relaxed just enough for him to see who the voice belonged to. It was a woman in her mid to late-twenties with black hair and pink eyes. She wore a white and light purple checkered kimono and a white cloth around her head like a bonnet.
She looked kind, gentle and motherly, but he was not about to let his hopes up. Still, there was something about her that calmed him in the midst of their rage.
Kie Kamado was a young married woman with four young children. Her eldest was five-years-old and her youngest was born only a couple of months prior. Her husband, Tanjuro, had always been a sickly man, even before they were married, but was dedicated to her, their children, and his family's legacy profession as charcoal burners.
He always worked hard to ensure they had food on the table, even if he risked becoming sicker. However, just weeks before the new year, he had become too weak to travel down the mountain to sell charcoal to the villagers.
She volunteered herself to go in his place, so he could rest while his mother watched the children. She could not carry the large basket he often took, taking a small, handheld basket instead.
She sold as much charcoal as she could, but many in the village had chopped their own wood to burn. Still, she hoped to earn enough to pay for her husband's medicine and food for their children.
Her basket was still a quarter full when she came upon a scene near the center of the village. She watched with horror as a terrified child was grabbed by the arm and yelled at before being thrown into the snow, crying the whole time. The villagers chastised him as he continued to sob, from what she could tell was pain.
She gasped worriedly, "What's going on here?"
She saw the little boy look at her and she could tell the child was worse for wear, but she wanted to get a closer look at him. Without hesitation, she approached him, crouching down to be eye-level with him.
He was young, as young as her eldest son, perhaps slightly older, but he was so small it was difficult to tell for sure. He had unkempt dark red hair tied in a loose ponytail and matching eyes, much like her husband and firstborn, though it was a slightly redder shade.
Her heart almost broke when she saw his condition, he was thin and covered in filth, like he had not eaten or bathed in ages. His clothes were practically rags and he had only one zōri, one that was in terrible condition and likely did little to protect his foot. There was a scar on his face as well, between his chin and cheek; it was deep and rather large, and she could only imagine what caused it and how painful it must have been.
She gently brushed some loose hairs away from his face, "Hi, there. Can you please tell me what happened here?"
He looked up at her with puffy, tearful eyes before looking down with a sniffle. He appeared guilty or afraid, but she could not tell which one.
Before she could say anything else, someone in the crowd answered her question, "Little shit tried to steal a bowl and broke it."
His mouth trembled and he sniffled again as more tears made their way to his eyes. He tried hiding his face with his tattered sleeves in shame.
'Poor baby,' she thought with a sad look on her face.
He sobbed into his filthy clothes, soaking the already damp, ruined material. Now the woman knew what he had done and she would treat him the same as the other villagers.
"How much was it?" she asked.
He peered through his sleeves to look up at her with shock. Of all things he expected her to say, he never anticipated a question like that.
"One hundred yen," the male shop owner answered.
The woman glanced at her basket, which he could see had blackened wood inside of it. He saw her frown before looking through her basket and taking out a handful of coins he assumed she had hidden in the wood.
She stood up and held out her palm, "Is this enough?"
He took the money from her and counted it in his hand, nodding to her. She bowed respectfully and returned to him, kneeling to be closer to him once again.
"Tell me, do you have anywhere to go?" she asked him, gently placing her hand on his shoulder.
She must have suspected he was orphaned or homeless, he figured. Otherwise, why would that question be the first one she asked?
He sniffled again and shook his head, but did not say a word. Truth be told, he could not even remember if he had a home, or even parents. All he did remember was waking up alone one day, and he had been walking aimlessly ever since then.
She frowned, "Oh, I see."
It was strangely comforting to know that this woman cared about his well-being, enough to become so worried about him. The most sympathy a person showed him in the past was dropping leftover food they had likely planned to discard to begin with.
"Well, if you'd like, you could come live with my family and I," she offered with a small smile. "I'm sure my husband would be more than happy to let you in."
Had he heard her right? Did she just offer her home to him?
It had to be a trick or some kind of catch, that was how it always was. He did not need to look further than the shop owners who seemed to be friendly humanitarians and claimed the people could take as much food as they wanted, but still cursed him for an accident. It was his fault, he knew that, but did they have to be so harsh with him? Throw him into the snow when they could see that he was just a child?
But this woman and her kindness seemed to be as pure as the snow itself. A lot could be determined about a person by simple appearance, as shallow as it may be. From the moment she spoke in his defense, from the moment he saw her, he knew she was different from the other villagers.
He had managed to stop crying momentarily, but it all began to cascade down his face again. He came closer to her and wrapped his arms around her neck and shoulders as he cried loudly.
His actions surprised her, but she returned his embrace by placing a hand on his back, "I'm glad."
She helped him stand up and brush off his clothes before standing herself. She took his small, dirty hand in her own clean one, holding it in a warm and gentle grip.
He became rigid with fear and nervousness at the sudden contact, he never experienced a touch as kind and soft as hers. He relaxed before long, however, feeling comfort with the contact. It was surprising to him that she would want to hold his hand to begin with, but he was not complaining.
She gave a slight yet respectful bow to the villagers, "I bid you a good day."
Despite the softness of her voice and her politeness, he could tell she was angry. He could not explain how he knew this, he just did.
"Let's go," she told him, leading the boy with her.
She went from house to house, continuing to sell the charcoal she had remaining. She had to give away everything she earned that day to help the small child. She did not regret it, however, it was a sacrifice she willingly made to save the innocent.
As she led him to the next house, his mind wandered to the money she gave to the shop owners. 'Why did she do that? Why for me?'
She knocked on the door and upon seeing the homeowner, she asked, "Hello, do you need any charcoal?"
The resident, an elderly woman who still retained strands of her formerly dark hair, smiled at the young mother, "Why, hello, Mrs. Kamado. Yes, I'll take a couple pieces."
She set the basket down in the snow as she grabbed a small handful, giving it to her, "Here you are."
She lowered her head respectfully, "Thank you very much."
She gave the older woman a bow, "Oh, please, I'm the one who should thank you."
Setting the charcoal aside and dusting off her palms, she noticed the boy holding her hand, "And who is this?"
Upon realizing the elder's gaze, he tried to hide behind her legs. It was a feeble attempt at hiding, and he was unsure if that was his own intention, but he felt anxious and embarrassed to have someone else staring at him.
"He got into a bit of trouble today and I decided to lend him a hand," she responded, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I can tell that he's been through a lot and I suppose my heart broke to see him in tears."
"Oh," the woman frowned. "You poor dear."
For a moment, he thought he misheard her, or she misspoke. Regardless, it gave him enough courage to look up at her, though still from his settled distance.
"Please, wait here for a moment," she said, before retreating into her home.
When she returned, she had a violet cloth that was tied at the top into a small makeshift sack. She untied it to reveal a dozen rice crackers inside.
She placed it in the young mother's hands, "Take these, please."
"No, I couldn't," she told her, attempting to give them back.
She pushed it into her hands insistently, "I want you to have them." She smiled softly as she looked down at him, "I have a feeling you're going to need them."
Her mouth was hung open, unable to get any words out. She bowed deeply, almost bending her body in half.
"Thank you!" she choked slightly on the tears prickling into the corners of her eyes. "Thank you so much! You're too kind!"
"It's my pleasure." She put her hand on her door as she slid it, "You have a good rest of your day."
She bowed once again, and he gave a timid wave to the elderly woman. He could see her smiling at him as she shut her door, and his shyness momentarily melted away as he returned it with a small smile of his own.
With a smile full of hopefulness as she gazed down at the spark of confidence arising within the little boy, she took a rice cracker from the cloth and handed it to him, "Here, you can snack on this while I finish up."
He felt his stomach growl when he remembered he was never able to eat anything yet and grabbed it from her hand, only briefly hesitant. He was surprised by how warm it was in his cold fingers, were they freshly finished?
He took a small bite out of it as he was led to new residences to sell the last pieces of charcoal. It was savory and salty, but not in an overpowering way, it seemed to enhance the flavor instead. He had eaten rice crackers before, but they were always stale and lacked any type of taste.
He bit into it again, and then another immediately afterwards, until he was unknowingly eating it at the fastest pace he had eaten anything in a while. When more than two-thirds of the snack was gone, she stopped him just as he was about to bite into it again.
"Be careful, if you eat it too fast, you'll get a stomachache," she warned him softly.
Thinking he had done something wrong, he stopped eating it completely. He held the remaining portion of his snack in his hand as they continued to walk around the village.
With one hand in the grasp of someone else and the other holding an unfinished snack that would surely become stale shortly, he might have passed for a normal child. He might have, if it was not obvious that he was merely a random child she felt sympathy for.
She noticed that he had not eaten the last of his rice cracker, "You can finish it, I'm sorry if I might've scared you. I was just a little worried. I wouldn't want you to get sick."
Without hesitation, he started to take bites out of it again, though he made sure to restrain himself from eating it too fast. It was no longer warm, even in his hand it was cold, yet it still managed to retain its flavor, making it still somewhat pleasing to consume.
"Hello," she greeted the owner of the next house, "do you need-"
The door was promptly shut in her face, causing her to flinch. She was disappointed by the response she received, but she quickly left for the next person to sell to.
It was an exchange and reaction he had seen many times in his life and was admittedly one of the nicer ones. He had witnessed uncalled for shouting and cursing and even physical assault, and people who got back on their feet and those who fell to their knees and wailed up at the sky.
It happened many times to her that day, customers yelling and once even spitting, yet she kept moving on. He wondered, why was she so driven? Was it for him, or for her family? Was it out of desperation or determination?
The more he thought about it, he started to wonder why she was doing so much for him, why she was suffering from his misdeed. He was only a child but he was not a fool, he remembered the amount of money she had in her basket and the emptiness - sans the charcoal - within it after paying the shop owners. He saw the sadness on her face when she gave up her earnings, it was a necessity for her to have.
Eventually, she finally found someone who bought the last of the charcoal. Ironically, to the people she relinquished her initial currency to, the shop owners.
When he saw the couple, he wanted to run away, but his hand was still entwined with hers. He buried his face into her kimono, hoping for the unfortunate reencounter to be over quickly.
They felt guilty about not helping him against the angry villagers, so they made a small batch of red bean paste buns. It was not enough for him to be confident or bold enough to look at them, or for her to completely forgive them, but she took the freshly made buns nevertheless.
With the charcoal sale completed, it was time for her to return to her family home. The sun was nearly beginning to set, it would be dark by the time they arrived.
"Are you ready to go to your new home now?" she asked him.
He said nothing and stared ahead with a blank expression on his face. Deep down, he was terrified, he had no idea what to expect, if he would even be accepted by the family.
She was about to start walking towards the mountain, but she felt him give a hard squeeze to her hand. She looked down at him as he trembled and clenched his fists, squeezing her hand tighter.
"Why…" his voice shook as he spoke for the first time since they met, "...why did you do it? Why are you helping me so much?"
A part of her was surprised he could speak at all, but that was overshadowed by perplexity due to his question, "What do you mean?"
"You gave up everything you had with you for me," he sniffled. He shut his eyes as he cried and threw his fists down, "You don't know me!"
She knelt down in front of him and grabbed his shoulders, "That doesn't matter!"
"Huh?" He opened his teary eyes and looked up at her.
"You needed someone there to help you. Who knows what could have happened if I did nothing? Yes, I was sad to give up the money I'd earned, but do I regret it? Absolutely not. If I can go back and take it all back, I wouldn't, and that's the truth," she stated in a firm yet still gentle tone.
The tears became wider and faster as he leaned closer to her to wrap his arms around her in a hug, saying the words he wanted to tell her since their meeting, "Thank you! Thank you so much!"
She smiled and placed a hand on his back, "There's no need to thank me, sweetie."
He released her from his hold and she stood up, gathering the food they were given, which she had placed in the basket. Once again, she grabbed his hand and held it in hers.
"Now, are you ready to go to your new home?" she asked, echoing the same question from before.
Though still hesitant, he nodded, "Yes."
He opened his eyes as he stirred awake, though he was unaware when he had fallen asleep to begin with. It was colder than before and slightly darker too, telling him it was later in the day.
Snow drifted down from above like feathers falling off birds. He held his hand out to catch one and realized he was on someone's back. He immediately recognized the distinctive checkered kimono pattern.
"Hm?" he hummed wordlessly.
She turned her head back and smiled, "You're awake now! You fell asleep a little after we left the village, you must have exhausted yourself."
He frowned and hummed again, feeling guilty for sleeping and leaving her to carry more weight. He suddenly felt her hand reaching back to ruffle his hair slightly.
"Don't worry about me, sweetie," she reassured. "You had a rough day, you should just focus on resting for now."
How could he, though? Knowing full well how tired her body must have been after such a long day?
Even if he could, he knew he could not argue with her, because she was right. He was very tired, having walked for countless hours before stumbling into the village. He had not slept since leaving the last town he wandered through, and he was unsure how long ago that had been, having no sense of time.
Defeated, he allowed his body to relax and rested his cheek between her shoulder blades. Her back was surprisingly comfortable, and he could understand why he was able to sleep so peacefully.
While he relaxed, he noticed that the snow was still falling from the sky and drifting to the ground. He looked up to see the snow, but he could not view much from his angle.
Placing one hand on her shoulder and the other just at the base of her neck for support, he leaned his body and head back. What he saw above him took his breath away.
The sky was not visible due to the gray clouds, but that made no difference to him. Snow fell from the clouds and seemed to highlight them with the contrast of white peppered against countless shades of gray. The snow seemed to fall heaviest from the grayest part of the sky, like an overhead void.
His actions caused her to stop, thinking there might be something wrong, "Are you alright?"
He was mesmerized by the sight above and missed her question. She followed his gaze and looked up at the sky herself.
She smiled, "It's beautiful, isn't it? I consider it one of the benefits of living on a mountain. You could never get a sight like this anywhere else."
She started walking again and he continued to look up, watching as the clouds and snow seemed to follow them. It was already breathtaking from a still vantage point, but with her moving it was almost majestic.
For as long as he could remember, he was always looking down at the group or at the path in front of him. Now, he was seeing something above him, and he never wanted to look away.
After a while of watching the snow fall, a yawn made its way to his mouth and he remembered how tired he was. Though he did not want to look away yet, he knew he should rest, if only for a few minutes.
He moved his body to lay down on her back again, she stopped walking so that he could make himself comfortable. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her back, where it has been before, between her shoulder blades.
She continued walking when she felt him lay his head down, glad he decided to take a bit of time to rest and refresh his mind and body. She did not wish to think about the last time he was able to sleep.
She knew how scared he must have been, meeting the family of someone he had met only mere hours ago. It warmed her heart that he was open to staying with her family, but she was worried about how he would adapt to living with them.
He had to rely on his own strength and will to survive for an insurmountable amount of time; frankly, it was something else she did not want to think about. Having someone else to provide for him and shelter him might be too overwhelming.
In a couple of hours, she finally reached her family home, she remembered she was once told the house was built as far back as the Sengoku Period. As she stepped up to the terrace, she noticed smoke from the other side of the house.
She knew what it was and who was doing it on instinct, having been around it since before she was married. Her suspicion was confirmed when she walked around to the back and saw her husband burning charcoal in the furnace.
She frowned as she approached him, "Sweetheart, you should be inside resting."
He coughed as he gathered the fresh charcoal into a large basket, "I know, Kie. This is for us, not to sell, it's going to be cold tonight."
He balanced himself on the icy ground as he stood up. When he did, he noticed the boy on his wife's back, "Who's that?"
"I met him in the village today," she answered. "He doesn't have anyone or anywhere to stay."
There was nothing more she needed to explain to him, he understood, "Let's go inside."
She watched him lift the basket and take it into the house, grunting as he did so. She knew it was heavy, far too heavy for someone of her husband's size, yet he still carried it because he knew they would need it.
She reached her hand back to the sleeping little boy, gently ruffling his hair to wake him up. She smiled when he opened his eyes, "We're here now. Are you ready to meet everyone?"
She felt him tighten his hold on her and bury his face into her shoulder. He was scared, she understood that, but there really was nothing for him to be afraid of.
"I promise, everything will be okay," she reassured him, placing a hand over both of his, which were slightly above her chest. "I'm going to be with you the whole time."
Her voice and hand were warm and soothing, and reminded him why he agreed to go with her in the beginning. She never did anything to make him distrust her, and he got as far as the front door of her house.
His hold on her tightened again, though to her it felt like a hug, "Okay."
Her husband left the sliding door open for her, making it easier for her to step inside. She set her basket of gifted food on the floor and crouched for him to get down from her back.
He climbed down and set foot on the floor; it was at that moment when he realized he was wearing her socks on his feet. They were soft and oversized on him, and it made him feel guilty knowing that she had to walk up a snow-covered mountain with nothing but her zōri to protect her feet from freezing.
She closed the door behind them and the inside immediately became warmer, it was almost too warm for him. As soon as she did, an old woman carrying a baby and three small children entered the room.
"Mama!" two of the children exclaimed in unison.
He quickly hid behind her legs, already feeling a little overwhelmed. She reached back to him, her hand on his upper back, encouraging him to step out and meet her family.
He took a couple of deep breaths to calm his nerves and shyly stepped out. The two younger children were wary, but the oldest boy, who's hair and eyes were similar in color to his own, came up to him without a second thought.
"Hi! My name is Tanjiro. What's your name?" he asked, smiling brightly.
He did not know what to say, he had no name. The closest thing he ever had to a name were the numerous insults he received everywhere he went
When he was not given a response, he tried again with another question, "How old are you?"
His age was the only thing he knew about himself, though he was honestly unsure how he knew. He held up six fingers, still too shy to say it vocally.
"Six, huh?" the old woman said as she gave the infant to her daughter-in-law. "That makes you the eldest child."
Eldest child? Was he now considered one of their children?
Worried he might become overwhelmed again, Kie spoke up, "Why don't you help him get cleaned up? He's had a very long and rough day."
She nodded, "That's a good idea." She grabbed his small hand, he was surprised by how thin her own was, and led him to a different part of the house, "Come now, little one. Let's clean you up and get you into some new clothes."
He looked back at her as she handed out rice crackers to her children. She made eye contact with him, nodding and giving him a reassuring smile.
His worn and torn clothes were removed as he sat on a stool, Kie's socks were the last thing to be taken off. Once the old, filthy clothes were gone, Tanjuro arrived with buckets of steaming water and washcloths.
Knowing it would be more comfortable for the boy, he asked his mother to help his wife with the children. She left with the promise of new, clean clothes when it was done.
He washed his hair, lathering every strand with soap, wiped his face, and rinsed him off with cups of water. He could hardly believe how much blood and dirt was covering his body, it was like sewage.
Once he was finished, he gave him some privacy to change into the clothing his mother brought for him. He changed into a brown and dull red yukata and fresh socks that were closer to his size. He combed his hair and tied it back into a ponytail, since it was the style he seemed to prefer. Now that he was clean, he could not help but notice how he almost resembled a younger version of himself.
It felt nice to be clean and to wear better clothes, it was refreshing. "Thank you."
He had not said anything or made any sounds during the bath, which had worried him. He smiled down at the child, "Not a problem, my boy."
When they entered the room, the family was sitting on the floor, eating dinner with two empty seats. The bath had been longer than either of them thought, long enough for a full meal to be cooked.
Tanjuro sat next to his wife, while he sat with the other children. The dinner was rice, pickled vegetables he was told were picked from the mountain, miso soup, grilled fish from the nearby river, and tea.
He watched them eat the food and stared at his own awkwardly. Even though he sat with them, he was not sure if he should eat with them or wait for them to finish. He also never used chopsticks before, he only ate scraps and used his hands.
The only one not using chopsticks was the second youngest child, the toddler Takeo, who was fed by his grandmother. He was quite a glutton as well, stealing food from his siblings and even him.
"What's wrong? Not hungry? Are you feeling alright?" Kie asked as she held the youngest child, the baby Hanako, with one arm and ate with her free hand.
He pushed the chopsticks away with his fingers. Tanjuro understood what he was trying to say and moved to sit next to him.
He used his own chopsticks to show him how he held them in his fingers. He tapped the ends together and showed him the way to pick up food from the dishes.
"Are you watching? Did you see how I did that?" he asked. He nodded. "Good. Now, you try."
He clicked his chopsticks like he had and tried to grab one of the vegetables, but it slipped out. He tried again, but the same thing happened and kept happening over and over.
"Don't worry, you'll get it," he assured. "Just keep trying."
Eventually, he was able to pick up the food and eat it without dropping it. The vegetables were sour and savory, it was an interesting taste, but he liked how warm it was.
He felt Tanjuro pat his head, "Good job. I'm proud of you."
He stopped eating when he said that, stunned to hear those words. He looked up at him with his hand still on his head and smiled brightly at him.
Dinner soon passed and the children were put to bed shortly afterward. He had to share a bed with Tanjiro until one could be bought for him. The younger boy slept soundly like his siblings, but, strangely, he could not.
On his first night with the family he was unable to fall asleep. He tried everything he could think of, closing his eyes and waiting for sleepiness to overtake him, and counting in his head. Nothing he did worked and seemed to make it worse.
He moved carefully to not awaken Tanjiro or any of the other children and got out of bed. He intended on walking around the house until he started to feel sleepy, but it was so dark he could hardly see anything.
His only light source was the still-glowing embers inside of a brazier. He began to walk towards it, though he knew how dangerous it was, but it was as mesmerizing as the snowfall in the dead of night.
Before he knew it, he was raising a hand towards the brazier, but he was stopped by a larger hand. It was at that moment when he was only inches from potentially losing his fingers, or worse.
It was Tanjuro that stopped and saved him, "Be careful there. It's a lot hotter than it looks."
He felt heat rise to his face in embarrassment, "I'm sorry."
He merely smiled, "Why are you awake? Couldn't sleep?" He shook his head. "I see."
He lit a candle and stirred the ashes, upturning the embers. In the light, the boy could see that he was tired, yet he was still awake as well. Was he having trouble falling asleep, like him?
With only the candle and brazier as his lighting, he managed to make tea for the both of them. He poured one cup for himself and another for him to have.
"Here you go," he handed him a cup. "Careful, it's very hot."
They waited for it to cool a little before drinking the hot beverage. He waited for Tanjuro to take a sip before he drank his.
"This should help you relax and fall asleep," he told him.
"Thank you," he replied, repeating the last words he said to him.
He smiled at the boy, softly and warmly, and gave him a light pat on the head. It was his first night with them and he already saw him as one of his children.
He knew he was probably still scared and worried he would never feel like part of the family. He wanted to change that and he knew how, by giving him what he did not have, a name.
As he thought of a possible name to give him, he inadvertently stared at the ashes in the brazier, at the embers that still lingered with the smallest flames. He noticed the boy glance up at them as well and that was when a suitable name came to him.
"Kouhai," he uttered, causing him to look up at him. "Kouhai Kamado. How does that name sound to you?"
He gazed down at the tea in his cup before setting it aside. He embraced him, wrapping his arms around Tanjuro's shoulders and burying his face in his own arm and his collarbone as tears of joy leaked out of his eyes.
He returned the hug by placing a hand on his back, "I'm glad. I know it might be scary now, but I'm sure you're going to love it here."
'Kouhai Kamado,' he thought with a smile. 'I think… I'm going to be just fine here.'
X-V-o-0-O-0-o-V-X
(A/N: And here we are, finally at the end of chapter one. It took quite a while to get this done, but I did it. This is the longest chapter I've written in almost two years now, I believe, so it is a bit of an achievement.
There was a little more I could have added, but I decided not to with how long it got. With that said, I hope you like what I have so far and will hopefully stay to see what happens next.)