Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

Peace had settled over the land, a hard-won victory after Muzan’s demise. Yet, pockets of darkness lingered—demons who, through sheer tenacity or cunning, had survived the fall of their progenitor. Though the Demon Slayer Corps disbanded, the spirit of camaraderie forged in battle remained. A handful of slayers, bound by shared hardship and unwavering resolve, continued the fight.

The Butterfly Mansion now served as their central hub. Most days, it bustled as a haven for the sick and needy. Tsuyuri Kanao oversaw the care of those in need. The glint of her blade remained however, a reminder that the fight wasn’t over. When duty called, she went on missions, leaving Aoi and the other girls to manage the Mansion in her absence.

When not battling demons, Kamado Tanjiro, the pillar of unwavering optimism, ran a cosy dorayaki shop near his home with his sister Nezuko by his side. Their fluffy pancakes, stuffed to the brim with sweet red bean paste, were a local favourite. Tanjiro revelled in the simple rhythm of everyday life and continued training hard. Zenitsu, his anxieties somewhat soothed by a world free of imminent demon threats, lent a hand whenever his fear didn’t get the better of him. Inosuke, a creature of the wild, remained a restless spirit. He flitted between the Butterfly Mansion and Tanjiro’s home, his ebullient presence a welcome disruption.

Though their paths diverged, the crows—those loyal messengers—ensured a constant flow of communication, with Urokodaki keeping them informed of any new demon sightings.

Chapter One - The Reunion

The midday sky was overcast, the threat of an impending storm looming. Dark clouds had started to gather. Kanao looked up, as she felt the first drop of rain. Her expression gave nothing away, even as her heart feels its own storm brewing.

She quickened her pace through the mist-shrouded forest, where the skeletal trees swayed relentlessly against the beating winds.

Her crow, Isuzu, had informed her of her latest mission: to rendezvous with Tanjiro at the edge of a mountain town, where there were rumours of missing young women and a demon disguised as a wealthy merchant.

The trepidation and dread she was feeling wasn’t about the mission though.

Almost a year had passed since that incident with Tanjiro, but she still blushes whenever she’s reminded of it. It was during a particularly strenuous rehabilitation training together at the Butterfly Mansion that had led to a series of unfortunate events…

Adrenaline surged through Kanao's veins as she lunged, but her foot betrayed her on the slick training ground. She stumbled back, a gasp escaping her lips. Time seemed to slow as Tanjiro lunged forward, his good hand reaching out to catch her. His fingers brushed her hair momentarily before the momentum sent them both tumbling to the ground.

She landed on top, her breath catching in her throat as she found herself mere inches from Tanjiro’s face. Their gazes locked, and a strange heat flooded her cheeks. The exertion of the training left them both panting, but something else flickered in their eyes—a spark of awareness neither of them had anticipated.

They scrambled apart, both flustered, desperate to regain their composure and refocus on training. But the air crackled with a new tension, a silent acknowledgment of what had just transpired.

Kanao mumbled a hasty excuse and fled the training area, leaving Tanjiro standing alone, his heart pounding in his chest. Confusion swirled in his mind.

Since then, an awkwardness lingered in the air whenever they were in the same space. Kanao had spent the past few months studiously avoiding him, even when he was at the Butterfly Mansion. Until alas, this.

With a resigned sigh, Kanao pushed forward. Isuzu had been adamant that she teamed up with Tanjiro for this mission. Her sweet crow had gone on a hunger strike for two days, its beady eyes fixed on Kanao, determined to set her straight.

“There’s no use constantly moping about Tanjiro,” she had cawed. “Face the issue head on, Kanao.”

Kanao knew her crow wouldn’t budge until she agreed; refusal simply wasn’t an option.

The thought of an awkward reunion wasn’t appealing the least, but the safety of village and the demon threat trumped her personal discomfort. She would find a way to work with Tanjiro, for Isuzu’s sake if nothing else.

Coming out of the clearing, she saw him. The unmistakable emerald and black from his chequered haori. Back turned, his hair flowed wilder than before, the burgundy tips dancing in the wind. Taller, broader, he exuded the aura of a seasoned swordsman, but that familiar warmth radiating from him even from this distance, was just the same as she remembered.

A knot of nervous energy tightened in her stomach. Apprehension? Perhaps. But also… something she couldn’t quite place.

He turned just then, his eyes meeting hers. A warm smile, tinged with a hint of shyness, spread across his face. “Kanao!” His voice, rich and warm, a comforting echo of their past together. “You made it.” He took a step forward, then paused, his arm hovering mid-air, unsure of how to proceed.

“Tanjiro,” Kanao replied, the name feeling unfamiliar on her tongue. Unlike him, her response was clipped and professional, immediately building a clear wall between them.

Tanjiro’s smile faltered, dropping his arm to his side. “Kanao,” he said again, softer this time. “It’s been a while.”

She nodded curtly and changed the subject. “You received the crow’s message?”

“Yes,” Tanjiro answered, his face grim. “It seems the demon is disguised as a wealthy merchant in Matsuyama. He’s hosting a Tanabata celebration tomorrow night with the townspeople—we should try to find a way in.”

Just then, a clap of thunder echoed through the forest, threatening to unleash a torrential of rain. Tanjiro looked up to the clouds, a frown creasing his forehead. He turned to Kanao, "There’s an inn just up ahead. How about we take shelter there before the rain gets worse?”

They trudged up the muddy road, their pace quickening as fat raindrops began to pelt them relentlessly. Soon, a weathered old building came into view. Though its exterior was shabby, the warm glow emanating from its windows and the comforting smell of woodsmoke offered a tempting respite from the pouring rain outside.

The innkeeper, an elderly woman, greeted them with a smile. “Welcome, travellers. Do you need a room for the night?”

Tanjiro returned the smile with a nod. “Two rooms please.”

“Ah,” the innkeeper looked apologetic. “With the Tanabata Festival in full swing, we are quite full. Unfortunately, I only have one room left.”

Tanjiro froze momentarily, caught off-guard by the thorny situation. His eyes darted between the smiling elderly women and that of Kanao.

While her expression appeared calm, Kanao was near panicking on the inside. Share a room with Tanjiro? The idea nearly had her convulsing. But the thought of heading out back into the rain was similarly unpalatable.

Tanjiro held his breath, not daring to breathe, not entirely certain what he wanted her answer to be either.

The silence stretched on, reaching new heights of awkwardness. Finally, Tanjiro’s gentle voice broke through. “Kanao, if you’re uncomfortable…” he began.

Kanao straightened her posture, hoping to quell the bile rising from the pits of her stomach. “It’s fine,” she answered. It was just sharing a room. Comrades do that all the time. It was no big deal. She turned to the innkeeper. “We’ll take the room.”

Relief flooded Tanjiro’s face, quickly replaced by a nervous grin, “Great, let’s have dinner together before settling in?”

Kanao nodded briefly. Sharing a room. Dinner together. These weren’t what she signed up for. She wanted to run away from this place, away from Tanjiro, his disarming warmth, that kind smile, but she remained rooted to the ground, duty bound.

They sat down at the table for dinner. A simple meal was laid out, but the silence felt heavier than the meagre portions. Finally, Tanjiro cleared his throat. “So, how have you been, Kanao?”

His question hung in the air as Kanao’s chopsticks hovered, frozen halfway to her lips. She hesitated, wrestling with the urge to confide in him just like she used to.

“The Butterfly Mansion has kept me busy,” she finally replied.

“Busy is good,” Tanjiro nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a beat too long. "But... I haven’t seen you much lately.”

A hint of sadness crossed Kanao’s face, but it was quickly masked. “Inosuke rescued some orphans from a cult recently,” she explained. “We’ve been busy settling them in.”

Tanjiro's face brightened. “Oh yeah, Inosuke mentioned that the other day! How are they doing?”

“They are well,” Kanao said simply as she resumed eating.

Silence settled back over the table, punctuated only by the clinking of chopsticks.

“How is Nezuko-chan?” she surprised him by asking.

“She’s doing great,” Tanjiro replied, his expression softening. “She misses you, you know. Says you’d love the new dorayaki she’s perfecting.”

Tanjiro noticed a faint blush creeping up her cheeks, and his heart soared at the thought of reconciliation with Kanao. Would they be able to go back to the way they used to be? Just as Tanjiro gathered his courage to address the incident all those months back, a loud crash erupted from outside.

Both Tanjiro and Kanao reacted instinctively, reaching for their blades as their eyes met. The unspoken words hung in the air, overshadowed by the sudden threat.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two - The Boar

Kanao frowned, a furrow etched between her brows as she surveyed the scene before her. Soggy planks of wood, once the inn's proud fence, laid scattered across the muddy ground. The culprit himself was sprawled unceremoniously before her, his boar mask askew and dripping rain. Yet, a booming voice erupted from behind it.

“Kanao!” Inosuke shot up from the ground with surprising agility for someone who was, moments ago, seemed to be napping in the mud. He planted his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest slightly, rain water dripping off him. Towering over Kanao by a formidable height now, his massive shoulders were corded with thick muscle. Dark hair tinged blue at the end escaped from beneath the mask, his untamed energy ever evident.

"There's really nothing to be proud of, Inosuke," She shook her head, her tone disapproving. "What have you done to the fence?"

Tanjiro emerged from behind her, his face breaking into a wide grin as he caught sight of his friend. “Inosuke! What are you doing here?”

“The Great Hashibira Inosuke has come to save the day, of course!” His green eyes sparkling with misplaced ambition. “I hear there’s a demon on the loose and you will need me to help vanquish it!”

Puzzled, Tanjiro tilted his head to the side. "Oh! Kanao and I were already assigned on this mission though."

Inosuke crossed his arms. “Huh! And you didn’t think to call upon the Lord of the Mountain’s unparalleled strength?” He jabbed a thumb to his chest. “Clearly you underestimate me, Monjiro!”

"But weren't you supposed to be on another mission?" Tanjiro asked, scratching the back of his head in confusion.

Their conversation was interrupted by the innkeeper’s arrival, her face falling as she took in the great boar king’s destruction. “That will be the fence then,” she said flatly. She turned to glare at Inosuke, who seemed oblivious to the chaos he had caused.

Tanjiro spread out his hands in apology. “We are so sorry for the damage, ma’am," he said quickly. "We will absolutely compensate you for the repairs.”

Not the least bit appeased, the innkeeper muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse as she surveyed the destruction.

Clearly unaware that he was pushing what little luck he had left, Inosuke decided to interject with a request that further tested the innkeeper's patience. “While you are at it, old hag, I'll need a room."

If there was an award for not reading the room. Kanao sighed and turned to look at Tanjiro, hoping he would remedy the situation before they were all thrown back out into the raging storm. As if on cue, a flash of lightning etched onto the dark canvas of the sky followed by a loud crack of thunder. She shivered slightly, drawing her arms closer together.

"Inosuke," Tanjiro began. "There aren't any other rooms available. Perhaps you could bunk with us?"

There was a slight pause, then, "Whoa! Are you two sharing rooms?!" His booming voice echoing through the inn.

The two in question both turned pink at the same time. "There was only one room available," Kanao said defensively.

"Well, I'm glad I came along then." Before either could ask what he meant, Inosuke pulled Tanjiro along by the arm, demanding to see the room.

Kanao’s mind went into overdrive as she followed after them. Having to share a room with Tanjiro was one thing, but to also throw in Inosuke’s boisterousness in the mix? She wasn’t sure if that was such a good idea. The small, dimly lit room they were given did little to ease her apprehension.

Inside the cloistered chamber, they were thrusted with yet another situation—there was only one futon available.

The futon, meant for one weary traveller, now lay sprawled across the tatami-clad room, looking impossibly inadequate.

"I'll ask the innkeeper if there are extras," Tanjiro said, his voice strained and tinged with a hint of desperation.

He returned a while later, his face looking slightly ashen, as if the innkeeper had chided him for even daring to ask. "She said there aren't any," he choked out.

After a beat of silence, Tanjiro graciously offered, “I will take the floor then.”

“As will I,” Kanao said hurriedly. Before anyone could respond, she went to the end of the room, practically burrowing herself into the corner.

Tanjiro’s forehead creased in concern. “Are you sure, Kanao? The floor must be uncomfortable.”

“The floor is for the weak!” Inosuke bellowed, his voice reverberating through the thin walls of the room. He launched himself onto the futon, landing squarely in the middle, sprawling like a starfish.

Turning to Kanao with a triumphant grin, he said, “Come on, Butterfly Girl.” He patted the side of the futon, beckoning her over as if offering her a seat on a throne.

Kanao remained rooted to the spot. Her eyes darted to that little sliver of space in the futon, barely enough room for her arm, let alone her entire self. There was no way she could fit in comfortably.

But there was no arguing with Inosuke. “Ah! You must be afraid because I am a god! A warrior of unparalleled strength naturally requires the most space for optimal rest,” he nodded sagely, as if imparting a profound truth.

Her temper flared and she felt a vein throbbing in her temple. Refusing to give in to his childish retort, she marched towards the futon with a resigned sigh that could have rivalled the howling wind outside.

Inosuke, blind to her simmering anger, scooted over, leaving just enough space for her to squeeze in. The result was a comical picture of discomfort. With Inosuke taking up most of the space, she sat uncomfortably on the edge, making a concerted effort to avoid touching him.

Tanjiro watched the exchange, a foreign emotion coursed through him. A tightness constricted his throat, making it hard to speak.

“Perhaps,” he suggested, his voice slightly hoarse. “I should go in the middle? That way, Kanao can be near the window for fresh air.”

Kanao wondered if Tanjiro was jesting. By the looks of it, there was no more room in the futon. Before she could voice her disbelief however, Tanjiro, with an impressive display of contortionism, somehow managed to squeeze in between the both of them. They were now a tangled mess of limbs, and any semblance of comfort was a distant dream. There was barely enough room to breathe, let alone sleep.

Inosuke made a strangled sound as a wayward arm, belonging to who knows who, whacked him square on the head. "Soichiro! Get out of the futon," he growled, momentarily disoriented.

But Tanjiro made no move to leave. Instead, he scooted closer to Kanao, who had her body turned to the window and trying her very best to remain still at her side of the futon.

Inosuke was in constant movement even in slumber. He claimed most of the futon with his sprawling limbs and his snores echoed through the small room. Tanjiro shifted every so often, hoping to give him more space but that only ended up bumping into Kanao, who let out a muffled gasp that was quickly suppressed.

Startled awake, Inosuke shot upright with a ferocious snarl. "Demon?!" he roared, his voice thick with sleep and his eyes still glued shut.

Kanao retreated further into the futon, muttering a barely audible “No,” under her breath. Sensing her discomfort, Tanjiro replied on her behalf, "It’s all right, Inosuke. Just a bad dream."

As the night dragged on, with the rain beating heavily against the window, sleep was elusive for both Kanao and Tanjiro. Kanao lay rigid, clutching the sides of the futon as if it was her last lifeline, even as she felt Tanjiro’s body warmth next to hers, his every breath sending goosebumps down her spine. She hadn’t anticipated this scenario; the close proximity with Tanjiro stirred a maelstrom of emotions she had been trying so hard to suppress. Was this nervousness? A strange, unfamiliar excitement? Whatever it was, it was a complication she didn't need.

Focus! she mentally scolded herself. She needed to focus on the mission ahead. Duty. Mission. Order.

Tanjiro lay next to her, watching a deep frown creased her forehead as she shook her head ever so slightly. He ached to reach out and comfort her, but what comfort could he offer in this situation? His mind drifted back to the training session all those months ago, to the moment he found himself inexplicably drawn to her, their faces impossibly close.

Was it the adrenaline? The intensity of the spar? Even months later, he couldn’t quite explain it. All he knew was that their usual camaraderie felt fractured after that incident, replaced by a tense silence that frustrated him to no end.

"Kanao?" He called out, his voice impossibly loud in the stillness of the night, the only sounds were the drumming of the rain against the window.

A muffled reply came from underneath the futon.

"Are you still awake?"

Another muffled acknowledgement.

"Are you... are you comfortable?"

He felt her shifting next to him, the movement sending his entire body on high alert. Her body brushed against his, and he could almost smell the faint hint of something floral wafting through his senses. Something stirred within him. He held his breath, afraid to breath, not wanting to break this connection. Under the pale moonlight streaming in from the window, he saw her lift the covers slightly, revealing a glimpse of her face.

"I'm not," was her reply. Was she... glaring at him? But beneath the irritation, there was something else in her eyes. Was that fear?

"Oh." He cleared his throat, the desire momentarily replaced by guilt. "I didn't meant to squeeze in, Kanao. I... I was afraid-"

"Of what?" She hissed, as quietly as she could, the frustration evident in her voice.

"Inosuke-"

"I am not afraid of Inosuke."

"No—that's not what I mean." He fumbled for the right words, his heart pounding against his chest. "It's just... I-I didn't want you to be cold."

"This is getting ridiculous," she huffed, her voice laced with something almost akin to embarrassment. She sat up abruptly, throwing off the covers completely. "I'm going to sleep on the floor."

"No, Kanao—" He reached out instinctively, but stopped his hand mid-air. What was he even doing?

Suddenly Inosuke stirred, mumbling something incoherent. He stretched his arm out blindly, landing on Kanao who was attempting to find an empty spot near the foot of the futon. She yelped in surprise. Mumbling an apology, he rolled over, accidentally pulling Kanao towards him with his flailing arm.

Kanao's face turned a brilliant shade of red, and she spluttered incoherently as she tried to pry herself from Inosuke's grip, surprisingly strong even in mid-slumber.

Tanjiro sighed. This. This was what he was afraid of. He moved towards them, delicately extracting Inosuke's fingers away from Kanao's waist. "Sleep next to me, Kanao."

Relief washed over her even though she didn't want to admit it. Was it truly better to stay next to Tanjiro even as she didn't want to risk another accidental cuddle with Inosuke? She didn't have an answer, but for now, this was perhaps the safer option. With a barely audible murmur of agreement, she settled next to him once again, drawing the covers over her head.

Tanjiro, surprised by his own boldness, scooted closer to her, his heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against his chest. This wasn't part of the plan. He should really be focusing on the mission ahead, but a strange protectiveness had welled up inside him, one he couldn't quite ignore. He closed his eyes and tried to get some rest. The warmth radiating from her body made it difficult to find a comfortable position, yet a strange sense of peace settled over him.

…

Dawn broke. Tanjiro, despite not having much sleep, was the first to rise. He sat up, his eye adjusting to the first rays coming through the window and hitting the side of the futon. As he got used to the dim light, he took in the scene before him.

Inosuke, during the course of the night, had somehow still managed to move entirely to Kanao's side. He was now snoring next to her, his arm resting casually on her waist, one leg draped over Kanao’s. Usually so put-together, Kanao’s dark hair was now in a tangled disarray, framing a face tinged with a pale pink. She frowned ever so slightly, her lips parted in peaceful sleep, breathing softly.

The sight before him was unexpected, and there was that unfamiliar (now turning to be quite familiar) punch in his gut once again. He swallowed hard, shoving away the unwelcome emotions.

He turned his gaze away, focusing instead on the sunrise from the window. The deep breath he took did little to ease the tightness in his chest. Still, he couldn’t resist taking another glimpse back.

Just then, Inosuke jolted awake. “Good morning, everybody!” he bellowed, springing up from the futon, shocking Kanao next to him awake. She sat up, her eyes blinking away the remnants of sleep, her knotted hair catching the rays from the window.

“Good morning,” Tanjiro managed a smile, his gaze flickering to Inosuke for a brief moment before settling on Kanao. “Did you sleep well, Kanao?”

She bobbed her head in a way that failed to convince even herself.

As they got ready to set off for a difficult mission ahead, Tanjiro pushed thoughts of his emotions aside. Today, duty called, and he wouldn't let anything, not even his own heart, distract him.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three - The Celebrations

Not getting distracted was easier said than done however.

Tanjiro did a surprised double take at the sight before him, a warmth settling right in the middle of his chest that he tried convincing himself was due to the warm summer evening. He forced himself to appear nonchalant, but was failing miserably.

Dressed in a borrowed lavender kimono, Kanao, usually known for swift and efficient strides, was walking towards them with an endearingly hesitant grace. The embroidered flowers on the sleeves mirrored the shy blush creeping up her neck at the attention. Loose tendrils of hair framed her face, escaping an elegant chignon.

Tanjiro subconsciously let out a puff of air as she stopped in front of them, feeling slightly flustered. Was it the transformation or the memory of their close proximity from last night causing these emotions to run through him? He swallowed, unable to tear his gaze away.

Beside him, Inosuke was uncharacteristically silent, as he too stared—unabashedly—at the sight before him. What happened to the Butterfly Girl he knew?

Cloaked in twilight’s shadows, the trio were standing near the gates of the merchant’s estate. From where they were, they could hear a faint melody, laced with laughter, drifting from within. The festivities were already underway.

The rumours were chilling—young women were said to have been lured into this very lair every year during the grand Tanabata celebration. The “chosen ones” were said to never return, their fates forever shrouded in mystery. Their plan then was to infiltrate the estate at the Tanabata celebrations the merchant was hosting tonight disguised as a heiress and her manservants, which explained why Kanao was currently sweltering in a borrowed kimono far too thick for the warm summer air. It was uncomfortable but necessary. She adjusted the sash, making sure that her nichirin sword was concealed properly beneath the folds.

She stole a glance at Tanjiro by her side, who was looking at her with a crease in his brows that was gradually deepening.

“Will you be all right, Kanao?” he asked, his voice laced with worry. He hated resorting to deception, but it seemed like it was the only way to gain entry into the celebrations and capture the demon’s attention.

She gave a curt nod. A nervous flutter danced in her stomach, but she forced it down. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. This was it.

The trio approached the grand gates. A tall butler materialised in the doorway, his perpetually furrowed brow deepening as he took them in. The hint of fear in Kanao’s eyes belies the composure she was trying to project on her face.

“Name?” The butler drawled, his voice full of suspicion.

“Gunze,” Kanao replied, her voice surprisingly steady for a woman who was playing a dangerous game.

“Oh? Of the silk company?” The butler’s gaze swept over her, lingering on the opulent fabric of her kimono.

Kanao swallowed, forcing a confident nod. Just as they were about to step through the gates, the butler held up a hand, his eyes narrowing as they landed on Tanjiro and Inosuke.

“Hold up, hold up,” he said. “The lady gets in, but who are you two?”

Tanjiro stole a worried glance at Kanao, fearing for her safety as much as the exposure of their deception.

“They are my manservants,” Kanao replied, her voice a touch higher than usual.

The lie hung heavy in the air. Tanjiro fidgeted with the hilt of his sword hidden beneath his borrowed robe, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. He unconsciously stepped closer towards Kanao, ready to protect her by any means.

Meanwhile, Inosuke, not known for being the most subtle, sported a nervous grin that did little to alleviate the butler’s suspicion.

“Manservants?” The butler repeated, his voice dripping with scepticism. “In such… expensive finery?” He gestured to their silk robes.

“Yes. These are uh, excess silk from my father’s factory,” Kanao pressed on. “A little… demonstration, if you will.”

The butler eyed them all, his face an unreadable mask. Finally, he let out a small chuckle. “As one would expect from one of the finest silk establishments in the country,” he bowed slightly as he gestured them towards the gates.

The air hummed with festive spirit as the trio entered the merchant’s estate, letting out a collective sigh of relief once they were out of the butler’s earshot. They were in.

Inside, the mansion had transformed into a garish display of lights and sounds. Vibrant streamers and red lanterns line the pathway from the entrance along the hallways and into the main courtyard, where the festivities were already in full swing.

Bamboo poles stood in the middle with narrow strips of coloured paper hung from their leaves, clinging onto the secret desires of their wishers. Guests, dressed in their finest kimonos, mingled merrily, the smoky aroma of sizzling wagyu and the sweet fragrance of imported french pastries permeated the air.

Despite the revelry, a shadow of unease lingered beneath. Whispers of how young women were always going missing on the night of the grand Tanabata festival had cast a pall over the celebrations. Men held their daughters or their wives-to-be a touch tighter, their eyes scanning the crowds with a silent worry.

Eager to investigate, Inosuke had slinked off towards the servants’ quarters—but not before snagging a skewer of dango from a passing tray.

Standing a little distance from Tanjiro, Kanao maintained an elegant posture and composed expression, the perfect mask to her demure heiress facade. However, her eyes were alert, taking in the littlest of details as the night wore on. There was still no sign of the demon.

A nagging suspicion had also begun to form earlier as she noticed that only the young women were given strips of paper for writing wishes. Did the wishes have something to do with the missing young women?

Suddenly, a hand brushed against hers, pressing a strip of coloured paper into her hands. “Ojou-sama, please write your wish,” a voice murmured before disappearing into the throng.

Startled, Kanao turned to look at the person who approached, but the mysterious figure was already gone. She glanced at the bright slip of paper in her hands, a sense of foreboding settling in her gut.

Noticing her reaction, Tanjiro turned to her. “Is something wrong, Kanao?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

Kanao shook her head. “Someone gave me this.” She held up the tanzaku paper for him to see. “But that person disappeared before I saw who it was.”

Tanjiro took a closer look at the wishing paper. It was blank, offering no clue as to the sender. But his keen sense of smell detected an unfamiliar scent that felt strangely spiteful, kindling his sense of unease. “There’s something odd about it.”

Kanao nodded. “I think it has to do with the missing young women. It seems only young women were asked to write down wishes.”

A heavy silence descended upon them as they contemplated her deduction. Finally, she broke the silence.

“I should pen something as well.”

“Should you?” Tanjiro asked, worry crossing his features. “It could be a trap.”

“Perhaps,” Kanao murmured, keeping her voice low. “But it might reveal something… or at least give us a lead.”

With practiced strokes, she dipped the brush in the indigo ink and began to write on the blank tanzaku. A mix of emotions swirled within her. Was happiness what she truly desired? The concept felt foreign, but a flicker of yearning sparked within her.

“What did you wish for?” Tanjiro asked softly, his gaze lingering on her face a beat longer than was necessary.

“I wish for… happiness.” Hearing them spoken out like this surprised even her.

He looked up, eyebrows raised. “Are you… are you unhappy, Kanao?”

“I—” Kanao stopped short, unsure how to continue. “I don’t know,” she said finally.

…

The words from the special tanzaku paper projected itself into the night sky in faint swirls, displaying a wish for happiness. Shigero, perched on his balcony overlooking the celebrations, smirked. Naive desires like these were his amusement. Happiness? Hah, how fleeting an emotion.

Oh, but did you see the way it was written? Those beautiful, beautiful brush strokes! So delicate yet imbued with such strength and control… it sent a spasm of pleasure down his spine. He hadn’t seen power like this in a while. Perhaps this year could truly be interesting.

He licked his lips. His eyes, usually veiled by an indifferent amusement, flared with a predatory glint.

“Gaku,” he rasped, his voice rough with suppressed desire. His servant, a wiry figure clad in black, materialised before him, bowing low.

“Goshujin-sama,” Gaku murmured.

A specific memory flickered in Shigero’s mind, a memory of another skilled calligrapher, one whose strokes held a similar strength. But that was a long time ago. Now, a new obsession burned within him.

“Bring her to me,” Shigero commanded, his pupils dilated, its cerulean orbs dancing in the moonlight. “The woman who wrote this… she will be mine.”

…

Kanao stood poised near the vibrant lanterns, hoping her wish would attract the demon’s attention.

Just then, a flicker of movement caught her eye. “Ojou-sama,” A tall, lean figure clad in black from head to toe appeared before her, bowing deeply. “My master wishes for a private audience.”

A faint smile touched her lips. There it was. The response she wanted.

Tanjiro’s arm shot out, a shield before her. “Where are you taking her?” he demanded.

“It’s all right,” she said quietly. Beneath her kimono, her fingers brushed the reassuring hilt of her nichirin blade. “I’ll be fine, Tanjiro.”

A silent battle of concern and duty played out between them. Tanjiro wanted to protest, to yank her back and shield her from the unknown danger. He understood the mission’s purpose, their plan to get close to the demon enough to strike, but the thought of Kanao walking into a potential demon’s lair alone scraped raw at his nerves.

“I’ll be okay,” she reassured him again, her eyes meeting his this time, a faint flush creeping up her neck at the intensity of his concern. “It may be best I follow him.”

He nodded reluctantly, letting his arm fall to his side.

With a final nod, Kanao allowed the servant, Gaku, to lead her away. She had succeeded in drawing the demon out. This was their chance. A chance to find the demon and stop his acts of terror.

The servant led Kanao down the dimly-lit corridors, eventually coming to a set of imposing wooden doors. The doors creaked open slowly and a figure emerged from the shadows, his presence filling the room with an unexpected aura.

An expensive silk kimono clung to his form, highlighting his impressive stature. His face was striking, with sharp cheekbones and a sculpted jawline, but his eyes were undeniably cold. Pools of aquamarine framed by the longest of eyelashes peered through a pair of wired-rim spectacles, the intelligence taking in Kanao as she entered the room.

Disarmed by the sight before her, Kanao faltered for a moment. So this…. this was the demon. He wasn’t what she expected. There was no monstrous visage, no outward sign of the darkness that lurked within him. But she reminded herself of the danger that lurked beneath his deceptive exterior.

Her eyes drifted to a large painting hanging on one of the walls behind him. It depicted a woman of breathtaking beauty. Dressed in an elegant purple kimono, eerily like her own, her raven hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall. But it was her eyes, pools of dark lilac that held such a depth of sadness, that truly startled Kanao. Recognition shot through Kanao. The resemblance was uncanny.

“Your wish for happiness,” The demon’s voice, now a mesmerising purr, sent shivers down her spine. “It resonated deeply with me.”

Surprise crossed Kanao’s face. “Did it?” she replied, her voice steady despite the tremor in her clenched hand.

“Indeed,” he continued, taking a step closer. Kanao instinctively leaned back. “It’s been… a while since I witnessed such raw emotion.”

He reached out, his finger trailing gently down her cheek. She flinched at the touch, but forced herself to remain still.

“Perhaps, I can be of service?” The silken whisper sent another shiver down her spine. His gaze lingered on her form, hot and possessive. It was a look that promised dark pleasure, a predator sizing up on its prey.

Kanao sidestepped his intrusive closeness, knowing she couldn’t break her cover just yet. “Thank you for the offer,” she spoke softly. “But it isn’t necessary.”

“Oh?” Shigero smirked. The air around them crackled with a sudden shift. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “Don’t play coy with me. I can bring you to a level of happiness you can never imagine, a pleasure far exceeding anything you have known.”

Suddenly, the world lurched. Large shadowy swirls, like nightmarish calligraphy strokes, came out from the sleeves of his kimono, shooting out with unnatural speed. Kanao reacted instinctively, jumping up to avoid their grasp. A choked gasp escaped her lips as one tendril graze her arm, sending a sharp sting where it made contact. The other swirls found their mark, wrapping around her limbs and pinning her against the wall.

Disarmed and immobilised, Kanao glared at him, her eyes flashing defiance despite the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She strained against the tendrils, which felt like they were leaching the very life force from her. Her vision swam at the edges. She needed to free herself, and fast.

The demon stood before her, a cold smile slithered across his face. “You remind me of her, you know,” he said, a pensive note lacing his voice. His fingers brushed against hers, before moving up her arm. “Those same strong brush strokes. So elegant, so much strength…”

Curiosity flickered within her, but survival demanded focus. “Let me go,” Kanao gritted out through parched lips. She needed a way to signal to Tanjiro that this was where the demon was. A silver of hope flickered in her eyes as she spotted Kaburamaru through the gap in the curtains, his glossy white scales blending seamlessly with the moonlight. Relief washed over her—she wasn’t alone. Sending him an almost imperceptible nod, she hoped her snake would understand and lead Tanjiro here.

“I will, once I’ve given you the happiness you so seek.” His finger brushed past the fabric of her kimono, a deliberate exploration that sent a flicker of anger through her. Before she could process what was happening, his touch landed on something decidedly metallic. He yanked her nichirin sword from its hiding place, the moonlight catching the gleam of the metal. He trailed his finger along the sharp edge, curiosity replacing the hunger in his eyes. “You aren’t just a beautiful face, are you?”

….

Inosuke, while on his espionage mission in the servants’ quarters, overheard a hushed conversation. He hid behind a pillar, the lean structure barely concealing his buffed body.

“That ojou-sama... the one in the lavender kimono,” one servant whispered, her voice trembling. “Doesn’t she look a lot like Hime-sama?”

“Poor girl,” the other servant replied, a soft sigh of sympathy escaping her lips. “I hope she doesn't meet the same fate as the others…” she shuddered.

“Master hasn’t been the same since Hime-sama died,” the first servant continued, her voice dropping to a low murmur. “He became so... dark. All these young women he traps, hoping to find a replacement for Hime-sama…”

The blood drained from Inosuke’s face. The girl they were talking about... the one in the lavender kimono... it couldn’t be… could it?

“Kanao!” He roared out loud, startling the servants he was concealing himself from, unable to contain himself.

…

Understanding flickered in Shigero’s eyes, slowly morphing into a cruel smile that stretched across his face. “Ah, so you aren’t an heiress. Are you by chance, a… dare I say it—demon slayer?” He gasped mockingly.

Composing her features, she tried to quell her beating heart. Her eyes caught a glint of glass towards a shadowed corner in the room. Dread pooled in her stomach as she recognised the grotesque shapes contained within the jars.

“You sick bastard,” she whispered, her voice vibrated with fury. “What have you done to those women?”

“Oh them?” A horrifying chuckled escaped Shigero’s lips. “I do like my women… pickled.”

…

Fury surged through Inosuke, a primal possessiveness roaring to life within him. The thought of Kanao in danger tore at his insides, a feeling that went beyond simple camaraderie. He didn’t understand it, but now was not the time to dwell on feelings.

Bursting from his hiding place, Inosuke ran out, nearly knocking over Tanjiro, who was following Kanao’s snake. “Tanjiro!” Inosuke bellowed, his voice raw with urgency. “Where’s Kanao?”

A flash of surprise gave way into a look of raw panic that flooded Tanjiro’s features. “She’s with the demon. Kaburamaru knows where she is.”

“What?” Inosuke roared, his anger a counterpoint to the desperate pounding of their feet as they raced through the corridors, following the white flash of Kaburamaru’s scales. “You let her go alone?”

“We had a plan!” Tanjiro defended, but guilt twisted his gut. He shouldn’t have let her go alone.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four - The Assistance

“Another ruin scroll.” Frustration simmered in Shigero’s gut as he crumpled another failed scrolled, tossing it onto a growing pile of disappointments.

The mocking voices in his head grow louder. What a waste of good paper! Look at those pathetic strokes! Even a child could do better!

Shame burned in his gut. He clenched his brush, frustration simmering into a silent rage.

“Shigero-kun?”

He looked up, startled. Hime, his soon-to-be-wife, peeked through the shoji door, her smile warm and inviting. Shigero forced a smile in return, the mocking voices growing louder in his head.

“Still practicing?” she asked.

“Yes—I’m just about done.”

“Do give it a rest... we have a big day tomorrow, after all.”

“I remember, Hime.”

A playful glint entered Hime’s eyes. “Well, I’ve something for you.”

Shigero followed Hime to her workspace. Unlike his mess, hers was a symphony of order. A single scroll stood out—‘Eternity’ penned in strokes that spoke of power, grace and love.

Shigero’s breath hitched as he examined the piece, tracing the word with trembling fingers. The strokes conveyed strength and beauty he had only dreamt of achieving. Despair washed over him in suffocating waves.

“It’s amazing,” he finally managed.

Hime beamed, a touch of pride in her eyes. “I wanted to capture the endless love we share and… our future together.”

A new voice, slithered and seductive, echoed in his mind. This woman deserves more, not a failure like him.

Fuelled by a desperate need to prove himself, he returned to his workspace later that night. He picked up the brush, but every stroke felt clumsy, a pale imitation of Hime’s mastery. Frustration morphed into a primal scream as a shadow fell across him.

Muzan stood by the corner of the room, a sly smile playing on his lips.

“She doesn’t understand, does she?” Muzan’s voice dripped with false sympathy. “This yearning for power… You deserve to be worthy of her.” He held out his hand. “Let me help you.”

…

The demon chuckled, the sound echoing eerily in the dimly lit room. “Pray tell, what’s a demon slayer doing here,” he drawled, playing around with the weight of Kanao’s sword in his hands. “At my party?”

“To hunt you down,” Kanao spat out, her eyes flashing defiance and anger despite her limbs still straining against the inky binds.

Shigero’s smile widened. “Hime was very much like you, you know,” he said wistfully. “Bold. Like her personality, her strokes held such spirit.”

A fleeing sadness darkened his eyes, then vanished behind a glint of madness. “We were to be married, you know. But fate, alas, it can be cruel.”

“I devoured her right before our wedding.” He paused, his voice dropping to a murmur almost like he was whispering to himself. “She tasted exquisite.” A short, humourless bark escaped his lips.

“I never did regret consuming her, you must understand,” Shigero continued. “She gave me such power, such strength. My calligraphy became so much more magnificent after that.”

Shock and revulsion filled Kanao at the demon’s confessions.

“And you as a demon slayer…” His eyes gleamed with desire. “Surely, you will make me that much more powerful.”

“Don’t worry. I may be a demon, but I’m not crass,” he went on, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “I’ll grant you your wish for happiness, and then, and only then, will I consume you. Slowly.”

He reached out, his hand hovering near Kanao's face. “Perhaps you can remind me of her fire,” he purred, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. She flinched back, her arms twisting against the binds. She had to stall for time until Tanjiro and Inosuke arrived.

The tendrils tightened around her arm, squeezing with an unnatural pressure. Shigero’s voice faded into a distant hum as a searing pain erupted in her limb. She gasped, her vision blurring. The room dissolved into a hazy dreamscape and a figure emerged before her. Tall and handsome, with a gentle smile that was just like… Shigero’s.

“Hime?” he spoke, the way he called out her name so warm, so familiar. Relief washed over Kanao, momentarily erasing her fear and confusion. The endearment came naturally to her, almost like she had said it many times before. “Shigero-kun?” she blinked, her voice slurring. “Where am I?”

Before he could respond however, the doors to the room burst opened with a resounding crash.

The demon’s head snapped towards the door, his features bristling with rage. “Seems like these people are here to interrupt our little union,” he growled.

…

“Kanao!” Tanjiro called out, his shout echoed with a hint of desperation. He rushed to her side, katana raised to cut through her binds. But the inky tendrils were quick to repair themselves, turning their focus now to Tanjiro.

They whipped through the air with a sickening hiss, their shadowy forms twisting and turning. He barely dodged their grasp, the wind from their passage ruffling his hair. Frustration crackled in his eyes as he realised their resilience.

Kanao dropped to the floor, her limbs screaming in protest. “Tanjiro... demons…” A fragmented memory flickered in Kanao’s mind before dissolving into a thick fog. Why was she bound? Who were these people that burst through the door, their faces etched with worry?

Her gaze turned to Shigero, who was locked in a fierce battle with one of them, the latter’s twin katanas lashing with a feral ferocity as he rained a flurry of wild slashes. Shigero parried his attacks with those black swirls, sending the man’s swords flying across the room.

The other man with the crimson scar on his forehead was crouching next to her now, his face a mask of concern. He looked awfully familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger to where she had seen him from.

“Kanao! Are you hurt?” He asked, his breaths coming in puffs from exertion. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone with the demon.”

Demon? “I’m not… Kanao…” she replied, her voice hesitant. “Who are you?”

There was an undeniable long pause. The man’s eyes widened in surprise. “Kanao! It’s me, Tanjiro! We are here to kill the demon. Don’t you remember?”

But there was no time to wait for an answer as the tendrils had returned. Caught unaware, they slammed right into the man before her, a sickening sizzle erupting as it punched a gaping hole at his chest. He coughed, a gush of blood spilling from his lips.

And just like that, the spell was broken. “Tanjiro!” the name slipped out in a natural, desperate cry. Her heart wrenched and her real memories came flooding back. She was Kanao, not Hime. She held onto Tanjiro, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the crimson blooming on his chest, the fear coursing through her.

The swirls had sapped a significant portion of her strength, leaving her muscles aching and her vision blurry. With Shigero still holding on to her sword, she only had one way to get back at him. Her hand touched the folds of her kimono… If only she could get closer…

Enraged, Inosuke was now charging at the demon blindly. But it was in a vain effort, as he was quickly swatted aside with a powerful blow. He slammed into a nearby cabinet with a bone-jarring crack, crumpling to the ground with a low groan, leaving him incapacitated.

Eyes locked onto Shigero, her hands tightened around the concealed object beneath her kimono. It was now or never. With a swift movement defying her exhaustion, she lunged towards the demon. In a final, precise strike, she plunged the syringe filled with wisteria poison into his neck. The skills honed under Shihan’s tutelage were finally being put to good use.

Kanao’s sword clattered to the ground as a jolt of pain ripped through Shigero. He clutched his neck, letting out a chilling chuckle that morphed into a strangled gasp. “I always knew you were different.”

Picking up her katana, she swung it through the air as she released the fifth form of her Flower Breathing technique, unleashing a flurry of consecutive attacks that flowed and weaved in on themselves, giving no room for Shigero to counterattack.

He dived towards Kanao with desperation, his grasp clamping around her throat. “I’ll be so much stronger if I consume you now,” he growled, a cruel glint flashing in his aquamarine eyes.

But the wisteria poison was already taking effect. Shigero’s form had begun to waste away, his movements sluggish. He roared in frustration, his rage fuelling his tendrils that lashed out at Kanao, squeezing her in a painful vice.

The distraction created by his hunger for Kanao was all Tanjiro needed. Wincing from his searing wound, he struggled to his feet, his vision blurring at the edges. With a surge of adrenaline fuelled by an unnatural will to protect Kanao, he ignored the pain and forced himself to maintain a consistent breathing. He launched onto a final attack, releasing a Flame Dance, summoning whatever strength he had left.

His blade, blazing like the sun, sliced vertically through Shigero, followed by a final, horizontal slash that severed the demon’s head from its body.

The room fell silent. Kanao gasped for breath, freed from the tendrils’ grip. Tanjiro, his vision fading and his body wracked with pain, swayed on his feet.

“Tanjiro!” Kanao’s cry echoed through the room, the last thing he heard before succumbing to darkness.

…

Consciousness returned in fragments. A dull ache throbbed throughout Tanjiro's body, anchoring him to the present. He cracked open his eyes, squinting against the soft light filtering through the window. The scent of disinfectant and hydrangeas alerted him to where he was: the Butterfly Mansion.

He felt something—or other, someone—warm next to him. Kanao. He shifted his head slightly, watching, mesmerised as her breaths came in slow and shallow puffs. Her head was nestled by his side, one hand unconsciously resting on his arm.

He noticed the dark circles smudging the underside of her eyes, and he longed to reach out, but was afraid to disturb her sleep and this unexpected closeness. Her eyelashes fluttered as if on cue, underscoring the restlessness beneath her calm surface. He couldn’t help himself—he reached forward, his fingers lightly dancing across her cheek that held a small scar, likely from the battle.

Just then, a low rumble escaped his stomach, shattering the quiet. He winced internally.

In an instant, the magic dissipated. Kanao’s eyes snapped open. Relief flooded her eyes. “You’re awake,” she spoke softly, exhaustion evident in her voice. A blush crept up her cheeks as she became aware of her arm resting on his. Mortified, she yanked it away.

It didn’t escape his notice. “Seems like it,” he smiled to himself before turning towards her fully, carefully navigating the pain that he was still feeling everywhere. “Are you all right, Kanao? Were you hurt?”

“I’m all right,” she replied simply, brushing away his concerns as she avoided his gaze. She busied herself with pouring a glass of water from the pitcher resting on the nearby table. Without a word, she thrusted the cup into his hand. “You’ve been unconscious for a couple of weeks now—you need to stay hydrated.”

Tanjiro nodded silently, taking the cup and drawing it to his lips, the water a cool medicine against the throbbing on his chest, a reminder of the close call with the demon.

An awkward silence settled in the room, punctuated only by the rhythmic gulps of water. Last he remembered before blanking out was the demon’s defeat and Kanao’s cry, that raw desperation as she called out his name… the memory stirred a gentle warmth within him. But now, the awkwardness between them had returned.

He sputtered suddenly, sending a spray of water through his lips. “Sorry,” he coughed as pain laced through him.

“Drink slowly,” she chided. She reached out to pat his back. That unexpected tenderness causing his own cheeks to flush.

Then, he remembered, and a wave of fresh guilt washed over him. “Kanao—” he faltered, suddenly unsure of what to say. “I—I didn’t mean to leave you with the demon alone.”

“You didn’t,” she answered. “I can hold my own. Besides, we had a plan.”

Despite the guilt that still lingered in his heart, he offered her a weak nod. He knew she was strong and capable, but the memory of what had transpired sent a shiver down his spine. “I know you can handle yourself, Kanao,” his voice softened slightly, as if apologising. “But still...” Pushing aside his worry for now, he decided to shift his focus. “Oh! Is Inosuke all right?”

"Yes, he's next to you."

He turned his head in surprise, only to see Inosuke all bandaged up in the bed next to him, his boar mask sitting on the table beside. Usually boisterous, he was watching them with curiosity, an uncharacteristic silence hanging heavy around him.

“Inosuke! I didn’t see you there.”

Inosuke grunted. “Monjiro, you finally woke up,” a hint of relief coloured his voice, despite his gruff tone. “You look terrible.”

Tanjiro chuckled. “Funny coming from you, Inosuke.”

Kanao approached Inosuke with a roll of bandages. “It's time to change your bandages, Inosuke.” With practiced movements, she began to change his bandages, her touch light as she examined the wound. Inosuke remained silent, but as Kanao’s hand brushed against his arm, he flinched ever so slightly, his gaze darting away, cheeks heating up with a warmth that had nothing to do with the injury.

“It’s healing up nicely,” she murmured.

Inosuke wanted to say something along the lines of how it was clearly because of his prowess that led him to be able to heal so quickly, but the words died in his throat. Was being bedridden for a couple of weeks changing his personality now?

Before he could process this any further however, Nezuko burst into the room, her pink eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and relief as it fell on Tanjiro. “Onii-chan! You’re awake!”

Chapter Text

Chapter Five - The Invitation

Nezuko’s cheerful hum filled the air as she chopped the vegetables in front of her, set to be for today’s dinner at the Butterfly Mansion. Glancing at Kanao, she noticed a faint smile playing on her lips. “Kanao-chan, you seemed happy today!” she teased.

A flush crept up Kanao’s cheeks, mirroring the rosy hue of the sweet potato in her hand. “Do I? Perhaps it’s because I have finished peeling the trickiest part of this sweet potato.”

“Maybe,” Nezuko teased, her eyes sparkling. “Or maybe… someone else has you feeling chirpier. Could it have to do with Onii-chan finally waking up?”

Kanao avoided her gaze, suddenly becoming intently focused on sweet potato peeling.

“Yeah, you were practically camping by Tanjiro-san’s bedside, Kanao-san,” Aoi chimed in.

Nezuko giggled.

The sweet potato Kanao was holding suddenly felt slick in hands. “I—it wasn’t like that! We were all worried about Tanjiro, and I just wanted to make sure…” her voice trailed off, her cheeks burning even hotter. Was the kitchen becoming quite stuffy?

With a flustered glance at the doorway, Kanao murmured something about stepping out for some air and practically bolted for the door. But as luck would have it, she slammed right into the very person she didn’t want to see. Or did she?

His hand shot out to catch her. “Whoa—Kanao!”

Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked up to see Tanjiro standing in front of her, a warm smile already spreading across his face, the unexpected contact making her heart leaped into her throat.

“Tanjiro,” she managed a strangled reply. Quickly stepping away from him, she smoothened down her uniform in a futile attempt to regain her composure. “You shouldn’t be out of bed yet.”

Looking slightly embarrassed, he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was uh, actually looking for some food.”

Kanao nodded, relieved to have something else to focus on rather than her flustered state. “Oh! I’ll get you something from the kitchen.”

Back inside the kitchen, Kanao grabbed two rice cakes from the counter.

Nezuko who had overhead the entire conversation from behind the door couldn’t resist a tease. “Who are those for, Kanao-chan?” she asked in a singsong voice.

“Tanjiro,” Kanao mumbled.

“Onii-chan?”

Kanao gave small nod and hurried out of the kitchens, handing the rice cakes to Tanjiro. “Here, have these.”

Tanjiro looked relieved. “Thank you, Kanao!” He turned to her shyly. “Maybe… you would like to uh, join me while I eat?”

The invitation hung in the air, a sweet temptation. A part of her wanted to run, yet her feet seemed rooted to the spot.

Tanjiro waited patiently for her reply, a slight pink dusting his cheeks. Eventually, she gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.

They made their way to a spot overlooking rows of hydrangeas. A memory flickered in her mind—Tanjiro’s determined expression as he flipped her coin at this very spot, asking her to listen to her heart. What was her heart saying now, she wondered absent-mindedly. That moment felt like a lifetime ago.

Kanao helped ease him down the wooden platform. They settled in comfortable silence, her eyes drawn to the vibrant blooms as he devoured the rice cakes.

Tanjiro finished the last bite and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You were incredible back there, Kanao,” he broke the silence, his voice soft and pensive. “The way you handled yourself… I really admire your courage.”

A prickling heat rose to her cheeks as she heard those words. Unsure how to reply, she simply nodded.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence once more, a gentle breeze lending sway to the hydrangeas. Tanjiro shifted slightly, his gaze lingering on her profile.

“Kanao…” he began hesitantly, working up the courage as a warmth bloomed beneath his skin. “About what happened during training last time…”

Kanao’s eyes widened a fraction and the familiar blush crept back up her cheeks. Here it comes, she thought, bracing herself for the awkwardness to resurface.

“I—I just wanted to say I never meant to make you uncomfortable,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t mean to—uh, I shouldn’t have…well, you know…”

Her blush deepened. Despite the breeze, a sheen of sweat had erupted, plastering her bangs on her forehead. “It’s all right, Tanjiro,” her voice rushed out. “It was an accident.”

A relieved smile spread across his face. The air felt lighter and a tension he didn’t know he had lifted. “So…” he started, then stopped, fiddling with his fingers nervously. “Would you like to, maybe, train again sometime? When I’m fully recovered, of course.”

Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, she eventually replied, “I’d like that.”

A grin spread across his face. He looked away for a moment, then blurted out, completely out of the blue. “Those hydrangeas are very pretty, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are,” she said, slightly amused by the sudden change of topic. “These will continue to bloom into the fall.”

“Oh will they?” Tanjiro said. Suddenly, a loud wince erupted from him. He clutched at his calf, a throbbing pain shooting up his leg.

Kanao snapped her head towards him, a crease marring her brow. “What happened?”

He looked away, embarrassed, a heat rising up his face.

Kanao’s eyes dawned in understanding. “Is it a cramp?”

Tanjiro could only manage a strangled noise that vaguely resembled a nod, the embarrassment threatening to take hold even more than the cramp on his leg.

Without another word, she flipped his leg onto her lap with surprising ease and began to massage the knotted muscle.

His body stiffened, caught between the searing fire of a cramp and the unexpected heat radiating from Kanao’s touch. As her hands deftly ran along the length of his leg, his breath hitched, barely daring to breathe.

“You must have been in bed for too long,” she noted, oblivious to the way her touch was affecting him in more ways than one.

Her strokes were firm and rhythmic, each press sending a wave of heat flushing through him. At this point, he didn’t know whether he wanted her to stop or continue.

The pain had begun to subside and a groan escaped his lips that sounded suspiciously like a moan. A stolen glance at her to see if she had noticed sent another jolt through him. Her brows furrowed, a stray hair a teasing whisper against her cheek. The ache in his leg was now a gentle thrumming that both fuelled and frustrated his impulse to reach out and brush it away. He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to give in to the impulse, the press and release of her fingers the only rhythm he dared to acknowledge.

“There,” she said finally, after what felt like both an eternity and a fleeting moment. The cramp had ease, and in its place a pang of disappointment from the release of Kanao’s comforting touch.

“Thank you, Kanao,” he said, his voice hoarse from… desire? He met her eyes for a moment. “I… I think I’m feeling much better now.”

“Do some stretches before bed,” she said, gently lowering his leg back down.

…

Weeks of rest and medicinal teas later, Tanjiro and Inosuke were finally able to resume training. Just as they entered the training grounds, they spotted Kanao practising on her own with a focused intensity.

“Kanao! Want to join us?” Inosuke boomed, a challenge and invitation rolled into one.

Her eyes flitted between Inosuke’s enthusiastic grin and Tanjiro’s warm smile, the latter causing a slight flutter in her stomach. After a beat of silence, she nodded.

The morning sun climbed higher and higher as beads of sweat glistened their faces, with the air thick from the exertion of their practice swings and parries.

Still Inosuke felt restless. He glanced over at Kanao—a habit he didn’t want to admit had become increasingly frequent these days.

“Hey Butterfly Girl,” he called out suddenly. “Race you up that hill?” He pointed to the steep incline that led further into the forest, its peak disappearing into the canopy above.

“A race?” Kanao turned to Inosuke, tilting her head slightly. “Right now?”

“Scared?” he taunted, relishing the opportunity to rile her up a little. “Of course you’ll be scared. I am the Lord of the Mountain—”

Kanao cut him off. “Fine, let’s do that. But what does the winner get?”

Inosuke pondered. He had assumed winning would be reward enough, but adding a layer of challenge sounded intriguing. What would be a worthy prize? “The winner gets granted a wish by the loser!” he declared, confident in his strength and speed.

Kanao shrugged. “Very well,” a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Just be prepared to lose, Inosuke.”

Before Tanjiro could comprehend the situation fully, they were off in a blur. Inosuke, fuelled by competition, charged forward with a loud yell. Even Kanao, usually so stoic, was seen smiling, her ponytail bouncing with each stride, Inosuke’s enthusiasm breaching her facade.

Tanjiro followed behind at a slower pace, his gaze lingered on Kanao’s retreating form, a pang of longing tugging at his chest. Having reconciled with her, things were definitely better. She wasn’t always avoiding him now… but there was still this awkwardness that lingered between the both of them. He craved her company, yet whenever their eyes met, his mind went blank and he became flustered.

He sighed and watched Inosuke attempting to catch up to Kanao’s lead. He had noticed his friend’s gaze lingering on Kanao more often—or has it been there all along and he was only now seeing it? Uncertainty twisted his gut as he watched them disappear into the trees. It was a shift he couldn’t ignore. Even now, seeing them so happy like this… No, he wouldn’t let himself think such things.

The competition between Kanao and Inosuke intensified just as Tanjiro was lost in his thoughts. They pushed their limits, weaving through the trees with surprising agility despite their recent training.

“You are fast, Kanao!” Inosuke acknowledged. His tone, devoid of his usual mockery, held a grudging respect. He turned to her, their eyes locked for a beat longer than usual. A flush crept up Kanao’s face, reaching her ears. Inosuke seemed to falter for a moment, a surprised blush dusting his own cheeks (thankfully hidden behind his boar mask), before he quickly refocused on the climb, a determined glint in his eyes. “But you cannot beat the Great Inosuke!”

Kanao chuckled softly, not breaking her pace. “We’ll see about that.”

As they reached the final stretch, Inosuke surged forward with a burst of unexpected speed, narrowly beating Kanao to the summit. He let out a triumphant roar.

Kanao stood at the top of the hill, panting for breath. Her eyes twinkled. “You win, Inosuke,” she conceded, smiling. “What’s your wish?”

Inosuke puffed out his chest, the victory momentarily erasing his earlier fluster. But as he met Kanao’s gaze, the bravado faltered for a moment. What did he desire? Should he ask for a mountain of his favourite tempura? Food was always a good choice.

But then, unexpectedly, the words tumbled out before he could stop them. “I want you to spend a whole day with me,” he blurted out.

Tanjiro reached the peak, catching the tail end of Inosuke’s wish. A knot of confusion tightened in his stomach. Inosuke wanting a solo day with Kanao? It wasn’t something he ever thought Inosuke would want. He blinked, trying to understand the sudden shift in their dynamic.

Kanao flushed, her red face from the exertion of running up the hill turning a deeper red. Her surprise was evident. “What… do you mean?”

“Just you and me," Inosuke pressed on, crossing his arms. “We can spar, fish for dinner. Just the two of us.”

Kanao’s brows furrowed in confusion. “But we’ve been spending every day together.”

“Yeah, but not alone,” Inosuke insisted. “No Kentaro—” he pointed at Tanjiro. “—No Nezuko. It'll be fun!”

Tanjiro held his breath, wondering how Kanao would respond.

She wrestled with the unexpected request. Was this a simple training exercise or was Inosuke implying something… more? The thought sparkled a flicker of curiosity. She stole a fleeting glance in Tanjiro’s direction, his expression unreadable.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Kanao nodded hesitantly, her eyes flickering slightly to Tanjiro before returning her gaze to the boar-masked man before her. “We… we can spend a day together,” she offered, her cheeks pink.

Relief washed over Inosuke, his earlier swagger replaced by a goofy grin. “Great!”

Chapter Text

Chapter Six – The Wish

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, rousing Kanao from her slumber. Today, she was going to be spending the whole day with Inosuke. Alone.

The thought filled her with some apprehension, not just because she spotted some dark clouds looming overhead. While Inosuke’s enthusiasm and brashness was somewhat… charming and he was surprisingly easy to get along with, beneath the bravado, the memory of how quiet Tanjiro was the night before flickered through her mind. The usual warmth had been absent, leaving a subtle disquietude settling in her gut. The pang of guilt she felt surprised her. Why was she feeling guilty for spending time with Inosuke?

She donned her uniform and pushed the thought aside, focusing on the day ahead.

…

Tanjiro watched from a distance as Kanao made her way to the entrance of the Butterfly Mansion, her ponytail lightly swishing behind her. He hadn’t been able to get any proper sleep the night before, and was now nursing a dull ache in his head. Were the birds chirping a bit too loudly this morning?

“Looks like someone got out on the wrong side of the futon.”

He turned his head around and found Nezuko walking towards him.

“What got you in such a dour mood, Onii-chan?” She settled down next to him. Her eyes flickered towards Kanao by the entrance, who was now greeting Inosuke with (according to Tanjiro) an unnecessary cheeriness. “Ah!” a knowing smile came to her lips.

He forced a smile. “Just a headache, Nezuko. Nothing to worry about.”

“Inosuke-san couldn’t stop bragging about his win in the race, could he?” Nezuko continued. “And the… prize that came with it.” At this, she casted a sidelong glance towards her older brother, gauging his reaction.

Tanjiro turned his gaze away his headache intensifying. For once, he was thankful for his impaired vision, so that he couldn’t witness the full extent of the genuine smile blooming on Kanao’s face, a smile not directed at him.

“You should tell her how you feel, you know,” Nezuko said softly.

His head shot up in response to her words, his face flushing crimson. “What do you mean, how I feel?”

She gave him a wry smile. “Your feelings for Kanao-chan, of course.”

Tanjiro let out a nervous chuckle, fidgeting with his collar. “F—feelings for Kanao? We’re just friends.”

“Yeah right,” she rolled her eyes slightly. “So why are you here moping around like a sad sack of sprouted potatoes while she’s off on a date with Inosuke-san?”

He sputtered in disbelief, his cheeks turning even brighter red. “They are not on a date! It’s just training session, that’s all.”

“Well, here’s some advice from a girl, Onii-chan,” Nezuko looked at him pointedly. “Don’t wait till it’s too late.”

…

Inosuke’s usual boisterousness was replaced by a nervous fidgeting as he stood there by the Mansion’s gates waiting for Kanao. When he saw her, his heart, as much as he wouldn’t like to admit it, did a traitorous little leap. He had barely slept a wink last night, and that had absolutely nothing to do with the prospect of spending a whole day with Kanao. Lord Inosuke never got worked up over trivial things like that. He was simply suffering from a sudden case of post-victory insomnia. Or so he tells himself.

“Kanao!” he greeted, his voice a touch higher than usual. He cleared his throat, trying to sound more like himself. “Ready to test your skills against me?”

Kanao nodded, offering him a smile that would completely obliterate all the dark clouds looming overhead at the moment. He stared, momentarily forgetting about challenges.

“Inosuke?”

He snapped back to reality and cleared his throat again. “Right! I hope you are ready, Butterfly Girl. This day will be a testament to my superior skills!”

“We’ll see about that,” she answered, her eyes glinting with a competitive spirit that matched his own.

They spent the most part of the morning locked in a fierce sparring session, their movements becoming a dance of offence and defence. During a particularly heated exchange, their shoulders brushed, sending an unexpected jolt through Inosuke so powerful that it knocked him off balance. The world spun for a moment, his katanas faltering, his heart hammering against his ribs (not from the exertion of the spar).

“Are you all right?” Kanao had hurried to his side, concern etched on her face. “Did I hurt your shoulder?”

“Of course not!” he barked, his voice cracking despite his best efforts to maintain composure. He straightened his back, puffing out his chest in a show of bravado. What was going on with him? This day wasn’t going as he had expected. He had been hoping for a day of intense sparring, challenges and battles to prove his strength… not feel his face burning every time Kanao looked at him.

As the day wore on, they ventured to a nearby lake to catch lunch. Sunlight danced on the crystal clear waters, casting shimmering diamonds on the surface. Inosuke announced he was going to catch the biggest fish, his usual bravado returning as he waded through the shallows. Kanao followed closely behind, her movements calm and collected.

Suddenly, Inosuke’s foot caught on a submerged rock, sending him stumbling towards the water. Kanao reached out instinctively to grab his waist, steadying him. Her touch sent a jolt through him that made his breath hitch. The playful banter he had prepared instantly died on his lips as he froze, caught off guard by this unfamiliar sensation swirling in his stomach.

Kanao, oblivious to his internal turmoil, retracted her hand. She shot him a look that danced between amusement and concern. “Be careful, Inosuke,” she murmured.

This whole day was definitely not going according to plan.

…

As the sun began to set, Inosuke and Kanao found themselves standing by the riverbank, where a comfortable silence settled between them, a contrast to their usual dynamic.

Inosuke, for once, felt hesitant and awkward. “Hey, Kanao,” he started, his voice surprisingly subdued. “Today… wasn’t so bad.”

A blush dusted her cheeks, her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. “No,” she agreed. “It wasn’t.”

He fumbled in his pocket, finally pulling out a bunch of acorns he had picked earlier that day. “Here,” he said gruffly, pushing them into her hands. “You know,” Inosuke continued. “I always found you a little weird, but you… you are fun. You get the stamp of approval from the Great Inosuke!”

The unexpected compliment earned him a laugh from Kanao. “I’ve always found you weird as well,” she admitted, her voice teasing. “But you are… well, interesting too.”

His face broke into a confident grin. “Hah! Of course I’m interesting. I am the Lord of the Mountains! There is no one more interesting than me. Not Tanjiro—”

The name hung in the air, breaking the comfortable bubble they had created. A flicker of something unreadable passed through Kanao’s eyes before she looked away. Inosuke suddenly felt a pang of… something. Annoyance? Disappointment? He couldn’t quite understand it, but it cast a shadow over the pleasant mood.

Suddenly, a torrent of rain erupted from the sky, the dark clouds they had seen all day finally breaking free. The unexpected downpour sent a jolt through them both. Inosuke grumbled under his breath, temporarily forgetting his internal turmoil. They were caught completely unprepared, with no shelter in sight.

Just as they were about to be completely drenched, they spotted a small crevice between two large rocks, barely big enough for two people to squeeze through. They hurried to take shelter, finding themselves standing shoulder to shoulder, their clothes damp against their skin, the rain beating against the rocks overhead.

An awkward silence descended as they stood there together, the rain drumming a relentless rhythm. Suddenly, a treacherous gust, unseen and unexpected, whipped through the hidden opening. The icy air sent a tremor through Kanao and she shivered, crossing her arms tightly.

Inosuke, fuelled by a primal urge he couldn’t quite explain, reacted instinctively. Before he even knew what he was doing, he found one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close to him for warmth. The damp fabric of her uniform pressed against his chest, the raw awareness of it slammed into him.

Momentarily stunned, Kanao froze on the spot. A blush crept up her neck, which had the effect of warming her up considerably. Her eyes darted towards his, but he was looking straight ahead, his jaw clenched tight. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic solo matching the rhythm of the rain. Had he really done that? But it was too late for takebacks now.

Before either could react to the situation, a loud crack of thunder boomed overhead, drowning out the drumming rain. As the last rumble faded, a figure emerged from the rain-blurred doorway of the small crevice.

It was Tanjiro.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven - The Heat

A jolt of jealousy shot through Tanjiro, sharp and unexpected, but it was quickly replaced by a wave of disappointment that washed over him. Feeling like he had interrupted a particularly intimate moment, he fumbled and dropped the umbrella he was holding.

In that split second, the world seemed to slow down for Inosuke and Kanao. Then, almost instantaneously at the same time, Inosuke’s arm recoiled instinctively, as if yanked away by an invisible force, while Kanao leaped back, a fiery blush reaching all the way to her ears.

“Tanjiro,” Kanao said, at the same time that Inosuke blurted out, “Tontaro.”

Tanjiro felt a pang of guilt stabbed his heart. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. Kanao was her own person and was free to spend time with whomever she chose. But the image of Inosuke’s arm wrapped around her still sent a sharp pang through him. He bent down with some difficulty in the cramped space and picked up the umbrella from the ground, forcing a smile. “I—uh, thought you might need this.”

…

The walk back to the Butterfly Mansion was anything but comfortable. Declaring that umbrellas were for weaklings, Inosuke had gone on ahead, leaving Tanjiro and Kanao to share an uncomfortable silence as they walked side by side under the shared umbrella.

“Did you… did you enjoy the day with Inosuke?” Tanjiro asked, breaking the silence.

Kanao hesitated, her eyes flickering down momentarily before she nodded. “I… I did.”

“I’m glad,” Tanjiro replied, feeling anything but.

Feeling the need to clarify, she began, “Tanjiro, that—that wasn’t what it looks like.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Kanao.”

She continued, undeterred. “I was feeling cold. There was a sudden gust of wind, and Inosuke was just…” her voice trailed off, unsure herself what Inosuke had been thinking.

Tanjiro’s headache was returning. The memory of Inosuke’s muscular arms wrapping around Kanao’s shoulders replayed in his mind. A barely perceptible muscle twitched in his jaw. Inosuke, with his usual brand of roughness, wouldn’t have been so… familiar unless…

“It’s fine, Kanao,” he reiterated, wanting to lay it to rest, his voice strained. It’s fine, he told himself, trying to quell the sting bubbling up inside him. He should be happy that Kanao enjoyed the day with Inosuke, but his forced smile felt utterly unconvincing even to himself.

…

The next morning, the rising sun had barely peeked over the horizon, yet Tanjiro was already packing his belongings. His movements were hurried as he shoved his clothes into his bag. The only sound in the still room was the rustle of fabric against fabric.

He was going to return home with Nezuko. Leaving was the right thing to do. There was no reason for him to stay after witnessing… that. His jaw clenched as his mind returned to yesterday’s events. The image of Kanao and Inosuke flashed before his eyes. Yes, there was absolutely no reason for him to stay.

…

“Onii-chan, where are you going?” Nezuko asked, glancing at the bag Tanjiro was holding.

“Going with you. Aren’t you going home?”

“I am, but not with you. Zenitsu-san will accompany me home. He’s back from a mission.” She turned to Zenitsu, who had emerged from the dining hall, his cheeks stuffed with rice cakes. “Right, Zenitsu-san?”

Zenitsu swallowed and nodded. “I am!” The yellow-haired lad’s eyes shined with a childish enthusiasm. “Oh, we are going to have so much fun on the journey back home, Nezuko-chan! We could have a picnic, we could sleep under the stars…”

As Zenitsu droned on, Nezuko continued, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, with Zenitsu-san helping out at the dorayaki stall, you’ll be free to stay here a little longer…” A mischievous twinkle appeared in her eyes.

Tanjiro flushed. “I am not letting you go back alone with Zenitsu. And I certainly do not need to stay here with Kanao.”

Nezuko puffed out her cheeks, her hands flying to her hips. “Don’t treat me like a little girl, Onii-chan,” she huffed. “I came here by myself, and I can handle getting back just fine.”

“Yeah,” Zenitsu piped up. “Trust her, Tanjiro.”

Tanjiro sighed. “The person I don’t trust is you.”

Zenitsu looked both hurt and indignant.

All of a sudden, Kanao’s crow, Isuzu, appeared, squawking loudly and shattering the silence of the morning.

“Kanao! Kanao! Head west, head west! A demon is said to reside in the secluded village of Ogano as part of a kabuki troupe! Head there immediately to investigate!”

“Ooh, sounds scary!” Zenitsu whimpered, shivering noticeably. “Secluded villages are always the worst.”

Nezuko’s eyes widened as she met her brother’s gaze. A sly smile plying on her lips. “Isn’t that near where our home is?”

…

Kanao barely registered the crow’s message. A tickle in her throat sent a cough fluttering from her lips. She rubbed her eye absently, surprised to find it puffy and sore. Was she getting a cold? Just then, a gust of wind swept through the open windows, carrying a sudden chill. She shivered. Another tickle erupted in her throat, and this time, she couldn’t suppress a small sneeze that echoed in the otherwise quiet room. “Achoo!” she exclaimed.

…

Inosuke, on the other hand, was a picture of health. A little rain—not that yesterday’s storm was little—never bothered him. He was brandishing his sword, the rhythmic swishes slicing through the air but failing to cut through the image of Kanao’s surprised face replaying in his mind. The memory of his arm around her, the sudden warmth of her skin, danced down his (highly flexible) spine that had nothing to do with the crisp autumn air. He was trying his best to forget what had happened, but the memory kept clawing back.

Stuff with Kanao had gotten weird, just like her. It started small, like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. After they teamed up against Doma, he found himself wandering near the Butterfly Mansion more often than usual. He would just happened to be “passing by” when she was training or in a mission, or asking her to check out a “real” injury that clearly wasn’t there.

Somewhere between watching her fight—she’s really strong but not as strong as he was (obviously)—and seeing her tend to the injured with such kindness that surprised him, Kanao had gotten stuck in his head. He wouldn’t really call it thinking about her exactly, but whenever she wasn’t around, there she was, popping back into his thoughts.

But that didn’t quite explain why he did what he did yesterday. Wrapping around her shoulders like that. Hah! He shuddered visibly. What was he thinking? Or, maybe he wasn’t thinking, that was the problem.

Just then, he overhead Kanao’s crow squawking pronouncement. A demon in a kabuki troupe? Sounds like a challenge worthy of the Great Inosuke.

…

Tanjiro paced nervously outside her door, his sandals a restless rhythm against the wooden floor. Should he offer to help? Would it seem patronising? It wasn’t like Kanao couldn’t handle herself, but the mission sounded particularly dangerous. Just as he was about to knock, the door swung open with a creak, revealing Kanao in her uniform.

“Kanao!” he exclaimed, slightly taken aback. Her eyes, he noticed, were slightly puffy and rimmed with red. He paused, a touch of concern flitting across his face. “Uh, are you heading off for your mission?”

She offered him a fleeting glance before attempting a small smile. “Yes,” she croaked, her voice sounding slightly hoarse. “I’m just heading out.”

Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out. “I could—perhaps, come along?” He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. The mission was a good excuse, but the real reason, unknown even to himself, remained unspoken.

A delicate flush touched her cheeks with surprise. “Why?” she asked.

His mind raced, hoping his reasoning would sound believable. “Well—the mission sounds dangerous. A demon in a kabuki troupe? I just thought an extra sword wouldn’t hurt.”

Kanao glanced at him, her eyes a little glazed as she muffled a sniff. A cold was definitely coming on. “I appreciate the concern, but aren’t you supposed to be heading home with Nezuko-chan?”

Relief washed over Tanjiro. “Actually,” he started, then stopped, searching for the right words. “It turns out the village is on the way back to ours. So I wouldn’t be going out of my way, really.”

“Well, I suppose—”

Before she could finish her sentence however, Inosuke burst out from behind a pillar, shocking them both into a standstill.

“Looks like you’ll need my help, Kanao!” he announced, blocking their path with his usual air of exaggerated confidence.

Kanao eyed him warily, the memory of yesterday’s incident still fresh. “We’ll be all right, Inosuke,” she replied, her voice strained.

“Wait—but you are letting Gonpachiro Kamaboko go?” He jabbed an accusing thumb at Tanjiro, who furrowed his brows, a slight tension creeping into his jaw as he shifted closer to Kanao.

“Fine,” she sighed after a brief pause, her head now a full-on pulsating. “You can come along too.”

…

Night had fallen en route to the village of Ogano. An hour earlier, the team on a mission had parted ways with Nezuko and Zenitsu, the latter immediately attaching himself to Nezuko’s arm and suggesting with a sly grin that they stopped at a nearby onsen before heading back. Tanjiro had sent him a withering glare that shut Zenitsu faster than a slamming shoji door.

Kanao by now had succumbed to the misery of a full-blown cold. Sneezes punctuated the rhythmic crunch of their footsteps on the forest path, and she tried to maintain a distance from Tanjiro and Inosuke, worried they would catch whatever she had. But her efforts were in vain. Tanjiro fussed over her constantly, offering his bamboo water bottle and asking her if she wanted to be piggybacked (was he being serious?), while Inosuke, being Inosuke, made attempts to spar with her in order to “wake her up”.

“I’m fine,” she rasped for the umpteenth time, swatting away Inosuke’s latest attempt to exhibit his strength. Fine wasn’t quite the word (her vision swam at the edges and an uncomfortable heat radiated from her body), but complaining wouldn’t solve anything. Besides, they had a mission to focus on.

Without an inn in sight, they decided to camp in a secluded cave for the night. After a quick check to ensure there were no immediate threats that lurked within, they built a small fire by the entrance. It flickered shadows on the cavern walls as they huddled near it for warmth, the autumn chill already creeping in.

Inosuke, his usual boisterous energy slightly subdued, slumped down beside the fire. He had spent most of the day boasting about his skills to Kanao, who had seemed oddly weaker than usual. The constant exertion had finally caught up to him, but there was still an unease in his gut as he watched her shiver despite the fire’s warmth.

He undid his leather belt adorned with deer fur around his waist. Tanjiro’s gaze held a silent query, but he held back from asking, sensing his friend’s unspoken intent.

“What—what are you doing?” Kanao stammered, eyeing Inosuke with alarm.

Grunting, the self-proclaimed Lord of the Mountains tossed his belt over Kanao’s shoulders. “That should keep you warm, weakling,” he said gruffly, before turning over. A low rumble escaped Inosuke’s throat as he stretched and yawned. His eyelids drooped, heavy with sleep and with a final sigh, he drifted off in a pose that defied comfort.

Through her feverish haze, Kanao barely registered Inosuke surrendering to sleep, his snores a rhythmic counterpoint to the crackling fire. Trying to hide her worsening condition, she pulled Inosuke’s belt of deer fur around her shoulders a little tighter, but it did little to quell the chills that seemed to come from deep within. She closed her eyes, hoping the pain would subside on its own.

Tanjiro watched her with growing concern. “Kanao,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on her flushed cheeks. “You don’t look well at all. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Kanao opened her eyes blearily, forcing a weak smile. “Just a bit tired.”

He wasn’t convinced. He reached out hesitantly, the back of his hand cool against her feverish forehead. His brows creased into a frown as a wave of heat emanated from her. “You’re burning up,” he stated. “We need to cool you down.”

Tearing a strip from his haori, he soaked the torn cloth with water from his bamboo bottle before placing it on her forehead. A shy heat rose to her face as he leaned in and began to gently wipe her face and neck with the damp cloth, renewing the cloth with fresh water every now and then.

The damp cloth felt cool against her burning skin, a temporary haven amidst the feverish haze. His touch lingered for a beat too long. In the flickering firelight, their eyes met and the world seemed to shrink. Tanjiro’s heart hammered against his ribs. He shouldn’t be enjoying this closeness, yet here he was.

“I… I can do it myself, Tanjiro.” Her hand reached for the cloth, attempting to take it from his hand, only to have her blushed furiously as her fingers brushed against his.

Tanjiro’s smile held that familiar warmth. “Don’t worry, Kanao. Let me help.”

She held her breath, wondering in her state of wooziness why her heart was pounding in sync with the throbbing in her head. His touch, ever so gentle, sent a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. She squirmed, feeling uneasy at his attention, yet wishing the moment wouldn’t end.

Then it did end, and she let out an involuntary sigh that she immediately regretted. She closed her eyes again, wanting to stop the strange emotions and feelings coursing through her. She needed to stop feeling so… vulnerable, needy. She needed to stop wanting Tanjiro. She gasped and her eyes flew open, surprised by her own inner admission. She scoffed to herself. It had to be the fever. Tsuyuri Kanao did not crave affection.

“What’s wrong,” he asked, concern etched his features.

Flushing, she mumbled, “Nothing,” her gaze darting away. A wave of dizziness washed over her, followed by a metallic tang in her throat. Before she could react, the remains of breakfast erupted from her mouth, its contents drenching Tanjiro’s uniform. Shame washed over her as she clamped a hand over her mouth.

“It’s all right, Kanao,” he chuckled softly. “Nezuko used to puke on me all the time when she was sick. I’m used to it.”

He was being too kind. In her feverish daze, she watched, strangely aroused, as he removed his shirt, revealing a glimpse of his toned abs beneath. The firelight danced on his bare chest as he cleaned the mess with practice ease.

Half-naked, Tanjiro settled beside her, his soiled shirt drying by the fire. A feverish desire mingled with the haze in her head as she swallowed, her breaths ragged and uneven.

“I—I think I’ll sleep now,” she said weakly. She laid down on the unforgiving hard floor of the cave, hoping to find a comfortable position. But tossing and turning offered no relief.

“Perhaps,” he suggested, his own face turning pink. “You would like to lie on my lap? It’ll be more comfortable that way.”

The idea was undeniably appealing. The thought of easing her aching body against his was incredibly tempting. Her eyes darted between the warmth of his body and the unforgiving cold cave floor. But there was absolutely no way she was going to take up on his offer. “I’ll be fine,” she managed hoarsely.

Tossing and turning some more, exhaustion finally pulled her under the weight of the fever and her tangled emotions. A soft whimper escaped her lips when sleep finally claimed her.

As the world around her faded, he watched, his heart swelling with a protective instinct. Gently, careful as to not wake her, he lifted her head and placed it on his lap. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek, his fingers trailing a gentle warmth against her skin. Only then did he allow himself to close his eyes, succumbing too to sleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight - The Performance

Tanjiro found himself nestled on a soft futon, the worn cotton pyjamas soft against his skin. He sniffed the air. It smelled faintly of lavender. How did he end up here? He didn’t know, but the bed felt soft and—WHOA! He whipped around. There was someone brushing their hair on the other side of the futon. Was that… Kanao?

“Kanao?” he whispered.

She turned to face him. Her glossy black tresses flowed down her shoulders in a perfect wave, framing the face he had grown achingly familiar with. “Kanao, wh—what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her gaze held his, her half-closed eyelids seemingly holding a seductive invitation. “Aren’t we going to bed?”

Tanjiro forced down a lump in his throat, suddenly nervous. “Bed?”

“Oh!” Her hands flew to her mouth and her eyes brightened. “I forgot our nighttime ritual.”

Despite a dearth of answers, he pressed on with the next question. “Ritual? What ritual?” His voice cracked, not entirely sure if he really wanted the answer to that one.

Her eyes took on a roguish gleam, which he, if he was being honest, found quite refreshing. Lowering herself down on the futon, she inched closer, a slow, sinuous movement that mimicked a predator stalking a prey. This wasn’t the Kanao he was used to. Tanjiro wanted to look away, but found that he couldn’t. He swallowed again, the gulping sound a loud echo in the room. What was this nighttime ritual, and why was he oddly looking forward to it?

She crawled closer, the space between them shrinking with every deliberate inch. Lost in that heady seduction, he barely registered the shift in her touch. One second she was all sexy neko, the next, a full-blown assault on his tickle bone. A surprised yelp turned into a breathless cascade of laughter, leaving him gasping for air.

“Stop it, Kanao!” he wheezed between fits of laughter as Kanao giggled, the sound like wind chimes dancing in the breeze.

Tanjiro started awake, his cheeks flushed, the feel of the tickle in his dream curiously lingering. And it was then that he realised it was coming from below. He looked down, his eyes widening in surprise when he found Kanao sprawled across his stomach. Her rosy lips hovering tantalisingly close to his naval, sending goosebumps down his core. Heat flooded his face as Kanao, still in the remnants of sleep, mumbled something incoherent before burrowing closer, her breath tickling his skin.

He needed to move before—

“Why is Kanao lying on your stomach?” Inosuke boomed.

…

The trio found their seats at the back of the riotous Kabuki theatre. Lean wooden benches creaked under the weight of the evening turnout and the air was thick with excited chatter and anticipation. Hawkers weaved through the throng, their melodic calls offering steaming bowls of udon noodles and steam potatoes treats. Kanao politely declined a hawker with a display for rice cakes, their roasted aromas sending swirls of cloying goodness in the dim light.

She squeezed into her seat, only to be jostled aside by Inosuke who plopped down between her and Tanjiro with a cheerful grin. Chancing a glance at Tanjiro, whose expression was unreadable, a renewed sense of shame burned in her stomach. He had barely spoken a word to her all day! She mentally cursed herself for causing so much trouble yesterday. The memory of her throwing up all over him returned and she groaned internally.

A hush fell over the crowd as the lights dimmed on the stage. Pushing aside her worries over Tanjiro for now, she fixed her eyes on the stage as a male actor in a vibrantly coloured robe with exaggerated makeup strutted onto the stage. She had a demon to catch.

…

The story unfolded slowly—a geisha, the darling of the pleasure district, secretly pined for a struggling shop clerk. A wealthy patron, captivated by the geisha’s beauty, showered her with extravagant gifts, his unwanted affections casting a shadow over her heart.

The drama has now reached its peak. The wealthy patron, having witnessed a tender exchange between the geisha and the clerk, erupted in a jealous rage.

Tanjiro frowned and sat up straighter, his senses prickling as he detected a scent. It was a sickly sweet, almost cloying, like flowers mixed with decay. It wasn’t human certainly, although it was cleverly masked by a thick layer of perfume. Now that he uncovered it, it clung to him like a shroud.

The scene on stage reached a crescendo as the wealthy patron lunged towards the lovers, his sword drawn. Inosuke, fully invested in the play, let out a frustrated roar. “Don't hurt her, you jerk!”

Tanjiro’s mind raced. The demon’s presence was undeniable, but where? He scanned the actors on stage closely. Was the demon among them?

Noticing his unease, Kanao turned to him silently, her eyes searching and questioning. Tanjiro gave a subtle shake of his head, not wanting to draw attention to the situation with so many people in the audience.

The performance continued. Tanjiro remained focused, his sense of smell constantly on high alert. The scent remained, but he couldn’t seem to find the source. Frustration gnawed at him. Without a clear target, they couldn’t risk causing a scene. A fight in a crowded theatre would not only endanger innocent lives but also alert the demon to their presence.

As the final curtain fell, a hush descended in the audience once more. Applause washed over the theatre. One by one the audience spilled out into the cool autumn night, the vibrant tapestry of the play lingering in their hearts. For the trio however, the mission had just begun.

They fell behind, hovering near the shadows to avoid being seen. Tanjiro hoped to pick up the scent again, but it had disappeared amidst the hustle and bustle of the exiting crowd. “I picked up a strange scent during the performance,” Tanjiro said. “But it’s no longer here.”

“Demon?” Kanao asked.

Tanjiro nodded. “Likely. It didn’t smell human.”

“So what now?” Inosuke spoke up, his hands twitching towards his katana swords.

“The scent felt like it came from the stage—the demon could be one of the actors. I was thinking we should do a search at the back of the theatre.”

…

Backstage, a collective wave of relief descended on the actors as they slumped on their chairs, a far cry from the frenetic energy at the beginning of the play. Sweat glistened on their foreheads as they shedded their elaborate costumes, each taking a deep drag of the cigarette that was passed around.

“Today’s crowd was tougher than usual, eh?” The senior actor, who played the role of the shop clerk, said with a sigh. He wiped the last traces of makeup from his face, revealing a network of wrinkles etched by years of exertion.

“Aren’t you removing your makeup, Ichiro-kun?” Another actor, the one who played the main villain, spoke up. He was younger, but kabuki life hasn’t been kind to his face either. Deep lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes, while his forehead was outlined by a tapestry of trenches.

Ichiro, the onnagata, the male actor playing the female role, tried to mask his repulsion upon seeing his colleagues’ bare faces. “Later,” he replied curtly. He took a careful sip of the green tea offered to him by his apprentice in an attempt to make him seem more human.

“Ah, leave him be, Takeshi,” The senior actor said as he stood up and slapped a hand on Ichiro’s back. “He’s always been a bit more self-conscious about his appearance, aren’t you, Ichiro-kun?”

Ichiro wanted to ignore him, but Japanese propriety did warrant a reply. “Yes,” he replied simply. Sitting up ramrod straight, he willed his colleagues to leave. So that he could… well, get down to business. His nerves shivered in anticipation.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, his colleagues left the backstage one by one, leaving him alone. He slowly wiped the last of his makeup from his face, revealing a pale, almost porcelain-like complexion beneath it. He took a deep intake of breath, almost like he couldn’t believe the vision he was seeing. Yes, he hissed. This was what true beauty looks like. He took the time to peruse his reflection on the polished bronze mirror, but just as he thought there was no blemish, he spotted a tiny mole at the corner of his jaw.

Curses. Why didn’t he notice this speck of mole on that lad before he had consumed him? Angry at himself, he flung open the broom cupboard, revealing a man in his twenties tied up and gagged.

“Looks like I’ll have to eat your jaw, young man.”

…

They crept backstage. With the last of the audience having already filtered out of the theatre, the only sounds were of the creak of the wooden floorboards and their own quickened breaths. Tanjiro pulled back the thick curtain that led to the backstage, and was immediately assaulted by an air thick with smoke, dust and there—that same sickly sweet tang he noticed back in the theatre. He nodded to both Kanao and Inosuke, indicating that it was the right place.

There was no one in sight in the small and cluttered room, decked out in colourful kabuki costumes. Yet a faint sound of crushing and gnawing emanated from further within.

Dread settled in their guts as they followed the sound and the sight that greeted them was horrific.

There at the corner of the room, in the dim light, stood the demon. Feasting. The victim, what Tanjiro assumed was a young man judging by his clothes, had half his face practically chewed off, the blood oozing relentlessly. Unaware of their presence, the demon devoured his last bite, his face morphing with each chew. The bottom half of the demon’s face shifted, replaced by a jawline that was decidedly sharper and angular.

The demon turned his head, his eyes shimmering in the moonlit room. A grotesque, blood-stained grin spread across his face. “Ooh. More nourishment!”

Tanjiro blanched, drawing his katana. “You vile creature,” he growled, as he charged straight at the demon.

The demon scrambled back, its mouth dripping with a gruesome mix of blood and flesh. “Demon slayers?” His eyes now flickered with some uncertainty as he eyed their swords. “Weren’t you lot disbanded for good?”

“Seems like you haven’t been keeping up with the news, you demon scum!” Inosuke roared a challenge, brandishing his twin katanas with fervour as he launched himself at the demon, a blur of wild fury.

Ichiro avoided their assaults easily, sidestepping as he took in the scene before him. His hand reached out to stroke his new chin, assessing his options. “Oh, but what have we here? A female slayer,” he eyed Kanao with interest. “Ah… but a crude imitation compared to the true beauty I embody.”

Tanjiro’s eyes narrowed at his words, anger flaring briefly in his chest. Kanao, however, remained unfazed. Fixing her glare on the demon, she raised her sword and lunged towards the creature, her blade catching the faint glow of a nearby oil lamp.

The demon, surprisingly agile for his bulk, leaped onto the roof rafter before whipping out a small mirror from his sleeve. A blinding flash erupted, filling the room with a kaleidoscope of distorted images. Tanjiro stumbled back, disoriented, his hand gripping his sword a touch tighter as he lost sight of his companions. Was that Inosuke lunging towards him or was it the demon’s trickery? A metallic clang pierced the soundscape, followed by Inosuke’s enraged curse.

The echo of the clash gave Tanjiro the bearing he needed. With a fiery snarl, he unleashed a Fire Wheel. The technique roared to life, a furious inferno carving a glowing path towards the demon. The heat scorched the air, licking at Tanjiro’s face even from a distance.

Ichiro shrieked, twisting mid-air to narrowly avoid the attack coming towards him. He landed with a heavy thud on the other side of the room, the floorboards groaning under his weight. “All I wanted,” he began, his voice thick with a strange lament. “was to preserve my beauty.” A single tear traced a path down his cheek. His gaze flicked to Tanjiro, lingering on his scarred forehead and lifeless eye. His lips curled in disgust. “You, my dear, are in severe need of an upgrade.”

Tanjiro ignored the taunt, his stance unwavering. In a coordinated attack, he lunged, while Kanao, breaking free from the disorientation, released a swift spinning attack with her sword, creating a whirlwind that buffeted the demon.

Ichiro dodged their attacks and with practiced agility, propelled himself back onto the ceiling. Drawing out a small vial, he shattered it against the wall behind Kanao. A cloud of shimmering red powder erupted, swirling around her like a crimson shroud.

“Kanao!” Tanjiro cried, a surge of panic coursing through him as he watched the powder engulf her.

…

A veil of dust descended, obscuring her vision. Kanao coughed, the sweet, cloying scent stinging her nostrils. A strange tingling spread like wildfire through her veins, a warmth like anything she had ever experienced. It felt wrong, a primal urge clawing its way to the surface. Her inhibitions, usually so firmly in place, felt like cobwebs easily brushed aside. She felt her knees go weak as she sank down to the floor, her sword clattering to the ground.

Bolting to her side, Tanjiro turned to the demon angrily. “What did you do to her?”

Ichiro’s grin only widened. “You’ll see, young slayer.”

Her senses were on fire and her cheeks were burning with a feverish flush. Overwhelmed with a heat blooming on her chest, she suddenly felt the need to tear away at her clothes. Her trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons of her uniform jacket, her gaze drifting to Tanjiro’s in a daze.

Tanjiro watched in horror, his jaw clenched tight, the hilt of his sword digging into his palm. The memory of that strange dream resurfaced for a fleeting moment, but it was quickly pushed aside. He had to help Kanao.

He reached out to clasp the buttons of her uniform jacket, wanting to hold them in place, but Kanao, her movements jerky and uncoordinated, swatted his hand away with a whimper. Ignoring the sting of rejection, he tried again, his voice tight with worry. “Kanao, please!” he pleaded. “Fight it, you have to!” Her reply however was a shuddering breath and an aching press of her body against his.

The demon threw back his head and roared with laughter, his sound echoing off the dusty props. He turned his attention to the boar-headed figure before him, who was so fixated on Kanao’s plight that he hadn’t noticed the demon descending. Now was his chance.

Ichiro thrusted himself from the ceiling, his hands aiming for Inosuke’s neck. Despite the distraction, Inosuke, fuelled by his feral instincts honed from years living in the wild, sprung to life. He threw himself back, dodging the attack with a grunt. The force of the dodge sent his boar mask flying across the room, revealing his youthful, feminine features.

The demon froze, his eyes widening as he stared at Inosuke in a new light. His grin faltered for a moment, replaced by something else entirely. A flicker of… hunger? “You,” he pointed at Inosuke with a shaking hand, his voice a guttural purr. “You are different, boar-masked boy. You… you I could eat.”

“Hah! Like I would ever let you eat me!” Inosuke hollered, charging forward. His katanas, glinting like jagged lightning in the moonlight, went berserk, releasing a storm of savage slashes that carved through the air with a menacing whistle.

“Ooh, be careful of your pretty skin, dear boy!” Ichiro shrieked as he tried to sidestep Inosuke’s relentless attacks. The demon raised his mirror again, a cruel glint in his eyes. With a sickening crack, a torrent of piercing glass shards surged through the reflective surface, a deadly shower aimed at Inosuke.

Sensing Inosuke’s imminent danger, Kanao pushed past the limitations of the powder’s effects. Every muscle screamed in protest, but she moved forward all the same. With a final burst of strength, she threw herself in front of Inosuke, the glass shards erupting in a crimson spray as they pierced through her shoulder. A sharp cry escaped her lips as she crumpled to the ground, her face pale.

Inosuke’s blood ran cold. He stared at Kanao, his bravado shattering into a million pieces replaced by a visceral terror that threatened to consume him. One moment he was focused on attacking the demon and the next, Kanao was there, taking the attack meant for him.

The air seemed to suck out of his lungs. He let out a choked gasp, a sound mirroring Tanjiro’s cry of her name in the background. Fury ignited a deafening roar in his ears, but this time it was tinged with a primal fear he had never experienced.

As if possessed, he reacted with an onslaught of attacks, his blades coming in from all directions in a deadly storm. They found their mark, severing the demon’s head in one clean stroke, putting an end to this nightmare.

His chest heaved from the exertion. He dropped his katanas with a clatter and reached for Kanao, scooping her fragile form in her arms in a desperate embrace. The room fell silent, the only sound were of Inosuke’s ragged sobs. Tanjiro kneeled beside them, his heart heavy with a crushing weight. A crushing wave of shame and grief slammed into him—he had been too slow, and Kanao had paid the price.

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.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten - The Fireworks

With a triumphant yell, Inosuke slammed the empty plate on the table, crumbs flying everywhere. “All right, I’m done here! Time to get even stronger!” He flexed his arms, his boar mask swaying precariously. His determination this morning took on a new need to protect Kanao in future demon attacks, fuelled by the image of the stain blooming on her bandages.

With him gone, the room fell abruptly silent. Tanjiro shuffled his feet awkwardly, the sound echoing in the stillness. He couldn’t seem to decide where to look, his gaze bouncing between the floor to the patch of sunlight dancing on the wall, then back to Kanao. Awareness prickled his skin as his gaze lingered on the curve of her neck. Those feelings of yearning to resurface, mixed with a healthy dose of apprehension.

Then, they both suddenly started talking at once.

“I’m—”

“Should—”

Tanjiro chuckled, a nervous sound that sounded more like a strangled cough. “You go first, Kanao.”

Kanao nodded, her eyes flitting down to her lap before she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry—about last night, and for the way I acted.” Her eyes held a hint of worry, vulnerability she wasn’t used to showing. “It wasn’t like me at all. I wouldn’t want you to think…”

Kanao hesitated, the fabric of her nemaki bunching under her clenched fists. What did she even want him to think? She chewed her lip, feeling flustered.

“Think what?” Tanjiro tilted his head, his brows furrowing in concern.

The silence stretched before finally, understanding dawned on Tanjiro’s face. His voice dipped to low, hoarse murmur when he spoke. “It’s not your fault, Kanao. If anything, I should be apologising. For not protecting you.” Then, “Not that you need my protection or anything!” Tanjiro blurted out.

“I know,” she murmured.

His fingers fumbled self-consciously at the back of his neck. “Should I start changing those bandages?” he asked, gesturing towards her shoulder.

Her reply was a clipped nod, her shoulders pulled tight as she sat up. She slip her nemaki down her arm, offering a sliver of her shoulder.

Tanjiro steeled himself, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand and his gaze on the bandages. A commendable effort, seeing as her scent, that whiff of lavender, was now threatening to drown his concentration thanks to their proximity. He hovered his hand near the edge of her sleeve, trying not to appear flustered as his fingers reached out, fumbling with the knot of the old bandages.

He cleared his throat, the sound echoing awkwardly around them. “The innkeeper mentioned fireworks,” he said, hoping to strike a casual conversation, but his voice, huskier than intended, betrayed what he was really feeling.

Kanao turned towards him slightly, a curious lilt in her voice. “Fireworks?”

His gaze snagged on the exposed skin of her shoulder for a fraction of a second longer than propriety allowed. Quickly tearing his gaze, away, he stammered, “Yeah. If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps we could see them together? I mean, only if want to, of course.”

She considered the invitation. After a moment, she nodded. “I’d like that.”

His lips curved upwards in a soft smile. The awkwardness had eased slightly, replaced by a comfortable silence.

Tanjiro worked efficiently with one hand, his movements slow and deliberate. He reached for the jar of ointment with his fingers, brushing the balm over her wound carefully. Leaning in close, he felt the faint tremor running through her when the cool medicine, a contrast to the heat emanating from her body, touched her skin. The air caught in her throat, sending a wave of goosebumps rising all over her arms.

“Are you cold?” His warm breath tickled her ear, sending a delicious tingle down her spine. She allowed herself to savour the sensation as the question hung in the air, unanswered.

“Kanao?”

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she realised she had forgotten what the question was. “Sorry?” she mumbled.

“I was just asking if you wanted something…” his voice dipped even lower, sending another flurry of goosebumps down her skin. “…warmer?” The question hummed with unspoken meaning. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, the pad of his thumb began to circle the edge of her injured shoulder, his touch a feather-like caress.

Her breath caught in her throat again. This time, the indescribable yearning was unmistakable. She wasn’t sure what to make of that warmth spreading through her, a warmth that originated from the point of contact and radiated outwards.

The weight of his failure to shield her against the fight with the kabuki demon mingled with this newfound desire so potent that it clouded his judgement.

Tanjiro's thumb traced another languid circle, skimming the silken skin at her nape before slowly inching downwards towards the curve of her spine. Their breaths hitched in unison as the air pulsed with tangible tension.

Fuelled by a surge of possessiveness, Tanjiro moved closer, his lips hovering just a breath away from her ear. The urge to feel her warmth, to feel every curve of her body pressed against his, was almost overwhelming. Just then, a gasp escaped her lips. Tanjiro froze, his eyes widening in realisation as shame burned through him.

“I—I’m sorry, Kanao,” The words tumbled out, a stammer that betrayed his flustered state.“I shouldn’t have—”

Kanao’s lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but no words came out. Her hand rose, almost unconsciously, to touch the spot where his fingers had lingered.

Unable to bear the weight of her loaded silence, he quickly tied the new bandage in place, his fingers fumbling. “I’ll leave you to rest. I’ll come pick you up later…for the fireworks.”

Before she could respond, a choked sound burst out from his lips, half apology, half nervous farewell. He fled the room, the sound of the shoji door sliding shut echoing behind him.

On the other side of the door, Tanjiro’s legs gave way. He slumped against it to prop himself up, the sound of his own ragged breaths echoing in his ears. His heart hammered against his chest, his face burning with a feverish heat. What was he doing? He shouldn’t have crossed the line. Yet, the memory of her soft skin, the way her breath hitched… the feeling lingered, a heady mix of excitement and guilt.

Kanao watched the door slid shut, her hand still pressed against the warmth where his thumb had been. The lingering warmth on her shoulder felt like a brand. What did it all mean? Did Tanjiro… ? The thought, once unthinkable, ignited something like hope in her chest—a hesitant tremor that both terrified and intrigued her.

…

As dusk settled, they slowly made their way to the far end of the village, where the innkeeper had said the best views of the fireworks were.

Still reeling from his earlier impulsiveness, Tanjiro stole a glance at Kanao. Her profile was serene, but there was a touch of furrow just between her brows.

Remorse crashed over him. “We should be there soon,” he said, his heart heavy with the weight of his conflicting emotions.

They rounded a corner, and Tanjiro nearly bumped into Inosuke, whose cheeks were bulging with food.

“Inosuke!” A small smile tugged at Tanjiro’s lips, but it wasn’t enough to mask the slight tinge of disappointment in his gaze. “We were just heading off to watch the fireworks.”

“Oh me too,” Inosuke said, between mouthfuls of oden.

Tiny flecks of broth dotted his boar mask, making him look slightly ridiculous. Kanao’s face softened, a hint of warmth flickered in her eyes. She reached out, pulling her handkerchief from under her haori.

Inosuke stopped mid-chew, his eyes widening. A blush bloomed across his cheeks. “What are you doing, Butterfly Girl?” he barked, sounding flustered. He fumbled with the oden in his hand, nearly dropping it in surprise. “I’m not some weakling that needs help cleaning up!”

Despite his words, he didn’t move away. With practiced ease, Kanao began wiping away the broth stains. Inosuke seemed to shrink a little under her touch, his usual boisterousness replaced by a nervous fidgeting.

A vice tightened around Tanjiro’s heart, squeezing the air from his lungs as he witnessed the scene before him. Was this what he was destined to feel from now on, whenever Kanao interacts with Inosuke? The tightness in his chest spread, the jealousy clawing at him, neither foreign nor welcomed.

They reached the designated fireworks viewing area, the festive atmosphere momentarily distracting Tanjiro from his turmoil. The air around them thrummed with a tangible anticipation as the crowd awaited the fireworks.

Inosuke held up three frosty bottles of Ramune, their labels gleaming in the moonlight. “Here,” he thrusted one towards Kanao. “These are your favourite, right?”

“Oh!” Kanao exclaimed in surprise, her eyes lighting up. “Thank you, Inosuke. That’s very thoughtful of you.” A genuine smile spread across his face.

Inosuke completely flustered by the compliment, could only manage a series of incoherent grunts before resorting to chugging down his Ramune at one go.

“Ramune! I didn’t know you like them.” Tanjiro’s heart sank little. He hadn’t even known what her favourite drink was. An image of himself rushing out to buy Ramune for her suddenly crossed his mind. “I’ll get you some next time.”

“Don’t worry about it, Gonpachiro!” Inosuke boomed, puffing out his chest. “I’ll get her more whenever she wants. Right, Kanao?”

Kanao nodded politely, but a faint crease appeared on her forehead as she glanced at Tanjiro, noticing the disappointment in his eye.

“Right,” he finally managed. “That’s great, Inosuke. Thanks for looking out for her.”

It was stupid, childish even, to be jealous over a drink. Yet, the knowledge that it was her favourite, a detail suddenly imbued with significance because he hadn’t known it was so, made the sting sharper.

The first few pops crackled through the air just then, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd. The fireworks burst through the inky span in a kaleidoscope of bright, vivid hues. Tanjiro barely registered the spectacle however. His gaze was fixed on Kanao, mesmerised by the way the colours danced in her eyes.

“Wow, look at that one!” Inosuke exclaimed, pointing out a particularly dazzling burst of colour. Kanao turned her head to follow his gaze, her eyes wide with childlike wonder.

Tanjiro felt a muscle clenched his jaw, betraying the frustration within him. Here he was, consumed by his own turmoil, while Kanao seemed genuinely happy, lost in the beauty of the fireworks. He clenched his fist, a desperate attempt to rein in his emotions.

“Tanjiro?” she asked tentatively, her eyes filled with concern.

Taking a deep breath that did little to quell his emotions, he forced out a strained smile, “I’m fine, Kanao.”

Kanao didn’t seem convinced, but she turned back to the night sky, her expression wistful. The fireworks reached its climax, a flurry of dazzling bursts illuminating the sky.

“They are beautiful, aren’t they?” Kanao said softly, turning to Tanjiro, a hesitant smile on her lips.

“Yeah,” he forced the word out, his voice flat.

Kanao’s smiled faltered. “Is something wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” he replied, sounding harsher than he had intended.

Kanao's eyes widened. A flicker of hurt crossing her features. Her shoulders slumped and the hesitant smile she had taken the courage to form crumpled at the edges.

The harshness of his voice scraped against his own ears. He hated hurting her, hated that the jealousy was pushing her away, but the confusing jumble of emotions within him wouldn’t subside.

The crowd had by now began to disperse, the festive atmosphere fading around them. In the quiet, a palpable tension remained, suffocating, refusing to dissipate.

“If something’s bothering you,” Kanao said finally, her voice firm but tinged with a sadness that tugged at Tanjiro’s heart. “I can’t help… unless, unless you tell me.”

Shame clawed at his throat. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Is it…because of Inosuke?”

Kanao’s whispered question, swallowed by the night wind, received no reply. She watched him, disappointment settling in her chest. With a small sigh, she said, “I think I’ll go for a walk.”

The words tore at Tanjiro, a physical ache spreading through his chest. He watched her walk away, her silhouette fading into the crowd. He wanted to call out after her, to apologise for his confusing behaviour, but he remained frozen, trapped in his own turmoil.

Across from him, Inosuke watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. “Why did Kanao leave, Tanjiro?” he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

“It’s nothing,” Tanjiro muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Inosuke snorted. “Nothing, huh? Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

Tanjiro felt a surge of irritation spiking through his already churning emotions. He knew Inosuke meant well, but he didn’t need him to add to the storm already brewing inside. “Look, Inosuke,” he said, forcing a calmness he didn’t feel. “It’s complicated. Can we just leave it for now?”

Inosuke’s eyes flared with defiance. “Don’t you tell me to leave it,” his concern escalating to anger. “If you hurt Kanao, I swear—”

“I didn’t hurt her,” Tanjiro snapped, finally meeting Inosuke’s glare. His own anger flared, hot and raw. “I like her too, you know!”

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven - The Confession

Tanjiro blurted out the words, his confession hanging heavy in the air.

Inosuke stared, processing his words. His expression was unreadable for a tense second before morphing from surprise to realisation to anger.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Inosuke growled, taking a threatening step forward, his fists balling at his sides. A vein throbbed in his temple, and his boar mask seemed to snarl in unison with his growl.

Tanjiro groaned, dropping his head to his hands. This wasn’t going to turn out well.

“What do you mean you like her?” Inosuke demanded. “Like her as in you like training with her? Going on missions with her?”

Tanjiro closed his eyes briefly, wishing he could take back his impulsive confession. “Not like that,” he finally muttered. “Like her as in how you like her.”

“What? Like her like… how I like her… like I like tempura?”

Tanjiro blinked, struggling to process Inosuke’s train of thought. Then he threw his hands up, exasperated. “Seriously, Inosuke! I just care about her, okay?” He let out a defeated sigh, his shoulders slumping forward. “It bothered me, seeing her happy with someone else…”

The gears seemed to turn slowly inside Inosuke’s head. Then it finally clicked in place. “Someone like… me?”

Tanjiro shot him a glare.

Inosuke’s confidence returned. Oblivious to Tanjiro’s frustration, he plastered a wide, self-assured grin to his face. “Of course she’s happy with me, Soichiro! I am the Great Hashibara Inosuke!”

For a moment, Tanjiro’s jaw clenched but he forced himself to relax. “Look,” he said firmly. “We are not going to fight over her. Let’s just see how Kanao feels and let her decide.”

Inosuke considered it for a second before he grudgingly agreed. “Hmph, fine. But if you try anything funny—”

“We don’t know how she feels,” Tanjiro interrupted, a hint of worry in his voice.

Inosuke muttered something inaudible before falling silent. After a long while, he spoke hesitantly, vulnerability etched in his voice, “Whatever happens, we’ll still be friends right, Tanjiro?”

Tanjiro looked up, surprised by his question. Then a genuine smile spread across his face. “Of course, Inosuke. We’ll always be friends.”

…

Tanjiro scanned the crowd, searching for her raven hair amongst the festival lights. His gaze landed on a figure by the edge of the point, illuminated by the cool moonlight. Kanao.

She felt his presence even before she saw him. His haori landed on her shoulders, the weight sending a wave of warmth and familiarity. “Oh,” she said in surprise. Her chest rose involuntarily, pulling in a deep breath of air, taking in his scent—a comforting reminder but also a source of confusing emotions.

She looked up at him, taking in his apologetic face. A shadow of sadness flickered across her eyes before she turned away, fiddling with the edge of his haori.

They sat in silence for a long while, filled with the gentle gurgling of the koi pond and the rustling of leaves in the cool autumn breeze, the festivities a white noise in the background.

Finally, Tanjiro shifted uncomfortably. “Kanao,” he began, his voice soft. “I…” he took a deep breath and turned to face her, his face contorted with emotion. “Earlier, when we were watching the fireworks… I—I acted like a complete fool.”

“That you did,” she agreed softly.

He scratched the back of his neck, betraying his growing anxiety. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to. I… I care about you, Kanao. A lot. More than just a teammate. I—” He stopped short, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. “Seeing you with Inosuke…”

“Inosuke?” Kanao tilted her head in surprise, but before she could ask him further, the sound of approaching footsteps cut her off. They both turned towards the sound, and a familiar silhouette came into view.

…

“Found her!” Inosuke boomed happily, barreling through the crowd to reach the koi pond. But the sight of Tanjiro halted him in his tracks, a fierce frown replacing his grin. And to make matters worse, he noticed Tanjiro’s haori draped over Kanao’s shoulders.

“Blast it!”

Inosuke stomped towards them, his hand outstretched towards Kanao in an indication to pull her up. “Come on, Butterfly Girl. I’ll walk you back to the inn.”

Kanao hesitated, her eyes darting between Inosuke’s outstretched arm and Tanjiro’s dejected face. “Uh—”

“Actually, Insouke,” Tanjiro spoke up. He eyed his boar-headed friend with a determined glare that left no room for discussion. “I was hoping to walk Kanao back myself.”

The air pulsed with a nervous energy as Inosuke’s posture stiffened. His body tensed, almost as if sensing a challenge thrumming beneath the surface. A predatory grin slowly spread across his face as he cracked his knuckles. “Looks like we have a problem here, Tangoro Hamado.”

At that moment, Kanao decided to step in. Sure, Tanjiro could handle himself, but Inosuke’s unpredictability was enough to make her reconsider. “Right. Thank you for your concern, Tanjiro,” she said quickly, her voice infused with forced cheer. “But I think I’ll walk back with Inosuke.” She didn’t really want to, not really no, but Tanjiro’s safety was paramount.

A glint of disappointment crossed Tanjiro’s eyes, but he masked it quickly with a smile. “Sure, Kanao,” he said, his voice strained but his gaze unwavering. “Just be careful, all right? And… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hah, don’t worry, Kamaboko! I’ll keep her safe!” Inosuke declared, oblivious to the real reason behind Kanao’s choice.

Before the tension could escalate any further, Kanao placed her hand on Inosuke’s outstretched arm and stood up.

…

Inosuke and Kanao maintained a respectful distance as they walked side by side back to the inn, a companionable quiet settling between them.

Her gaze drifted towards him. The moonlight cast an almost ethereal glow on his profile, highlighting the wildness in his eyes and the slight furrow in his brow. A gentle fondness enveloped her heart. Inosuke was fierce, impulsive and rough on the edges, yet beneath all that gruffness, there was a surprising gentleness.

Tanjiro on the other hand... he was so… different. Her heart squeezed as she recalled his words earlier. What was it? He cared for her? A lot, he had said.

Lost in thought, Kanao didn’t realise Inosuke had stopped walking until she bumped into his broad back.

“Oh!” Kanao exclaimed, surprised. “Why did we stop?”

Inosuke took in a puff of air, his cheeks tinged a faint pink. “Well… I—uh,” he stammered, which was very unlike him. Then, before he could change his mind, he blurted, “I have something to tell you!” Drawing a large inhale, as if summoning all the mountain air for courage, he began, “Kanao, you see… ever since we first fought Doma…” he stopped, unsure if this was the right way to approach this.

Kanao waited patiently, curious as to what changed his manner. This was a side of Inosuke she hadn’t seen before.

“Forget what I said about Doma! What I mean is… you’ve always been strong, not quite as strong as me of course, but still really strong. But also… well…” He fumbled for words, his eyes darting around nervously. “You’re pretty. Like way prettier than those wild flowers in the mountains.”

Kanao felt herself turning red. He had never spoke to her like this before and she was suddenly wondering where this was going. A growing sense of worry was beginning to pool in the pits of her stomach.

“The way you care for others… for me,” he continued, his voice softening. “When you took that blow for me from that demon… it makes me want to…” he cleared his throat, struggling to find the right words. “What I’m trying to say is that… Kanao, I like you. More than I like tempura, even.”

Oh Inosuke. His words held a genuineness that disarmed her. She met his gaze, his eyes filled with an earnestness that pulled at her heartstrings.

But… but she couldn’t.

Not because she didn’t like him. She did. But not in the way he expected of her. She may not know very much about relationships between a man and a woman, but she at least knew the difference between a friend and something more. Inosuke was a close friend she dearly cherished, but the fluttering in her chest, the squeeze in her heart… that was for…

Tanjiro.

Tanjiro.

The dawning realisation struck her like a physical blow. A blush danced across her face as a warmth spread through her, leaving her slightly breathless and uncertain.

But now, now wasn’t the time to dwell on Tanjiro. Inosuke was still waiting for her reply. She looked up at him as her mind raced, searching for the right words, for a way to respond without hurting him.

Taking a small gulp of air to steady her nerves, she straightened her posture. Her eyes met Inosuke’s with newfound clarity. The affection for him remained, but there was an underlying sadness and regret for the words she was about to say.

“Insouke,” Kanao began, her voice trembling at the edges. “Thank you for telling me all this. I… I really appreciate you as a friend. But I… no, there’s… there’s someone else I care about more than I thought.”

A long drawn silence stretched between them. Inosuke’s hands curled into his fists as a guttural growl rumbled low in his throat before it vanished, replaced with a loud exhale. He looked down at his hands, looking as forlorn as he could behind his boar mask that was now hanging lopsided.

The rush of guilt seared through her chest, almost like a physical pain, but she gritted her teeth and pressed on, hoping he would understand.

“You are special to me, Inosuke. I would never forget your help with Upper Moon Two,” Kanao offered him a small smile, reaching out to gently right his mask. “You are so strong, so brave. And you are a good friend. I value that more than you know.”

Her voice softened further, “And maybe, someday, you’ll find someone who appreciates those qualities just as much as I do.”

Thoughts swirled in his mind. Then, with a heavy sigh, Inosuke nodded, sadness clinging to his features. “I get it, Kanao. Just promise me that you won’t forget about me entirely, okay?”

“Of course not, Inosuke,” she replied softly. “I’ll always be your Butterfly Girl. Plus, you promised to get more bottles of Ramune for me whenever I want, remember?”

A beat of silence followed before a familiar grin broke through. “Hah! That’s only if you can beat me in a duel though!”

She chuckled, a small relief washing over her. “Challenge accepted, Inosuke. But this time, I’m not going to go easy on you.”

…

Kanao collapsed onto the tatami floor of her room, the emotional roller coaster of the night taken a toil on her. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a stark contrast to the quiet chirping of the crickets outside.

Images flickered like summer’s fireflies behind her close eyelids—Inosuke’s hopeful gaze, the blush creeping up on his neck, the raw vulnerability in his voice. Regret pricked at her heart. Inosuke was a good friend, fiercely loyal and always dependable. He deserved someone who could reciprocate his feelings fully.

Realising she still had Tanjiro’s haori on, she pulled it closer to her, burying her face in the worn fabric. His familiar scent—a mix of sunshine and something like woodsmoke—sent a wave of warmth that spread through her core. It was a grounding sensation, a beacon in the storm of emotions coursing through her. His gentle smile, his protectiveness, and the way he cared for her when she was sick and injured… those memories brought a blush to her cheeks, a warmth that was unlike anything she felt with Inosuke. But what did it all mean? The feelings felt foreign, a confusing jumble of emotions she couldn’t quite decipher.

…

The wind howled through the trees, a lonely symphony mirroring the hollowness in Inosuke’s chest. He kicked a stray rock, sending it tumbling down the mountainside. Kanao’s words echoed in his head, each one a fresh jab at his pride.

You’re a good friend.

Inosuke’s scoffed. Damn right he’s a good friend. But all those times they trained together, fought side by side, her patching him afterwards… did she only do it because she saw him as a friend and nothing more? Like some weakling she needed to protect?

He slammed his fist against the trunk, the bark giving way slightly to the force. He tried to put up a brave front in front of her, but his heart hurt. He had never been good with emotions, especially sappy crap like these. But even a boar head could understand rejection.

What did he have that he didn’t? Strength? Probably not. Better hair? Maybe. But Inosuke had raw power! The strength of ten men! But deep down, in that part of him that wasn’t clouded by these confusing emotions, Inosuke knew. He had that warmth, that sunshine smile that made everyone feel comfortable. Heck, that boy even made Inosuke like him.

No matter. He wasn’t going to dwell on his emotions like a wimp. Training. That’s what he was going to do. He was going to train so hard until his muscles screamed and his lungs burned. He squared his shoulders, a newfound determination hardening his gaze as he picked up his twin katanas. He would train harder, fight fiercer, show everyone who’s the real king of the mountain.

With a mighty BWAAHHHH! that echoed through the mountains, he charged deeper into the wilderness, the wind whipping through his boar mask.