Chapter Text
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Chapter 1
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The smell of old sake lingers in the air. Not overly strong, but heavy enough to make you wrinkle your nose. Barely noticeable, barely visible. Definitely not too noticeable, you got out of the habit a long time ago. At least in the morning hours you find peace. You wouldn't have traded that for the world.
You tiptoe down the corridor, past the small family library and the never-used dining room, until you're standing in front of your younger brother's door. Carefully, you push the frame aside. The stretched paper makes a sound that you miss the words to describe. It certainly gives you goosebumps. For a moment, you fear that you have woken Senjurō up, but your brother is lying on his back, facing the wall, and slumbering blissfully. His chest rises in slow, steady motions. You count the seconds. All is well.
Your older brother Kyōjurō usually sleeps in the room next door when he is at home. Unlike you and Senjurō, Kyōjurō is a demon slayer. No, not just any demon slayer, but the Flame Pillar, one of the best. He is absent at the moment. Some time ago, he left for a mission with a few lower-ranking colleagues and hasn't returned yet.
You don't have to wake him up for breakfast. Senjurō deserves every hour of sleep he can get before school. So, you make your way to the kitchen alone.
At this time of day, only one other person in the Rengoku family besides you is awake – your housekeeper Suzume. Your father would have reprimanded you for including the housekeeper in the family. Luckily, he usually sleeps off his nighttime drunkenness in the morning and stays away from your get-together.
“Good morning.” Suzume bows politely, as she does every morning, no matter how many times you've told her to stop it over the years.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” you ask, surveying the kitchen counter. “Would you like me to help you?”
“No, dear. You've got enough to do later. I've heard that the Wind Pillar is being treated by Ms. Kochō.”
You sigh softly at the thought of the work ahead. The Wind Pillar is a colleague of your older brother and, at least in your eyes, a rather unpleasant character. Far too loud, far too gruff, far too similar to your father. You prefer the friendly or quiet spirits.
Suzume has prepared yesterday's leftovers for breakfast and cut up some fresh fruit. Hungry, you reach for the pear slices. Your morning ritual is always the same. You eat, and Suzume tells you the latest gossip. That way you're always up to date without ever having to ask, and you're prepared should you be part of the gossip. Not that that's the case. You only know a handful of people in the city, even though you were born here. Another thing you have your father to thank for.
As soon as you finish breakfast, you say your goodbyes, “Thanks, Suzume-chan. I have to leave now. Can you wake up my brother, please?”
“Of course. Have fun! And tell Ms. Kochō my greetings, will you?”
“Surely.”
You take your dishes to the sink and leave the kitchen. As soon as you close the door behind you, you tiptoe out again. Today you manage to leave the house without bumping into your father.
It looks like it's going to be a good day.
On the way to the Butterfly Manor, your sandals leave marks in the ground. It rained during the night. Maybe that's why you slept so well. The sound of the drops pattering against your window calms you. You look up. Gray clouds cover the sky. It's dry now, but it could start again at any time. You didn't take an umbrella with you. You'll definitely pay for that later.
Maybe not such a good day after all.
You reach the Butterfly Manor and step through the gate. At the exact same moment, you hear the Wind Pillar’s voice shouting, “I don't need that shit! Let me out!”
His tone hurts your ears. Instantly, a knot tightens in your stomach. Nevertheless, you keep walking. The Wind Pillar never stays long in the Butterfly Manor. If you're lucky, he'll leave as soon as you come in. Anyway, you have nothing to do with each other. Yes, he probably won't pay any attention to you.
Aoi comes towards you in the hallway and greets you with a roll of her eyes. “You'd better wait a minute. His drama is unbearable.”
“Thank you. You can give this to me. I'll do it.” You take the basket of used bandages from her, taking it to the laundry room.
Aoi has already boiled the chamomile solution. You pour the basket of bandages into the kettle to wash them out. Then you put them back in the basket and hang them up to dry on the washing line in the garden. A few rays of sunshine peeking through the clouds give you hope that the bandages will be dry by the afternoon. Only then do you dare to go to the hospital wing.
Your plan has worked. The Wind Pillar is already gone. You find rumpled bed sheets and empty breakfast dishes. He wasn't here at the end of your shift yesterday. That means he arrived late, and your superior just managed to keep him overnight. You're not surprised. He never stays long.
Ms. Kochō is just putting away the last of the medication she gave him. You greet her politely and greet her from Suzume, then you ask, “What is there to do today?”
“We don't have any patients in acute need of help at the moment. We should use the time to clear out the pantries and storerooms and make a list of what we need to get,” she says.
By we, she means you and Aoi. She herself will invest the free time in her research.
“Understood.” You bow. Then you go to the pantry, where you assume your colleague is.
In fact, Aoi is already there, having cleared various boxes from the shelves and rummaging around in one. The box is huge. She has vanished in it up to her shoulders.
“This is going to be a lot of work,” she predicts without looking at you.
“I like work, it makes the time go by.”
You grab the box to your right and open it. Inside are sewing utensils: needles, clamps, spools of waxed thread. There's not much to sort out here. Ms Kochō sterilizes all the needles and clamps before they are used. You only need to check that the bobbins are in good condition. You have to sort out any moldy ones.
“Did the old man say anything about yesterday?” Aoi asks. She means your father.
“I wish I had the courage to call him that.”
“Why don't you just do it?”
“You know it's never easy.”
Aoi's head pops up from the box. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. So, he noticed something?”
Sorrowfully, you think back to last night. Ms. Kochō let you out of work early, so you went into town together. You bought some yakitori and strolled along the shopping street. You completely lost track of time.
“He was waiting for me at the door.”
“Oh no! Are you okay?”
You nod. “All good, thanks.”
That's a lie. The hematoma on your upper right arm, where his fist hit you, hurts with every movement. It's ugly, bluish, already turning purple at the edges. Your ominous ability is speeding up the healing process, but it will still be visible for a few days. Since you have new hematomas every week, it's business as usual. Your high-necked clothes cover up just about everything. You're a good liar.
“Next time I'll pay attention to the time,” Aoi promises you. She pulls a wooden object out of the box. “Have you ever seen one of these? What is it?”
“I have no idea. Who knows how long it's been in there.”
You work intently for a while, rummaging through box after box and showing each other some curious finds. At some point, Ms. Kochō appears in the doorway.
“I need you in the treatment room.”
She has already disappeared again. You put away the last paper bags of dried flowers that you have just checked for pests, and get up.
“Yes, yes ... Just leave me alone with this stuff!” Aoi winks.
When Ms. Kochō interrupts you while you're doing the work to call you in, it must be serious. You have a hunch what's going on.
“Someone must have injured themselves during training again.”
“Then go fix up little boys.”
Sometimes you wish you were as confident as your friend. You can't even get the tone of voice right when she's ranting about the lower-ranking demon slayers who are constantly cutting their own hands or legs.
There are several treatment rooms in the Manor. The door to room one is open. As you enter, your suspicions prove to be half right. A young demon slayer is waiting. His left arm has a deep cut, but not one he inflicted on himself. It is too long for that, and the position fits neither. It stretches from around the middle of the back of his upper arm down to his hand, which is constantly dripping blood. It either was one of his colleagues or he had a fight with a demon that night.
Ms. Kochō turns to you, a cloth with disinfectant tincture in her hand. “Demon attack. The wound is about two hours old.”
Two hours? That was just before sunrise. Their strength must have diminished towards the end of the fight, you think, without saying your words out loud. That would be unfair to the young man. After all, he faces the demons and keeps you safe. Something you are incapable of doing.
“It's going to hurt,” Ms. Kochō says to him. With a sideways glance at you, she adds, “Hold him tight!”
You use the grip she has taught you to hold the patient still. You need to use a lot of force to do this. He wriggles around vigorously while his wound gets disinfected. Wailing sounds bubble out of his mouth like a toddler who has burnt his fingers on the hob.
“There, that's it.”
Ms. Kochō moves away from him, and you loosen your grip. The strong smell of sage has spread through the room, mingling with the one of fresh blood, leaving behind a nasty mixture. You breathe consciously through your mouth.
“I'll hand him over to you. The wound is long, but not too deep. You can manage without stitches,” your superior instructs you. She then turns to the patient. “She'll heal the wound, but training is taboo. Come back in three days for a check-up!”
He nods before turning his attention to you. You pull up Ms. Kochō's stool and inspect the arm. Dark brown eyes in a pale face watch nervously as you run your fingers along his arm.
You only notice all of this in passing. You are focused on your task, mentally analysing your actions: His tendons are uninjured, the cut is limited to the muscles. A flesh wound on the upper arm is less critical than in the hand area. I should start at the bottom.
You make eye contact with him and say, “I'll start now. All right?”
He nods again. His pupils are much larger than before. He is scared. You can't blame him. Disinfection procedures are extremely painful.
“Don't worry, it doesn't hurt. It tickles at most.”
“That's what they always say.”
Does he think you're lying? Well, you're about to prove him wrong.
Without responding to his statement, you place both hands next to each other over the cut on his forearm. Your breathing slows down, and you close your eyes. Now comes the most difficult part. You start to breathe in through your nose. It takes some time before you can block out the mixture of blood and sage tincture. At this point, you focus on the feeling in your chest and mentally transport it to your hands and fingertips like water making its way. Your fingertips tingle. You stroke the wound carefully and gently.
Bit by bit, you feel your way up the arm. It's quiet in the room, which suits you. The concentration required for your treatment is draining your mental strength. You have reached the upper third of the arm when you realize that you are reaching your reserves. It's no solution if you fall off the chair, so you limit yourself to encrusting the upper third.
“Done.” You take your hands away and open your eyes.
The demon slayer stares at you open-mouthed, looks at his arm, shakes his head in disbelief and stares back at you. He stammers, “H-How... How do you do that?”
If there was an answer to his question, you would have told him. But there isn't one. You don't even know where your extraordinary ability comes from. Not even Ms. Kochō has an explanation for it, and she knows almost everything.
“I couldn't close the top part completely. It will take time to heal on its own,” you say. ”In three days, Ms. Kochō will tell you how much longer you have to rest.”
“B-but ... How?”
He jumps up and turns around to look at the entire wound, or rather most of the fine scar that remains.
You just smile and stand up. Black dots flicker in front of your eyes. It's a clear sign that you've tapped into your reserves too much.
“Get well soon. The way out is this way,” you say, opening the door for him and waving him out of the room.
He thanks you politely, bows and hurries off. You wait until you can no longer hear his footsteps in the corridor before you follow him. The door to the second storeroom is open, loud banging comes out, accompanied by Aoi's unintelligible mumbling.
On your way to the rest room, you walk past and poke your head inside. “I'm finished. If Ms. Kochō asks, I'm in the rest room. I need to lie down for a minute.”
“Was it that bad?” Aoi replies.
“Not bad, but big.”
“Pah! These beginners ...”
She turns her attention to the next box, and you move on. The dots in front of your eyes have multiplied, you see a lot of black, hardly any color. Your sense of balance is fading. At one point, you trip over your feet and have to support yourself against the wall.
In the rest room, there is a single lounger with a cushion and a woollen blanket on it, next to a tiny side table. You take off your sandals, lying down onto your side. Your face is turned towards the door. An automatism. You don't like being disturbed while you're resting and would rather see unwelcome visitors as soon as they sneak in.
A yawn steals out of your mouth. I didn't use up that much energy and I slept reasonably well last night ...
Your eyelids are as heavy as lead. They fall shut in the blink of an eye.
At lunchtime, you wake up from your nap. Someone has put a bowl of rice and beans on the table. It's cold. It makes no difference, because your stomach is growling. You gratefully reach for the food. The empty bowl remains on the table as you leave the rest room and look for Aoi and Ms. Kochō.
You don't find your superior, she's probably in her lab and doesn't want to be disturbed, but you do find Aoi. She is talking to a demon slayer who has recently taken up residence at the Butterfly Manor – Kamado Tanjirō.
You stand rooted to the spot. Kyōjurō has mentioned the boy a few times. Supposedly his sister is a demon and has refused to eat humans, so he's looking for a way to turn her back. This has resulted in a considerable tantrum from your father. You can almost hear his reproaches in the back of your mind: How can it be that such a run-of-the-mill farm boy has mastered a breathing technique and is in the corps despite this freak of a sister, and you haven't? You and Senjurō are one big disappointment!
Inevitably, you shake your head as if you could silence the voice. Tanjirō can't help your family relationships. Although you've bumped into him a few times at the Butterfly Manor and he's always greeted you politely, you haven't dared to speak to him yet. If your father finds out ... No, you'd rather not.
You turn around and walk away in the opposite direction, ending up in the infirmary, where you've got a new patient during your nap. It's the boy with the boar mask, a friend of Tanjirō's whose company you've been avoiding so far. He's definitely too loud for your taste. Now he's asleep, though, so you stay and clean up in peace.
At some point, Aoi appears and teases, “Well, woken up from your beauty sleep? Then come on! I've already tidied up the second room. Do you think you can avoid it again?”
You know she doesn't mean it as harshly as it sounds, so you follow her lead. Let's see what else we discover today.
The afternoon passes in a flash. Shortly before the end of your shift, you stand in the garden and hang down the dried bandages. You take your time folding them. The clouds have cleared. The sun is low in the sky, approaching evening. This is your least favorite time of the day. You have to go home in the evening.
Much too early for your liking, Ms. Kochō comes into the garden, thanks you for your help today and sends you home.
To make matters worse, she says, “You can take tomorrow off. I'm on my way and Aoi got an outside assignment from me.”
Any normal person would have been happy to have an extra day off in the week. But not you. For you, days off mean hell on earth.
Nevertheless, you put on a good face, fold your hands in front of your chest and bow. “Thank you, Kochō-san. See you the day after tomorrow.”
The way home is like going to the scaffold. It's the same every day, you always have to summon up all your discipline to put one foot in front of the other. You stop at the gate to your family Manor. The scent of incense wafts over to you from your ancestral shrine. Lotus. This is the kind that Senjurō usually lights. If Senjurō has been to the shrine, it means that Kyōjurō has not come home yet.
A sinking feeling spreads through your stomach. The situation is not unusual; your brother often stays away for several days, sometimes weeks at a time. Nevertheless, something is different this time.
You walk slowly towards your house. You hide your trembling hands in the sleeves of your kimono. You notice a bloodstain on the left edge. It's probably from this morning's treatment. You should wash it out as quickly as possible before it stains the fabric permanently.
The front door looms in front of you. Just before you reach it, it is opened from the inside and Suzume appears in the frame.
“Welcome back, Ma'am.” She bows.
“Thank you, Suzume-chan. How was your day?” you ask, taking off your shoes and stepping inside.
“I cleaned the windows and changed the sheets on the futons, Ma'am.”
You frown. “Why so formal?”
Your housekeeper winces noticeably and ducks her head. “Can I get you something, Ma'am?”
“No, thank you. Is Senjurō in?”
“The young master is in his room.”
“Thank you.”
You walk down the corridor to Senjurō's room. You are still a few steps away when you hear a noise, and you immediately know why Suzume is talking to you so formally. The sinking feeling in your stomach intensifies.
You turn to your housekeeper, who has been following you at a respectful distance, and say, “Please make us a pot of tea, will you?”
She bows and disappears wordlessly towards the kitchen. You enter your brother's room. It's dark, the curtains cover the window. You pull the paper door shut behind you and crawl onto his futon. He crouches with his back to you. His slender stature freezes as you lie down next to him. In no time at all, you have wrapped your arms around him and pulled him towards you.
Time stands still for a few seconds. Then Senjurō turns around, buries his face in your neck, choked sobs fill the room and his tears run down your skin.
You hold your little brother tightly, press a kiss to his forehead and stare into nothingness. Your heart is pounding hard. You don't know what hurts you more: Senjurō's tears or the helplessness that takes hold of you in these moments.
Please, come home soon, Kyōjurō. We need you.