Kuri's eyes fluttered open, her vision blurry as the world came back into focus. The faint scent of charred earth and flowers hung in the air, mingling with the faint hum of the group's quiet breathing. She blinked a few times before meeting Tanjiro's gaze, his wide, worried eyes staring back at her.
"Kuri! Kuri! Is that you?" Tanjiro asked, his voice thick with relief but tinged with fear.
He knelt beside her, his hands trembling as they hovered over her, unsure whether to embrace her or keep his distance. His expression wavered between hope and dread, as though afraid the spirit of Sadako might still linger within her.
"It's me," Kuri said softly, her voice weak but steady. Her hand reached out, brushing against his. "Please forgive me. It was my job… my duty… my burden… to purify that spirit. But I failed. I was never the priestess I was supposed to be."
Tanjiro opened his mouth to respond, but Kuri continued, her words spilling out like a confession she'd held in for years. "A priestess must be human, and yet more than human. She must stand apart, untouched by worldly desires. She must not have love. But I…"
"Don't be stupid!" Reiko's voice cut through the air like a whip. She knelt beside Kuri and slapped her across the cheek, though her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "Love is not weakness! I don't care what your father—or anyone else—said to you. That's not why you're struggling to master Shikon!"
Kuri blinked in shock, her hand instinctively going to her stinging cheek. "But… I am the reincarnation of Midoriko," she murmured. "I was chosen for this. I was born to do this. It's supposed to be easy."
"Easy?" Reiko scoffed, her anger flaring. "You think this is easy for any of us? Do you think I wasn't terrified the first time I felt the earth's power respond to me? Or that Nezuko wasn't scared when she realized what she'd become?" She leaned closer, gripping Kuri's shoulders tightly. "Strength isn't about being perfect. It's about facing your fears and fighting through them. Love doesn't make you weak, Kuri. It gives you something to fight for."
Kuri's lips parted as if to argue, but she fell silent. Reiko's words struck deep, and for the first time, she allowed herself to consider the possibility that love might not be the obstacle she'd always believed it to be.
Tanjiro watched the exchange quietly, his chest aching at the sight of Kuri's pain. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn't know how to bridge the gap between them. Before he could speak, Zenitsu piped up from the corner, his voice unusually calm.
"Kuri," he said, fiddling nervously with the hilt of his sword, "you're not the only one who feels like they're supposed to have it all figured out. Sometimes I think… if I can't be brave like Tanjiro or strong like Inosuke, what's the point of me even being here?" His gaze dropped to the ground. "But… I'm still here. I still try. Even when I'm scared."
Reiko gave him a sharp look. "For once, Zenitsu actually said something smart," she muttered, though her tone carried a hint of approval.
Kuri turned her head, her eyes flickering to Nezuko, who stood silently nearby. Nezuko stepped forward, her calm presence radiating quiet strength. She knelt beside Kuri, gently taking her hand in hers. Though she couldn't speak, the warmth in her touch and the determination in her gaze spoke volumes. You are not alone, her eyes seemed to say.
Kuri's tears began to fall, her composure breaking under the weight of her emotions. "But I failed," she whispered, her voice cracking. "If I can't even purify a single spirit… how can I fulfill my duty? How can I become what Midoriko was?"
"You don't have to do it alone," Tanjiro said softly, his voice full of warmth and reassurance. He reached out, cupping her cheek with his hand. "It doesn't matter what Midoriko did, or what anyone expects of you. You're Kuri. And that's enough."
Kuri's tears fell faster, her heart aching at the kindness in his words. "But I'm afraid," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "I'm afraid I'll never be enough."
Tanjiro pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. His warmth surrounded her, chasing away the coldness that had gripped her heart. "I won't let you wilt away," he said firmly, his voice trembling with emotion. "You won't become a husk like Sadako. It's okay to feel things, Kuri. You're allowed to love, to hurt, to heal. If you have a duty… shouldn't it be to your heart first?"
His words struck something deep within her, breaking down the walls she had built to protect herself. Slowly, she lifted her head, meeting his gaze. For the first time in what felt like forever, hope began to stir in her chest.
With a trembling smile, she leaned forward, her lips brushing against his in a soft, tearful kiss. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of each other's presence. In that moment, Kuri realized that maybe—just maybe—she didn't have to face her burdens alone.