Chapter Text
Chapter Nine - The Admission
The gentle glow of an oil lamp cast shadows across the room where Kanao lay fast asleep. A kindly old doctor had assured them her injuries were superficial—a bruised shoulder and a nasty scrape, but nothing life-threatening. He had also cautioned that the effects of the powder were aphrodisiac, which may linger for a while.
Relief flooded Tanjiro, a wave that left him feeling shaky and strangely lightheaded. He closed his eyes for a moment, the image of Kanao taking the blow flashing behind his eyes. He hadn’t been strong enough, fast enough. Guilt gnawed at him, a bitter aftertaste in the sweetness of the relief.
A soft moan escaped Kanao’s lips just then, pulling Tanjiro from his self-recrimination. He turned to look and the sight of her made his breath catch in his throat. Her brows were furrowed and her face was flushed, a contrast to the pale cotton sheets that clung softly to her form. She shifted restlessly, the covers slipping down to reveal just a peek of her delicate skin at the collarbone.
It was enough to send his cheeks flaring, his pulse racing. The room suddenly felt much warmer, the air thick and heavy. He remembered that strange dream again just then, which did nothing to improve the situation. He scrunched his eyes shut, willing the image away.
Another moan, softer this time. It was tinged with a yearning he couldn’t possibly ignore. He cracked opened his eyes, his gaze drawn back to Kanao. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a hazy confusion.
For a moment, they were frozen in a silent exchange. Tanjiro felt the weight of her stare, a strange intensity that made him feel exposed yet also entranced. He saw just then, in her eyes, that… longing that mirrored his, her pupils dark. Barely audible puffs escaped his lips, the only disruption in this silence.
“Tanjiro,” she breathed, the single word heavy with unspoken feelings.
A rough “Kanao” was his reply. He cleared his throat, suddenly acutely aware that they were both very alone in the room.
She shifted again. More exposed skin. “Where am I?”
“At a local inn,” he explained, forcing his gaze upwards. “A doctor patched you up. You took a nasty blow, protecting Inosuke from the demon.”
“Oh,” she mumbled. She seemed to be struggling against something, her body tense beneath the sheets. “Was the demon—?”
Tanjiro nodded. “Defeated. You did well, Kanao.” Noticing the bead of sweat trickling down her forehead, he kneeled down beside her, concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I—I feel hot,” her words coming out in hesitant breaths.
Not good.
She reached up to tug at the collar of her nemaki, a gesture that revealed more of pale skin beneath.
He inhaled sharply. This wasn’t right. She wasn’t… this wasn’t… This was the effects of the powder. He shouldn’t be—
“It’s probably just the fever,” he said quickly, his hand trembling as he reached out to cover her nemaki over her more modestly. “You haven’t fully recovered from your previous cold.”
She shivered, a soft gasp hinting at the pleasure of his fingertips. “I feel… strange,” she slurred, inching closer to him. Her hand brushed against his chest, sending a raw, instinctive heat through him.
The air around her crackled with a strange energy, a tangible warmth that made him forget about everything but the press of her body against his. He leaned in, almost unconsciously, the space between them shrinking to a heartbeat.
Then just as suddenly, he froze, caught between the urge to close the gap between them further and that damn sense of propriety. He knew what the doctor warned about. But the sight of her flushed checks, that vulnerability in her eyes, sent a tremor of desire through him that couldn’t be suppressed entirely. This wasn’t Kanao. This was the aphrodisiac. He had to be better than this.
His body ached with a desperate need, but a voice in his head screamed otherwise. He pulled away reluctantly, rising to his feet. Kanao’s expression faltered for a moment, a hint of disappointment behind her dazed eyes.
He knew the longer he stayed, the more tempting the forbidden path would become. With a heavy heart, he pushed the words out. “Go to sleep, Kanao. I’ll see you in the morning.” He stepped outside, the cool night air a welcome from the heat in Kanao’s room.
He found Inosuke pacing outside her room nervously. “Is she going to be all right?” Inosuke’s voice sounded strained, a juxtaposition to his usual swagger.
“She will be—the doc said rest is all she needs.”
“Can I go see her now?”
Tanjiro hesitated, glancing back at the closed door. “Maybe not right now,” he said. “She needs her rest. Besides, she seems…” A suppressed cough. “…unwell.”
Inosuke frowned. “Unwell?”
Tanjiro avoided looking at him directly. “Just a fever. The doctor says it’s nothing serious.”
Inosuke didn't seem convinced. “All right. But I want to see her first thing in the morning.”
Tanjiro mumbled a quick agreement. Being around Kanao in her current state was starting to unravel him. He saw the wounds on his friend’s arms. “You look like you could use some rest yourself, Inosuke. Want to join me in the communal bath?”
Inosuke paused, seeming to consider, then nodded curtly. They made their way to the inn’s steaming bath. Steam billowed from the wooden ofuro centred in the middle of the space and the air hung heavy with the scent of damp stone mixed with the sweet notes of cedar.
Stepping inside the ofuro, they were met with a wall of steamy heat. A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the trickling of water and the low hum of conversation from other bathers.
Inosuke’s gaze was fixed on the swirling water. He finally broke the silence. “That was a close one,” he muttered, sounding subdued.
Tanjiro understood that fear all too well after witnessing what almost happened. “Yeah,” he said, his voice heavy.
A crack appeared in Inosuke’s facade, a glimpse of vulnerability that threatened to spill out before being forcibly shut. He looked up at Tanjiro. “For a moment,” he admitted. “I thought I—we—had lost her.” Then he scoffed, his usual belligerence returning. “Tch. Whatever. You weren’t exactly calm yourself back there, were you? More scared than I’ve ever seen you, Soichiro!”
“I… I was. Kanao—” Tanjiro paused, his voice tight. “—she means a lot to me.”
Inosuke wanted to say Kanao meant a lot to him too, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. Then, he burst out, “I like Kanao.”
A surprised silence followed Inosuke’s confession. Tanjiro stared at him, his gut wrenched with something complex. He had guessed as much, but to hear Inosuke saying it out loud…
“I mean,” Inosuke backtracked slightly. “She’s just really important to me. I think about her all the time, you know? She is like this thorn you stepped on when you are running around in the forest. And you can’t get it out but you keep thinking about it all the time when you are running. Yeah, that’s it!” he punched his fist on his palm to emphasised his point before continuing, “And I want to give her all my acorns, the good ones, if you know what I mean. I want to challenge her to duels all the time just so that I can show her how strong I am. And whenever a demon even LOOKS at her funny, I have this urge to…”
Inosuke knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The admission felt like a weight had been lifted, yet what would Tanjiro think of him now, going gaga over someone like that?
Tanjiro paused. Inosuke’s confession felt like a heavy stone on his heart, a truth he had tried to bury now brought to light. He had always cherished the camaraderie with Inosuke, but the idea of Kanao with someone else… it felt strange, unsettling. He forced a smile, a touch strained at the edges. “That means you care about her a lot, Inosuke.”
Inosuke scuffed his feet against the wooden planks lining the ofuro, a faint blush rising in his cheeks. “Yeah, just like—just like how much I like tempura, right?”
“Sure, just like tempura.”
There was a long silence as they both contemplated their feelings for Kanao.
Inosuke’s words struck a deep chord with Tanjiro. Kanao filled his thoughts more than he realised, a constant presence whenever they were apart. The fierce protectiveness that surged whenever she was in danger… was that just the call of duty? The warmth that lingered on his skin from her touch… the memory left him breathless. Could these feelings… could they mean… he liked Kanao too?
The question hung in the air, thick and suffocating like that steam rising from the ofuro. He closed his eyes, trying to decipher that ache manifesting in his chest.
…
The effects of the medicine were fading like a dream, leaving behind a dull ache that pulsed in her shoulder with every breath. Kanao winced as she sat up from her futon, the rays of the morning sun falling across the bare floor of the room. She touched the wound gingerly, willing it to heal faster.
Pain was a familiar friend. In fact her tolerance for it was high, thanks to her past. Memories of her childhood surfaced against her will—the sting of abandonment, the gnawing hunger. She brushed aside those memories fiercely. She was a different person and in a different place now.
She probed the wound over her bandages again, and a small crimson stain bloomed beneath the white gauze. “Ah,” she cursed softly. Now she was going to have to change it. With her shoulder injured, she didn’t know how she was going to do it herself without making a mess of her things. She didn’t want to have to rely on Tanjiro or Inosuke, didn’t want to be a burden on her teammates. She was enough trouble already in the beginning of the mission, getting that stupid cold in the first place.
Just as she was about to unravel the bandages herself, the door to her room swung open with a bang. With a feral roar that rattled the windows, Inosuke burst into the room, dragging a flustered Tanjiro behind like a captured flag.
“Butterfly Girl! Awake already?” He boomed, his voice echoing in the small room. A hazy memory of last night filtered in her mind. Inosuke’s loud demands to the doctor for a “miracle cure”, his booming voice eventually getting him kicked out of the room. Kanao cracked a smile and nodded, the memory a welcome warmth. Then, she turned to look at Tanjiro.
Big mistake.
A tidal of memories slammed into her—her voice, that raspy, unfamiliar whisper, her finger brushing his chest… what had possessed her to act so recklessly? Heat scorched her face as she clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp that threatened to escape. A single question echoed in her mind, as her heart hammered against her ribs. Did he remember?
A hint of colour, a telltale flush crept up his neck and face as he turned to face her. Yep, he did remember. Shame burned in her chest. She wanted to vanish into thin air, the urge to bury herself under the sheets became an almost physical ache.
Inosuke, oblivious to the read of the room (as usual), brandished a full plate of steam buns from behind him. “Eat up, Kanao!”
The unexpected interruption startled a sound from her throat, a strangled squeak that only added to her mortification. She accepted a bun and took a tentative bite, hoping that chewing on food would help her forget what had happened last night.
“Are you…” Tanjiro cleared his throat, his voice wavering slightly. “Are you feeling better?”
Kanao managed a curt, jerky nod, her throat tight.
“It’s just that last night—”
He was NOT going to bring up what happened last night, was he? Now she really wanted the ground to swallow her whole.
Unfortunately, Tanjiro didn’t get the memo as he went on earnestly, “The doc said it was aphrodisiac. The powder.” He avoided looking at her directly. “And that uh, it might linger for a while.” He cleared his throat again.
“Right,” she croaked, shoving a large bite of bun into her mouth. It went down the wrong way and she choked violently, tears springing into her eyes. In an attempt to help, Inosuke landed a resounding thwack on her back that sent her sputtering for air. She took a large gulp of water before continuing, her voice tight with suppressed panic, “I’m fine. I feel perfectly fine!”
Just as she was about to stuff another bun down her throat, hoping to bury her mortification along with it, Tanjiro’s gaze landed on the crimson stain blooming through her bandages. His eyes widened. “Oh! Do you need help to change the bandages?”
A fresh wave of heat flooded her face. This was the worst possible timing. Having Tanjiro help her with such a personal task, which required being in close proximity... the mere thought had her shuddering (in fear? Humiliation? Something else entirely?) But how could she refuse? The stain was spreading and the alternative was asking Inosuke… which was a whole host of problems in itself.
There was a long pause, the silence dragging out thick and heavy, broken only by Inosuke’s symphony of chomps and slurps as he scarfed down the rest of the buns. Finally, she gave him the barest of nods. “Yes, please,” she said in a small voice.