Her Kind Hound
Frost_Fly
Summary:
The Demon Slayers were well respected and loved by all. So when a request is made by a Hashira for a wife, villages leap at the chance. How in the world, were you selected?
Notes:
(See the end of the work for notes.)
Chapter 1: Missing Information and a Contract
Chapter Text
The Demon Slayer corps were well liked among the common folk. Considered kind and virtuous by most, they were revered across Japan. After all they kept the creatures of the night at bay, from the largest cities to the smallest village. No payment was ever asked for, their hands always gently yet firmly pushing away any form of payment. They even insisted upon buying their own meals and lodging. The organization was loved and respected.
So when a request came forth carried by a crow, it was listened to with baited breath. Everyone wanted to help Lord Ubuyashiki however they could. The crow carried a simple request. One of the Hashira wished for a wife, for he had grown lonely in his free time.
It was like a spark, spreading from village to village until all that could be heard was the chatter of people guessing which Hashira or begging village elders to please select their daughter.
Many guessed that the flame Hashira Rengoku was the requester. The man was beloved by all. Among the Hashira he was the most popular, anyone could see why. Whenever he arrived, it was as if summer followed him. During the day he would be followed by a trail of ladies, the line stretching back several yards, all of them vying for a chance just to speak with him.
Others speculated the quiet water Hashira Giyu had finally started opening up. The man was reclusive but kind. While not as beloved as Rengoku, he still was a favorite among women. Village elders liked him as well, the man was incredibly formal and respectful with how he spoke, his words carefully chosen. In that way, Giyu was like a poet. He could often be found resting at tea houses after a battle, silently sitting among the old men who played mahjong. It was his quiet beauty that stole hearts wherever he went.
You figured it was Tengen Uzui. The man already had three wives and his lust seemed to never sate. You had seen him once in your village. He was loud, handsy and a tad vulgar. You shook your head at the idea of marrying a man like him. No thank you.
Wiping the front counter, you listened quietly to the excited chatter around you. The small restaurant was a buzz with people gossiping. They would run in, sit with a patron then run out. Barely anyone had ordered anything more than tea today, all of them here to swap gossip and place bets on which Hashira was wife searching. It irritated your boss to no end. The old man was sighing so loudly that the ends of his mustache would flutter.
You hid a smile as you passed him, going around the counter to clean a vacant table. Mr. Tanaka was not your father. He has taken you in years ago as his own after your family had been slaughtered by demons. You didn't remember it blessedly, being only a toddler at the time. But you had heard the story enough times to have grown sick of it. That was one thing you detested. The need to gossip about those who had been killed and how brave slayers had avenged them.
Picking up the empty bowls, you stacked them carefully in your arms. The clay clattered slightly as you tried to balance 7 at once. "I got it dear." You jumped at Mr. Tanaka's voice, the old man taking the bowls in his gnarled hands. He sighed again, narrowing his eyes as a particularly loud patron laughed. The sound enveloped the restaurant, sounding like a braying donkey. Today was not the day for calm. You patted the old man's arm with a small smile.
"Why don't you make some pastries for the dinner crowd Papa? I can handle the front tables for now."
Mr. Tanaka smiled at you, nodding once. "You are right my dear, thank you." He headed to the back, the small curtain swaying slightly after he passed. You smiled, turning to wipe down the now empty table. Mr. Tanaka, despite having no children, considered you to be his. And you agreed with the sentiment. He was your papa, the only family you had. Some of the village elders had argued that your use of 'Papa' was crude as you were not related by blood.
You thought that they were all idiots who followed tradition a little too much.
"OH MY GOODNESS." You turned just in time to see your best friend, Cherii barrel into you. The other woman hugged you, squealing excitedly as she did so. You laughed, pulling back and carefully moving the sodden rag that you had been using away from her nice kimono. Cherii came from the head family of the village, something she often seemed to forget when excited.
"Cherii, people are staring." You poked her in the ribs, shifting from her hold and walking back to the front counter. Cherii followed, bouncing excitedly as she did so. Sitting on one of the counter stools, she leaned in, hand pressed to her mouth as she squealed again. You tossed the dirty rag into one of the bamboo buckets kept under the counter. Grabbing a tea cup, you placed it in front of your friend, filling it with hot tea. Sliding it across the counter, you watched as she took a sip.
"So what has you so excited?" You leaned against the counter, resting your head in one hand. Cherii bounced in her seat, her boar skin cloak sliding down her shoulder. You raised an eyebrow at it. That was new, which means yet another hunter had tried and most likely failed at proposing to her. Although, given her excitement, it was possible a merchant's son had proposed. You knew there were a few who had frequented the village on their trade routes.
"Did Saburo propose?" You pointed at the soft fur cloak as you spoke. Cherii blinked, her excitement halting as she took in your words.
"Saburo?" She looked at the cloak, then back up at you. "This? No Shun tried again. Father refused."
You nodded slowly, feeling bad for the hunter. Shun was an honest man. He lived on the outskirts of town, his hunting skills supplying the entire village with meat. Shun's only sin? He was poor. Despite how much he did for the village, his house always in need of repair, his clothes always had holes.
You bit your tongue, it wasn't Cherii's fault, not really. She was raised by a rich scholar, a man who had the emperor's favor. Her father had settled back in his home town and walked around as if he were the emperor of the tiny village. The villagers said nothing in protest, his money buying cooperation. As such, what he said goes. He shaped the village as sort of a playground for his daughters. Because of this, Cherii was very very ignorant to the world around her.
You watched as she shrugged the cloak off, handing it over to you. "You don't have anything for winter yet right?"
Cherii was right, your closet consisted of 3 kimonos and 1 yukata. Winter was a season you and Mr. Tanaka did not fare well in. The Udon shop made a fair amount of money. But it was just enough to keep up with repairs and supplies. Luxury items such as new clothing and winter bedding were often too expensive.
"Cherii, Shun made that for you. I can't take it." You gently pushed her hand away. Cherii pouted, slipping it back on. Your friend was a s sweet as she was clueless. She sat back, sipping on her tea. You smiled at her, gesturing at her rather fancy attire. Cherii had on one of her best kimonos, her hair was done up as well, many baubles adorning her head.
"So are you going to tell me what has you so excited and dressed so fancy?"
Cherii jumped at your words, "OH! Yes!" She clapped excitedly. "A new message! Brought by that crow!"
You nodded slowly, waiting for her to elaborate. The crows used by demon slayers usually meant a warning of nearby demons. Occasionally there were small requests or news. In this case you were guessing the wife search had concluded. You looked at the fine blue silk of Cherii's kimono, the light makeup on her face. Had Cherii been chosen?
"They picked a wife! And they'll be here today!" The woman was wriggling in her seat, her expression one of pure excitement. You smiled, feeling relieved of the news. This meant all the incessant chattering would finally calm down. The mystery of which Hashira was asking would be put to rest.
"OH!" Cherii lept from the stool, quickly smoothing the fabric of her kimono. "I need to go! Father wants me there when they arrive!"
You waved as she left, watching as she nearly fell on her way out the door. Given her level of excitement, Cherii was for sure the one who had been selected. Resting against the counter, you watched the front door, wondering if the Hashira would pass by. They were fun to look at each of them, apparently exuding whatever special energy it was that they used. You found it slightly hard to believe given that the only one you had seen was Tengen Uzui. He was just loud as hell.
"Cherii could wake the dead with that squealing." Mr. Tanaka grumbled as he exited the kitchen, a platter of red bean buns balanced carefully in his hands. You smiled at him, snagging one and taking a bite. It was delicious, the fluffy warmth spreading from the bun through your hands. Mr. Tanaka smiled as he placed them carefully in the woven display basket. He was methodical, ensuring no bun was squished, all of them sitting neatly in little rows. You noticed a slight shake to his hands as you took another bite. His arthritis always got worse in the winter, it made you worry.
"She said that a decision was made." You swallowed your bite, "On the Hashira wife."
Mr. Tanaka hummed at your words, his mustache twitching as he frowned. The man was not relieved by the news as you thought he would be. You bumped him with your hip, shooting him a questioning glance. Mr. Tanaka took a look around, making sure there were no nearby patrons. He let out a heavy sigh before continuing.
"I find it strange." He gestured towards the front of the shop, to the outside world, "Why can't this hashira meet a girl like a regular man? A proper courting and proposal."
The old man's face was lined with worry, thick eyebrows pinched as he continued. "I don't like how they don't take the girl's feelings into consideration."
You nodded, tapping a finger against the counter. It was a good point. Though given the reactions of half the women in town, you had a feeling none of them would mind being chosen. There was some perks to being a Hashira's wife. Automatic respect, a nice estate and plenty of money from what you had heard. It was common knowledge that they were paid by the Emperor.
Though there was risk as well. You frowned as you thought, thinking of Cherii and her blissful ignorance. There were things the eager women might not want to acknowledge. The constant threat of demon attack, after all, how best to weaken men who were inhumanly strong? There was also a small group of humans who sympathized with demons. They were a pesky group, oftentimes assisting with heinous acts in the light of day when demons could not attack.
"A girl like Cherii would do better with someone like Shun." Mr. Tanaka huffed. You looked at him in surprise. It was unlike him to comment on others like that. He usually just shuffled about, muttering his comments to himself. The old man shrugged at your look, itching his mustache quietly.
"They'll be here today." You straightened, smoothing the front of your kimono. Mr. Tanaka huffed in response, shaking his head as he shuffled back into the kitchen. You smiled to yourself, Mr. Tanaka could be amusing at times with his old man antics. Walking back around the counter you snatched up a broom, carefully beginning to sweep up the restaurant. The chatter of the remaining patrons had quieted. Excitement still hung in the air, it was now a quiet anticipation. Everyone was looking outside, waiting for the Hashira to show.
You paid it little mind, the sound of your broom filling the restaurant. In the back the noise of Mr. Tanaka grumbling as he began preparing more pastries sounded off. You smiled at the small complaints he would let out. ' Stupid old fingers ' and ' Damn cranky back. ' were thrown around quite a bit. You wished that there were funds to hire kitchen staff. Mr. Tanaka had grown too old to continue manning the stoves and he refused to let you do so as well. You thought of the many failed dishes you had attempted, the old man sighing with defeat each time. The old broom stilled in your hands as you looked back at the kitchen. Maybe one day you'd learn properly. Until then, you would be serving ' strange food ' as Mr. Tanaka put it. Going back to sweeping you sighed quietly to yourself.
Early afternoon quickly slipped into late afternoon and then evening. The sun setting on the cool day, its golden rays quickly being swallowed by the night. It was never dark for long however, though your village was small it did have electricity. The new street lights flickering on soon after dark, their warm light pooling through the streets.
The restaurant's lunch crowd had long cleared out, only a few people trickling in for dinner. You bustled about, switching between cleaning and serving when needed. Not that there was much to clean, you just preferred to stay out of the quiet speculation. The urges from the older men to bet on Hashira made you want to barf, each attempt to get you to bid making you roll your eyes in frustration.
"Here you go." You placed a steaming bowl of udon in front of Mr. Tanaka, the man looking up in surprise. He had been busying himself with the accounting, various papers strewn across the counters. He sniffed the dish worriedly and you laughed, smacking his shoulder.
"It's your noodles and broth Papa." You rolled your eyes at his fake relief, the old man laughing as you shook your head.
"Thank you dear." He gave you a wide smile, gratefully tucking into the dish. You smiled back, turning away as the front door opened. Shouting a greeting over your shoulder, you snagged a menu from an empty table. Turning you noticed that the newcomers hadn't moved from the front door, the two men standing quietly. They certainly garnered a lot of attention, the few patrons who were eating whispering rather loudly. You shot one table a look, wishing that Old lady Yukio would swallow her tongue. The old woman threw around words like 'Freak' far too casually.
Hoping the guests hadn't heard, you made your way to man was smaller, leaning heavily on the other. His neat black hair framing his oddly scarred face. The man was swaying and you could tell standing was difficult. You quickly shifted next to him, bowing before you offered him an elbow. "Table for 2?"
The scarred man didn't move and you mentally kicked yourself as you got a good look at him. He was blind you realized, his cloudy eyes unmoving as he turned his head to you. His companion, a tall and golden haired man gently took the blind man's hand, placing it on your arm.
"Yes my lady. A table would be lovely." The golden haired man was incredibly loud and you would have jumped had the blind man not been clinging to your arm. Nodding, you smiled at him, guiding the men to the nearest table. Helping the scarred man sit, you placed the menu on the table. His companion sat, smiling widely up at you.
"Is this the establishment of Mr. Tanaka?" He was loud and boisterous, oddly colored eyes gleaming like pools of amber. The man made you feel warm, as if you were basking in the summer sun.
"It is." You nodded, motioning over to where the old man was sitting. Mr. Tanaka hadn't heard them, the old man slowly eating his dinner.
The blind man nodded slowly, "May we speak with him?"
You blinked, his voice was so calming. The words carried kindness and a gentleness you had never heard before. It made you want to cry for some reason.
"Sure." You stated softly. Walking over to Mr. Tanaka you motioned the odd pair. The old man looked up from his dinner, mustache twitching as he frowned. "They want to talk with you."
Your voice was low, confusion clearly painted across your features. Mr. Tanaka seemed just as confused, his fluffy eyebrows drawn so far down it was almost comical.
"They want to see me?" His frown deepened as he looked at them. "Is that not Hashira Rengoku?"
You looked over your shoulder with raised eyebrows. The golden haired man did fit the descriptions you had heard of the Hashira. You had never seen him in person, but this man certainly exuded the heat of fire. What had Cherii said about him? 'A golden halo of hair, like it was spun from the sun's flames.'
Much too poetic for your liking, but you could see what she meant. Speaking of the devil, Cherii twirled into the restaurant excitedly. You watched with dismay as a crowd streamed into the restaurant, the tables and main counter filling quickly. No one was here to eat of course, they were here to gawk at the slayers. A din of noise arose, the poor attempt at whispers quickly stirring into a cacophony of chatter. Money was being passed subtly among some of the men. Bets being paid it seemed.
"Damn harpies." Mr. Tanaka stood, his back cracking as he did so. You sighed, silently agreeing with him. As he made his way over to the men, you slid back behind the counter. No one was going to order and there was no point in hanging over Mr. Tanaka's shoulder. You watched with your arms crossed as Mr. Tanaka sat with the men. The blind one began talking, his head tilted towards Mr. Tanaka. His words at first made the old man relax, Mr. Tanaka nodded slightly in response to whatever had been said.
"Father talked to them earlier." You jumped at the whisper, turning to see Cherii next to you. Your friend looked upset, her painted lips pulled down in a frown. It was unlike her to look so down. She had taken her hair down, the fancy decorations replaced with a simple ribbon and a braid. You noted with a suppressed smile that the boar cloak was still covering her shoulders. You would mention it to Shun the next time you saw him. Cherii's father might not approve of him, but it seemed he had garnered some of Cherii's attention with the garment.
"He turned down offering me as a bride." You raised your eyebrows at that. Being a Hashira's wife was something that you figured the town head would want his daughter to have. You glanced back at the trio of men, taking in Rengoku's appearance. He wasn't your type, not quite, but you couldn't see why Cherii's father would refuse. Perhaps the man had thought of the dangers that came with the position. He was cautious about Cherii's safety, you would give him that.
"Well. Sort of." You turned back to your friend, only half listening. "Father said that I didn't qualify or something." Cherii let out a large sigh and you frowned as you mulled over her words. Didn't qualify? That was an odd thing to say. Cherii continued watching the men, her fingers picking at the hem of her sleeve. She was quickly unraveling a small flower with her antics. You waited for a moment, but she seemed to have no intention of elaborating.
"So your father didn't reject them. They rejected him?" You whispered back, turning to lean your hip against the counter. Cherii glared at you, then nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't know. I guess."
You pulled your friend into a hug in response. Cherii was insulted by the refusal and you understood why. She was used to men falling head over heels for her. The woman had at least one proposal attempt a week. Pulling away you gave her a reassuring smile, hoping she wouldn't beat herself up too much. This certainly was an ego blow for the woman.
"NO!" You and Cherii jumped, turning to look towards the shouting. Mr. Tanaka was standing, fist clenched as he shook his head vehemently. You had never seen the elderly man look so upset. It scared you, his eyes flashing with anger as he looked at the two men. You quickly let your spot, pushing through the crowd to get to Mr. Tanaka's side. He was shaking, body rigid as he shook his head again.
"Papa, what's wrong?" You asked softly, taking one of his hands in yours. The old man turned to you, gesturing with his wrinkled hand at the two men. His lips were trembling as he opened his mouth to answer, it worried you that he was so worked up.
"They said they're here for you! As a bride!" His voice was shaking and you could tell Mr. Tanaka was on the verge of tears. You tightened your grip on his hands, your mind trying to comprehend what he had said. Perhaps you had misheard. But judging by Mr. Tanaka's reaction, you definitely hadn't. For a moment you didn't know how to respond, shock and anger twisting in your mind. Shock won, your brow pinching as you looked at the Slayers.
"Why me?" Your gaze flicked between Rengoku and his companion. There was nothing you had ever done to indicate you wanted to be anyone's bride. Hell you had never even had a proposal. In your grip, Mr. Tanaka's hand shook, the two of you staring silently at the Slayers.
"Well." Rengoku looked at the other man, then back at you as he answered. "Simply put, no one else has agreed."
That made no sense. You glanced over your shoulder, spotting Cherii still behind the counter. So had she been rejected by them? Or had her father rejected the proposal?
"So why should I?" You felt yourself growing irritated. The past few weeks had been nothing but talk about this. Today had been full of people wasting your time and being much too loud in your restaurant because of them. Even now you were unable to have a decent conversation, half the village crammed around the table, listening in.
"We will pay your father handsomely, he could retire." Rengoku's words made your head jerk back as if you had been smacked. Were they using Papa as an excuse to try and strong arm you into agreeing. It was well known he was up there in age and that he was struggling with his arthritis. Biting your bottom lip you glared at the men. You were also sickened by the notion that you were an object that could be bought. Your fingernails bit into your palm as you made a fist. It took everything within you not to snap at the men.
"Absolutely not!" Mr. Tanaka jabbed a finger at the golden haired man. His mustache was quivering he was so angry.
"You don't have a choice, Goro." You turned at the new voice, surprised to hear Mr. Tanaka's first name. It was the town elder, Mr. Yamamoto. He had his hands clasped behind his back as he shuffled forwards. The crowd parted for him like water, heads bowing as he passed. Mr. Yamamoto was the same age as Mr. Tanaka, yet his nasty demeanor seemed to age him further. You narrowed your eyes at him, waiting for whatever is next.
"The slayers have kept us safe for generations. One girl is a small price to pay." Mr. Yamamoto coughed as he spoke, not bothering to cover his mouth. "You should be honored Goro."
Rengoku stood, motioning to you with one hand. "Please, collect your belongings. We set out immediately."
You looked up at Mr. Tanaka, the old man was crying. Silent tears dribbled down his wrinkled face. He looked utterly defeated. You looked over at Mr. Yamamoto, he seemed annoyed, face pinched like he had eaten something sour.
"If I say no?" Your question was directed at the village elder, his face darkening at your lack of respect. Mr. Yamamoto coughed again, expression turning into a nasty sneer. He shuffled forward a step, eyes narrowing as he looked you up and down.
"I will kick you and Mr. Tanaka out of this village. You won't be able to live within 200 miles of here."
You felt your shoulders slump, your heart dropping. It sounded like an empty threat, but it was one you knew he would act on. The man was known for being callous, having left his eldest son to die in the snow years ago. That callousness paired with a Town head who had the emperor's favor, your names could be blacklisted. You could become outcasts.
"There's no need for that." The blind man spoke up, standing slowly. He turned to you, cloudy eyes feeling as if they were looking you over. You shifted, your gaze jumping between him and Mr. Yamamoto. The village elder seemed annoyed, shooting you a nasty look as if to tell you he thought otherwise.
"Please. I wish for this to be peaceful. We aren't marauders." The blind man's voice caused a silence to fall through the restaurant, everyone looking on respectfully. He gestured at you, fingers wiggling as if he were asking you to take his hands. You did so, surprised at how cold they were.
"We asked who was a quiet and level headed woman. Someone who asked for little, who was happy with simplicity."
You frowned at his words, hands going limp in his grip. The description did sound like you. Just a bit. But still, there were plenty of other willing and able women who wanted the golden haired Hashira. Other girls who also fit that description.
From behind you, Mr. Yamamoto coughed again and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You knew exactly why he was insisting upon you. In his eyes you had no family, no property, no worth. Why should he send off one of the maidens of the established families when there was a nobody like you? He wanted to save the pretty village girls for his grandsons and the sons of his advisors. None of them wanted an orphaned woman to catch the eyes of their sons. It was both ridiculous and amusing. Mr. Yamamoto was a fool.
You glanced over to Mr. Tanaka. He had been kind all these years, given you a home and food. If you married he would be able to hire staff, potentially retire. Your gaze went to his hands, his fingers twisted by arthritis. He deserved to live his last few years in relative comfort. The constant cleaning and cooking was making his condition worse. You mind went to the thread bare futons upstairs, the quilts that were moth eaten. He would get sick this winter without anything new.
"I'll do it." You murmured, dropping the blind man's hands. The words of thanks from the two slayers barely reached your ears. Your mind was occupied with the sadness on your papa's face. He looked heart broken. Quickly hugging him, you smiled, trying to look confident.
"You can hire a kitchen boy and a waitress." He shook his head at your words, tears staining his mustache. You pulled back, clutching both of his hands. "Winter clothing too, and a new futon."
Looking at the men, you sighed, "Will I be able to visit here?"
Both men nodded in response, smiling at you. Nodding back you turned to Mr. Tanaka with a reassuring smile. "See? I'll be back before you know it."
The old man pulled you into a hug, whispering in your ear as he did so, "At any point if you need to escape, just send word. I'll get you to safety."
You nodded silently, patting his back. Mr. Tanaka pulled away, wiping the tears from his cheeks. Turning, you motioned to the men, "Shall we?" Rengoku seemed surprised, his thick eyebrows raising. You didn't need to pack, the two thread bare kimonos left upstairs were better for the rag pile than being worn by a Hashira's wife. Asking for a new one would probably be something he would grant you.
You waved to Cherii from across the room. The other woman crying as you turned and left. You hoped it was because she would miss you and not because you were being chosen. It was most likely the latter and as you exited into the cold night, you hoped that you hadn't just made the worst decision of your life.
A covered carriage was waiting outside, the horses stomping in the cold air. The driver smiled at you then turned, giving a nod to the slayers. You ignored the gesture, waiting as Rengoku tugged open the door. He gestured for you to enter and you did so, turning to assist the blind man into the carriage. Once he was settled, you helped Rengoku pile on the many blankets that sat waiting. Whoever he was, the man was sickly. You winced at the hacking cough he admitted, the handkerchief in his hands stained pink when he removed it from his mouth.
Rengoku closed the door quickly, knocking on the ceiling as he sat next to you. The carriage jerked into motion, horses snorting excitedly outside. You managed a final glimpse from the window, catching sight of your sad Papa waving goodbye.
"Tomorrow he will receive a package with coins and clothing." The blind man coughed again, gagging as he did so. You murmured a thanks, feeling slightly numb inside.
"Ah master! Introductions." Rengoku barked. He half bowed in his seat, gesturing to the man across from you. "This is Master Ubuyashiki. Head of the demon slayers."
You raised an eyebrow at that. The fact that the esteemed man was out and about seemed dangerous to you. It also worried you just how sickly he was. For a moment you wondered if you had been tricked. But no, the Hashira seemed like the real deal. And as frail as Ubuyashiki seemed, it didn't mean he was any less of a leader. You had worked with Mr. Tanaka for years and had seen just how strong frail old men could be when they needed to.
"So I am to be your wife Rengoku?" You asked, watching as the town quickly disappeared from view. Much like the slayers, these horses seemed incredibly strong. The golden haired man laughed, slapping you on the back. You winced, nearly flying off your seat from the force.
"Good joke young lady." His response sent a shock wave through your body. You glared at him, feeling confused. Your back ached where he had smacked it and you rubbed it as you waited. Rengoku took in your stare, his large grin slowly sliding off his face. He blinked, looked at Ubuyashiki then back to you.
"We didn't tell her Master." His words hit you like a punch, you physically recoiled in response. Rengoku shot you an apologetic smile. It did nothing to soothe your nerves, your heart began pounding as you waited for him to tell you.
"I am not looking for a bride. The Hashira Shinazugawa is."
You frowned at his words. Not Rengoku, the man you were supposed to marry wasn't even here. Your frown deepened as you thought hard, the name ringing a bell in the back of your mind. The name was one you had heard before, a Hashira that was spoken about quietly. It took you a moment, you sat silently as you tried to chase the feeling of familiarity. Shinazugawa, a Hashira. It hit you like lightning.
Sanemi Shinazugawa. The Mad Hound of the Demon Slayer corp. A man who was feared for his animalistic nature. Known for killing demons with his bare hands and more than once stringing them up in pieces to perish in front of the sun. He took the killing of demons to a brutal and sickening level.
Why did he of all men want a wife?
You began to shake, mind skipping from one scenario to the next. All of them ending with you dead at his hands. He terrified you to the core, a man who was only known for his cruelty. Not a single nice rumor circulated about the man, only the whispered ones of frighten men. Without thinking you lunged, hands grasping at the carriage door handle. You kicked yourself for not sitting on that side, shrieking as Rengoku wrestled you away from the door.
"Please calm down." Ubuyashiki was coughing again, the man somehow paler than before. You trembled in Rengoku's grip, tears welling in your eyes.
"Sanemi is a voracious hunter, yes, but he would never harm you." Ubuyashiki's calm voice and reassuring words did not still the frantic tempo of your heart. Beside you Rengoku looked pained, the man glancing between you and Ubuyashiki worriedly.
"Master, forgive me. But we did mislead the woman." He released you from his strong arms, shooting you an apologetic look. Ubuyashiki nodded once, a pale hand pressing against his lips as he thought. You waited, stealing glances at the carriage door. At this speed you were miles away from the village, but walking in the dead of night seemed safer than meeting Shinazugawa.
"Might I propose a solution." Ubuyashiki asked, lowering his hand back to the quilted blankets. You remained silent, knowing it would be given regardless of your answer.
"Allow Shinazugawa a month of your time. I promise no harm will come to you." He coughed roughly, then continued, "If after a month you find it disagreeable. You may leave. Your father will receive the same compensation regardless."
You scowled, clasping your hands in your lap as you thought. A month's time. Could you do it? Was it worth it? You thought of Mr. Tanaka's gnarled fingers, the way he sometimes struggled to stand after sitting for too long. There were the old roof tiles that let in the cold. The broken window papered over that wouldn't hold back the snow.
You could do it. Just one month with the Mad Hound if it meant your Papa had a warm home and full stomach.
"Fine." You sat back, turning your head away from the two men. Their looks of relief were odd and you disliked it immensely. You decided to ignore them, hoping that the carriage would bring you to your destination soon. Your fingers found the hole at the hem of your kimono and you picked at it.
"Here." It was Ubuyashiki, he slid a scroll and pen from his robes. You watched as he wrote, his hands shaking as he made changes to the scroll. The scratching of the pen felt too loud, filling the cabin of the carriage until blessedly it stopped. The frail man read what he wrote, nodding with a sigh before extending the scroll.
You took it cautiously, unraveling the heavy paper. He was also extending the pen, the small device surprisingly heavy. Had you not been so upset you might have marveled at the little item, having only heard of them before. Instead you focused on the scroll, frowning as you read it. It was a contract of sorts, Binding you and Shinazugawa for a single month. Your eyes skipped over the words, taking in the deal. Just as Ubuyashiki has said, as if the man knew no woman in her right mind would agree. Your gaze slid to the bottom of the page. It was signed by Shinazugawa and Ubuyashiki, all that was missing was your signature.
"You're lucky you know." You spoke up staring at Ubuyashiki. He titled his head, expression becoming questioning. In the dim carriage the scars had an odd texture to them, shadows being cast across his face in an almost frightening look.
"No other woman could do this." You gestured to the contract, tapping it so he could hear what you were referring to. "Divorce is hardly allowed. Hell there are more laws to allow a husband to kill his wife."
Rengoku frowned at your words, his gaze fixed on you worriedly. You shrugged, quickly writing your name on the empty line. "I can never remarry after him."
The two men looked solemn at your words, heads bowing as you handed the scroll back. You cared not for their pity, your stomach churning with anxiety. Just one month and you would make it back to Mr. Tanaka. Then you could move away and never deal with the stupid village elders or Demon Slayers ever again.
You closed your eyes and leaned back, praying that the month would fly by.
Chapter 2: Midnight Snack
Summary:
You awake in the Hounds Estate. He's not here, but a kindly stranger is.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
You awoke in a bed, the thick comforter pressing down around you, the warmth nearly making you fall back asleep. Blinking up at the tall ceiling, you struggled for a moment, mind sluggishly trying to comprehend the strange view around you. It clicked then, the contract, the Hound, one month.
Dread filled you, your heart clenching in dull panic. Sitting up quickly, you looked around the dark room. This was his estate, it had to be. Running a hand over your face, you let out a small goran. A mixture of frustration and fear twisting in your stomach. The last thing you remembered was closing your eyes in the carriage and now you were here. It upset you slightly, had they no decency to wake you? Instead, right to the bedchambers.
You glared between your fingers, scowling at the soft comforter. How had you not woken up? Had they drugged you?
You supposed it didn't matter, you were alone. And you felt untouched, no signs of untoward actions against your person. Dropping your hands into your lap, you squinted again in the dark. Shapes of bedroom furniture swam just out of view. It was incredibly quiet as well, your own breathing sounding too loud in the pressing dark.
Leaning forward you felt along the edge of the futon for the floor. Sliding your fingers against the smooth tatami, you carefully felt your way across the floor. Your pinky bumped against wood and you paused, leaning forward to get a better look. As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you took in the small table near the futon. It had a candle and matches neatly laid out, as if waiting for you. Shuffling closer, you fumbled for a moment before lighting the candle.
It glowed warmly, the small light doing little to illuminate the room. It didn't bother you however, giving you just enough light to inspect where you had unceremoniously been dropped off.
It was a large room, nearly the size of the front of Mr. Tanaka's restaurant. You gaped at the fine walls and the well kept tatami. The room was filled with finery, items that you had a feeling were incredibly expensive. Even the futon, your hands ran over the cloth again and you realized it was made of silk.
Turning you squinted, eyes glancing over the dark wooden dresser, its many draws no doubt filled with clothing. Next to the dark wood were the faint colors of bright kimonos hung neatly on their stands. They were elaborate, nicer than any kimono you had even seen on the Village head's children.
You raised the candle higher, eyes taking in the few scroll of calligraphy that hung neatly near the sliding doors. The scrolls matched the tatami in their light green color, creating harmony between the walls. The light of the candle flickering over it all, dim light highlighting each little bauble and decoration. The room was peaceful and beautiful. There was elegance here, something you had not expected.
You had honestly thought someone named "The Hound" would have a disheveled home. Men who were known for violence didn't seem like the type who did well with staff. Or belongings for that matter. And with the reputation Sanemi had, you had half expected the place to be falling down around you. The finery set out for you was almost sterile in its perfection, it made you wonder if the Hound was ever actually home.
You brushed a strand of hair from your face, freezing as you took in the sleeve hanging from your arm. It was not your dull well patched kimono. Pure white silk hung from your arm, the smooth fabric sliding about softly.
Oh god who had dressed you? Your cheeks burned as you pinched the fabric. The thought of a strange man dressing you and putting you to bed was one you didn't want to mull over. Hopefully the man had servants or you would have to deal with the knowledge he had touched you in your sleep.
Shuddering you shook the thought from your head, standing slowly. Your legs ached slightly, as if you had been sleeping for a long while. The flickering candle light cast your shadow, long and dark across the floor behind you. Like a specter it flickered against the floor, you started for a moment, then shook your head. Stretching slightly, you shuffled towards the door of the room. It stood, a silent barrier from the rest of the house.
You paused, fingers lightly pressed against the wooden frame. What if he was right outside? Waiting for you to wake? But no, if that were the case he would have just as easily sat inside, blocking your exit. You let out a small sigh, pulling your shoulders back and standing up straight.
Sliding the door open slowly, you peeked your head out. A dark, yet clean hallway met your eyes, the tall ceiling impossibly high above you. Polished wood gleaming dully beneath your candle light, shadows dancing across the sleek surface. Looking the opposite direction you were met with an identical stretch of silent hallway. It was large and almost cold in its untouched perfection. You held your breath, straining to hear any signs of life. In your right ear the small crackling of the candle flame whispered, your only companion in the cold space. The empty hallway itself reflected nothing but silence, the house not even creaking in the night.
Slowly, you stepped out, placing your feet carefully with each step. The wood was cold in contrast to the tatami, autumn chill radiating through the floor. You shivered as you turned, moving to close the door, then paused.
Given the size of the hallway and the room, this was a full estate. And a rather large one at that based on the high walls and wide floors. You were bound to lose your way if you didn't have some sort of indicator of your starting point. Dropping your hand from the door, you stepped away from the room, looking back at the hall.
Holding the candle steady, you took a cautious step to your left. Then another, stepping as carefully as you could to avoid making didn't want to wake anyone nearby, afraid that you would be carted back to your room. It didn't matter however, each step you took was virtually silent, the floor was so new that the wood had yet to wear down in places. The only thing you could hear was your own breathing and the rapid fluttering of your heart in your ears.
Passing door after door, you heard no noise, saw no light. It was as if the estate was empty, devoid of anyone but yourself. Part of you was tempted to look in the other rooms, poke around for proof of life. But ultimately you decided against it. The last thing you wanted to do was catch the Hound in his sleeping quarters. You shuddered at the thought of catching him asleep or worse, in a state of undress.
You continued slowly until you reached a turn. Pausing, you looked carefully around the corner, tensing as you did so. The candle light danced wildly along the walls, your slightly shaking hands throwing the little flame into a frenzy.
Nothing met your eyes, just another stretch of hall and various doors. Looking back from where you came was the same sight, a long stretch of silent house. It made sense, this was most likely the outer hallway, the longest stretch of hall. Chewing at your bottom like you pondered what to do. Waiting until morning was an option, however, you wanted to get a feel of the estate, what little you could do without his watchful eye. Waking up here felt like a slap to the face. You had no idea where in the country you were and no idea where the master of the house was. They had dropped you off unceremoniously so a little snooping was warranted.
You stepped out, continuing your cautious journey. The hallway led to the large front door and you paused, looking at the heavy wood. The ornate door seemed to tease you, its carved hounds twisting along the sides looked at you with beady eyes. Their stiff carved fur was accompanied by decorative wind gusts, the entire piece intricate in its design. Running a finger over one of the leaping hounds, you pondered the opportunity laid before you.
You could escape, just tug it open and disappear into the night. Sure you had no idea where you were and how close the nearest village was, but escape was an option. You bit your lip, sliding your hand over the twisting designs. No, running was not an option. You had promised the demon slayer one month and you would stick to your word. Papa had raised you as such and despite how happy you knew he would be to see you, there would be disappoint mixed in at your actions. Besides, demons probably lurked around the house of the Hound, waiting to catch him off guard. And if you ran out there like an idiot you were just serving yourself up as an easy snack.
Shuddering at the thought, you turned away from the door and continued your walk. Passing door after door, you froze, foot coming down as quietly as you could. Sniffing gently, you tilted your head, following the scent that had seemingly come out of nowhere. Something smelled good, really good. Your stomach cramped a low rumble coming from your abdomen. Pressing a hand against your stomach you winced, the pangs of hunger almost crippling. With everything that had happened, you hadn't had lunch or dinner yet today.
If it was even the same day.
Your mouth watered at the smell, hands shaking slightly as you pondered your next move. The smell of food meant another person. At best it was a servant, at worst it was the man you were betrothed to. Or contracted to, you weren't sure what the right term was. As much as you wanted to avoid contact with others until the morning, you were feeling dizzy from the lack of food. It was an agonizing choice to make, however, your anxiety fighting with your stomach.
You winced as hot wax finally made it to your hands. The sudden pain pulled you from your thoughts and you let out a small sigh. Like an idiot you hadn't poked around for a lantern. With a scowl at the candle, you headed towards the smell. Regardless of who it was, you had to meet them sooner or later. It was better to just get it over with.
Your feet carried you to a large kitchen, bright light spilling into the hallway. You paused just outside, keeping to the shadows. The smell was stronger here, your stomach full on rioting now, the need for food overwhelming your thoughts. You felt saliva pool in your mouth, the prospect of eating a warm meal making you mind go blank. Shaking your head you tightened your grip on the now stub of a candle, trying to ground yourself.
Cautiously you peered around the door frame, tense as you half expected to be jumped at. You blinked in surprise, there was no one.
The large kitchen was clean, full of warm light and warm smells. You slid inside, placing the candle in an empty ceramic bowl. The hot wax peeled easily off your fingers and you grimaced at the slight sting. Rubbing the sore skin you looked about nervously. You couldn't place the source of the good smell. It was heavy here though, you closed your eyes for a moment, taking in the scents of miso, seaweed and was that seasoned pork? Your stomach rumbled louder and you opened your eyes, looking at where to start your search.
Everything seemed to be in its place, the wooden table and counters devoid of any food. Your gaze swept the room, skipping over the many small tables and large stone sink. A kitchen fit for a king's palace with room for several chefs. It was immaculate, not a dish out of place. Herbs hung from a rack with many pots and pans. You touched one gently, the shiny metal feeling brand new.
Behind you, in front of a decorative wall stood a tall table, wiped clean and with stools tucked against it. The worn wood was empty, devoid of any dishes. You turned back to the small stove and fancy cabinets, all closed and tidy. Running a hand along one ornate wooden door, you sniffed again, seeing no source of the smell. As far as you could tell the warm delicious smell was just how the kitchen smelled.
You would think it odd, but the restaurant kitchen always smelled good, though being used over 10 hours a day would do that to a room. This room was slightly cold despite being the kitchen, the only warmth radiating from a covered rice pot.
Your stomach cramped harshly and you clutched your hand to it. Perhaps you could poke about in the cabinets and find a snack. There was no harm in doing so. Right? The kitchen filled with the sound of your stomach again and you nodded in agreement with it.
"Are you hungry?"
You nearly screamed, whirling around in surprise. One hand clutched to your chest, the other scrambling for a bowl to use as a weapon. Your fingers met air, dancing stupidly along the smooth stone of the sink. Heart racing, you stood frozen, throat tight with the scream that refused to spill out.
A white haired man stood, one hand lifting the heavy curtain you had stupidly assumed was a decorative wall. Behind him you could see the faint shapes of rice and potato stacks, a store room of sorts for even more food. He lifted his thinning eyebrows slightly, as if he was the one surprised. You supposed he was rightfully so. The last thing anyone had probably expected was for you to skulk about the estate at night, on your first day here no less.
You watched, tense as he pushed through the thick curtain, motioning to one of the stools tucked against the tall table. You shuffled to the table cautiously, taking in his messy white hair and the loose fitting light green robe. If you didn't know any better you would guess he was sleeping back there given his state of disarray. You ignored that thought, hoping he too would ignore your lack of proper dress.
The man pushed past you gently, taking care not to even brush against you. He seemed to be unbothered by the fact that you could see his very sculpted and scarred chest through his rather open robe. You sat, averting your eyes and willing your cheeks not to grow red. In your chest the urge to flee fought with your hunger, the feeling making you slightly nauseous.
He seemed to not notice, the man carefully pulled a bowl free of the stack, large hands making the ceramic dish look small. He moved slowly, as if still half asleep. You stared at the scars that lazily looped over his skin, the silvery marks shimmering in the low lantern light of the kitchen. They slid beneath the edges of his robe, their twisting paths erratic and slightly entrancing. You watched as they rolled with each turn of his wrist. Had the Hound given him such scars, or perhaps a demon?
The man scooped some rice into a bowl, the steam from the warm rice pot billowing briefly through the kitchen. He seemed to not mind the heat, the thick cloud enveloping him for just a moment, his head becoming one with the white puff of steam. He turned slightly to place the bowl on the table, skilfully closing the rice pot's heavy ceramic lid with his other hand. As he did so, his robe was tugged open further, the light green fabric sliding back to reveal more of his pale skin and scars. You shifted in your seat, tugging your robe more tightly around your form. Seeing his skin so casually exposed made you feel self conscious. The man lacked basic manners and you suspected most of the people the Hound associated with would also be lacking in decorum. You smoothed the soft fabric of your sleeping robe, scowling at how well it clung to your form.
"So you're the bride?" He didn't look up as he spoke, scarred fingers deftly cracking an egg over rice. His right pinky was missing the nail, knotted flesh twisted in the spot the nail should be. It looked painful and you shuddered slightly. He had caught your stare, eyes unblinking as he waited. You flushed and murmured in the affirmative to his question. Watching as his thin fingers sprinkled green onions and furikake across the meal you tried to ignore the loud growl your stomach let out.
The meal was simple, a dish your Papa would make when you were little. Sliding the bowl over to you, he turned, opening another cabinet and picking through it. You waited, fingers drumming nervously against the wooden table top. It felt wrong to be sitting in the middle of the night in the kitchen with a stranger. The scenario was like a fever dream, your mind whispering that perhaps you had not yet awoken. Maybe you would wake up and the day would start, Mr. Tanaka would call you down to start the day.
You stilled your finger drumming as he turned back to you, gently offering you a pair of chopsticks. You took them, careful not to touch his fingers with your own. For some reason you wanted to avoid touching him and thus far, he had gone out of his way to avoid touching you. A silent agreement of sorts you were more than happy to keep.
Turning your attention partially to your meal, you watched out of the corner of your eye as the man turned again, this time opening a lower cabinet door.
He seemed unsurprised and unbothered to have run into you, the man moving languidly as he tugged a sake gourd free. Taking a small bite of the meal, you watched as he poured two cups. Pushing one across the table, he took the other ceramic dish and swiftly swallowed the alcohol. You pushed the dish back towards him, nose scrunching at the sour smell of the alcohol. The very last thing you were going to do was get drunk in the house of a known maniac. The white haired man took it without protest, downing that portion as well.
"How did they convince you?" He was pouring himself another cup, lilac eyes peering through his snowy lashes as he watched you. Taking another bite, you mulled over how to respond. You sincerely doubted he was Sanemi Shinazugawa. The Hound's reputation made it hard to believe the man would make anyone a meal. But he was a servant in the house, or an apprentice, something along those lines. So you had to be mindful of how you spoke, lest any sour words made their way back to the Hound.
"They promised to pay my Father. So he can retire." Your words felt like they stuck in your throat. The urge to say 'Strong Armed' and 'Blackmail' danced on your tongue. You almost let the words fall, tempted to hear what protests the Hound might have when he found out. You doubted it would do any good, choosing to swallow them with a bite of rice instead.
The man leaned forward, resting his forearms against the table. The muscles in his forearms tensed, the scars there jumping slightly in response. His left eyebrow was raised, as if urging you to elaborate. You scowled in response, taking another bite of rice instead of answering his silent urging.
As you chewed you watched him. The man looked rough, as if he had been used as a knife sharpener. Even his eyes looked worn down, slightly wild and bloodshot beneath white lashes. You wondered if the Hound had been the cause of the odd weight he seemed to carry. Or if there was something worse lurking in this manor.
The man motioned to you with one finger, his eyebrows wiggling as if to say, 'well?' . Swallowing, you leaned back slightly on the stool, a sigh making its way out slowly.
"The Slayers talked to the village elder and my guess is after he learned that it was The Hound Sanemi, he refused his own daughter being carted away." You rolled your eyes, thinking of Cherii's father. The man was now on your list of insufferable people who walked this land. How surprised would he be when you waltzed back into town a month from now, your Papa richer than he. It would mortify the man, a small comfort for him practically volunteering you. Shrugging the thought off, you picked your chopsticks back up, poking at the rice mixture dully.
"So I am guessing I was suggested. The orphan who has no ties to the village and an elderly adopted father whose body is breaking down. Too old to support us both."
Your heart ached with a mixture of shame and anger. The words, while true, felt like barbed pokers. Hot and sharp in their existence, scrapping your heart as you uttered them. You grit your teeth, angrily taking several bites of food to avoid speaking again. Glaring down at the half finished meal, you fought the urge to cry, instead focusing on chewing as aggressively as you could.
"He didn't ask for a wife you know." Your white haired companion downed another shot of sake, the bowl resting limply between his thumb and forefinger as he stared at you. He looked pensive, his thinning eyebrows now pinched together. You waited, swallowing your mouthful quietly.
"The Hound wanted an apprentice to train in his free time. Bolster the ranks while also training his inevitable replacement. " The man shrugged, pouring himself another drink, lilac eyes not moving from your face. You sat still, feeling pinned down by his gaze.
"He was told no and that free time should be spent enjoying life. Enjoying human things and not thinking about demons."
You tilted your head at that, frowning as you mulled over the new information. So the Hound didn't even want a wife? He was being strong armed into it as much as you were?
You thought of the slayer's master, Ubuyashiki. While frail, he did have an odd air about him. His presence was commanding, not in a powerful way but rather, his very existence demanded respect. You thought back to your brief conversation with him, how his words were so very calming, even when spelling out an unsavory fate. Even a man as feared as the Hound might bow to Ubuyashiki's will. It would be hard not to.
You sighed, taking another bite of food as you thought. While odd, the information did give you a glimmer of hope. Perhaps you would just be ignored here, left to your own devices. You might be free to just relax for a month.
"Why would a man as feared as the Hound need a replacement?" Your question seemed to surprise the man, his brief surprise quickly being overtaken by amusement. He shrugged, gesturing vaguely as he spoke.
"Have you ever seen an active Hashira over the age of 40?"
You shook your head slowly, truth be told you didn't take note of such gossip. Knowing the ages of strangers, even ones who protected all of Japan had never been something you had sought out. Sure you had seen Hashira come and go, but it had been a passing thought. Nothing more than acknowledgement of the new name to remember should they ever visit the town. You weren't even sure how many Hashira there even were.
"Hashira either die young or retire." He spoke as if he were discussing the weather, his bitter words punctuated by another swig of alcohol. You merely nodded in response, unsure of what to say.
What little you knew of the Slayers was all given to you by gossip from others. You supposed a man living in a Hashira's estate would know better than most however. Just how old was the Hound if he was already thinking of retirement? The thought of an old man swam into your mind and you shuddered. At least that was one positive of this situation, no lecherous old man to deal with. You had already dealt with your fair share at the restaurant.
"They tend to die more often than not." The words were mumbled, almost an afterthought. You caught his eye, your brow pinching as you struggled to think of what to say. The tone of the man's voice carried a hidden weight, his shoulders slumping slightly before he straightened. An uneasy silence filled the kitchen.
You quietly ate the last of your meal, pondering what the next month ahead would look like. The white haired man was silent, his cheeks slowly turning pink as he threw back cup after cup of sake. You supposed you would be more than fine if the Hound himself had no interest in you. If you were lucky you might never even meet him.
"I'll walk you back to your room." The man straightened, whisking away your bowl and the sake cups. You nodded, patting your full stomach gratefully. With the pangs of hunger driven away you were now feeling sleepy again. Standing you trailed to the kitchen door, you waited as the man pulled a lantern from one of the cabinets. The lantern was much more effective at pushing back the dark, its warm light illuminating the ornate hallway. You eyed the expensive wood and calligraphic decorations you had missed with the dim candle. The luxuriousness of the estate was making you feel uncomfortable. You shifted your gaze ahead, trying not to think of the holes in the restaurant's roof, the draft that always leaked through the broken window pane. They said Mr. Tanaka would get his first payment, you could only hope he spent it on himself.
The man was polite enough to walk beside you, his toned arm holding the lantern high, throwing the light down the hallway. The light danced in his hair, making the pale white mess shimmer gold. He shuffled along, his long legs careful to match your pace. You were taking it slow, stepping carefully, once again glancing at the closed doors that you passed. The hallway was silent as before, the quiet almost unsettling. No one had been disturbed by the noise from the kitchen nor the footfalls in the hallway.
"Are we the only ones here?" Your voice felt almost too loud in the long hall. Here sounds echoed and twisted. You winced at the noise, clenching your fists in a an attempt brace yourself against the anxiety that swelled without warning. The man hummed low in response, running a hand over his chin. He was making no attempt at being quiet, not as far as you could tell and yet his footsteps were silent.
"No. There is me, the maid Suki and Genya the slayer." He glanced at you, his arm casting a deep shadow across his face. His eyes seemed to gleam for a moment, unnaturally bright in the dark. You nodded slowly, tearing your gaze away from the pale man.
"Suki comes in from the local town, she doesn't stay overnight. And Genya is currently away on a mission." Your companion tugged his free arm through his robe sleeve, his arm resting comfortable against his stomach. He was incredibly relaxed, though you supposed the alcohol helped with that, the man's face was still a light pink.
You shared in his breezy temperament. No hound in the house, that was good, you bit back the smile that threatened to dance across your face. It made you feel safe somehow, knowing you didn't have to deal with him, at least not yet. And besides, if your only company in this estate was the pale chef, you couldn't complain. Thoughts of having to survive a month on your own cooking was not a pleasant one.
Your companion stopped and you glanced at him, then smiled. The door to your room was ahead. The room's dark maw showed the faint shape of your futon, the thick blankets practically begging for you to crawl in and sleep. You bowed to your companion, thanking him for escorting you.
He smiled in response and turned to make his way back down the hallway. Then paused, turning slightly as he looked at you, expression unreadable. He looked like he was having an internal battle, thinning eyebrows pinching. Something won and he opened his mouth, expression becoming soft, almost sheepish.
"When you meet the Hound. Be kind please. Don't be mad at him."
His words were strange and felt out of place. You frowned from your spot in the doorway, unsure of how to respond. It was as if he were pleading for the man. You nodded slowly, fingers coming up to drum against the door frame. The request to not be mad felt especially odd.
"Does he need kindness?" Your question felt barbed as it left your lips, the words dripping with suspicion. It wasn't that you meant to sound scathing, but given the situation, the contract to a man demons feared, the slight bite in your words felt warranted.
Your companion merely nodded, his shadow emphasizing the action next to you. Nodding back you silently agreed, your gaze leaving him as you turned back into the room.
"Good night." You shot over your shoulder, hearing no response as you slid the door shut.
The room was dark, the faint light that trickled under the door disappearing as the man walked back down the hall. You shuffled over to your futon, flopping down and sighing. With a full stomach and the knowledge that the Hound was not around, sleep came easily, washing over you like an ocean wave.
As you succumbed to sleep you faintly realized that you had not asked the pale man his name.
Notes:
Sanemi is indeed going down the road of "Maybe if I pretend not to be me I'll be liked" route.
Smaller update than I wanted BUT i needed a bridge chapter for what is next. I hope you enjoyed!
Chapter 3: Genya
Summary:
In which you meet the Hound's brother
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
You awoke feeling more rested than you had ever in your life. The soft futon around you was like a cocoon, the warmth lulling you into a state of half sleep. For just a moment, you were again in your small room, the warm heat from the kitchen filling the upstairs of the restaurant. If it were a normal day, Papa would be making the morning meals for the few elders who trickled in as soon as the sun was up. The smell of eggs and fresh rice would filter up as well. The warm scent a gentle wake up call. One day you would be back there, in the comforting smells and sounds of the restaurant.
You blinked slowly, stretching languidly as you allowed the room and its decor to swim into focus. The stress of the night before and eating at midnight had left your body aching dully. Your joints popped slightly as you stretched, the ache ebbing slightly. You were still on edge, half expecting to see the Hound looming over you. He wasn't, of course, but you couldn't quite shake the feeling of being watched.
Sitting up slowly, you took in the room now that dim gold sunlight was streaming in from a small window. The soft light illuminated the large room, slightly dappled as it passed through the trees that tapped gently at the window.
It was slightly more barren than you had thought it would be, the large space barely furnished. Other than some sparse scrolls decorations, the only other pop of color were the four kimonos displayed neatly against one wall. You stood, shuffling over to the fine fabrics. Like your sleeping robe these kimonos were made of fine silk, their beautiful patterns woven with a finery you had never seen before. Running a hand along the smooth fabric you smiled at the soft colors. Green seemed to be the Hound's favorite color. Nearly all of the scrolls and these kimonos were an array of different soft greens, as if a soft summer field had taken up residence in this room.
You ran a nail over the fine stitches, even the threads felt nicer than anything you had ever had. The patched kimono you owned had once been a soft orange, but many washes and patches later it had faded to a dull brown. It was something that you had assured your father was fine, whilst ignoring the tittering of old ladies who judged you. They were far from here. And you were far from home.
You lifted both hands to pull one down, then paused.
A bath would be good. It wasn't that you smelled, but with kimonos this fine, it would be a crime to not bathe first. You let your hands fall to your sides as you thought about it, an estate this big would have an elaborate bath. Turning you took in the only other piece of furniture other than the table, a large wooden dresser. You walked over to the dresser, looking inside for clean undergarments. There were too many options and as you dug through the soft cloth you thought of how big the bath might be. As the wife of a Hashira it would also be a crime not to use the accommodations. If you so wished perhaps you could bathe daily, a luxury you were not afforded back in the village.
Pulling undergarments free, you looked back at the kimonos, debating if you should bring one with you. Reaching out you smoothed one of the light green sleeves, then turned, ready to start poking about. With your luck you'd trip and destroy the fabric. Turning from the vibrant garments, you let out a sigh. Uncertainty was bubbling in your veins, the knowledge that on the other side of that door was the Hound. Well not exactly on the other side. But somewhere in the manor, you rolled your eyes as you tried to shake off the small chill of anxiety.
You thought back to the pale man from the night before, biting your lip as you pondered if he would be in the kitchen. He could point you towards the bath. Or, you could poke about and find it yourself. Shuffling over to the door, you looked back at the room, eyes skipping over the sparse decorations. Other than the kimonos, the rest of the room had a slight, frigidness to its decor. As if placed in the room for show. You wondered if the rest of the Estate was similar, more of a stage for show rather than a home. There was an air of loneliness here that you could almost taste.
Shaking the thought from your head, you let out a loud sigh. A bath first, then you could dig through the rest of the estate. Turning back to the sliding door you paused, adjusting your sleeping robe to a more decent position before reaching up to open the door.
"OH!" You squeaked, jumping back slightly as the door slid open harshly. The woman on the other side looked equally as surprised, her thin eyebrows shooting upwards. She bowed slightly, her arms awkwardly encumbered by linens. The woman was finely dressed, her kimono a simple blue, was made of a similar silk to the ones in your room. You wondered momentarily if the Hound insisted upon such obvious shows of wealth. The woman's intense gaze pulled you from the thought, her pinched expression full of hidden questions.
"You must be Suki?" She tilted her head at that, eyebrows still arched in surprise. One of her hands came up, patting at her tightly pulled back hair as if she were nervous. You shot her a small smile, motioning towards the hallway. "I spoke to the chef last night."
Suki looked down the hall, then back to you, her face pinched in a frown. "The… Chef?"
You nodded, stepping out into the hallway with her and gesturing towards the kitchen. Suki's expression remained the same, her gaze rather judgmental. You shrugged it off, nervously twisting the garments in your hand.
"Which way is the bath?" Your question had Suki tilting her head again, the woman's eyebrows again shooting upwards. They reminded you a bit of spider legs in their spindly-ness.
"The bath?" Suki seemed to only answer your queries with questions. You nodded, your smile wavering slightly under her intense gaze.
"Did his grace not show you the grounds?" The maid's question threw you slightly. His grace ? Wasn't that a title for royalty? Were Hashira considered as such? You didn't think so, even though they were very much within the Emperor's good graces.
"Ah no. I have yet to meet the Hou-" You paused and swallowed, "My Husband." The world fell from your tongue thickly and you kicked yourself mentally for nearly mentioning his street name. Insulting the man in front of his staff was a stupid move. Suki was either waiting for you to continue or she was pondering how to respond. The woman's face had become like stone, unreadable and rather cold.
Had she realized what you nearly called him?
"That way and to the left." She jabbed a finger past you, her expression still tight. She had, you felt your heart drop through the floor, face heating up in embarrassment. You thanked her, stuttering like a fool before quietly padding your way towards the bath. Idiot and loose lipped, that's what you were. You resisted the urge to glance back at the maid as you turned the corner, knowing her glare was burning its way down the hall. Idiot.
The short walk had brought you to a large sliding door, larger than you thought necessary for a bath. Steam pushed thin wisps through the cracks in the doorway, the warm vapors carrying a pine scent. You inhaled deeply, glancing over your shoulder quickly. No Suki. You had half expected her to follow, retaliate in some way for what you had said. Thankfully it seemed the Hound's staff did not have a reputation similar to the man.
With that, you sighed, sliding open the heavy door. It moved silently despite its weight, the steam fully washing over you. For a moment you were blinded by the pleasant smelling vapor, the white haze all you could see. Then it cleared and you froze.
This was not a bath. It was an onsen.
A full on onsen sat in the middle of a small courtyard. You blinked rapidly, certain your eyes were failing you. Glancing over your shoulder, you confirmed that the Estate's hallways still sat behind you, unchanged. Snapping your gaze forward again, you gaped at the sight laid out before you.
The deep green pool in front of you was the source of the pleasant smelling steam. The scent reminiscent of pine sap warming under a summer sun twisted lazy through the air, tickling your senses. There was something sweet there as well, a soft undercurrent carried like a dream though the hazy air. It wafted over you, the warmth like a gentle touch against your skin. Steam collected on your face, small dew drops sliding down your skin like gentle kisses. The entire inner courtyard was hazy with the steam, looking almost dream-like in its foggy embrace.
Taking a step inside, you let out a small noise of shock as your toes brushed against something soft. Dropping your gaze, you let out a surprised squawk. Your feet were sunk slightly into mossy ground, the pebbles you had expected instead a lush green carpet. Sprinkled within the moss were small white flowers, soft blossoms that tickled your feet as you attempted to gently navigate the delicate ground. The soft moss beneath your feet muffled your steps as you stumbled further within the courtyard.
'This has to be a dream' You thought dully, steadying yourself as your foot slipped in a particularly dew patch of moss. Behind you the heavy door had slid shut, a small breeze from the action washing over your skin. You shivered, eyes wide as you took in more of the strange room.
Tucked against the inner wall was a small bath bucket, clean washcloth already set up. The matching stool had moss growing over the feet, nature seeming to flourish here. For the most part, the walls were mossy as well and you wondered if perhaps that was to keep the damp from the rest of the estate. The only wall that was not, was the one left of the door. That one had shelves, lined with fresh towels and even a few robes. There was even a woven hamper for dirty items.
It was a surprisingly comforting space. The softness of this hidden courtyard felt out of place in contrast with the almost clinical stiffness in the rest of the estate. And again it reminded you of how far from how you were. How far from your old life you were.
Something rustled above you, the noise making you flinch slightly. Looking up you took in long pine boughs, the old trees bending in such a way that the entire courtyard was covered. With them were purple flowers that hung delicately. Wisteria, the plant twisted with the pine to cover the open air. They swayed gently in the morning breeze, soft whispering of the needles and petals was tranquil. It must've taken years of training to get the trees to act as such. Small droplets of dew clung to the delicate flowers, occasionally dripping down to land in the moss. The water was cool unlike the steam, making you shiver as the droplets hit your face. There was an odd beauty here, one you had never witnessed before.
You were impressed and once more, feeling out of place.
Shaking the feeling off, you shed your sleep wear, neatly placing them in the woven hamper. Moving to the bathing stool, you sat, taking in the scenery again. It was so odd to find such a calming place in the Estate of such a feared man.
You began scrubbing, feeling an odd sense of guilt. The previous night you had been full of certainties about the Hound. About how horrible he must be. But now you were full of uncertainties. And guilt gnawed at the back of your mind, whispering about a man who was different then the world painted him.
You quickly finished washing your skin, turning to look at the deep waters of onsen. The flat surface reflected back your face, slightly distorted in the deep waters. Steam curled on the surface like small fish, slowly dissipating into the hazy air that filled the courtyard. Dipping a toe into the water, you let out a small sigh of surprise. The temperature was perfect, the warmth sliding over you like a blanket as you slipped fully into the water.
Tension slid from your bones and you let out a massive sigh. You felt each muscle relax, the stress sliding from your skin and mind. Letting your head rest against the pool's encompassing stone, you allowed yourself to sink almost chin deep. The warm water cradled you, its warm embrace almost bringing back the sleepiness from earlier. Your eyes slid shut as the warm water and steam filled your senses. Whispers of the pine boughs filled your ears, the soft noise almost lulling you to sleep.
What should you do next? There was the Hound to find and meet. A prospect you didn't much like the idea of. But given what you had seen, how the chef had reacted, perhaps he wasn't so bad. Though it was off putting that he hadn't attempted to find you first. You guessed it might have to do with him wanting an apprentice and not a wife. Still it was a tad rude. At the very least you were a guest for the next month.
Should you perhaps just ignore him? Also not a great thought, but he didn't want you here and you didn't want to be here. Perhaps the month could be spent in solitude. That though had you smiling slightly. Alone for a month in a luxurious estate? It would be like a vacation before going back to the hot kitchen of the restaurant.
Perhaps ignoring the Hound was the best option in this case. You let the thoughts slide from your mind. It was a problem for another hour, for now you wanted to soak in the tranquility. Above you the soft breeze carried crow calls, the sound melting together with the rustling of branches. The sound was far off, the creatures no doubt taunting some small bird. Perhaps you could go befriend the noisy bunch.
"FUCK! SORRY!"
You jolted upright, eyes flying open at the sudden intrusion on the tranquil air. A tall boy stood in the doorway with his hands slapped over his eyes. Though covered by his hands and floppy mop of hair, you could tell his face was as red as a tomato. At his feet were a clean set of robes, now lying crumbled in the damp moss. Like the chef, he was also scarred, though not nearly as much as the pale man. You frowned at the sight, the pale gashes twisting from beneath his deep purple kimono.
Did the Hound put all of his employees through a meat grinder?
"Ah it's ok." You offered up quietly, sinking low in the water and letting your chin dip below the warm surface. The boy was mortified, shaking where he stood as he stammered apologies. Your assurances that it was fine seemed to do nothing to assuage his anxiety, the poor kid somehow going an even deep shade of red.
"It's fine. Really." You lifted a hand from the water, gesturing at the pool around you. Its deep green did well to hide your form, the water making anything deeper than an inch in turn into a murky haze. The boy seemed no less ashamed, his head bowed, thick mohawk covering his eyes.
"You're big brother's wife. Right?" His voice was quiet, hands twisting together slightly. You merely blinked at the question, mind too stunned to properly process what he had asked. The hound had a brother? Sure you hadn't met the man yet, but the world practically lived on gossip about the Hashira. You had often felt bad for them, people with immense power and talent, doing everything they could to save the masses. Sure they were given immense gratitude, one of the highest social standings. And yet, nothing they did ever seemed to be private. Secrets big and small leaked from estates, carried on careless whispers from servants. But this little fact was not one of them. You were rather impressed with the loyalty of his staff. No wonder Suki had looked so irritated by your verbal slip up earlier.
"If your big brother is Sanemi, then yes." You nodded in his direction, wondering what other secrets remained within these walls.
The boy nodded, quietly introducing himself with a deep bow. Genya was his name, younger brother and demon slayer as well. You gave your own name, slightly amused by the odd ways you kept meeting everyone. At this rate you were going to run into the Hound when he was least expecting it.
"Big brother seems pleased with our Master's choice." Genya gave you a tentative smile, his face still beet red. You nodded at the comment, deciding against telling him you were the only choice. The chef seemed level-headed, but the Hound's brother? You were slightly worried he held the same crazed temper his brother was renowned for.
"Genya?" You tilted your head slightly, motioning at him with a finger, "Would you mind turning about so I can leave the bath?"
The boy went deep red again, sputtering assurances as he clapped a hand over his eyes, spinning away. You smiled to yourself, quietly slipping from the bath and wrapping a robe around you. Grabbing your discarded undergarments, you snagged a towel from the wall. You could dress in your room, no need to torture the kid.
"All good!" You chirped, clapping a hand against his shoulder. Genya stiffened and as his hand dropped from his eyes you swore he was going to vomit. But he didn't, the odd expression slipping back into the flustered look from earlier. You noted that he was tall, much taller than you. He was like a bear with a cub's face.
"When will your brother be home?" You asked as you slid the door open. Genya's brow wrinkled, his mouth pulling down in the corners. He seemed confused by the question, eyes narrowing slightly as if he expected you to deliver some sort of bad punchline.
"You." He paused, his brow furrowing further, "You already met him?"
It sounded like a question but given the intense confusion the boy was expressing, you knew it was a statement. A feeling of uneasiness swelled in your chest, your fingers tightening their hold on your undergarments. Now it was your turn to look confused, you could feel your lips twist as you looked at him, wondering what he meant.
You hadn't met the hound.
Unless .
You squinted at Genya, taking in his wild eyes and scarred skin. He was slightly familiar looking, a younger version of a face you had seen already. You chewed the inside of your cheek, mind racing slightly. Genya reminded you a bit of the Chef. More than just a little bit, their wild eyes were nearly identical. Hell their scars were almost the same as well, both of them looking like they had lost a with with a bear.
Your mind went to the surprise Suki had shown. Her question of 'what chef' . Her cold glance at your slip up. Last night's plea to be kind.
But, there was no way. He wouldn't.
"Genya, does your brother like to get drunk and sleep in the kitchen?" You tilted your head slightly as you asked the question. The boy looked surprised, nodding slowly at the question. He looked a tad ashamed, his head dipping slowly as if to hide his face. You hummed in response, shooting him a smile as you left the bath.
Walking slowly back to your room, you pondered what to do next. You could play stupid, pretend you were none the wiser. Be kind as he had asked. Or you could confront the man, try to figure out the mystery beneath the Hound's harsh exterior.
Perhaps he was just kind the night before, since he was drunk. Perhaps he was showing you a hidden side to himself. He knew you were the one sent to be his bride so that was feasible. Or maybe it was all a facade. The Hound wanted an apprentice, not a partner. The sooner you told Ubuyashiki you were done, the sooner he could have his apprentice.
You found yourself in your room, a fresh futon laid out. No doubt the reason you had bumped into Suki. She was nowhere to be seen and you suspected that the woman would be avoiding you. A slip of the tongue had caused a horrible first impression.
You let out a small groan as you slipped one of the fancy green kimonos from its hanger. There was also the fact that Genya had walked in on you bathing. It seemed like informal and bad impressions were your curse in this estate.
Looking down as you smoothed the dark green fabric, you paused as you took in what you had put on. Deep moss green looked back at you, the sleeves and bottom hem decorated with delicate white lotus blossoms. Each flower was framed with a slightly different set of leaves, the gentle teal a striking color against the deep moss. You traced a finger over the silky fabric, the quality was dream-like. It felt odd to wear such finery. Turning your hands over, you looked at your palms, the small scars, burn marks from the kitchen, callouses from cleaning. The marks criss crossed your palms, shadows of your life in a kitchen. All of them looked too rough next to the silken fabric.
Nowhere near as worn as your Papa's hands though. You closed them, glancing around the room. Sending a letter might be nice and that should come before potentially pissing off the Hound. There was no paper or ink in the room that you could see, but no matter. You were sure Genya could assist with that.
Leaving your room you traipsed slowly back down the hall. You figured you could wait outside the bath for him. It was at least a few hours' ride from here back to your village, but perhaps there was a local courier or a bird to send a letter by. It was your first day here, so actually visiting was out of the question. But a letter wasn't that big of a thing to ask for.
Sitting down in the hall, you tucked your knees against your chest, resting your chin on them. Faintly the sounds of moving water slid beneath the door. It made you feel a little bit like a creep.
Glancing down at the floorboards, you took in the polished wood. Being a slayer certainly came with many perks. Nice house with incredible features. Silken kimonos, soft towels and robes. The favor of the Emperor seeped through the house, the finery sprinkled like dust around the house. It made you wonder however. If each slayer had such a fine house and servants, what was stopping demons from attacking. Surely some of them like Uzui and Rengoku who were loud had given away their estate locations. Even if not intentionally.
You tapped a nail against the floor, watching your sleeve pool against the dark wood. It was all a bit silly. Big, easy to find estates with literally no defenses when the Hashira went out. But perhaps that was intentional. It was like they were big mouse traps. Meant to drag in the demons stupid enough to try their luck. You wondered if you were part of that, a tasty snack to lower a demon's defenses.
But no. The Demon Slayers weren't beasts. They didn't fight dirty like demons did. The entire organization was built on honor and dignity. They were pure hearted almost to a fault. The thought had you rolling your eyes. You could practically hear Cherri shrieking about ' blasphemy' for having such thoughts.
The sound of the door sliding open made you jump and you glanced up with a smile. Genya stared back, face as red as ever. Thankfully he was fully dressed, at least the universe saw fit for you to not embarrass your brother-in-law further. The sudden small realization that this boy was your brother-in-law nearly made you forget your mission.
Nearly.
You stored that tidbit away for another day, not wanting to acknowledge any other marriage related items just yet.
"Sorry." You stood quickly, knees popping in protest as you did. "Is it possible to send a letter?"
Genya blinked, tilting his head slightly. He seemed slightly surprised at the question.
"Um. I'm not sure." The boy was flushing red again, his head bowing slightly as he fiddled with the edge of his haori. You tilted your head slightly, raising an eyebrow at his reaction.
"Brother and I can't write." Genya's voice was a low whisper, the boy looking incredibly uncomfortable as he glanced at you. He stammered slightly, seeming to have trouble continuing his explanation. "We can read, Sanemi better than me. But we never learned to write."
He shrugged, finger picking a thread free from his sleeve, "Ma couldn't afford to send any of us to school."
You supposed you were lucky. While Papa had not divulged much about his life before you and the restaurant, he did know how to read and write. And despite the disapproval of the town elders, he had taught you to do the same. It was uncommon for someone at your status to know how to do both. Though now, your status had changed. Being a Hashira's wife meant your status had shot up, sky rocketed past even Cherri and her father. Another odd thought you decided to tuck away.
You noted how flushed Genya's face was, he looked uncomfortable admitting the fact.
"There's nothing wrong with that." You shot him a small smile. It was tempting to offer to teach him, but given how other men had reacted to your offer in the past, you were hesitant. Most seemed to take it as a blow to their ego rather than a helpful offer.
Genya smiled back, motioning down the hall. "Brother has a small office for Hashira items, I bet there's ink in there."
You followed the boy quietly, the soft rustling of your kimono filling the long hallway. He was nervous as he stopped at a rather worn looking door. It stood out, looking like someone had taken a wooden stick to the surface. Genya shot you a grimace, slowly tugging the door open. He was tense as if he expected the Hound to pounce from the shadows. The door shuddered in its track, groaning as the worn down wood stuck in the frame slightly. Rather than the Hound, a small cluttered room met your gaze.
This was so much different from the rest of the house. Scrolls and tattered books lay messily across the entire room. They were piled precariously on a single small table and chair, spilling onto the floor. It was pure chaos, moments of rage and carelessness alike building a paper storm. Perhaps a look at the true nature of the pale man.
You shuffled inside, trying not to step on any of the tattered papers. Despite your best efforts you found your feet slipping on the various pages. You grimaced slightly, noting that the one currently pinned under your heel was a letter from a friend, the half hidden words almost childish in their excitement over food.
"There might be ink and a brush in there somewhere." Genya motioned at the mess, staying at his spot in the hallway. He glanced over his shoulder nervously, messy hair flopping in his eye. You hummed in response, carefully shifting a bundle of scrolls to one side. Beneath them were tattered books, the bindings little more than dust. The soft fabric of your sleeves dragged across the dust, sending plumes of white swirling around the room. You didn't want to risk moving the older books. Shifting a different scroll, you winced as the delicate paper tore. No ink under there either.
Though you were trying to respect the man's privacy, you couldn't help but catch words here and there. Demon, West Tokyo, Blood Art, Death. Each scroll seemed worse than the last. Detailing the deaths of Demon slayers, describing odd demons and their skills. No good news or anything uplifting. It was depressing, even in a passing glance. Shifting through them carefully you found half of a brush, only the wooden handle part. Utterly useless to you.
A scroll fell from one of the teetering piled, smacking sharply on your foot. The pile it had been on swayed slightly and you stepped back, not wanting to cause any further harm to this odd filing system. You shifted, turning and shaking your head at Genya. There was no ink, at least not any easily accessible. And you didn't want to unearth any other scrolls. You had done enough in the small amount of time you had been in here.
Genya deflated slightly, closing the door as you exited. "Sorry about that." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, chewing at his thumb as he spoke. You patted the boy on his shoulder, offering a shrug in response. The letter would have to wait. Papa would be alright, he was patient. Still, you chewed at the inside of your cheek. He would worry, he would lose sleep. You quietly clasped your hands in front of you, offering the boy a gentle smile.
"Thank you for helping me."
"I can take a message." Genya offered, giving you a small smile. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"That's a several hour carriage ride. You can't walk that." You gave him an incredulous look.
"I'm faster than a carriage." Genya's answer made your look grow even more doubtful. The boy was being silly. You tsked at him, flapping your hand in protest. It was out of the question, but a sweet offer.
"Thank you Genya. I can wait until I have ink."
The boy shrugged silently, nodding once in response. "I was planning on going to the market, if you want to come with?"
You tilted your head slightly, "Is that alright?"
It felt a tad odd to leave the estate on your first day. But it would be good to know where you had ended up. There was a village to explore, people to potentially meet.
"We live in a Slayer village of sorts." Genya smiled at you, his boyish face full of pride. "A demon would be stupid to attack. Especially in broad daylight."
You smiled at that, suppressing a small laugh. He had thought you meant demons. While yes, that had been a small worry in the back of your mind, you were more worried about proper decorum for a married woman. Not something a boy would ever think about. Patting his arm you nodded in response, "Lead the way."
Genya wasn't kidding about a Slayer village. The second you had both stepped from the estate ground you were met with a bustling street of slayers. Men, women, even children younger than Genya, all in uniform. They each had a sword tied to their waist, the various hilt colors flashing brightly in the afternoon sun. You were impressed by the uniform look, having only seen it a few times in person. Papa had implied these garments could protect one from the elements and low level demon attacks. It was the only fact about the demon slayers he had ever divulged knowing.
Not all were in uniform however, you stepped back quickly, tugging Genya back a step as three small girls ran past, each one dressed in white medical robes. They carried large boxes with vials, each girl looking more determined than the last. It was odd and slightly worrying just how young they were.
"It's busy." You murmured quietly, looping your arm through Genya's. The tall teen flushed red, nodding stiffly as he stared at your hand on his arm. You waited for a moment, taking in the many faces, all friendly, laughing. It was oddly calming for a village full of people who faced demons on a regular basis.
"Uh, this way." Genya started walking, gently cupping his hand over yours. You bit back a smile. So the slayer's did have some notion of manners. Following him down the street, you noted stares being thrown your way. Faces registering recognition of Genya and the curiosity at the sight of you. Quick glances that seemed too skittish to meet your gaze. Even whispers, hidden behind cupped hands as they shot look at eachother. It was something you had fully expected, being a stranger and a non-slayer. You supposed it was twofold for some given that you were married to the Hound.
"Here we go." Genya stopped, motioning to a small store front. The familiar scent of ink and paper wafted from the shop. You wrinkled your nose in delight, a small excitement building at the thought of books and paper. Books were a treat back home, one you rarely had the coin for. The excitement dwindled slightly as you realized you had no money. You had been spirited away in the night and had by your own prompting, left with nothing but the clothing on your back. Like an idiot you hadn't thought to grab the small coins you had saved up.
"I don't have any money." You felt your face flush in embarrassment. Genya smiled, patting his side.
"Brother left us a week's worth of funds." His chest puffed slightly as he continued, "And I get payment for my missions."
You nodded, eyes finding the jagged scar across his face again. Hopefully they were paid well. Still, you felt slightly awkward. Yes, you had entered into a strange marriage contract with his brother. But still, it felt like you were taking advantage of their kindness.
"Maybe." Genya paused, looking down at his feet. He kicked at a loose rock, his face again a flushed red. "Maybe we could get something so I can learn how to write?"
The question was barely a whisper, the tall boy looking like he wanted to sink into the ground. You smiled, patting his arm reassuringly.
"We definitely can." You stepped inside the shop, tugging him after you. The small shop was dimly lit, its elderly owner humming quietly behind the counter. She offered a gentle smile, eyes not leaving the massive book in front of her. Books, scrolls, brushes and ink were all crammed together, almost too many for the small space.
You shuffled to the back, eyes finding a familiar looking book. Tugging it free, you smile. A small book on writing for children. You paged through it quickly, humming in satisfaction at the example pages. It was simple and direct, nothing too childish about it. Turning slightly, you glanced up at Genya, holding the book out to him. The boy took it, carefully flipping through. His brow pinched and he glanced back at you.
"Do you think it's good?" He looked unsure, lips pulled in a pensive grimace. You nodded, patting the book. "It's similar to the one I learned from."
Your response pleased the boy, a tension leaving him as he nodded happily. Turning, you shuffled past him, inspecting the nearby ink. To your surprise a large variety was available, ranging from basic to incredibly expensive. There were ink sticks packaged neatly and bottled ink. You grimaced at the one small bottle, its gilded glass touting a price tag that made your head spin. No you needed whatever Papa had used. It was a good ink, but for the life of you, the type escaped you.
Glancing back at the store owner you took in her concentrated gaze, her eyes locked firmly on the page. It made you feel better knowing she was reading as you leaned in and took a small sniff of the nearest ink stick. Wrong smell. You glanced over your shoulder again, more subtly this time to confirm she wasn't watching you be an idiot. Moving to the next one, you sniffed that as well, noting a familiar but not quite right smell. Good enough, you picked up two, straightening to turn to Genya.
"Do you know if there are any inkstones in the estate?"
He slowly shook his head in response, looking slightly confused. You smiled, turning back to the ink selection and picking a sturdy looking inkstone. That just left brushes, you snagged a few of similar sizes, thinking back to the snapped half you had found earlier.
Your arms ladened with items, you turned to check out, pausing as a book title caught your gaze. It was a recipe book, sitting rather sadly where it had been discarded. You awkwardly tugged it free, trying not to drop anything you were holding.
It was silly, the thought that ran through your mind. But perhaps you could use something like this to get better at cooking. Maybe one day they'd allow Papa over and you could cook a meal that didn't end up as charred mush.
"Is it alright if I get this?" You handed the book to Genya and he nodded, squinting as he flipped through the pages.
"Are these recipes?" Genya pulled the book closer to his face, mouthing the words as he read through one of the pages. You nodded with a smile, feeling your face flush again, "I am a bad cook."
Genya smiled at that, a small laugh leaving the scarred teen's mouth. "Me too."
You brought your items to the counter, pausing to grab a pack of smooth paper. Nearly forgotten about those, you kicked yourself mentally.
"Would you perhaps be interested in a fountain pen?" The shop owner asked, pulling one from behind the counter. You and Genya stared at the metallic object, sharing a slightly confused glance with each other.
"What does it do?" You hadn't seen one before, the metal object feeling out of place in the shop.
"Oh, it's for writing!" The elderly woman smiled gleefully, tugging part of the pen off. You watched in awe as she quickly began writing, the small device gliding across the paper elegantly. Mouth parted in shock, you nodded dumbly as she offered it up. The pen was small and weighted nicely. It sat like a strange little tree branch, awaiting your next move. The shopkeeper smiled at your careful amazement, motioning to the page she had scrawled a few lines across. You carefully tested it, noting just how neatly the ink left the pen. This was so new, so strange and yet exhilarating. It slid across the page like a blade through steam, an elegance like that of the ladies of the emperor's court.
"We'll take one." You smiled, handing her back the pen. The old woman nodded, setting the pen aside as she pulled a small box from beneath the counter. Nestled within was a delicate pen, its shiny surface gleaming dully in the dim light of the store. She closed the box, quickly placing all of your items in a paper bag. You took the bag as Genya paid, the boy waving you away when you squawked at the price. Ballpoint pens were new and expensive it seemed.
With the bag nestled against your chest, you stepped outside, taking in the warm sun and cheerful voices all around. The curious glances were tenfold with Genya gone, the slayers bustling past doing little to hide their looks. You kept your composure, knowing that the curiosity would soon fade.
Or perhaps not, a boy walked into the side of a building, his attention too focused on you to avoid the collision. The Hound having a spouse seemed to have created quite the gossip piece. You bit back a laugh as the boy turned red, bowing towards you and again hitting the building in his clumsy attempt to escape.
"Food?" You jumped at Genya's voice, glancing up at the teen as he joined you. Food did sound really good. Your stomach grumbled loudly, reminding you that you had not eaten breakfast. Hell no lunch either, given the height of the sun it was past noon at this point.
'I need to do better with taking care of myself.' You thought quietly.
Following Genya, you wound further down the street. Clothing stores, accessories, medical supplies. Between the estates and small houses, these even smaller stores dotted the street. You oggled a display of kimonos, the store window crowded by many slayers.
"Brother got your clothing there." You jumped again as Genya gently pulled you out of the path of another slayer.
"He has good taste." You huffed out a small laugh. The boy seemed surprised, his eyebrows disappearing up under his messy hair as he glanced at you. Offering him a shrug you smiled.
The Hound might be feared and he might've lied to you by omission, but you were willing to acknowledge small kindnesses from him.
"Do you mind udon?" Genya slowed to a stop, gesturing to a small store squished between two houses. The smell that spilled onto the streets was comforting. A similar mix of miso broth and the faint traces of wheat flour. Your stomach growled again, cramping slightly in hunger.
"I would love some udon." You practically skipped into the restaurant, enjoying the warmth that crept over your skin upon entering. Genya was right behind you, motioning towards a back table. You followed his direction, setting the bag of paper supplies on an empty seat.
"I hope the back corner is ok. I figure the staring might've been bothering you." Genya looked slightly ashamed, his mouth twisting down in a frown. You laughed, patting his hand in an attempt to reassure him.
"I sort of assumed this would happen. The Hound having a wife seems to be a strange sight." As soon as the words left your mouth, you clapped a hand over your lips. Mortification rose in your throat. You had done it, you had accidentally called Sanemi the Hound. And in front of his little brother of all people? A wave of guilt twisted in your breast, and your hands shook slightly as you lowered them.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have." You felt awful, your voice cracking as you apologized. Genya gave you a sad smile and waved off your apology.
"Trust me it's fine." He sighed, sinking slightly in his seat. "Sanemi is the Hound in most social circles."
The boy laughed slightly, his smile twisting into a twisted frown, as if he had eaten something sour. "There are other circles that have names that are less kind."
You watched quietly as Genya picked at the worn wood of the table, his eyes locked on the dark curface. "Same circles that call me ' Filth Eater' and ' Scum Sucker' ."
The names had you grimacing. Both foul and somehow implying something deeper that you didn't quite understand. They were repulsive and cruel, tacked onto the lanky boy who acted so timidly around others.
"I'm sorry. Those names are cruel. To you and your brother." The guilt in your stomach gnawed at you, swirling through your chest like a hateful ice. Even people such as yourself, regular citizens contributed to the nasty whispers and hateful glances. Neither of the men deserved it. Sure they were brutal and feared even among demons. But they only hunted demons, they were protecting everyone at the cost of their own lives.
The guilt swelled larger, the knowledge that you had the same thoughts was shameful. You had to do better. Had to show those even among the slayers that the Shinazugawa Brothers weren't all that they seemed.
Was a monthly truly enough? Would you leaving cause backlash against the brothers? Could your involvement just make things worse?
Lunch went by quietly, the two of you lost in thought as you ate. The food was wonderful, though slightly overshadowed by the earlier conversation. You wondered if the brothers were ostracized by their fellow slayers, noting that while you had both been stared at a lot today, no one had made themselves known. Perhaps too nervous too with you, the new face, around. Or perhaps this was how it always was for the pair. You thought of the fancy estate, Suki being the lone maid for such a large place. Was that by choice or was she the only one willing to work for them?
Your mind was stuck in an eddy of questions, spurred on by the continuing silent glances. The noodles and broth became cold as you ate, your pace slowing with each new thought and worry. Perhaps when you got back, you could talk to Sanemi. There had to be a common ground between the two of you. And you had a feeling it would be Genya. The tall, lanky teen was putting on a brave face. But beneath it, you could see uncertainty. Small glances thrown to others now and then, a slight tremor in his hand. He knew he was being watched and it plagued him.
"How old are you Genya?"
The question made the boy jump slightly, a noodle slipping free from his chopsticks. He looked confused as he answered, swiping a drop of broth from his lips.
"15 I think." Genya looked thoughtful as he shoved the last of his noodles in his mouth. You hummed, pushing what was left of your meal around the bowl. Genya was a bit younger than he looked.
"How about you?" He tilted his head as he dug through the coin purse. You told him your age, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at his slight shock. In your case, you were older than you looked. Good genes and Papa's cooking were what you attributed to your slow aging. That and you minded your own business. Most of the time. Papa had always insisted the more you minded your business, the kinder time would be to you. A silly sentiment, but perhaps one that held some truth.
"Home?" Genya placed payment on the table and you nodded, quickly snagging the paper bag from where you had left it. You hadn't finished your meal, but the stares were really starting to get to you. As if they knew what you had said. It made you shudder in disgust, shame still swirling through your chest.
The afternoon sun had become early evening sun, the bright golden light warm as it spilled across the streets. There were even more people out now, all of them hurrying to and fro. Genya explained now was when most slayers would be preparing to leave on missions nearby. With the final rays of the sun they bought supplies, met up with comrades or readied themselves in some other way for impending combat. Those in slightly different uniforms, ' Kakushi' Genya noted, carried large bundles of supplies and in one case, a blind-folded Slayer on their backs. Kakushi seemed to do miscellaneous tasks, anything from medical support to demon attack cleanup and rebuilding homes. A tense air radiated from most of them and you wondered how many would not return.
"Genya!" You paused as Genya came to a stop, a glare being tossed over his shoulder at the sudden new voice. You watched as a boy ran up, his green checkered haori slipping from one shoulder as he came to a halt. He had a massive box strapped to his back, the polished wood gleaming dully in the dying light of the sun. You hadn't ever seen anything quite like it before. It looked heavy, the boy shifting the box by tilting forward. You eyed him curiously, wondering what he was carrying
"Tanjiro." Genya acknowledged, his arms crossing over his chest as he waited on the other boy. Tanjiro was slightly out of breath, his face sweaty as he leaned over and sucked in a loud mouthful of air. The box on his back shifted and from within you heard a loud thunk. You watched silently, noting the slight look of irritation that crossed Genya's face. Tanjiro took his time however, unbothered by the burning glare set on the taller boy's face. He finally straightened, still looking winded.
"We just got word. They might've found another lower moon." The words were rasped between huffs of air. But their stilted delivery seemed to have no impact on the meaning. You were incredibly confused, but Genya was not. The boy tensed, arms falling to his side as he focused solely on Tanjiro. You took a small step back, feeling a sudden shift in the atmosphere. The golden light of the sun was warm and did nothing to fight back the sudden chill twisting through your veins.
"Are they sure?" The question was hissed, Genya looking tense and slightly uneasy. Both boys did, their intense gazes never wavering. Tanjiro nodded in response, wiping sweat from his forehead with a sleeve.
"Wait for your crow. That's what I was told." He paused, glancing up at the sky.
You blinked, eyes darting between the two boys. They were so serious, their conversation having meaning to only them. The air was charged, almost crackling with how tense they both were. Like thread about to snap.
"I'll tell Sanemi." Genya looked at you, his expression smoothing slightly. It made you flinch slightly, then flush in embarrassment. You hoped you did not look as stupid as you felt. Shooting him a reassuring smile you merely shrugged in response to his questioning glance. Whatever this conversation was, it was definitely slayer business way above your status.
You flinched as Tanjiro suddenly turned, smiling brightly at you. The intensity of his sudden cheerful disposition giving you slight whiplash.
"Hi! I'm Tanjiro!" The other boy chirped, bowing deeply, "It's nice to meet you!"
You offered your name, bowing back. The tense air had evaporated, the boy grinning widely as he began peppering you with questions.
"How did you meet Sanemi?"
"Have you met the other Hashira?"
"Did you like the noodle shop?"
You stared wide eyed as he eagerly spoke. Tanjiro had so much energy, perhaps a bit too much. You leaned back, noting that Genya was doing the same. Tanjiro laughed as you provided stuttering answers, uncertainty coating each word. He was different from any other person you had met. Had anyone else approached you with such vigor you might've been irritated. But with this boy, for some reason you couldn't be mad.
"Kampako." Another new voice, this one from your left. You glanced over your shoulder and swallowed the shriek that threatened to spill out. A boar head stared back, its blank eyes glazed over. Its owner, a burly boy who looked like he had rolled around in mud let out a huff, steam escaping from the pig's nostrils. "We gotta find the festival god."
Your small group all blinked, everyone shooting the boar headed boy a look of 'what did you say?' . He was oblivious, scratching at his neck like a wild dog. You shuddered, wondering if the boar's head contained fleas. Given how erratic his itching was, you would guess the answer was yes.
"We should get going." Tanjiro smiled brightly, adjusting the large box on his back. "Genya will have to invite us over!"
He laughed as he left with the boar headed boy, waving as they jogged down the road. Genya grumbled something under his breath. He looked embarrassed, face red as he turned and headed back towards the estate.
"Friends of yours?" You asked quietly, jogging slightly to keep up with his long strides. Genya shot you a look of pure mortification. Nodding you chuckled, deciding not to press the boy further. Definitely friends, if slightly unwilling on Genya's part.
You were curious to speak with more of his friends. Tanjiro had been the first of the slayers to actually greet you and not stare. He seemed kind and genuine. A good influence on a kid as rough as Genya. You smiled at the boy in question, his face flushing deeper beneath his scars.
"We're here." He tugged the estate gate open and motioned you inside. The tall boy did not follow and you shot him a questioning look, shifting the bag of book supplies in your arms.
"I need to find my crow." He paused, glancing over his shoulder then back at you. "Don't."
Genya paused, chewing at his lower lip. The boy was anxious, his knuckles going white as he gripped the door.
"Don't tell Sanemi."
And with that he was gone, the heavy estate door slamming shut. You chewed the inside of your cheek, tossing his request around in your mind. This lower moon thing was clearly dangerous. The two had spoken about it in a familiar tone. It was one village boys had used when discussing which elder to prank. The tense excitement of a job that put them in danger. Though the danger in this case wasn't a scolding but potentially death.
As you entered the long hallways again, you paused. The paper bag was heavy in your hands and as you stared at it, you could feel the weight of your decision.
You could potentially destroy the goodwill you had built with Genya.
Or you could let a boy go off to fight an oddly titled demon.
Setting the bag down in the vestibule, you let out a sigh. Walking down the awkward path seemed to be all you were doing in the past 24 hours. With your current luck, there was no end in sight. You sighed again and pivoted, walking reluctantly towards the kitchen. If Genya was right, the Hound would be drinking. You just hoped he would be as kind as he had been before.
Each step forward felt as if you were dragging your feet through mud. Your heart was in your throat, the crazed tempo thundering in your ears as the entrance to the kitchen grew closer.
And then you were there, staring at the back of the Hound's head as he quietly cut scallions.
Notes:
Hi all! Hope you enjoy the update.
Its been a bit, I have stupidly decided to completely re-write my 'Experiment in Emotions' fic. I've been focused on it so much my other works have been left to collect dust. But hey I gotta work at my brain's pace. Luckily (sort of lol) I hit writer's block with that one and was able to hop back here to write this chapter. This one didn't get the usual editing process so please forgive any errors lol
Chapter 4: Aftermath
Summary:
Things did not go as planned. You find yourself in a new and strange situation, surrounded by slayers.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Your throat felt dry, the air in the kitchen somehow thicker than it should be. Hands shaking you smoothed them against your kimono, trying to steady your breathing. He made you nervous, your stomach feeling like it was trying to crawl out of your throat.
Sanemi paused his actions and you flinched as he turned, pale lilac eyes meeting your unsteady gaze. You wanted to look everywhere but him. His gaze while curious was too intense for your liking, it made you feel naked.
"Everything alright? You're sweating." His voice was the same even tone it had been the night before. He was calm, relaxed even. You gently swiped a hand across your forehead, trying to ignore the fact that you were indeed sweating a bit. He waited, knife hovering above the cutting board.
You took in the bottle of sake that sat on the counter and the second one that had been discarded near the sink. Sanemi had his vices it seemed. Part of you wondered if it was a way for him to dull his life, to take the edge off of emotions he didn't wish to confront. Not that it was any of your business. Just one month, one month's time and you could go home.
It was something you had to keep reminding yourself, just a day in.
"Your brother is going after a…" You paused fishing for the foreign term, knowing it would mean something to the Hound, "Lower moon?"
Sanemi lowered the knife, setting it on the cutting board as he turned fully. You had his full attention, his scarred face pinched slightly as he stared at you. It was a mix of emotion, irritation, uncertainty and above all, something akin to defeat.
"So. You know who I am?"
You blinked. It was not the question you had expected. You nodded, noting that for the second time, the Hound stood with his robe loosely tied and chest on full display. Twisting scars rolled as the muscles beneath them moved. You suppressed a wince as you noted he was missing his left nipple, a particularly deep looking scar cut into the pale flesh. He looked as if someone had crudely carved a man, frequently making missteps and slicing his pale flesh.
It was a tad concerning now that you knew who he actually was. The man seemed so worn down and disheveled. It was a stark difference from the other Hashira you had seen. Sanemi was scattered in a way, pieces of a man in the wind.
While everyone else seemed to parade about and revel in the praise, Sanemi and Genya seemed to be the black sheep. A bad reputation tended to do that to a person, but it seemed oddly barbed. Other than Tanjiro, you hadn't come across anyone else with a kind word for either man.
"I know." You gave him a small nod, "And I'm not upset about you not telling me."
It wasn't a decision you had really thought enough about. Part of you did want to be upset with the fact that he had lied by omission. Since the start the Slayers had fumbled their way through this entire engagement. Other than Genya, the others all seemed to lead with assumptions and half truths. It was enough to make your rage justified.
But standing in front of him, seeing the invisible weight he carried and the exhaustion that seeped from his skin, you felt only worry. A faint and persistent worry for the ghost of a man standing in front of you. Despite his wide build and obvious strength, you could see the defeat that was threaded through his bones. Fighting demons had taken part of his humanity, part of his joy. It was a sobering and depressing thought, adding to your overall pity towards the man.
Sanemi looked surprised at your response, one large hand rubbing at the back of his neck. The Hound looked sheepish, a faint pink blush staining his cheeks.
"I am sorry." Sanemi met your gaze, taking a step forward. He raised his hands as if to touch you and then dropped them as you tensed. Sanemi had a keen eye, something you noted for later.
"We can discuss this more later." You gestured behind you toward the hall, watching as his expression pinched again. "Genya and a few other boys were planning to go after a moon or something."
Sanemi scowled and nodded, a large huff of air leaving his nose. "He's an idiot."
You blinked as he turned back to the cutting board, shoulders tense as he began cutting again. Was that it? The response was so curt, final. You twisted your hands together, glancing over your shoulder as you pondered what to do next. This response was more fitting for the Hound that had been whispered about than the tired man before you.
"He could get hurt" You moved to stand next to Sanemi, staring up at the man. He ignored you, eyes locked on the thoroughly diced scallions. At this point they were closer to being minced mush than anything else.
"That's the job." Sanemi huffed, glancing at you briefly. His eyes were bloodshot, purple iris almost overshadowed by the red veins that threaded through his eyes. He noted your scrutiny, thin lips pressing into a thin line. You scowled at his response, leaning one hip against the counter.
"Is the job also a contract wife you try to deceive?" Your words were slightly clipped, but intentional. Sanemi turned towards you, one thin eyebrow raised. He looked both pissed off and amused. The emotions clashed on his face and you smirked as his left eyebrow wiggled furiously. He set the knife down, tilting his head as he looked down at you.
"Genya knew what he was signing up for on day one." He shrugged, scowling slightly, "I tried to persuade him otherwise years ago."
Sanemi paused, wiping his hands on a nearby towel. You watched for a moment, pushing off the counter and stepping closer to the man. Part of you wanted to keep pushing for him to interfere. But you recognized that you didn't know the internal hierarchy of the Slayers at all. It wasn't your place to try and change the strange family dynamic either. Not on your first day at least.
"Will he be ok?" Your question was softly spoken, Sanemi giving you a sigh in response. His breath was warm and you could smell the sake on him. The expression he gave you as he answered was cold and resigned.
"As safe as any of us are."
And with that, your first conversation with the man ended. To your immense relief, Genya didn't end up going on a mission. He stayed, the boy becoming a quiet shadow in the Estate. Both brothers were like ghosts, quietly existing at opposite ends of the large manor. You resided squarely in the center, uncomfortably between the two and their strange aversion towards each other.
With Genya's help you were able to send Mr. Tanaka a letter. Assuring the old man that you were safe, you also filled him in on the agreement. One month's time and you would make your decision. And that regardless, he would be taken care of.
You didn't want the old man to worry. It was bad enough that you were away from him, unable to check in. Hell you didn't even know which direction to start walking in if you wanted to see him. The letter would have to do.
Genya had secured the letter to a rather scraggly looking crow. The battered creature was missing feathers in places, its beak scarred much like the men of the residence. Despite its fragile looking state, the crow had taken off with gusto.
Special crows were apparently normal for the slayers. The birds were smart, fast and tended to be ignored by demons. Genya had mentioned that as a slayer's wife, you qualified for your own crow. A personal communication crow that wouldn't be as battle ready as the others. It was a welcome idea and you were quick to put in a request at the nearest Kakushi station.
The first week went by in a blur. Most of it you spent alone in your room or in the vast garden of the estate. Your days were filled with reading and writing. It seemed best, you didn't want to slow down and think. Not when you were feeling so alone. Sanemi seemed determined to avoid you, the pale scarred man nowhere to be found. Genya had small missions here and there, the boy spending most of his time home sleeping to recover in between. And Suki, well, she had made her decision about you. The maid didn't avoid you, but she also didn't speak to you. It was clear your insult to her master had gone over poorly.
You couldn't blame her. Now that you had settled into the estate, you were beginning to see even more the quiet under belly of the slayer corp. You had ventured twice into the main village by yourself. Both times you had received pitying stares. Whispers from slayers and kakushi slithered between them. They were subtle, making comments when your back was turned or you were speaking with a vendor. But you heard them all the same.
"Seems a pity to waste a wife on him."
"Both brothers are barely a step above a demon. She must be terrified."
"I would be sick to share a bed with a man like that."
"Have you seen how mangled they both are? How much did her father get paid to say yes to them."
You ignored the comments. Each one built the tight anger that sat in your throat. But you remained quiet, not wanting to turn their nastiness upon yourself. The Slayers, as virtuous and kind as they appeared to the common folk, apparently were nasty gossips. In your eyes, it made them as nasty as the creatures they combated.
It reminded you of your own village. How those with wealth often sneered and snipped at those without. Humans, it seemed, were meant to judge and gossip regardless of their jobs or statuses. It made you wonder if demons were as bad, at least those who could hold a conversation.
"I mean he looks like a demon." A light voice was laughing. You stiffened, eyes snapping to the small book you held. There was some sort of festival being planned and as such, traveling vendors had made their way into the main square. You had gone alone, Sanemi nowhere to be found and Genya nursing a nasty chest wound. Coin purse tucked in your belt, you had hurried to the new vendors, hoping to find something, anything to break the ice that had spread around the estate.
Now, you were regretting it. While most slayers knew what you looked like, there were still others that had yet to see you. With such a large gathering, it made it easier for you to encounter the more oblivious and loud mouthed among them.
"Will you be getting that dear?" The elderly shopkeeper motioned to the book and you blinked before nodding. It was a simple story book with beautiful illustrations. An item more so for younger children, but something you figured Genya might enjoy. He hadn't had time yet for a writing lesson, missions kept piling up. But he was able to read and the small snippet of his life he had provided made you think perhaps he hadn't ever had his own books.
You passed over the few coins, quickly tucking the book in the small bag you had with you. Moving from the stand, you allowed yourself a glance towards the more noisy group. They were younger slayers, all wearing bright haori and all laughing. The good spirits were something that the newer slayers seemed to carry. It faded with time, you had seen the numerous tired gazes in the village. Still, you would think newer slayers would have a sense of respect for their betters.
"SHHHH!" A loud shushing came from the group as you moved on to the next stall. "His brother could be nearby!"
You ignored them, taking in the beautiful threads and fabric this stall held. The vendor gave you a wide smile and bow. The older man seemed overjoyed to see you.
"My lady! Please, take what you need, no cost!"
You blinked at that, puzzled by the man's reaction. "Oh, no. I can pay."
Your words were waved away by the man, his wrinkled hand coming up and grasping yours warmly. His wrinkled fingers gave yours a gentle squeeze as he offered up a smile.
"I could never, my lady. Not after your husband saved my family."
His words had your eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise. This man seemed genuine, his words full of warmth. You murmured a small thank you, overlooking his wares again with more attention. The stand offered fine silks for kimono, the fabric vibrant and well woven.
You weren't in need of a new kimono, Sanemi had made sure of that. But the brightly colored embroidery threads caught your eye. You didn't know what to get the man as a gift. He had gone silent and the little glimpse you had gotten of his true self was a man broken. It didn't lend much in the idea department. But the threads gave you an idea.
You and Cherii had once woven small bracelets as children. It was a newer trend, something she had seen in the big city and brought home. Friendship Bracelets. It seemed childish, especially to give a man covered in scars. But perhaps he would like the symbol, you offering up a small gift to thaw the ice.
"Can I get these three?" You pointed at the threads you wanted. Deep mossy green, light vibrant green and a silvery white. All colors that surrounded the man and his estate.
The vendor carefully slipped the threads into a paper bag before passing it over to you. You thanked him again, noting his thinning hair and the mole over his left eyebrow. Trying to memorize his appearance for later. Sanemi might like to hear that someone thought of him positively. As you turned to leave, he motioned for you to stop.
"For you and the lord!" He pressed something into your hand, bowing again. You thanked him slowly, staring at the pair of ivory netsuke he had given you. They were small crows, one large and damaged, the other dainty and smooth. It amused you. The small decorative gift reflected you and Sanemi perfectly. Had the vendor had gone out of his way to find these?
"Please, tell the lord he has our thanks."
"I will." You bowed, turning to continue your slow trek through the village. Vendor after vendor went by, you buying wares here and there. New dishes, chopstick sets, a few more writing materials. It wasn't that the Shinazugawa estate was lacking for anything, far from it. No this was a small need of your own. To have items that showed that you lived there.
By the time the sun was setting and you were ready to turn back, your small bag had become three. Stomach rumbling you trekked back quietly, avoiding the rather large crowd of slayers. They were incredibly excited, the entire village thrumming with life. You listened as you headed home, picking up snippets of conversation.
"It was two upper moons!"
"Well no, just one moon, but they were siblings or something."
"He lost his arm!"
"Can you believe that kid? He's come so far!"
You wondered if they meant Tanjiro. The snippets that you caught painted a picture of a long battle. A Hashira had lost his arm, three other slayers injured near death. But they had taken down the two demons that had been terrorizing the red light district. They were being brought here for treatment. The closest village by far, it was safer to transport them and stabilize before getting them to the Demon Slayer medical house.
You hurried home, dumping your gifts in your room before heading to the kitchen. Sanemi was nowhere to be seen. With a scowl, you hurried back down the twisting hallways of the estate, peeking in the various unused rooms.
"LET ME BE!" A hoarse and yet boisterous voice rang out, echoing down the hallway. You froze, heart dropping to your stomach. The voice rang out again, the sound unfamiliar. Swallowing your nerves, you hurried in its direction. A mix of stupidity and panic had spurred you on.
Whoever was kicking up a fuss either had no idea whose estate they were in. Or, even worse, they knew exactly where they were. You were afraid someone had broken in and was threatening Genya or Suki. Not that the slayers would attack their own but you were wary given the stares you had seen sent Genya's way.
As you rounded a corner, your confident footsteps faltered. One of the many, many barren rooms was open. The sliding doors flung wide, showing you the perfect chaos within. At one point it might have been a sitting room, given the expensive looking tatami. But now it was a hospital room, furniture shoved to the side to make room for the injured slayers.
Multiple Kakushi bustled within, most of them attempting to wrangle one of the 4 bloodied and bruised slayers. They looked beyond stressed, their usually immaculate black uniforms streaked with a mixture of ash and blood. Beside them, the remaining three slayers looked on, dazed expressions on their faces.
It was the boar masked boy kicking up the fuss. He was screaming something about being a god, arms windmilling uselessly as 4 Kakushi pinned him. Dark bruises speckled his exposed skin and you had to wonder how he even had the strength to wriggle as much as he did. The boy looked like he had been thrown from a great height, multiple bones no doubt shattered.
Your eyes slid from him to the man closest to him. Sitting in a daze, he looked on the verge of death.
Uzui. Your eyebrows shot up as you recognized him. It had been ages since you had last seen the man, the visit to your village feeling eons ago. He looked smaller, his pale hair streaked with blood and skin mottled strangely. Three women, his wives you assumed, tended to him carefully. One was sobbing while the other two did their best to stem the blood leaking from his severed hand.
You swallowed a grimace, noting how dark the blood looked as it slowly dripped onto the tatami below. The bandage wrapped around the stump was soaked, the more collected wife doing her best to change it without hurting the man further.
He looked bad, very bad. In comparison to the laughing and vulgar man he had been, this was sad. His wives also looked incredibly battered, hands shaking as they tended to the man. Their clothing was tattered and blood stained. What kind of demon had they fought?
"Can I help?" You turned to the nearest Kakushi, watching as they visibly flinched. They hadn't heard you approaching, two of them sputtering a polite refusal.
"Lady Shinazugawa!" Tanjiru squawked, his speech garbled slightly. The boy was pale, half stripped down as the Kakushi quietly bound his ribs. You noted the mangled fingers on his right hand, the skin a sickly purple. Blood stained his chin and throat, the liquid a thick crusted mess.
"Can I get you anything?" You addressed the boy directly, ignoring the stares from the Kakushi. Tanjiro seemed to think for a moment, his eyelids heavy. He was struggling, you realized, the boy's eyes clouded by pain. It made your heart clench, your eyes itching as you willed yourself not to cry.
These boys were nothing more than strong children. Forced by twisted circumstances to go into battle against a nearly immortal enemy that was constantly evolving. Had you been found by the slayers rather than the villagers, you most likely would have followed the same path.
"Oh! Where's my sister?" he asked tiredly. You stared down at the boy, a frown forming on your face. Had he hit his head perhaps? You glanced about the room quickly, taking in the Kakushi and injured slayers.
"She lives in a box." He coughed, wincing as the Kakushi to his right gently took his injured fingers. Your gaze slid to the one item that stood out. A large, rather ornate box. It had been on his shoulders when you had first met him. Nestled among the simple bags of medical supplies, it looked imposing.
" MMMMM NO ." The yellow haired boy who had been lying down quietly whined, wriggling in his spot. You noted he made no effort to get up, the boy clearly exhausted. Still, he kicked up a quiet fuss.
"Shinazugawa, you leave Nezuko alone!" The Kakushi next to the boy slapped her hand over his mouth, shooting you a worried glance. You ignored it, moving to the box and gently pushing the bags out of the way. The boy's concern was valid, your husband didn't have the best reputation. But you weren't him.
Carefully opening the box, you let out a small noise of surprise at the tiny girl inside. She couldn't have been much older than 5. Sitting curled in on herself, one hand twirling a lock of her strangely colored hair. You noted the odd piece of bamboo over her mouth, your stomach sinking as you quietly put two and two together.
The box didn't let light in, her hands were tipped with sharp, claw-like nails and there was the muzzle. The girl didn't leap at you, didn't growl or bite as you expected a demon to. Instead she sat, blinking at you with a curiosity that was so genuine it shook loose the caution in your heart.
"Tanjiro is asking for you." You spoke softly, not wanting to scare her. Nezuko nodded slowly, one chubby hand reaching out for you. Again your heart sank and you swallowed the sudden urge to flee. It was an odd war between your mind and body. But ultimately, your mind won.
You picked up the small girl gently, grimacing at the blood that smeared her torn kimono. This tiny demon had also fought. A harrowing thought that only added to the growing disdain you felt towards the slayer organization.
Nezuko was warm in your arms, the small child immediately grasping your sleeve. She cooed at the embroidered bamboo, one nail gently poking at the fine threads. For a demon, she was incredibly cheerful, her movements and expressions entirely human.
"She seems ok." You stood before Tanjiro again with a gentle smile. Nezuko waved at him from her spot on your hip. The boy let out a loud sigh, nodding his head shakily in silent thanks.
"Although she could use a bath." You paused, taking in the room again. The fine tatami mats were ruined, even one of the doors had been blood smeared. Despite being bandaged, the injured slayers were still coated in a layer of grim.
"You all need a bath." You let out a small huff of amusement.
"I'll get the onsen ready." You paused, staring at the barely awake Tanjiro, "Nezuko can come with me to stay safe? It's dark out now."
You figured that despite her calm and human-like demeanor, the little girl shouldn't be exposed to sunlight. That and wisteria, you'd have to do something about the plants above the bath.
The boy nodded sleepily, wincing as the Kakushi began wiping the blood from his neck. Fresh blood beginning to slowly leak from a hidden wound. You turned as he began shaking, not wanting Nezuko to see. The girl might be a demon, but you were sure she understood how badly hurt her brother was.
You explained to Uzui's wives where the onsen was as you passed them, noting the look of relief the three women gave you. Leaving the chaos behind you entered the silent hallway again. Nezuko cooed in your arms, little hand pointing excitedly at the various scrolls on the wall. She seemed enamored, eyes wide and shiny with glee.
You paused halfway down the hall at one scroll. It showed a massive tiger stalking through a thin bamboo forest. Your eyes slid from the bamboo in the scroll to the bamboo at Nezuko's mouth.
Perhaps it was compassion, more likely it was stupidity. Either way, you found yourself gently tugging the bamboo down, letting the make-shift muzzle hang around her neck. Nezuko blinked up at you in surprise, one small hand tapping at her mouth for a moment. Then she smiled, using the same hand to eagerly pat your cheek.
"Tanjiro said she sees people as their dead family members." You turned, seeing a hunched Genya staring at you from a doorway. He was sweating, looking slightly green in the face. The bandages around his chest had a deep stain, in dire need of a change.
"The Kakushi are here if you need medication." You murmured, stepping over to the boy and feeling his forehead. He was burning up, shivering slightly where he stood.
"I'm ok." Genya sounded entirely unconvincing, the boy's gaze dropping to his feet. He was clearly not ok, the fever wracking his body more than likely due to an infection.
"Go to the sitting room." It was Sanemi, the man fully dressed for once. The slayer uniform looked out of place in the quiet hall. It transformed him from an exhausted man to a pale soldier. In your arms, Nezuko flinched, burying her face in your neck. One clawed hand clenched your kimono collar in a white knuckled grip.
Genya mumbled something under his breath, slowly walking in the direction you had come from. You watched him go, noting his wobbly steps and how sweat soaked his bandages were. How long had he been ill?
Guilt chewed at your heart. Had you tried harder, perhaps this could have been avoided. It wasn't that you were avoiding the brothers, far from it. But you hadn't exactly gone out of your way to push past the walls they had built up around themselves.
"Hello little demon." Sanemi stood before you, his steps completely silent. Nezuko refused to look at him, the tiny demon pressing against you as if she wished your flesh would absorb her.
"She's afraid of you." It wasn't a question. You search Sanemi's face, gaze tracing over the many scars twisting over his face. The man looked tired, merely nodding at your statement.
"She is." He didn't bother clarifying, stepping around you and heading after his brother. A strange, cold pain slithered through your chest. It hurt to be brushed off by the man so easily. He had been so soft with you the first few days and now, it was as if you were nothing more than one of the many empty rooms in this house.
He didn't smell of sake . It was a dismaying thought, one that added to the painful feelings chewing at your chest.
Inhaling sharply, you turned and marched to the onsen. It was best not to dwell on things. Not when you had just over 2 weeks left before the contract was up.
Nezuko relaxed when you stepped into the steaming onsen room. Like you had, she stared in awe at the mossy walls and the tangle of pine and wisteria above the pool. To your immense relief, she seemed alright being near wisteria. Perhaps the plants were far enough above the water or she was different from other demons. Either way, you still made sure to carefully remove all the loose petals that had fallen into the onsen. You didn't know enough about demons to know if it would harm her and you didn't want to ask Sanemi.
"Be careful!" You laughed as the little demon wriggled from your grasp, diving into the pool with a squeal. The girl was ecstatic, doing laps in the warm water. She reminded you of a river otter, playful and fast beneath the murky onsen water. After you determined that she could take care of herself, you turned your attention to her ruined clothing. Thankfully the onsen room had the means for washing clothing and after poking around a bit more you found a small sewing kit. Satisfied with your find, you set to work.
Removing blood from the fabric was going to be difficult. It had sat on the clothing long enough to start staining the light pink a deep brown. But to your surprise, the items in the house seemed to be tailored for a slayer's life style. The soap you had found was able to lift the blood with ease, the fabric washing clean immediately.
You sniffed it tentatively and confirmed that much like other items in this room, it carried an oddly medicinal scent.
"Hopefully it dries quickly." You murmured, hanging the clothing on one of the many hidden hooks on the wall. There was no point in mending it until the fabric was dried. In the meantime you would need to figure out what Nezuko could wear. There were no small children in the estate and this late at night there was no where in the village that could supply you with any new clothing.
You moved to the water, pulling your kimono up over your thighs and sitting on the warm rocks. Sliding your legs into the water, you let out a heavy sigh. Your mind was a mess, flip flopping over having concern for Sanemi and just letting him be. There was obviously something deeper going on in the slayer organization. The shiny and happy image that had been painted for the country was peeling back, its true dark underbelly starting to show itself for you. It was clear to you that cruelty and judgment lived among the ranks, falling easily from the lips of the slayers.
But had the Shinazugawa brothers done something to warrant this? You hoped not, but to have such pervasive gossip going around, it was hard not to think something had happened. There was Nezuko as well, her odd reaction to seeing Sanemi.
You jumped as the little demon in question patted your knee. She had swam up to you silently, her wide eyes taking in your worried expression.
"AH!" The child slapped your knee again, pointing at the top of her head and then you. Brow furrowing, you tilted your head, trying to figure out what she meant. Nezuko frowned, tugging at her hair and then patting your hand instantly.
"Oh! Do you need help washing your hair?" Your words made her smile, the girl nodding eagerly. She turned in the water, allowing you to lather her hair with the lemon smelling soap she had been using. Nezuko hummed happily, slapping at the water as you worked through her long hair. You rubbed your thumb and forefinger against the odd orange ends of her hair. It looked natural, despite being so bright. Perhaps an after effect of becoming a demon?
It made you wonder about the fire Hashira and his flame-like hair. He was certainly not a demon but there was no way his hair was natural. Come to think of it, Sanemi and Uzui's pure white hair was slightly odd. Not entirely impossible, but still.
You snorted at the thought of a bunch of slayers working together to dye their hair.
"You can rinse." You smiled as Nezuko immediately sunk to the bottom of the pool. Not needing to breathe had its advantages it seemed. She was beneath the water, no more than a fuzzy shadow for several minutes before resurfacing. You squawked as she sprayed you with water, the tiny demon cackling excitedly.
It started a game of sorts. Nezuko diving beneath the water before resurfacing and splashing you. As much as you didn't want to be drenched, you couldn't deny how happy the girl seemed. How many days had she been in that box? How long had it been since she had done anything remotely human?
She eventually calmed, going back to laps around the pool, pausing every now and then to poke your knee and babble. You smiled at the girl, deciding that the two of you could hide in here until the others needed the bath. Nezuko seemed content and you would be lying if you said it wasn't calming to sit in the steam. The calmness allowed you to start mending her clothing. Even with all the steam in the room, the moss that covered the walls seemed to have soaked up the water in her clothing. It was nice to do something you were used to. Mending and darning clothing was something you did frequently. Papa didn't always have the funds for new kimonos or even the fabric to mend them. Not that you minded, it had made you more careful with your clothing. If there was one thing you could do, it was making a kimono seem like new.
A knock on the onsen door sent Nezuko to the far end of the pool. The little demon sinking below the water until just her eyes were peeking out above the water. It was Sanemi, the man poking his head in. He looked grim, his lips pressed in a thin line as he entered the room.
"Uzui and the others will be staying with us for a few days. Their injuries are too extreme to move them again."
You nodded slowly, swinging your legs out of the water and standing. Putting the mended clothing to the side, you adjusted your kimono, attempting to cover your legs from his gaze. The slayer looked uncomfortable, his eyes going from you to Nezuko.
"She will need supervision. You can leave her with Genya."
You narrowed your eyes at that, your fingers fiddling with the edges of your sleeves. Genya was in no condition to look after anyone, let alone a demon.
"I can watch her." You motioned behind you, "I have been watching her just fine."
You didn't like this cold side of Sanemi. The quiet and unassuming man you had been speaking with just days before was gone. It was as if he put on his uniform and hid that man away.
"She's a demon." Sanemi's tone carried a slight edge, his words carrying an unspoken warning. You crossed your arms at that, inhaling deeply. The Hound was intimidating, his wild eyes feeling as if they pierced your very soul. And yet, you found yourself irritated.
You had been dragged here after being black mailed. Every step of the way had been a lie or a misrepresentation. And for the past week you had been utterly alone after he had pleaded with you for kindness. The Hound had stated he didn't want a wife, that this was an order from his organization. And yet, here he was, giving you an order as if he were a true husband.
Two could play that game.
"I am aware." Your voice was clipped as you spoke, "And again, I can watch her."
Sanemi's eye twitched, the man's hands resting on his hips as he inhaled sharply. Clearly he hadn't expected you to argue. His brow furrowed and you tensed as he opened his mouth. But Sanemi never got a chance to continue the argument.
The onsen door flew open, Uzui and his three wives practically falling in. All three women let out a delighted squeal as their husband gave a weak moan. The soft moss of the onsen was quickly crushed underfoot as the group made their way to the edge of the pool. All of them were speaking over each other, their excitement winning over their exhaustion for a moment.
You quietly assisted Nezuko from the bath, drying and dressing her as quickly as you could. The little demon climbed her way into your arms again, eyes watching Sanemi like a hawk as she did so.
The man didn't notice, too busy assisting Uzui. You slipped from the room with a sigh, shivering slightly at the temperature change.
To your surprise, there was a line outside the onsen. The three smaller demon slayers were sitting against the wall. They appeared more alert than before, but exhaustion still clung to them.
"Nezuko!" Tanjiro smiled as his sister wriggled from your arms, the young girl hugging him tightly. The boy winced, shuddering slightly as she pulled away.
"No good huh?" You asked gently. Tanjiro shook his head, shoulder slumping slightly.
"The demon we fought used a poison. We've made it past the worst of it, but we still need an antidote."
You hummed at that, bending down to pick up Nezuko again. Beside Tanjiro, the other two boys both sighed. Neither of them said anything, their heads bowed slightly.
"The onsen might help you sweat it out?" You didn't know the first thing about poison. But you hoped the bath would make them feel better and not worse. The boys shrugged, clearly too tired to carry a conversation.
Footsteps behind you made you turn, curious to see who was moving so loudly. It was Suki, the maid looking equally as surprised to see you. She bowed stiffly, arms burdened by futons.
"I am nearly finished setting up rooms for our guests." Her eyes slide to the door behind you then back. The woman was clearly uncomfortable talking to you, her gaze locked squarely on your left shoulder. Again you felt the slight sting of shame, mentally kicking yourself for the bad first impression you had made on her.
"I was going to report to Lord Shinazugawa." Her tone was tense, the woman looking at the trio propped against the wall. You felt bad, realizing that she alone was most likely dealing with the clean up from their injuries.
"I can tell him." You offered a small smile. Suki did not smile back, the woman merely giving you a curt nod. She looked like she was going to leave, but paused as you opened your mouth again.
"Can you make sure Tanjiro's room is close to mine?" You hefted Nezuko slightly as if that would explain your request. The maid merely nodded, her eyebrows dipping slightly before she cleared her expression. Suki stared at you for a moment, then turned without a word and hurried back down the hallway.
"I'll watch Nezuko while you recover." You turned back to Tanjiro with a smile. The boy nodded, motioning in the direction Suki had taken.
"She needs lots of sleep, her box is with my stuff."
You assured him you would keep her safe, looking up as Sanemi exited the bath. The man was drenched from head to toe, his white hair plastered to his face. He looked frustrated, letting out a loud huff as he took in the small gathering in the hallway.
"Kakushi can assist you three."
The man didn't spare you a look as he squelched his way down the hall. You bid the boys goodnight, trying not to let them see how amused you were. Sanemi must've fallen in trying to help Uzui.
Following the trail of water down the hall, you hummed quietly. Nezuko's excitement must've briefly overwhelmed the exhaustion that she was clearly feeling. The girl was quick to fall asleep, her breathing becoming almost non-existent. You walked slowly so as not to wake her, and in truth to not catch up with Sanemi. You doubted the dip in the onsen had cooled his temper.
As you approached your room, Suki exited the room nearest it. She offered a stiff bow, pausing as she noticed the trail of water. You shrugged, the smile you had bit back bubbling to the surface again.
"Sanemi took a dip. Fully clothed." You expected Suki to glare at you for that. The amusement you felt was perhaps a bit cruel. But to your surprise she let out an amused huff.
"About time." Suki sighed, stepping over the water and moving closer to you, "The man has a nasty habit of forgetting to bathe himself."
And with that, she left you. It felt like a small stitch in mending your relationship with her. You weren't expecting her to like you, but tolerating you would be a good step. Her words however, added to the thoughts that had been gnawing away at you all night. Sanemi wasn't well.
But what could I do about it? You sighed, turning to the neatly organized room Suki had left. Three futons were laid in a row, their owner's ruined clothing sitting near the head of each.
The ornate box was sitting in the darkest corner of the room. Nezuko crawled into it sleepily, one clawed hand closing the door behind her. You stared for a moment, filled with pity for the young girl. She deserves better.
As you quietly exited the room, you started as Sanemi came stomping back down the hallway. He was still drenched and looking incredibly irritated. He paused as he noticed you, the fists he had been making relaxing slightly.
"They took over my room." His explanation was short and surprising. With all the rooms in the estate and the lord of the house had been kicked from his own room?
"Uzui and his wives need the master bedroom for god knows what." Sanemi huffed, twisting his haori in his hands. Water splattered across the floor, making the man look even more irritated. You hid a smile behind your hand, swallowing the laugh that bubbled up. Perhaps Uzui was not as injured as he appeared. That or his lechery knew no bounds. You could think of exactly why they might have requested the only room in the estate with complete privacy.
"I don't mind sharing with you." Your words seemed to shock the man, Sanemi throwing a look of incredulity. You shrugged, stepping into your room.
"We're married, it's more odd we haven't been sharing a room honestly." In truth you were grateful you hadn't been sharing a room with the man. You barely knew him and the prospect of sharing a room with a stranger was never a pleasant one. But there was something compelling about the man. His plea for kindness stuck with you in a way that should have been irritating. But as he stood before you, looking like a half drowned wolf, all you felt was pity. He did need kindness and a lot of it. But could your kindness mend the wounds that went deeper than his flesh?
Taking him by the hand, you pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind you. Sanemi accepted your help quietly, his pale face dusted a light pink. You turned as he stripped the wet uniform off, the fabric hitting the floor with a wavy smack.
"You don't need to snap at me like I'm one of your underlings." Keeping your back to him, you studied your hands, noting how much softer they had become in just a week. Being away from the restaurant had softened you slightly. It made you feel guilty, knowing that miles away your Papa was no doubt hunched over a hot stove.
Sanemi was silent, the rustling of fabric the only noise in the room.
"I don't know how to talk to you." His voice was quiet, almost inaudible. You turned at that, brow furrowing slightly. Sanemi stood, shoulders slightly slumped. He had thankfully dressed, a pale green juban loosely draping his frame. In this, he looked more like the man you had stumbled across on your first night in the estate. This man was softer, stripped of the uniform he looked more human somehow.
"You talked with me just fine during our first meeting." Your voice was soft. Stepping forward, you tentatively touched his shoulder. Sanemi stared down at you, the low light in the room making his scars look deeper.
"You didn't know what I was then." His voice was soft. What I was. Not who I was. It was a small but alarming distinction. Again you felt the odd pang in your chest, the feeling that he was unwell chewing away at you.
"True. But I don't think anyone knows who you are. Not really." Your words made him flinch as if struck. Despite being larger than you, at this moment, he looked small. All his scars and hard edges seemed softer, somehow shaky in the dim light of the room. He seemed frozen, unsure of how to respond.
"Turn around." You motioned to him, walking over to your dresser and pulling out a fresh juban. Sanemi did as you asked, his head hanging low. You quickly changed, throwing your wet kimono with Sanemi's things.
"We can start simple." You pulled the extra futon out, laying it beside yours. There was no extra blanket and you didn't want to bother Suki. She had her hands full with getting blood out of the linens. So you opted to shift the large blanket you had been using. It would barely cover the two and you let out a small sigh as you realized you would be cuddled up to the man.
"How so?" Sanemi had turned to look at you, watching as you slid beneath the covers and motioned to him. The slayer, feared Hound, approached you as if he were approaching a viper's nest. He sat on your left, keeping a large chunk of space between the two of you.
"What's your favorite color?" The question had him giving you a look. He seemed both amused and annoyed. Sanemi ran a hand through his hair, the still damp locks sticking up oddly.
"Does it matter?"
You crossed your arms, offering him a stern look. "Yes, in fact it does."
Sanemi sighed, leaning back on his elbows and staring up at the ceiling. You waited quietly, watching as he chewed at his lower lip.
"I'm colorblind." Sanemi shrugged at your surprised expression, "I suppose green is my favorite. The color of the trees, moss."
He offered another small shrug, staring at you expectantly. You smiled at his answer, nudging him with your foot.
"Your turn."
The man stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"Do you hate it here?" It was a much deeper question than you were expecting. Sanemi watched you expectantly, his lilac coloured irises like beacons in the dark.
"No." You started carefully, mulling over each word. "But this past week has been lonely."
He nodded at that, one scarred hand rubbing against his chest.
"I wanted to give you space." Sanemi paused, lying down and staring back up at the ceiling. "And I was afraid for you to see more of me."
You lay beside him, curled up on your side. From this close you could see his scars so much better. He was missing part of his right ear, the scar twisting over it a dull pink. Scars peeked out randomly from his hairline, mostly hidden by his fluffy white hair.
"You're one of the most powerful men in Japan right now. Why hide?"
Sanemi turned his head, his expression unreadable.
"Power isn't gained through kindness. Fear and violence is what makes our organization strong."
You stayed quiet as he closed his eyes. Sanemi was silent for a few minutes before he opened his eyes, his expression somber.
"The people love us because they fear Demons. They love us because we will commit the violence they have no stomach for."
Sanemi turned, his gaze going back to the ceiling. The silence in the room was loud, suffocating you. "They fear the violence the demons bring. And in part, they fear the violence we might be able to inflict on them. So they applaud us, shower us with gifts to keep the violence away."
You reached out under the blanket, placing your hand on his shoulder. He placed his hand over yours. Sanemi's palm was rough against your skin, callused from many years of using a sword. From the hallway, you could hear the slow shuffle of people retiring to their rooms. It was odd. The estate had been so quiet the entire time you had been living in it. But now, it sounded lively, the footsteps and hushed voices reminding you of home.
"I'd like to get to know you." It felt odd to admit it. Sanemi shifted slightly, taking in your expression. It was the truth, despite the limited time you had spent together, you felt compelled. Sanemi was strange, completely unlike his fellow slayers. He was withdrawn, seeming to hate the attention of the masses. And he was also hated by a portion of the slayers, an odd juxtaposition to his elevated status.
Sanemi hummed, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. He didn't respond, instead the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. As you grew sleepy, you made a mental note to start the next day fresh. Tomorrow you would climb the walls he had set around himself and get to truly know the hound.
Notes:
Thank you, my dear readers, for being so patient. ONE YEAR later and I have an update. I appreciate all of your kind comments and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
For those of you who are curious as to why it took my so long to update. A few things, life, work, etc. And my stupid writing habits lol. I've realized that my working method of "if I'm stuck work on another fic." does not make me more productive. Trying something new this year so fingers crossed I do better lol. Again, thank you all 3
Chapter 5: Talking
Summary:
He was willing to open up, just a bit.
Notes:
**Mild manga spoliers kinda?
Wrote this in like a days time while recovering from surgery so I apologize for any mistakes. I needed a bridge chapter for what is next and am writing when not in pain.
Surgery was a good thing though! Very needed and I should be back to my normal self within the next few weeks. For now tho, surgery recovery is writing time lol
Miiiiiiight go back and rewrite this later, might not lol.
Chapter Text
Since you had joined the slayers, life had not gone as planned. Every step you had taken, every word, all had been a reaction to the twisting world you had been thrown into. Your existing assumptions and feelings towards the slayers had been utterly shattered. Now you stood with the remains, trying to piece together the actual picture. A picture that was starting to feel darker than it should.
You had awoken, way too hot and slightly flustered. In sleep, Sanemi and you had ended up tangled together. Legs entwined, his arm slung over your hip, you pinned in place. His warm breath spilling over the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He was so large, warm muscles firm against the softness of your skin.
It was domestic, intimate in a way you hadn't experienced before. It made your heart race and breath catch in your throat.
As luck would have it, Sanemi woke only a few moments after you. The result was a very flustered and apologetic detangling of limbs. The man was bright red and you had a feeling you were just as flushed. He pretended not to see how your robes had opened in the front and you pretended you didn't see the very obvious erection his robes were failing to hide.
After murmured apologies and dressing on opposite ends of the room, the two of you emerged red faced.
"MMMAH!" Nezuko hurtled full speed into your legs, tiny hand tugging at the bamboo that had been firmly placed back in her mouth. You shared a glance with Sanemi, the man offering you a tense look. The tiny demon seemed to put everyone on edge. You scooped her up, gently tugging the bamboo down. Until she bit you, which you doubted would happen, you were going to treat her like any other child. The muzzle was inhuman, making your stomach roll every time you saw it. Your action got you an amused chortle, the small demon gleefully smiling at you. She offered you thanks in the form of a pat to your cheek, her wide eyes and sharp smile refreshing.
"Be careful." Sanemi's wild eyes never left the tiny demon's face, body tense as if posed to spring. His warm presence at your side was both comforting and a tad overbearing. You merely nodded at the man, adjusting the small girl on your hip and offering him a small smile. Nezuko pulled a face, hiding from his lilac gaze. She was afraid of him almost as much as he seemed to be afraid of her.
Fundamentally, you understood. Demons needed human flesh to survive. Blood, bone and gray matter kept them going. It added to their inhuman strength and abilities. But Nezuko was so small, so quiet. You had a hard time believing she could even eat flesh, never mind attack anyone. Yes demons came in all forms, you had heard the tales of child demons taking out entire villages. But Nezuko was different. You weren't a slayer, you had no expertise in anything demon related, but you had a feeling. A feeling that she was different and somehow, better than the rest of the demons out there.
"I need to send a crow." Sanemi spoke tersely, turning and stomping down the hall, leaving you gawking after him as he disappeared within seconds. You thought the talk last night had opened at least a window to his heart. A small crack at least to let you worm your way in. But in the light of day, he was once again standoffish. The man withdrew so quickly.
"He's a turtle." You murmured to yourself, patting Nezuko's head as you turned and made your way to the kitchen. Both Shinazugawa brothers were turtles, one more timid than the other. Genya at least came out of his shell without proding, the boy's quiet hopefulness quite endearing. But Sanemi, he was like a big snapping turtle. Any time he came out, his mouth was posed to strike. A biting word just as likely as a nasty look.
"What to do." You murmured, sharing a look with Nezuko. She had yet to speak a word, but you felt as if she understood everything you said. The small girl patted your cheek again, letting out a small noise of sympathy. You smiled down at her as you rounded the hallway corner and made your way to the warmth of the kitchen.
To your surprise, the kitchen was a madhouse. Uzui sat as his three wives bustled about the kitchen. You stared as dishes, spices and sauces flew around the space. The women were like a tornado, chattering with each other so fast that you could barely follow them. Despite the mess and chaos, the warm kitchen smelled good. It reminded you of home.
If Papa could see me now. The thought was bittersweet. You knew he would be proud of you, of your resiliency and kindness. But would he ever get to see it. You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, adjusting your grip on Nezuko as you shuffled into the kitchen. Blinking back the sudden sting of tears you offered up a smile to the women. They didn't break their stride as they cooked, the three moving about each other effortlessly as they navigated the cramped space near the stove.
Tanjiro's friends, the boar headed boy and the yellow haired boy were sitting next to the women, grumbling about food as the trio cooked. They seemed to be taking it in good humor, the shorter of the women smacking the back of one of the boys hands as he went to grab a dumpling.
"Ah! Lady Shinazugawa." Uzui croaked, lifting his good hand to toast you. There was a slight tremor to the action, a small splash of sake slipping from the cup as he moved. The man looked even worse somehow. His left eye was bandaged, but you could see the bruising that spread across his face. Paired with his stump arm and the bruising that speckled the rest of his skin, he still looked smaller than the first time you had seen him. The bath had done him good, however, the lack of blood in his snowy hair made the man look at least a little bit alive.
He sipped his sake, hand still shaking as he did so. Like this, Uzui appeared rather helpless and weak. You set Nezuko beside him, picking up the chopsticks that lay discarded next to a bowl of rice and egg.
"How are you fairing?" You lifted a portion of rice to his mouth, the man giving you a surprised look. He took the food gratefully, single eye watching you with mild surprise and curiosity. To you, he was still the pompous man you had seen ages ago. Just smaller, weaker and in need of help.
Uzui chewed thoughtfully, swallowing slowly as he watched his wives. The three of them were eyeing you as they cooked, clearly protective of their husband. The way the whirled about the kitchen always made sure one of them was facing Uzui, one set of eyes on him at all times. You couldn't blame them, despite being Sanemi's wife for just over a week, you had a feeling that you would be the same way if he came home this beat up.
"I'm alive. And I'm no longer a Hashira." Uzui's voice was tinged with remorse. His eye was locked on his stump arm, a mix of pain and frustration rippled across his face for a moment. You nodded, offering him another bite of rice. He took it without a word, his face sliding into a neutral expression again.
"You brought down a powerful demon. You kept us safe." Your words were soft as you spoke, treading carefully through territory that was unfamiliar to you. The rankings of the demon slayers was something everyone knew of. After all, rankings meant different accommodations, gifts and favors. Hashira were at the top of the pyramid, their strength in combat spoken about in awe. They were as close to gods as humanity could get.
To be a Hashira one day and a disabled man the next. It had to be devastating to someone who had no doubt spent his life doing this one job. Still, in the back of your mind you remembered what Sanemi had told you. This path, the path of being relieved from duty by dismemberment was better than the alternative. You could easily see the path in which instead of a lively kitchen, you stood by three grieving widows. While Uzui was clearly in pain, a glance to your right told you his wives were not. Looks of relief were passed between the trio, no doubt thinking the same thing you had been.
The next hour passed by in relative silence. Suma took over feeding Uzui, the small woman offering you quiet thanks as she did so. She was much gentler than you, her soft words of encouragement to the broken man like kisses strung through the air. You moved to the counter and sat with Maiko and Hinatsuru for a bit, helping them roll out more dough for dumplings. The boys seemed to eat a lot and you hoped that the kitchen would survive the next few days. Two Hashira, 4 slayer boys and a demon. Enough food for a small army seemed to be needed to keep up.
While you rolled dough, the boys, Inosuke and Zenitsu, let you know Tanjiro was still asleep. He had been injured pretty severely, the boy still shaking off the after effects of the poison he had suffered from. His sleepy friends weren't fairing much better. You caught the winces from each boy as they moved, the pain flickering across their young faces faster than they could hide it.
"Hashira Shinobu should be here in a day's time." Uzui murmured, sitting back and waving off the offer of a dumpling." The man had eaten 3 bowls of rice, 2 bowls of miso soup and 10 dumplings. Tanjiro's friends had done nearly the same, Inosuke putting away 25 of the dumplings before finally passing out next to the pantry.
"Then we'll be out of your hair."
You murmured that it was fine, that there was no need for anyone to rush. In truth, part of you didn't want them to go. You didn't want to be alone, to be faced again with Sanemi's walls. It was something that you would have to deal with sooner rather than later, but the part of you that was a coward was enjoying the time your guests ate up. It meant more time for you to think, to plan on getting through to his heart.
"Why do the Kakushi treat the Shinazugawa brothers coldly?" You worded your question carefully, eyes locked on Uzui's face. A strange silence fell across the kitchen and you shifted, allowing Nezuko to climb onto your lap. At your side, Suma looked down at her hands, lips pinched in a thin line. Across from you Uzui's nostrils flared as the man inhaled sharply. His brows creased, the bandages on his left eye crinkling slightly.
Uncomfortable. They were all incredibly uncomfortable with the question. You pretend not to notice, focusing your gaze and questioning expression on Uzui.
"The Shinazugawa brothers are….. Different." It wasn't the answer you were hoping for. Hell you weren't sure what you were looking for, but different wasn't it. A child could have told you as much. No different wasn't the word at all for the Shinazugawa brothers. The treatment and the whispers among the slayers alluded to something darker. Outcast . That would have made more sense. But you had a feeling that even among the Kakushi, that was a term that wouldn't be used.
In your village you had been an outcast. It had meant stares, the occasional cruel joke. But for the most part, you had been left alone to do as you pleased in the restaurant. Honestly the worst of it had been the village elders. Their barbed tongues and cruel words were worse than any teasing from your patrons. And still, their words were kinder than the whispers you had heard within the village that lay beneath the Shinazugawa estate.
They spoke of the brothers as if they were demons. The thought was nasty, twisting in the back of your mind like a hungry snake. You bit your bottom lip, glancing at Nezuko and then back at Uzui. The slayer's eye was studying your face, his expression unreadable as you caught his gaze.
You opened your mouth to pose your question differently and then paused. Uzui looked uncomfortable, his eye darting to look anywhere but your face. He certainly knew something, but whatever it was would take hours of grilling to get it out of him. A skill you barely had and didn't want to test. Years of living within the slayer world danced in his gaze, hidden secrets that he would rather leave unspoken.
So you dropped it, not wanting to make the atmosphere any worse. The question still burned in the back of your throat. And you knew that despite your resistance to it, you would have to ask Sanemi himself.
A day's time went by faster than you thought it would. Between entertaining your guests, aka feeding them more and chasing after Nezuko, the next thing you knew, it was night time. Tanjiro had been surprised as you brought Nezuko to him, the boy apologizing for sleeping the entire day. You had waved off his concerns with a smile, assuring him that his sister was a treat to be around.
As night full enveloped the estate, you found Genya. The boy had been shuffling about the house, tired and looking small. The wounds he had been sporting seemed mysteriously gone, the boy waving off your concerned questions. He confirmed for you that he had no idea where Sanemi went. Genya had looked stressed as he stated that if his brother wasn't home, that meant the man was most likely somewhere blowing off steam. For a slayer that could mean only one thing and you were filled by slight dread at the notion.
Your room felt empty, filled only by the light of the moon as you fretted silently. Demons roamed at night and while you had no doubt Sanemi could fight them off, worry still chewed at you. Prayers for his safety filled your mind, silent whispered thoughts that churned like the ocean.
Still, the moon was quiet, her sliver of a face reflecting nothing back as you stared out the window. Your prayers felt hollow and you fell into a fitful sleep, with dreams full of blood and bone.
When you awoke next it was early morning, the sun barely over the horizon. The sun's weak rays filtered through the slats of the window, barely illuminating the room. You slipped from your futon, shivering as the cool air touched your skin. As you left your room, you noted how silent the estate was. The rambunctious guests had settled, still caught in the net of sleep. Staring either way down the hallway you were met with cold silence. It was much like the first night you had been here, except this time you weren't afraid of the hound that prowled the hallways. You padded down the silent corridor, careful to be quiet as you made your way to the onsen.
A hot bath would shake off the threads of anxiety that had followed you out of sleep. You had no idea what you had dreamed of, just that the dreams were red and tasted metallic. The feeling of fear still clung to you, foggy half remembered fragments of the dream sliding between thoughts. You felt unsettled. Slipping into the steaming onsen, you paused, eyebrows shooting up as you took in the scene before you.
Sanemi was fast asleep, half submerged in the water. Water droplets gently fell from the spiked tips of his hair, onto his chest. Fresh cuts ran across his skin, spiraling down beneath the surface of the water. You grimaced at the slight pink tinge to the water around him, watching as the spring whisked away each fresh drop of blood to wherever it drained.
You chewed at your bottom lip, one hand on the door as you pondered what to do. Seeing him like this, so exposed and vulnerable, felt slightly intrusive. Still, sitting in the warm water and slowly bleeding out wasn't exactly the fate you wanted to leave Sanemi to.
He must've spent all night fighting. You thought as you crossed to the water. At a glance the cuts didn't look too deep. But there were several, all leaking steadily into the steaming water. Stripping slowly, you slipped into the water and quickly crossed to the man. The water was comforting against your skin immediately and you resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief. Moving closer to Sanemi, you paused, chewing at your bottom lip. Almost chest to chest with him, the feeling of being an intruder grew stronger. This close you could see his pale lashes and the small droplets of water that clung to them. He looked serene, the creases that normally framed his eyes and mouth smoothed by sleep. Like this you could see the man he might've been had he not become a slayer.
He'd be a merchant, rolling from town to town with his cart of goods. Fine silks, exotic foods and you sitting with him each step of the way. He'd laugh more, the creases around his mouth due to smiling and the wild look in his eyes love instead of that animal like caution. He'd be gentle, large hands softer against your skin.
The thoughts filled your mind and you found yourself surprised by the alternate life you could draw up. You had known Sanemi for such a short time and had spent most of it convinced that you would just exist around him before moving back to your village. But you couldn't deny it, standing before him like this, you found the man attractive. You could feel yourself blushing as you grabbed his shoulder and shook him gently.
Sanemi moved faster than you could see. One moment you were shaking his shoulder, the next, you were submerged in water, bubbles of air escaping above you as his hand pushed you beneath the warm surface. You clawed for a moment at his hand before you were hauled upwards. Gasping, you sputtered as you spit up water.
Your throat and nose stung, water falling from your lips as you struggled to catch your breath.
"SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!." Sanemi held you upright, chest pressed against yours as he patted your back. You coughed weakly, massaging your throat with one hand and steadying yourself with the other. His skin was warm beneath your palm, the thin lacerations on his pecs oozing onto your skin. The hand on your back was firm, keeping you upright as you coughed.
"Sorry, sorry. I'm so sorry." Sanemi sounded broken, his voice catching in his throat as he held you to his chest. "It was instinct, I'm sorry."
His eyes were wide and panicked. Sanemi looked scared and flustered. He kept apologizing, one hand splayed against your lower back, the other cupping your face as if you were a piece of fine china. You blink up at him, patting his chest in an attempt to calm the waterfall of apologies he was throwing your way. Yes your throat ached and yes for a minute it had felt as if you were going to die. But it was over and he was shaking.
"I'm ok, Sanemi. I'm ok." Your words carried a slight rasp in them, your throat aching as you spoke. This was something you should have expected. These warriors were often born in blood and fought creatures that needed no sleep. They probably felt watched constantly, unsafe even in their own estates.
His brow was furrowed, large hands worrying at your face as he took in your second coughing fit. You waved off the worried look, pointing to the wounds on his chest.
"I'll live, you need to worry about yourself." You rasped, massaging your throat. Sanemi blinked, then looked down at the wounds, his face going a deep red after a moment. His head shot up, gaze going to the canopy of purple flowers above you. For a moment you were confused and then you flushed. The action had given him an eyeful of your breasts.
"Sorry." Sanemi's voice was soft, eyes locked on the wisteria above. You murmured that it was fine, moving to slide one arm over your chest. Then you paused, instead placing your hands back on his chest. Sanemi blinked in surprise, face still red as he cautiously peeked down at you.
"You're going to get an infection." You scrutinized the cuts across his chest. It looked as if something large had swiped claws across his flesh. Four snaking lines sat in evenly spaced, shredding the already existing scars. You ran your index finger over one of the older scars, taking the rough texture.
"I'm more of a scar than man." Sanemi murmured. You blinked at that, looking up and letting out a small huff of amusement. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you. It was odd. You barely knew the man and yet, here in his arms, you felt incredibly safe.
Sanemi's skin was warm against yours, his muscles firm and rough palms gentle against your back. Steam drifted lazily off the surface of the water, curling around the two of you with its ghost like fingers.
"You said that you wanted to know me better." Sanemi's voice was cautious, low as if he were afraid of being overheard. You nodded wordlessly, studying his face as he searched for what to say next. There was something scared coiling beneath the surface. A tiny shred of himself that you had a feeling was never exposed for others to see.
"Do you truly mean it?" His question was soft, spoken more so into your hair than to you. He had shifted, hiding his face from you, pulling you closer. Sanemi's lips tickled the crown of your head as he spoke, his warmth enveloping you entirely.
You rested your cheek against his chest, eyes roving over the scars that littered his skin.
"Of course I do." You murmured. Your heart was fluttering in your chest like a trapped bird. Being this close to Sanemi was, Thrilling .
The man let out a sigh, pulling away slightly and motioning to the hidden benches beneath the water. You followed him, curiosity chewing away at your insides as you sat. You rested against the side of the onsen, shivering slightly as the cooler air hit your arm. Sanemi sighed again, tilting his head up to look at the wisteria.
The pine boughs bounced and twisted with the wind that circled the estate. A gentle rustling filled the tranquil room and you watched Sanemi as he searched for what to say. Frustration, sadness and resignation all danced across his face. The man was clearly fighting with himself, his eyes letting you see the turmoil in his mind.
"My father was as close to a demon as a human man could get." Sanemi began. He wasn't looking at you, instead he picked up one of the wash clothes that sat along the edge. You rested your head on your arms, watching as he began methodically cleaning his wounds. For a moment all you could hear was the sound of water as it ran from his skin back into the onsen.
"He was large, loud and a fuckin' drunk to boot." Sanemi scrubbed his skin aggressively, his eyes locked on the wounds. "He liked to hit. Drunk or not, he would get angry and his fists would fall like boulders."
Sanemi paused, looking at you with something softer in his eyes, "My mother was the opposite to him. She was small and quiet." He looked down at his hands and the lightly blood stained cloth he held. "She would try to shield us from his rage. Even when we got bigger than her, she still got between us and him."
You nodded quietly, offering him a small smile when he gave you a troubled look. He was on the verge of bolting. Sanemi, the hound, looked more like a deer. Sharing was something you could tell he never did, the man wasn't out of practice, this was something entirely new to him.
"He died, stabbed to death by someone he pissed off." Sanemi laughed, the sound low and bitter, "It was deserved."
Silence filled the onsen again and you shifted slightly, waiting for him to continue. Sanemi stared at the water for a moment, the heavy steam creating a blur between the two of you. All you could hear was the soft breathing between the two of you and the gentle whisper of wind.
"You're a bit like her." You blinked as he spoke, eyebrows crinkling slightly in confusion. Sanemi laughed softly, this time the sound was sad.
"Smaller than me and yet you're the first person in ages to approach me as if I'm like everyone else. As if the warriors around you are regular people."
You laughed at that, offering him a small twist of your lips, "You are regular people."
You gestured vaguely around the room as he let out a small bark of laughter. "What? Sure you all go after demons, but it's no different than the Samurai who go after criminals for the Emperor or smaller lords."
You looked up at the wisteria swaying above you, taking in the dew drops that clung to the deep purple petals. In truth, the slayers were seen as above even the most virtuous of law keepers. Their line of work was dangerous and required nearly inhuman abilities to survive. Still, they were just as human as you were. In some circles your view might've been chided as disrespectful. And perhaps it truly was. But to you, seeing the nastiness that the Kakushi and younger slayers put forth, it just solidified your thoughts. They were all human, prone to human niceties and nastiness like anyone else. Fighting demons was just another stressor they dealt with.
"My mother didn't come home one evening." Sanemi began again, his small smile melting from his lips. "Even before knowing what demons were, I knew being out alone at night was dangerous."
His tone was tense, each word sounding as if he were struggling to let it out of his throat. Sanemi's face was blank, lilac irises locked again on the ceiling. The silence that settled in the onsen was heavy. It matched the shift in Sanemi's expression.
The expression was a twisting mess of grief and guilt.
"I found her too late." The words were barely a whisper. Sanemi threw the blood soaked washcloth away, turning to hide his face from you. Sitting still, you barely breathed, worried that any sound would cause him to stop. He was so clearly close to doing so, the emotions that sat in his chest bubbling up through his words.
"She was a demon and faster than any child could hope to be. I followed her home and watched as in a second she tore through four of my siblings. Killing them almost immediately."
His voice cracked slightly, shoulders lifting and falling with choked back sobs. You moved closer, tentatively placing a hand on his arm. Sanemi didn't move, his face still hidden as he continued. In a hushed and broken voice, he told you how the only thing that saved him and Genya was his own blood. Marechi blood, like nectar to demons. It had stilled his mother long enough for him to incapacitate her and then the rising sun had done the rest. But the damage had been done. Sanemi and Genya were the only ones left alive. And Genya, fueled by fear and confusion, had lashed out. Called Sanemi a monster. In a single moment, a few minutes before dawn, Sanemi's life had been shattered. The boys had grown apart. Sanemi having no idea how Genya ended up with the Demon Slayers.
"They call me the hound because of how I take out demons." Sanemi's voice was low and you felt relief as he turned to face you. His eyes were red from unshed tears and you offered him a small look of concern, running your hand over his bicep.
"Before I was a slayer, I was a child full of anger at beings that I had limited knowledge of."
He placed his hand over yours, large palm warm against your fingertips. You realized it was becoming a sort of habit. You offering up a comforting touch and him responding with his own.
Sanemi told you of being a young boy and teen, of going after demons with nothing more than rope and knives. Using his blood, teeth and anger to incapacitate them until sunrise. The Hound wasn't above tearing apart demons with his bare hands.
In fact he lived for it. Something he admitted in a hushed tone. People and slayers alike feared the Shinazugawa brothers for simply being more brutal in their ways. No honor was what Sanemi said. But for him, why offer up a swift blade to creatures who reveled in the pain and suffering of others? Cold steel was a kindness in his eyes. A kindness they didn't deserve when the hot sun awaited them.
The other slayers were as quick as they could be. Dispatching demons in a way that meant as little effort as possible. As little life lost as possible. But for Sanemi, it was different. He told you in hushed whispers that for him, each demon was that night again. Fighting his own mother as she bayed for her children's blood. Each demon was their master, a figure called Muzan. With every fight, Sanemi was facing both his past and the future.
"Demons are like an infection. If you survive receiving some of Muzan's blood, then you turn." His explanation was terse, the facts offered up like he were talking about flavors of tea. The slayers had discovered years ago the fact that in some part, Muzan could see, sense things through all of his demons. To torture them was an attempt to torture Muzan.
"What about Nezuko?" You asked as you stepped from the warm water. The two of you had been sitting for so long that your fingers had started to prune. Sanemi handed you a towel, his flushed face turned away from your form.
"Can Muzan see through her?" Wrapping the towel around yourself, you stared up at Sanemi, watching as he shook the water from his hair. The lacerations on his chest had stopped weeping, the flesh red and irritated from the warm water.
"No. She's different." Sanemi's gaze drifted over to you and for a moment he stood, just staring. No one knew why she was different. There was nothing in any old writings that could explain why she was still so human after being turned. It was new territory for the slayers. It made them uncomfortable, a fact the pale man admitted with grit teeth. He was uncomfortable with her existence, more so than the others.
"I attacked her. When Tanjiro first came to us."
You blinked at the admission, unsure of how to react. Nezuko was so small and helpless looking. You couldn't imagine her as anything but, the girl couldn't defend herself against someone as anger filled as Sanemi. As you stared, Sanemi recounted the Hashira's first meeting with Tanjiro. Of the boy's plea and how the two of them had fought, Tanjiro begging for help and his sister's life. Sanemi's face was empty as he spoke, eyes not quite meeting yours. It was as if he were afraid to see your reaction.
For a moment your stomach sank, thinking of Nezuko being stabbed was an unpleasant thought. Even knowing that she was able to heal herself, you still felt for the girl. She had yet to speak a word to anyone and yet she had experienced so much pain in such a short period of time.
We all have. It was a quiet thought but it rang true.
"If you kill Muzan, will Nezuko become human again?" Your question surprised Sanemi. The man blinked down at you, his scarred brow dipping with slight confusion as he stared at you. He had most likely expected you to focus on his admission, to confirm for him that yes the hound was a demon of a man . But you didn't think that. Instead you thought of the future, of the end goal of the slayers. If Muzan was the end all be all of demons, then surely eradicating him was their main mission? And if he was gone, what would happen to the small girl?
"I don't know." Sanemi offered you a look that was a mix of soft confusion and guilt. His earlier admission clearly still weighed on him. You reached out, one hand on his shoulder as you thought of what to say. He absentmindedly reached up, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. Wild eyes watching your face, waiting for your next question or admonishment. In truth you felt more lost than ever. Piece by piece the full picture of the life of a slayer was falling before you. But the picture they were creating was a jumbled mess. You weren't sure how or if at all you fit into this life.
Each interaction you had with Sanemi made it all the harder to consider going back to the village. Your heart was torn between the life you had had and the life that was now presenting itself to you.
Both of you flinched as a sharp knock hit the onsen door. For a moment there was silence and then you relaxed as Suki's voice came through the crack.
"My lady. Your bird is here."
You shared a look of confusion with Sanemi and then laughed as you realized what she meant. You had forgotten about putting in a request for a personal carrier crow. It had been such a small piece of the chaos that had spilled out in the past few days. Your heart leapt at the thought of being able to send more letters, though the small burst of happiness was overshadowed by the reminder that your father had yet to respond.
After confirming that the hallways was empty, the two of you hurried to your room, dressing at opposite ends. You struggled for a moment with the deep seaweed green kimono, your fingers shaking slightly as you dressed. Sanemi being so close was odd. He had now seen you naked and yet you found yourself more embarrassed about dressing in front of him. It was a new and strange feeling and you flushed as his rough hands steady yours, gently tying your obi in place for you. Sanemi's cheeks were dusted pink and you found yourself out of breath, each inhale catching in your throat as he leaned closer.
His slayer uniform was crisp and rough feeling against your palms, his large hands pulling you closer. For a moment all you could feel was his breath against your face and your heart racing fast as he leaned in closer.
A shout from down the hallway had you pulling away like a spooked bird. Face red and eyes wide you murmured an apology to the man. The rest of the house was waking, the sound of footsteps echoing down the long hall. Tanjiro and his friends were loud, excitedly exclaiming as they made their way to the kitchen. Sanemi offered you a slightly annoyed look, his brow pinched as he tugged on his haori.
"Shinobu must be here." He pulled open the door, allowing you to step out of the room. For a moment the two of you walked quietly, eventually stopping at the front door where there was a small gathering. Tanjiro and his friends were clustered around a small woman, all of them talking excitedly. You could barely follow the conversation, only catching a few words here and there and a familiar name Rengoku. For her part, Shinobu was unphased, a perfect smile on her lips as she answered their rapid fire questions.
"Ah! Mr. Shinazugawa." Shinobu's voice was soft, like petals on a warm breeze. She turned towards you as you approached, her brightly colored haori making her look like a large bug. "Mrs. Shinazugawa."
She nodded at you as she stepped around the boys with ease, her bright smile pointed towards you now. The small Hashira offered you a partial bow, her arms extending to offer you what she held. You stared for a moment, confusion filling your mind as you took in the very fat, auburn bird in her arms.
"Our master sends his thanks and a Copper Pheasant." She plopped the bird in your arms, the pheasant offering you a rather aloof look. You stared down at it, at a slight loss.
"I thought the slayers all got crows?" You studied the bird's brilliant feathers, noting a thick silken cord that sat neatly about its throat. A collar with a metal tag that held the Shinazugawa name, the bird was meant as a pet. It blinked at you, the bright red patches of feather around its eyes standing out garishly against the green of your Kimono.
Shinobu nodded, her smile unmoving as she took in your confusion, "And you are a lady. So our master sent a pheasant for Lady Shinazugawa."
And with that, she turned, ushering the boys towards the kitchen as she did so. A small 'oh' was all you could think to say. The bird seemed equally as miffed, its small eyes watching your face unblinkingly.
"You can use my crow when I'm not." Sanemi offered, his expression one of mild amusement, "It seems our Master is still trying to repay you for taking pity upon me."
You scowled at his words, gently placing the pheasant on the ground. The bird stood next to you, looking up at you expectantly as if waiting for an order.
But it's a bird. It doesn't know what orders are. Right? You shook the absurd thought from your head, looking back at Sanemi.
"I didn't take pity upon you. I was being selfish." You had told him as much on your first day. Ubayashiki had practically bribed you to be here. Although now, knowing what you did, you would have come without the promise of your father being taken care of. Not that Sanemi would ever admit that you felt anything other than pity. You were beginning to realize that he seemed to view your relationship as something on the verge of crumpling. As if every word he spoke would be the one word to push you away.
Sanemi merely hummed in response, watching the Pheasant do a small circle around your legs. Its long tail dragged slightly on the floor, the whisper of feathers against wood mixing with the light click of its nails.
"What will you call it?"
You smirked as you looked back up at your husband, nearly giggling as you spoke, "How about Hound?"
He scowled at that, but you could tell it wasn't true irritation. If anything he seemed to be more irritated at hiding his amusement. The two of you stared at the bird for a moment. Emotions churned in your stomach and you looked up at Sanemi, taking in his expectant expression. The question you had evaporated as the silence was suddenly broken by a hoarse caw. It was a crow, its scarred wings ushering it to Sanemi's shoulders as it let out a sharp cry.
"SUMMONS! SUMMONS!"
Your heart sank and you moved aside as Sanemi bolted out the front door. He wasn't one for goodbyes. The man was always so quick to disappear, to sink his fangs into demons once more. Hound, a nickname he seemed comfortable with, even when others spoke it with such venom.
Beside you, the pheasant let out a small noise, its little eyes locked on your face. It seemed sad, little head bobbing slightly as it looked at you.
"Let's go." You murmured down at the bird, walking slowly towards the kitchen. Perhaps, if you treated everything as if this was nothing more than another day, then Sanemi would return, unharmed.