#demon slayer x oc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

doumadono · 10 months ago

Text

Warnings: original female character, smut, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, mentions of alcohol abuse, creampie, pregnancy, graphic descriptions of violance, labour

Synopsis: after everything she'd been through, Hoshiko developed feelings for her former abuser, Shinjuro, leading to an on-and-off relationship. Eventually, Hoshiko discovered she was pregnant. When she told Shinjuro, they went through a heated argument. Little did he know, it was the last time he would see Hoshiko alive

A/N: this original story was commissioned by my lovely @serenesaku on my Ko-fi page. Thank you once again for trusting me with your request ♥

DEMON SLAYER KO-FI COMMISSIONS CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2 - THE CONFRONTATION

Hoshiko lay on the futon, her breath hitching as Shinjuro's rough hands roamed over her body. She shivered at his touch, her skin tingling with anticipation.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows on the walls.

The weight of the world outside seemed to melt away as his rough, calloused fingers traced gentle patterns along her skin. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world stood still.

Shinjuro's gaze was intense. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Hoshiko," he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper that sent shivers down her spine. Shinjuro leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. His hands roamed her body, exploring the familiar terrain with a renewed sense of urgency.

She responded with a soft moan, her fingers tangling in his fiery hair as she pulled him closer.

Their lips met in a searing kiss, a desperate melding of mouths that spoke of unspoken longing and a need for connection.

He began to run his hands over her body, each touch igniting her skin before his lips followed in their wake. He kissed and licked his way down her chin, neck, and shoulders, savoring every inch. His mouth finally closed around her nipples, one after the other, and he felt them harden under his tongue as he sucked and nibbled on them.

Her soft moans filled the room.

Reluctantly leaving her nipples, his hands and mouth continued their journey downwards, tracing over her belly and down to her mound and inner thighs.

Hoshiko parted her legs further and pulled up her knees, allowing her labia to open. Her tiny slit glistened with slick arousal, and the musk of her arousal filled the air.

Shinjuro pushed his tongue repeatedly into her eager pussy. He drank in her juices, mingling them with his own saliva to make her pussy soaking wet. Then he moved up a little and ravished her clitoris with his tongue, lips, and teeth.

A long, shuddering orgasm overtook her soon, and she cried out his name. "Shinjuro! Fuck me now, please, fuck me," she pleaded, tears sliding down her face.

Rengoku positioned his mushroom cockhead at her entrance, sliding it up and down to coat himself in her juices that were almost dripping from her; she was wet beyond comprehension.

As he began to enter her, Hoshiko lifted her hips to meet him, eager to have him inside her velvety pussy. With each long, sensual thrust, she took him deeper, until he was fully enveloped in her hot, tight cunny. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels pressing against his back, and pulled him tightly into her with her hands.

Their mouths met in a fervent kiss, and she could taste herself on his tongue and lips as he began to thrust steadily into her pussy.

They moved together in a rhythm, fucking steadily for long minutes. They moved together, their bodies finding a rhythm that was both passionate and tender.

The room was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking, the soft moans and gasps, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

Shinjuro's hands gripped her hips, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. Shinjuro's lips left a trail of fiery kisses down her neck, his stubble rough against her sensitive skin.

The futon creaked beneath them, the sound mingling with their ragged breaths and the occasional gasp or moan.

Time seemed to blur, the minutes stretching into an eternity as they sought to lose themselves in each other.

“That’s it, baby, you’re taking me so well,” he praised.

Hoshiko's body trembled with each wave of pleasure that coursed through her, her mind a haze of sensation and emotion. She was vaguely aware of Shinjuro's whispered words of encouragement, his voice a soothing balm to her fractured soul.

“You’re doing oh so well, little one,” Rengoku growled next to her ear. “You’re dripping wet for me.”

Hoshiko arched into his touch, her breath coming in short gasps as he explored her body. “More,” she demanded, “I need more.” Hoshiko felt her second orgasm building deep inside, her breaths coming hard and fast. The Hashira felt herself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, her entire being focused on the man above her and the connection they shared.

Shinjuro was struggling to hold back his climax, determined not to let go until she was ready. He responded with a low, guttural sound, his pace quickening as he drove his cock deeper into her, the tip of his heavy cock kissing her cervix with every thrust he made.

"Oh, God," she cried out, her voice rising in pitch. "I'm going to cum, Shin… Fuck, oh fuck, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Her body jerked and writhed in ecstasy as her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave.

Shinjuro's hands gripped her hips with a possessive strength, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered her name over and over, like a mantra.

With a final, desperate thrust, Shinjuro let out a roar that seemed to reverberate through the room. "That’s it, baby girl, cum for daddy," growled Shinjuro through gritted teeth, as his own unstoppable climax arrived. He unleashed huge spurts of his hot, thick semen into her, their bodies locked together in a final, intense moment of shared pleasure.

Hoshiko cried out, her body convulsing around him, her orgasm washing over her in waves of pure ecstasy.

For a moment, they lay there, their bodies entwined, their hearts beating in sync. They stayed like that for a while, savoring the closeness, the intimacy that had blossomed between them. It was a bond forged through shared pain and mutual healing, a love that had grown from the ashes of their pasts.

His warm body draped over hers, a protective cocoon that shielded her from the harshness of the outside world.

She felt his heartbeat against her chest, a steady rhythm that matched the calming cadence of her own.

In that moment, it didn't matter that their bond had been forged in the fires of trauma and pain. What mattered was the connection they shared, a fragile yet unbreakable thread that bound them together.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the quiet hum of the night as she absent-mindedly traced patterns over his chest.

Shinjuro lifted his head, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. "For?" he asked, his voice rough yet gentle.

"For being here," she replied, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "For everything."

He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering as if to imprint the moment into his memory. "Always," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.

As they lay together in the aftermath of their passion, the room filled with a sense of peace that had been absent for far too long. In each other's arms, they found a refuge from the storms of life, a sanctuary where they could be their true selves without fear or judgment. And in that quiet, sacred space, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, united by a bond that transcended the pain of the past and the uncertainties of the future.

Hoshiko's footsteps echoed softly against the polished wooden floors of the Butterfly Mansion as she made her way down the corridor.

The air was heavy with the scent of antiseptic, mingling with the faint fragrance of cherry blossoms that always seemed to linger in the halls.

Normally, Hoshiko found solace in the tranquil atmosphere of the mansion, a place of healing and respite for the injured demon slayers. But today, an uneasy knot twisted in her stomach.

She had come for a routine checkup, a precautionary measure after a particularly grueling mission. Shinobu, the ever-competent and enigmatic head of the mansion, had insisted on it.

Hoshiko trusted Shinobu implicitly, but there was something about her demeanor today that seemed different — more deliberate, more somber.

As they reached the examination room, Shinobu motioned for Hoshiko to take a seat on the sterile, white examination table.

The room was stark and cold, a sharp contrast to the warm spring day outside.

Hoshiko obeyed, trying to ignore the chill that seeped through her thin hospital gown.

Shinobu’s expression was inscrutable as she began her routine checkup, her gloved hands moving with practiced precision.

But as the examination progressed, Hoshiko couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Shinobu’s movements seemed more deliberate, her gaze lingering a fraction longer than usual on certain areas of Hoshiko’s body. Each touch felt like an intrusion, a violation of her fragile sense of security.

As the examination drew to a close, Hoshiko couldn’t contain her unease any longer. “Shinobu, is everything alright? You seem… Concerned.”

Shinobu’s hand paused mid-motion, her eyes meeting Hoshiko’s with an intensity that made her breath catch. “Hoshiko, please follow me to the next room. There’s something we need to discuss.”

The knot in Hoshiko’s stomach tightened as she slid off the table and trailed behind Shinobu.

They walked in silence to a smaller room, cluttered with medical equipment and shelves lined with vials and charts. This was where Shinobu collected and analyzed all her data. The room felt colder, more clinical, and the dread in Hoshiko’s chest grew into a palpable fear.

Shinobu gestured for Hoshiko to sit on a wooden chair beside a small desk, then took a seat across from her. She shuffled through some papers, her movements deliberate, almost hesitant. The silence stretched, oppressive and thick, until Hoshiko could bear it no longer.

“Shinobu, please… What's going on? Did you find something wrong with me?”

Shinobu’s gaze softened, but there was a shadow behind her eyes that Hoshiko couldn’t ignore. “Hoshiko, during the examination, I found something unexpected. You’re pregnant.”

The word hit Hoshiko like a physical blow. Pregnant. Her mind reeled, a cacophony of thoughts and fears crashing over her. “No, that can’t be right,” she stammered, shaking her head as if she could dispel the truth. “That’s impossible…”

“Hoshiko,” Shinobu’s voice was gentle yet firm, “the signs are unmistakable. You’re around twelve weeks along.”

Twelve weeks. The timeline collided with Hoshiko’s memories, her mind racing back to that night. The night when Shinjuro had cornered her, his breath reeking of alcohol, his hands rough and unyielding. She had fought, pleaded, but he had overpowered her, leaving her bruised and broken. The realization hit her with a nauseating clarity. The child was his.

“No,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her horror.

Shinobu’s eyes were filled with understanding. “I’m so sorry, Hoshiko. I know this is difficult to hear.”

Hoshiko’s world began to spin, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The room felt like it was closing in on her, the walls pressing down with an unbearable weight. She tried to stand, but her legs gave out, and she collapsed back into the chair, her hands clutching at her stomach as if to rip away the life growing inside her.

In an instant, Shinobu was at her side. She knelt down beside Hoshiko, her eyes filled with concern and urgency. “Hoshiko, breathe. Focus on your breathing. In and out, slowly,” she instructed, her voice a steady anchor in the storm of Hoshiko’s panic.

Hoshiko tried to follow Shinobu’s guidance, but her chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. Each breath came in ragged gasps, her vision blurring with tears. Shinobu’s hands were gentle but firm as she placed them on Hoshiko’s shoulders, grounding her in the moment.

“Look at me, Hoshiko,” Shinobu said, her voice calm but insistent. “You’re safe here. Just breathe with me. In… and out. That’s it, slowly.”

Hoshiko’s eyes locked onto Shinobu’s, the unwavering steadiness in her gaze providing a lifeline. She forced herself to match Shinobu’s breathing, each inhale and exhale becoming a fraction more controlled.

“That’s it,” Shinobu encouraged softly. “Keep breathing. You’re doing great.”

Gradually, the spinning sensation began to subside, the room coming back into focus. Hoshiko’s breaths grew deeper, less frantic, though her hands still trembled where they clutched her stomach.

Shinobu didn’t move from her side, her presence a constant reassurance. “I know this is overwhelming,” she said gently.

“Shinobu, what am I going to do?” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t… I can’t have this child.”

Hoshiko’s mind was a storm of emotions: rage, fear, despair. She felt tainted, her body no longer her own. The thought of Shinjuro’s child growing inside her made her skin crawl. She had been careful, so careful, and yet this cruel twist of fate had ensnared her in its merciless grip. “Why didn’t I realize sooner?” Hoshiko sobbed, her voice tinged with self-reproach. “I should have known…”

“Your body has been through a lot,” Shinobu said softly. “Sometimes, it takes time for the mind to catch up with what the body is experiencing, especially after trauma.”

Hoshiko’s tears fell onto her lap, each one a testament to her shattered sense of self. She had survived the physical wounds inflicted by Shinjuro, but this… this felt like a wound that would never heal. How could she bring a child into the world knowing its origins were steeped in violence and pain?

“I feel so lost…” Hoshiko looked up at Shinobu, searching for any flicker of hope in her eyes. But all she saw was the grim reality of her situation reflected back at her. The life she had painstakingly tried to rebuild now lay in ruins, the specter of Shinjuro’s cruelty casting a long, dark shadow over her future.

As the minutes ticked by, Hoshiko’s sobs subsided into a numb, hollow silence. She felt disconnected from her own body, as if it belonged to someone else. Someone who bore the burden of this nightmare, while she floated above, detached and empty.

“What are my options?” Hoshiko asked finally, her voice devoid of emotion.

Shinobu hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “You can choose to continue the pregnancy, and we will support you in every way possible. Or, if you feel it’s too much, there are medical procedures to terminate it. The decision is yours, and no one will judge you for whatever choice you make.”

Hoshiko nodded mechanically, the weight of the decision pressing down on her like an iron shroud. She couldn’t fathom bringing a child into the world under these circumstances, yet the thought of ending its life filled her with a different kind of dread.

“Can I have some time to think?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Of course,” Shinobu said gently. “Take all the time you need. And remember, whatever you decide, we’re here for you.” Shinobu’s eyes, filled with both compassion and concern, searched Hoshiko’s face. “Hoshiko, there’s one more thing though,” she began softly, careful to keep her tone gentle, “I need to ask you something important and very private. Do you know who the father of the child is?”

Hoshiko’s body tensed at the question, her heart rate spiking once more. She averted her gaze, staring down at her trembling hands as if they could provide the answers she sought. The memories of that horrific night with Shinjuro flashed through her mind, and a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her.

“I…” Hoshiko’s voice faltered, her throat constricting. She swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising panic. “I can’t, Shinobu. I can’t say.”

Shinobu’s expression remained calm, though a flicker of worry passed through her eyes. She had seen many victims of trauma and knew the signs well. The reluctance, the fear — it all pointed to something deeply painful. “Hoshiko, you don’t have to face this alone. If there’s someone who has hurt you, we can help. But I need to know to ensure you’re safe.”

Hoshiko shook her head vigorously, tears spilling down her cheeks. “No, please. I can’t… I can’t talk about it.”

Shinobu nodded, respecting her friend’s boundaries. “Alright, Hoshiko. I won’t press you. But if you ever feel ready to talk about it, know that I’m here to listen without judgment.”

Hoshiko’s shoulders slumped in relief, though the burden she carried felt no lighter. The secret she held within her was a festering wound, but she couldn’t bear to expose it, not yet. Maybe not ever. She was afraid of the implications, afraid of how it might change everything.

Shinobu’s patience and understanding were unwavering. “For now, let’s focus on what we can do to help you feel better,” she suggested. “I want you to stay here at the Butterfly Mansion for at least another week.”

Hoshiko looked up, confusion and worry etched across her tear-streaked face. “Why? What for?”

Shinobu’s gaze was steady and reassuring. “I want to prepare some medication to help with your nausea and to conduct more thorough research to ensure both you and the child are healthy. This is a critical time for you, and I want to make sure you receive the best care possible.”

Hoshiko’s initial reaction was to refuse. The idea of staying longer in a place that now felt so foreign, so filled with her darkest fears, was overwhelming. But as she looked into Shinobu’s eyes, she saw only kindness and a sincere desire to help. “I… I don’t know if I can handle being here,” Hoshiko admitted, her voice trembling. “Everything feels so… Strange now.”

Shinobu’s expression softened even more. “I understand, Hoshiko, but you need rest, care, and support right now. The Butterfly Mansion is the best place for you to get that. We can keep an eye on your health, make sure you’re eating and sleeping properly, and provide any emotional support you need.”

Hoshiko hesitated, her mind a chaotic whirlpool of fear and uncertainty. But she knew Shinobu was right. She needed help, more than she could get on her own. The weight of the situation was too much to bear alone. “Okay,” Hashira whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’ll stay.”

Shinobu gave her a reassuring nod. “Thank you, Hoshiko.”

The relief in Shinobu’s eyes was evident, and it gave Hoshiko a small measure of comfort. She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady herself.

“Now,” Shinobu continued, her tone practical yet caring, “I’ll have Aoi prepare a room for you. It will be quieter and more private, so you can rest without any disturbances. I’ll also start working on the medication for your nausea right away.”

“Thank you, Shinobu,” Akiyama said softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” Hoshiko stood on unsteady legs, Shinobu’s hand steadying her. She felt like she was walking through a fog, each step heavy with the burden of her newfound reality. As she left the examination room and made her way through the silent halls of the Butterfly Mansion, the weight of the life growing inside her felt like a constant reminder of her violation, a relentless echo of Shinjuro’s cruelty.

Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the grounds. The gentle fluttering of butterflies seemed incongruous with the darkness that now enveloped Hoshiko’s heart. She walked aimlessly, the once-familiar paths now strange and foreboding.

Finding a secluded bench in the garden, she sank down, her hands cradling her stomach. The life inside her was a paradox, a symbol of both horror and potential. She felt an overwhelming sense of isolation, the world around her a distant and uncaring place.

Hoshiko’s mind churned with the gravity of her situation. She had survived so much already, but this… this felt insurmountable. How could she bring herself to make a choice that seemed to offer no solace, no escape from the nightmare that had ensnared her?

As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Hoshiko sat in the darkness, her heart heavy with the burden of her fate. The future stretched out before her, a bleak and uncertain path, and she knew that whatever decision she made would shape the rest of her life. But for now, all she could do was sit in the silence, grappling with the grim reality that had descended upon her, and hope that somewhere in the shadows, she might find a glimmer of light.

Hoshiko's heart pounded with a fierce rhythm as she left the Butterfly Mansion, her mind a tumultuous storm of emotions. The revelation of her pregnancy had ignited a fire within her, a burning rage that she couldn't contain. As she made her way to the Rengoku estate, her steps quickened, driven by a mix of fury and desperation.

The Rengoku estate loomed ahead, a silent testament to the family’s legacy. Hoshiko pushed through the gates, her mind a haze of anger and resolve. She marched up to the entrance, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Every step brought her closer to the confrontation she had been dreading and anticipating in equal measure.

Inside, the air was thick with tension as Hoshiko stormed through the halls, her destination clear in her mind.

Hoshiko stormed into the dimly lit room, her eyes blazing with fury.

Shinjuro, sitting at a low table with a bottle of sake glued to his hand, looked up with a raised eyebrow as she approached. The intensity in her gaze left no room for doubt — this was not a social visit.

"You!" she spat, her voice trembling with anger. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Shinjuro leaned back casually, swirling his sake. "Enlighten me, Hoshiko. What’s got your kimono in a twist this time?"

With a guttural cry, Hoshiko grasped the hem of his kimono, pulled him up and shoved Shinjuro against the wall, the impact rattling the wooden panels.

The bottle of sake slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor.

“You got me knocked up!” she screamed, her voice raw with a mixture of rage and anguish.

Shinjuro’s eyes widened in shock, the realization crashing over him like a tidal wave. “What are you talking about?” he slurred, trying to regain his balance.

Hoshiko’s hands shook with fury as she glared at him, her chest heaving. “The night you attacked me,” she spat, her voice trembling with emotion. "You forced yourself on me," she continued, her voice trembling but resolute. "You violated me, and now you're trying to walk away from the consequences?! When I’m pregnant with your child?!”

The words hung in the air, a heavy, undeniable truth.

Shinjuro’s lips twitched into a wry smirk, a mocking glint in his eyes. "Well, well, isn't this a fine mess?" he drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "And here I thought I was just good for a drink and a fight."

Hoshiko’s fists clenched at her sides, her anger barely contained. "This isn’t a joke, Shinjuro! Do you have any idea what this means?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, the smirk never leaving his face. "It means I’m more potent than I thought. Congratulations to me."

"Your flippant attitude isn’t helping!" she snapped, taking a step closer. "You need to take responsibility for this! Now I’m stuck with this nightmare because of you.”

Shinjuro’s expression hardened, though his tone remained wry. "Responsibility, huh? Never been much good at that. And I don’t plan on starting now."

Hoshiko’s eyes welled up with tears, her frustration and anger mixing with a deep sense of betrayal. "You can't just brush this off, Shinjuro. This is serious."

He sighed, the sarcasm slipping into something colder. "Serious or not, it’s not my problem. You should have known better." Hoshiko blinked, gasping as the weight of his words settled in. "I should have known better? You're the one who raped me, Shinjuro! Raped!" Her voice shook with anger and pain. "I didn't want to lay with you! You violated me!" She took a step closer, her eyes blazing with a mix of fury and heartbreak. "And to think I still believed there was a good man beneath all that drunken facade. But you know what? You're nothing but a coward. You've always been a coward!"

The words were like a spark in a powder keg.

Shinjuro’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous intensity. “You little —” he began, his voice low and menacing. Before he could finish, his hand shot out, striking Hoshiko across the face. Even though he didn’t want to hit her.

The blow sent her stumbling backward, a sharp pain radiating through her cheek. But she didn’t falter. The fire of her anger flared brighter, giving her the strength to fight back. Without thinking, Hoshiko’s fist flew, connecting with Shinjuro’s jaw. The impact stunned him, his head snapping to the side.

For a moment, they stood there, panting and glaring at each other, the air thick with animosity.

“You think you can hit me and get away with it?” Hoshiko shouted, her voice rising to a fever pitch. “You ruined my life, you drunken fucker!”

Shinjuro’s eyes blazed with fury as he lunged at her, his hand aiming for another strike.

But Hoshiko was ready this time. She dodged, her reflexes sharpened by adrenaline, and struck back with a force that surprised even herself. Her fist collided with his ribcage, eliciting a grunt of pain from him.

The room echoed with their shouts, their anger and hurt clashing in a violent symphony.

“You’re nothing but a drunk and a coward!” Hoshiko yelled, her voice breaking with the weight of her emotions.

Shinjuro, fueled by his own rage and guilt, lashed out wildly. “You’re a fool, Hoshiko,” he snarled. "You really think being a Hashira makes you better than everyone else? Absolutely not!"

Their confrontation spiraled into a chaotic brawl, each blow a release of the pent-up emotions that had festered between them for far too long. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional scars they inflicted on each other with every word, every strike.

Finally, with a last, desperate shove, Hoshiko pushed Shinjuro away from her. She stood there, chest heaving, tears streaming down her face, her body trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline. “I hate you,” she whispered, her voice raw and broken. “I hate what you’ve done to me.”

Shinjuro said nothing, the silence between them a chasm that could never be bridged.

Without another word, Hoshiko turned on her heel and fled the room, her footsteps echoing through the empty halls. She burst out of the estate, the cool night air hitting her like a wave of cold reality. She didn’t stop running until she was far from the Rengoku estate, her heart pounding with a mixture of relief and despair.

As she finally slowed, collapsing onto the ground, the weight of her actions crashed down on her. She had confronted her nightmare, faced the monster that had haunted her, and though she had fought back, the battle was far from over. The child growing inside her was a constant reminder of the pain and trauma she had endured. But in that moment, as she lay on the cold, hard ground, Hoshiko felt a flicker of something she hadn’t felt in a long time: a spark of resilience.

With a trembling hand, Hoshiko pushed herself up from the ground, each movement a testament to her strength and defiance. And as she set off into the night, a lone figure silhouetted against the darkness, she embraced the profound realization that within her dwelled the seed of hope, a radiant beacon amid the somber expanse of shadows.

Months later, after enduring a labor that felt like an eternity, Hoshiko finally gave birth to a beautiful son whom she named Takaya. The pain of childbirth had been excruciating, each contraction feeling like a relentless wave crashing over her, but the moment she held her precious baby in her arms, all the agony faded into insignificance.

Takaya was a surprise from the moment he entered the world. Unlike his half-brothers, Kyojuro and Senjuro, who were spitting images of their father, Takaya took after his mother. He had silver hair with red-gold endings, dark eyes that sparkled with curiosity, and features that bore a striking resemblance to Hoshiko herself.

In the early days after Takaya's birth, Hoshiko found herself overwhelmed by the demands of motherhood. The sleepless nights, the constant crying, the relentless cycle of feeding and changing — it all felt like too much to bear. At times, she even found herself resenting the infant in her arms, unable to reconcile her love for him with the pain and turmoil he represented.

But she was not alone.

Shinobu, her dear friend and confidante, was there every step of the way, offering a helping hand and a sympathetic ear. Shinobu instantly recognized the resemblance between Takaya and Shinjuro, but she never questioned it, never pushed Hoshiko to reveal her secret. Instead, she waited patiently for Hoshiko to find the strength to confide in her, knowing that it was a burden she would have to bear on her own terms. Concerned, Shinobu gently broached the subject, suggesting that Hoshiko might be experiencing some form of postpartum depression, even though Kocho knew there was something grimmer to the entire situation.

But Hoshiko brushed off her concerns, insisting that she was fine, that she just needed time to adjust.

And so, Shinobu watched from the sidelines, offering support and assistance where she could, but never pushing Hoshiko to confront her feelings.

Then, one day, as Hoshiko was feeding Takaya, something remarkable happened. With a heavy heart, she cradled him in her arms, her movements mechanical as she went through the motions of motherhood. As she gently rubbed his tummy, Takaya's chubby hand reached out, catching one of her fingers in a surprisingly strong grip. He held on tightly, his tiny fingers wrapping around hers as if seeking comfort and reassurance. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as their eyes met — Hoshiko's widening in astonishment, Takaya's innocent gaze fixed on her face.

In that moment, she felt a surge of pure love wash over her — a love so powerful, so overwhelming, that it seemed to fill every corner of her being. It was a love she hadn't known she was capable of, a love for the baby boy she had carried beneath her heart for nine months.

And in that moment, all her doubts and fears melted away. She looked down at Takaya's peaceful face, his tiny features softened in sleep, and she knew that no matter what the future held, she would do whatever it took to protect him, to cherish him, to love him with all her heart.

For he was her son, her precious Takaya, and nothing in this world could ever change that.

From the moment Hoshiko confronted Shinjuro about her pregnancy, their relationship disintegrated like grains of sand slipping through clenched fists. Their argument had been fierce, filled with accusations and recriminations, and in the aftermath, Shinjuro had vanished from her life completely.

At first, Hoshiko felt a pang of regret, a fleeting sense of loss for the man she had once loved. But as the days turned into weeks and then months, that regret gave way to a deep-seated conviction. She didn't want her son to have a father like Shinjuro — a man who couldn't even gather himself, let alone be a responsible parent. She was determined to raise Takaya on her own, surrounded by love and support from those who truly cared for them. And though the absence of Shinjuro left a void in her heart, she knew that she was better off without him, focusing all her energy on providing a bright and nurturing future for her son.

After leaving the Butterfly Mansion to return to her own house, Hoshiko and Takaya settled into their new life together. Despite the challenges of being a single mother, Hoshiko found solace and joy in the simple moments she shared with her son.

Their home became a sanctuary, a place filled with love and warmth, where Takaya could grow and thrive under his mother's watchful eye. And though they were alone, they were never truly lonely, for they were surrounded by friends who offered their support and companionship.

Shinobu was a constant presence in their lives, offering help and guidance whenever it was needed. Her gentle nature and unwavering kindness provided a sense of stability and comfort that Hoshiko cherished.

But they were not the only ones who visited.

On occasion, they were joined by Mitsuri and other Hashiras, who had taken an interest in Takaya's well-being. Mitsuri, in particular, had a soft spot for children and would often bring gifts and treats for Takaya, much to his delight.

Their visits brought a sense of community and belonging to Hoshiko's home. And as she watched Takaya laugh and play with his newfound friends, she knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, surrounded by the love and support of those who cared for them most.

The Ubuyashiki mansion, nestled in the serene countryside, had always been a place of solace and strategy for the Demon Slayer Corps.

But today, as the current Hashiras and seasoned demon slayers gathered, a heavy air of unease settled over the courtyard. The tranquil beauty of the mansion seemed at odds with the palpable tension among the warriors.

Shinjuro Rengoku, once a proud Flame Hashira, now a man burdened with the scars of battle and loss, stood among his peers. The years had not been kind to him, but his spirit remained unbroken. He had been summoned alongside the others by Kagaya Ubuyashiki, their leader, whose gentle demeanor hid the steel of a true strategist.

As they assembled, whispers filled the air, speculations about the reason for their urgent meeting.

The sight of Kagaya, his calm yet sorrowful expression, silenced the murmurs. He sat gracefully, his voice carrying the weight of authority and compassion as he addressed his warriors. "A new, very powerful demon has been spotted in the surrounding area," Kagaya began, his tone grave. "Within just a few days, it has decimated nearly an entire village under one of the mountains."

A collective gasp rippled through the Hashiras.

Mitsuri Kanroji, the Love Hashira, her eyes wide with concern, stepped forward. "Do we know more about this demon, Oyakata-sama? Its origins or its strength?"

Kagaya's expression grew even more sorrowful, and he took a moment before answering. "Yes, Mitsuri. We do know more. This demon is unlike any we have faced before because Muzan has achieved something unprecedented. He has managed to turn one of our own into a demon."

The shock that followed was immediate and profound. Whispers turned into exclamations of disbelief, the Hashiras' faces reflecting a mix of horror, sadness, and betrayal.

Shinjuro's heart sank, his fists clenching at his sides as he tried to process the gravity of the situation. The idea that one of their own could be corrupted by Muzan's malevolence was almost too much to bear. "Who?" The former Flame Hashira’s voice cut through the din, rough and demanding. "Who did Muzan turn?"

Kagaya's gaze met Shinjuro's, the pain in his eyes evident. "It was Akiyama Hoshiko."

Silence fell over the courtyard, the weight of the revelation pressing down on them all.

Gyomei Himejima, the Stone Hashira, his usual stoic demeanor faltering, spoke up. "How could this happen?”

Kagaya shook his head, his expression one of deep sorrow. "We do not know the specifics. Hoshiko was on a solo mission when she disappeared. When she reappeared, it was as a demon, leading the attack on the village."

Tengen Uzui, the Sound Hashira, slammed his fist into his palm, his eyes blazing with fury. "We need to stop her. We can't let her continue to wreak havoc."

Mitsuri's eyes filled with tears, her voice trembling. "How do we do that? How do we fight someone who was once our friend, our comrade?"

Gyomei gripped his prayer beads tightly. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he bowed his head, murmuring a prayer. "Hoshiko's spirit must be in torment. We must find a way to save her, to free her from this cursed fate."

Sanemi Shinazugawa, the Wind Hashira, let out a low growl, his fists clenching at his sides. "Damn that Muzan. Hoshiko was a strong-willed fighter.”

Shinobu Kocho, the Insect Hashira, her face a mask of calm despite the turmoil inside, spoke with quiet determination. "Muzan's actions are unforgivable. We need to gather all the information we can about how he managed to turn Hoshiko. This could be crucial in preventing further losses."

Ubuyashiki let out a heavy sigh, "I understand your pain and anger. Hoshiko's fate is a tragic reminder of the lengths Muzan will go to achieve his goals. We must remain united and strong. Our mission is not just to stop the demon Hoshiko has become, but to honor the warrior and friend she once was."

The courtyard was filled with a heavy silence, each Hashira and demon slayer lost in their thoughts.

Shinjuro's heart sank as the reality of Kagaya's words settled over him like a suffocating shroud. Akiyama Hoshiko, a woman who had captured his heart in the most unexpected of circumstances, had been turned into a demon. The weight of it was almost unbearable, the guilt and sorrow intertwining in his chest.

Without a word, Shinjuro excused himself and walked away from the gathered Hashiras, his steps heavy. He needed a moment to process this, to grapple with the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to consume him. Finding a secluded corner of the courtyard, he leaned against the wall, his mind racing with memories of Hoshiko. Despite the darkness he had brought into her life, she had always shown him kindness, and in turn, he had developed a deep affection for her.

As he stood there, lost in thought, the sound of small, hurried footsteps broke through his reverie. He turned his head to see a young boy, no older than five years, dart into the courtyard. The boy's eyes were wide with curiosity and worry, and he seemed to be searching for someone. Shinjuro watched, a faint sense of unease creeping over him.

The boy spotted Shinobu Kocho and ran to her, his small voice calling out, "Auntie!"

Shinobu scooped the boy up in her arms, holding him close.

"Where's mama?" the boy asked, his voice laced with innocent concern.

Shinjuro's gaze locked onto the child, his heart pounding in his chest. The boy's eyes... He would recognize those eyes anywhere. Hoshiko's eyes. For a brief moment, the boy glanced at him, and Shinjuro felt a shock of recognition. No, it couldn't be true. It was impossible. Yet, the resemblance was undeniable.

He took a step forward, his voice barely a whisper. "Kocho... who is that boy?"

Shinobu, her expression a mix of sadness and understanding, looked at Shinjuro. "This is Akiyama Takaya. He's Hoshiko's son."

Shinjuro felt the ground shift beneath him, the revelation hitting him like a physical blow. His mind reeled with the implications. "Takaya..." Shinjuro repeated the name, his voice trembling. He looked at the boy again, his heart aching. "How... How long has he been with you?"

Shinobu sighed, holding Haruto a little tighter. "Since Hoshiko went missing. She left him in my care before she went on her last mission. She feared for his safety and wanted to ensure he was protected."

Shinobu, her expression a mix of sadness and understanding, looked at Shinjuro emphatically.

At that moment, Shinjuro understood instantly. The boy was his son. The child had Hoshiko's eyes, but the red-golden endings in his hair were unmistakable. Shinjuro had a third son. He saw the confirmation in her eyes, but his mind demanded clarity. He looked at her questioningly, his gaze imploring her to confirm his thoughts.

Shinobu nodded silently, confirming all of his thoughts.

Shinjuro's gaze lingered on Takaya, whose frail body rested against Shinobu's shoulder, his tiny hand clutching desperately at her sleeve. The boy's innocent face was etched with a weariness that no child should ever know, and the sight carved a deep wound into Shinjuro's already scarred heart. The air around them was thick with unspoken sorrow and an unbearable sense of loss.

He knew what he had to do. He had to find Hoshiko. He had to save her, but the gnawing truth in his soul told him that the only true salvation for her now lay in the release of death. Yet, how could he bring himself to extinguish the light of the woman he had fallen in love with?

"I will bring her back," Shinjuro vowed, his voice a low, menacing growl that echoed with a promise of both salvation and doom. "I will find her and bring her back. For him."

The words hung in the air, heavy with a grim finality. Deep down, Rengoku knew that to bring her back meant more than just saving her - it meant ending her torment in the only way left. The darkness that surrounded his vow was as inescapable as the fate he knew awaited Hoshiko.

#shinjuro rengoku smut #shinjuro smut #rengoku shinjuro smut #kny smut #demon slayer shinjuro #demon slayer x oc #shinjuro rengoku x oc #kny x oc #original female character #ko fi commissions #kny angst #shinjuro rengoku #writing commissions #kofi commission #writing commission #writing commission open #smutty fanfiction #divider by cafekitsune

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sandwitchstories · 1 month ago

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The Crone of Purgatory Ch1: Hinokoku

Intro: Hi everyone! After many months of talking about getting my high fantasy fic written, I am proud to present you with the first chapter! This is a wholly original world and alternate universe created by me and me alone. The KNy characters involved will not always act like they would in canon and that is because this is not canon!

This is my first attempt at writing fantasy and I hope you enjoy it and will be back for the rest of the story! Likes, reblogs and comments always make my day! I have Tinkerbell syndrome - interactions from readers gives me life!

MDNI. 18+ only.

I am not responsible for what you choose to consume on the internet.

Here we go!

Fic Summary: In a world filled with magic where soulmates exist, newly mated Bri Tsugikuni and Kyojuro Rengoku have their new life together thrown into turmoil when a betrayal that crosses dimensions threatens to give the blood thirsty Muzan Kiutsuji the power he needs to take over the Ubuyashiki lands.

Chapter 1 Summary: After awakening with a mate's mark on her neck, Bri Tsugikuni finds herself trekking into the unfamiliar territory of the Dragonkin homeland to have a little talk with their prince, Kyojuro Rengoku.

If you prefer to read on AO3, please click here! (Please visit AO3 link for a full list of content tags)

WC: 4000+

Chapter CW: Sex mentioned, mates marks, soul mates, fem OC, witch OC, Dragonkin Kyojuro Rengoku, Fantasy AU, talk about dysfunctional family, witch craft, useless hellhound familiar, this chapter is actually SFW.

Bri Tsugikuni took a deep breath as she stared at the small distortion in energy floating in front of her. It was a portal that would take her to Hinokoku, the land of fire. It was there that the Flame Grove, composed of an elemental species known as Dragonkin, had put down their roots millennia ago.

She chewed her lip as she put her grimoire away. She picked up her familiar, a miniature hellhound named Maybe, into her arms and kissed his small fluffy head. She needed to get moving, she needed to speak with their prince and it could not wait.

“Alright, Maybe, here we go!” she said to her familiar, smiling at the supportive yip it let out.

She summoned her magic and held out her hand, touching the distortion with her open palm before resting her fingertips against the ripple. It had a seal on it permitting only those of the Dragonkin inside. She closed her eyes and focused her magic to mimic the flow of trace energy in the seal so the portal would allow her in, reading her as one of their own. The fissure opened into a larger oval shape and with a deep breath, she stepped through.

Hinokoku was nothing like she had thought it would be. She had imagined the home of Dragonkin and Dragon Kind would be desert-like, with dark rocks, sand, stone and steel buildings, sparse landscape. She could not have been more wrong.

It was warmer than her northern homeland and there was luscious green all over the landscape. There even appeared to be ivy hanging down from the many floating ‘islands’ sprinkled throughout the sky. There were tall cliffs with different sized and colored dragons, known as Dragon Kind hanging from ledges as some soared above head in the clear blue sky.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Bri whispered in awe as she took it all in. “Incredible.”

Maybe yipped and squirmed to be put down. Bri obliged, happy to have her arms free. She adjusted the bag on her back before they began walking down the path they had materialized on.

Other than several trips to visit her maternal grandparents, she had spent her whole life living far north in the bustling city of Bukhta Ved'm. It was the capital of the witch’s territory and located on a stretch of land near the gulf. It’s name meant Witch Cove. It was more commonly referred to as The Crescent for it’s moon-like shape.

It was where the Grand Coven’s Headquarters were and where her family castle, Tsugikuni Keep, stood. While not as nearly as large as the capital city of Wisteria, one had to go out into the woods or the far out beaches if one wanted to lose themself in nature, which for witches like herself was incredibly important.

The Crescent was cold more often than not. Its winters were harsh, often dipping below freezing. Bri had spent her life navigating swamps and marshlands during the thaw and navigating tundras, snow packed mountains, and miles of landscape filled with leafless trees reaching out from a cloak of fog like ghostly fingers during the freeze.

She had joked once at a family meal that Bukhta Ved'm should be referred to as a necropolis instead of a metropolis, but only her cousins found her amusing. Her father, Yoriichi, had simply stated that would be illogical as the Crescent was full of many actual necropolises. Her uncles had just… slowly blinked and resumed another conversation. Her father and his brothers were oftentimes the personifications of the term ‘wet towels.’

Bri frowned at the memory of that meal. Regrettably, that was how most conversations with her family went. She had never ‘fit in’ with her family or the coven as a whole, really. She was not soft spoken or submissive. She did not fall in line simply because she was told to. She questioned everything. If something had limits, she was going to find that limit, poke it and push it. Her open defiance and refusal to continue with the status quo she did not agree with were a constant source of contention with her uncles.

Her father loved her and gave her far more freedom that he should have in her uncles’ eyes. But Yoriichi knew when she was young that she would need to run free. She remembered a time as a young teenager that she had gone to her father crying because one of the boys had told her no one would ever want her because she would never be tamed. Her father had tucked her hair behind her ear, kissed her forehead and told her that some women were not meant to be tamed. He had said there were those like her who were meant to run wild until they found someone who could keep up and run wild beside them. He had told her there was someone for everyone and that he would look away if she turned that boy into a tadpole.

Turns out Papa was right. The mate's mark on her neck was proof there indeed was someone for everyone. Kyojuro had kept up with her step for step (and thrust for thrust) during their whirlwind weekend in Wisteria. She just hoped that experience had not been an isolated incident.

Bri worried her lip as she walked. She was hoping she would be welcomed and that the flame-brained prince she needed to speak with was somewhere around. A week ago she had ended up spending several very… passionate days and nights in the company of Kyojuro Rengoku, the Dragonkin’s eldest prince. This morning she had woken up with a mate’s mark in the exact same place on her freaking neck as Kyojuro had sunk his teeth into during a moment of passion.

Kyojuro was not just a prince though. He was a well known and well respected warrior who was one of the knights of King Kagaya’s most elite force, the Hashira. They had both been visiting the capital city for different reasons but had crossed paths by sheer happenstance of both being friends with the Sound Lion Pride.

The Sound Lion ‘s King, Tenge Uzui, had a pride made up of himself and his three wives who happened to be witches who had also trained as kunoichi - Suma, Makio and Hinatsaru. As a High Priestess of the Grand Coven, Bri knew them pretty well. Kyojuro and Tengen were Hashira together and got along exceptionally well.

Bri blushed as she thought about it all. The first night had been sloppy, goofy drunken sex filled with the passion and excitement of a new partner. But the next morning had been an entirely different experience as had the next several days that followed until their duties forced them to go in opposite directions.

Bri had certainly wanted to see the handsome man again, but not necessarily like this. If her mark had shown today, she had no doubts his had as well. She had sunk her own teeth into the crook of his neck that very same night. And it just so happened that the universe had decided they were in fact soul mates.

The only reason Bri had even been able to find the portal here was following the traces of the red string that would forever connect the two of them to each other. She paused and looked down the road ahead, it was a ways until they got into the village that was still small dots on the horizon. She could teleport them closer but she was trying to keep a low profile and not set off alerts by using her magic. However, she had no intentions of walking that far.

Bri held out her hand and focused her powers, conjuring her broom to her hand. Space swapping was a very handy ability to have. She picked Maybe up and set him in her lap as she mounted her broom, once again glad she had never been the gowns and skirts type.

After a while, Bri needed to stretch her legs and let Maybe run a bit. She was delighted when she found a small waterfall with a blue lagoon at its base. She set her broom down and took off her boots and socks, followed by rolling up her pants to her knees so they would not get wet.

The first thing she did was rest her feet in the soft grass to ground and tune herself to the energy of the land itself. And then she plopped down on the water’s edge and stuck her feet in, letting out a sigh of pleasure at how warm the water was.

“Those pointed ears and your odd magic stick out like a sore thumb, girl,” a man’s voice said from behind.

Bri turned, startled that she had not sensed the man before he spoke and Maybe had not barked. He better be glad he is cute, he is useless as a familiar.

She found herself looking at an older, more hardened and stubble faced version of her mate. “I stick out like a sore thumb everywhere. It’s kind of my thing.”

The man chuckled and came to sit beside her. “I recognize you, that hair color and those markings. You’re Yoriichi’s daughter.”

“I am. And you are King Rengoku?” she asked, testing if she should bow or anything.

“Just call me Shinjuro,” he gave her a lopsided grin. His eyes caught the bright red runic mark on her neck and he chuckled. “Ah, so that’s why a High Priestess is paying us an unexpected visit.”

“It is,” she said, subconsciously touching the mark with her fingers. “I awoke with it this morning and I set out… It did not feel like something that should wait.”

“Why didn’t you just teleport into town?” he asked, cocking his head at her.

“My magic is off putting even to those who have been around it my entire life. I did not wish to make anyone uncomfortable and I was… unsure how my presence would be perceived since I… kinda…broke in…”

“Broke in?” Shinjuro repeated with a laugh, it softened his features and made him resemble Kyojuro even more. As if that were possible.

“Yeah…”

“Nah, you didn’t break in, kiddo,” he said, reaching over and squeezing her shoulder before standing.

“If I did not break in, what would you call it?” she asked, looking up at him.

Shinjuro extended a hand and helped her to her feet. “You’re mated to my son. I’d simply call it coming home. Are you ready to go see your mate and meet your mother and brother in law?”

“Yes. Thank you,” she said softly, blinking back tears.

She had never felt truly welcome anywhere. Her father loved her dearly, she knew that. Her late mother had been warm and beautiful, loving. She had been killed during a coups when Bri was young. Her mother and others that died that night still had not gotten their vengeance, their killer, a filthy traitor, still walked free to this day. If Bri ever found out who it was, she would happily pay them back in kind.

They lived with her father’s family and her uncles were not warm. Her father was very unexpressive but had a heart of gold. She was not sure her uncles even had hearts at all. Her cousins, Kanae and Shinobu loved her dearly, but they were off being newly mated couples with their own Hashira, as irony would have it. But even when they had been there, she had still never felt like it was ‘home.’ Or maybe that was to say, it had never felt like she imagined one’s true ‘home’ would feel like.

Her saving grace had been her mother’s best friend Gailen and his husband, Ragnar. They were Nichirin Mountain Dwarves. They had grown up mining and learning the art of blacksmithing before leaving it all behind to live a life that made them happy, choosing to relocate with her mother when she moved in with Yoriichi. Gailen brewed the finest meads, ales, wines and sakes in all of the lands of Wisteria as far as Bri was concerned. Ragnar was a master craftsman who made the wands and brooms for the Tsugkuni clan and the other families of the High Council, the ruling body of the Grand Coven. The two surly old dwarves had decided to stay at the keep even after Ute died. Bri wasn’t positive as to why, but she would always be glad they had.

Being the Crone meant that Bri’s magic was what many would refer to as black magic or dark arts. It was a common misconception, across seemingly all races, that those magics were inherently bad. Magic was a tool. Just like a bow or a blade. Whether it was used for a good cause or a bad one relied solely on who was wielding it. Magic itself had no morality.

Her abilities were heavily intertwined with death, time and the spirit realm. Topics and magics that were always referred to as ‘unsettling’ by those who did not work with them, And yet, Kyojuro had welcomed her into the booth at the pub that night with a smile. He had then spent the next several days (and nights) welcoming her into his arms (and bed). He didn’t seem to mind that her skin ran cooler than most others or her aura that was said to feel like the chill of an early morning mist.

She glanced at Shinjuro and noticed he seemed at ease. Time would tell if the others of his grove felt the same about her presence. She hoped they did but she knew better than to get her hopes up. She put her broom away, grabbed her bag and Maybe, and moved to stand next to Shinjuro.

Her father in law teleported them directly into the main hall of the main Rengoku mansion. She looked around, taking it in. The home was decorated in ornate tapestries, with intricately decorated shoji doors, bonsai trees in gorgeous vases and a beautiful rich flooring under her feet.

She followed behind Shinjuro thinking to herself how stark of a difference there was in their homes. Tsugikuni Keep was a black stone castle and fortress. It was always cold and dark. Even the draperies were dark. Everything was dark.

But not here. It was warm, colorful. It felt lived in. More and more she was starting to see why Kyojuro was as warm as he was.

“Father! We have almost finished making lunch!” a young voice called from another room.

She followed Shinjuro into a large open kitchen where a beautiful woman and a pre-teen boy stood side by side making dumplings. It smelled delicious and her stomach growled in agreement. She just hoped no one had heard it.

“Did you find the distur-” the woman stopped speaking mid sentence when she turned around and saw her husband standing with the young woman next to him. She took in Bri’s hair color and markings. “A visit from a High Priestess?”

“I am not here on official business,” Bri said quickly, reaching up with one hand to nervously tuck hair behind her ear.

“Oh?” the woman asked, reaching for a towel to wipe her delicate looking hands.

“Bri, please meet Ruka and Senjuro,” Shinjuro said as he moved to kiss his wife’s forehead. “And you two, please meet Kyojuro’s mate, Bri.”

“Oh,” the woman said, a smile spreading across her face as Bri’s hand once again moved to touch the mark on her neck. She moved forward and took Bri’s free hand in hers. “Welcome home, daughter. Are you hungry or would you like to go speak with Kyojuro first?”

“I’d like to speak with him, if you don’t mind,” Bri gave back what she hoped was a pleasant smile that did not reveal her anxiousness. Maybe yipped in her arms and Bri instantly shushed him.

“Is that a dog?” Senjuro asked as he approached but stayed close to his mother.

“He’s a hellhound and my familiar. He’s very friendly. His name is Maybe. Would you like to pet him?” Bri asked.

The younger copy of Kyojuro nodded and hesitantly reached out his hand, laughing when Maybe started licking his fingers as soon as they were close enough and then tucked his head into the boy’s palm. Senjuro giggled and looked up at Bri with bright eyes, “Would you like me to take you to brother, sister? Oh!... Uhm… is it okay to call you that?”

“I would appreciate it if you would take me to him and as for calling me sister, it would make me very happy if you did,” she grinned at him.

Gods, Kyojuro’s family was so welcoming. It was such a different experience than any she had had before. She felt almost unsure what to do when confronted with kindness. She was used to her family’s indifference or the coven member’s fearful respect. Sure, she had her cousins and a few close friends, but even their warmth paled in comparison to what she felt here.

She gave Ruka and Shinjuro a little wave and followed behind Senjuro as he headed out into the yard. She kept pace with him easily, looking around as they walked at the tall trees with bright blooming flowers. “It’s so beautiful, so… bright here. Is it always so warm?”

“Most of the time. We do get winters and it snows sometimes, but for the most part it's like this,” Senjuro answered. He looked up at her and asked, “Where are you from?”

“I grew up in Bukhta Ved'm, way up north on the Crescent,” she answered with a smile, setting Maybe down to let him run.

“What is it like there?” he asked.

“Most of the time it is very cold. It rains and snows quite a bit. And we don’t have floating islands,” Bri chuckled.

“I can’t imagine living somewhere without them,” Senjuro looked up into the sky as they walked. “Being somewhere without the islands, without Dragon Kind soaring through the sky… It just would not feel like home.”

“If I had lived somewhere like this, I never would have wanted to leave,” Bri admitted. “It’s unlike any place I have ever seen. I have traveled to territories belonging to elves, fae, trolls, dwarves, even to the goblin capital once - and never have I seen something that could compare to this.”

Senjuro grinned at her, “Does that mean you and brother will live here?”

Bri stumbled at the innocent question. Shit, what should she say? She opted for honesty, “I do not know. Your brother and I have… many things to discuss.”

Senjuro furrowed his brow. “Are you not happy to be mated to my brother?”

“It’s not that at all!” Bri was quick to say. “I am very happy Kyojuro is my mate. We just need to talk and figure things out. I do not want to give you an incorrect answer.”

“Oh, okay,” Senjuro nodded.

“I… I would like to though,” Bri admitted with a small smile.

Senjuro grinned at her before he pointed out to the horizon to the west. “Keep an eye on the sky right there. Brother is training with his Tsuguko.”

“Tsu-gu-ko?” Bri sounded out the word.

“That’s right!” Senjuro gave her a bright smile that made him look younger. “They are like… apprentices. They are learning how to use their abilities and the art of the sword.”

“Are they Dragonkin as well?”

“Tanjiro is Sun Dragonkin but Zenitsu is a Storm Wielder. Inosuke is a shapeshifter and Nezuko is a changeling,” Senjuro listed them off while they continued towards them.

“Interesting,” Bri said.

She mulled over the information in her mind. A Dragonkin apprentice made sense for obvious reasons. As did a Shapeshifter as they could channel the aspects of different animal souls they harbored within them. It would not be out of the realm of possibilities for them to make a pact with a Dragon Kind; they would then need a Dragonkin trainor…

The other two however were puzzling. Changelings could change the traits of their physical form but it was always a humanoid form. And a Storm Wielder? What on Earth was an elemental sorcerer doing here?

“How did your brother come by his Tsuguko?” She asked, hoping to get some answers.

“Tanjiro and Nezuko are siblings and the other two they met during Final Selection.”

“Ah, so they are member’s of his Majesty’s Corps. That makes sense.” She felt her cheeks heat. Of Course that’s how they met, her mate was a Hashira after all… Doh!

She thought about his words and had a follow up question. “Didn’t you say Tanjiro was Dragonkin and Nezuko is changeling?”

“They had a parent of each background,” Senjuro supplied with a smile. “A lot of Dragonkin mate with other races.”

“Got any other witches?” Bri asked with a chuckle.

“You would actually be the first,” Senjuro gave her a smile that seemed unsure.

“Really? Wow,” Bri made a noncommittal noise as she tried to rack her brain to think of a single other witch she had heard of mating with a Dragonkin and she could not. Interesting. Oh well, they were missing out.

“Do you guys have Dragonkin on the Crescent?” he asked.

“We do have several emissaries that live in the city. They are not from the Flame Grove though. The main city is mostly witches but with their mates we have werewolves, elves, fae, troll, goblin, dwarves and more all living on the Crescent,” Bri smiled. “My mother’s two best friends are Dwarves. They work with the coven and live at my family's keep. They pretty much raised me since my father was gone so much.”

“Not your mother?” Senjuro asked with the expected innocence of a child.

“She was killed when I was young in a coup. I don’t really remember her, but she was a frost elf. Hence my pointy ears.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, it was many years ago and it does not upset me to speak of her. Speaking of the departed are how we keep them alive in our hearts,” Bri gave his shoulder a squeeze.

A sudden loud noise and a flash from the sky had Bri snatching Maybe off the ground into her arms and shoving Senjuro behind her, intending to protect him with her life. An impact shook the ground vigorously and knocked them over onto their backs. Bri felt an incredibly strong presence rushing towards them and began to summon her magic. In less than the time it takes to blink, Bri found herself flat on her back staring into the handsome face of her mate who was currently squatting, hunched over her with his nose centimeters from her own. “Kyojuro…”

“Good afternoon, High Priestess!”

Bri was in awe of his shifted form. His curled horns were far more pronounced in this state. The usually golden scales on his hairline and neck were currently a deep crimson. His pupils were serpentine and his fangs elongated. He wore crimson leather armor and a giant smile on his face.

With a shake of his head and a flash he was back to the form she knew well, “Something wrong, my treasure?”

“You big, scaly jerk!” Bri thumped his chest, flustered and glaring up at him while her heart worked to slow to its normal rhythm.

Kyojuro let out a loud laugh before standing and helped her to her feet. He gestured to Maybe. “And who is this?”

“That is Maybe!” Senjuro happily answered, completely unphased by his brother’s almost overwhelming power and getting to his feet.

“He’s my familiar,” Bri added as the small black dog with overly large ears jumped from her arms onto the ground.

Kyojuro squatted down and held out his hand to the small beast. “His energy is odd.”

“He’s a hell hound. He is neither living nor dead,” Bri answered, watching him scratch the mangy mutt’s back.

“Why Maybe for a name?”

“My father said Maybe I could keep him. Then we said Maybe he would grow into his ears. Then we said Maybe he would just.. grow. And then we said Maybe he’s just going to stay tiny and be filled with condensed evil,” Bri chuckled with a grin. “So, Maybe it was. And little and condensed evil he stayed. I found him when I was 6, we’ve been together since.”

“He’s cute,” Kyojuro smiled as he stood and Maybe made his way over to Senjuro, who immediately bent down to play with him.

“He’s a useless pain in the ass,” she corrected with a smirk. "But he's mine and we come as a set."

Kyojuro moved closer to her, once again giving no mind to her personal space. Warm, calloused fingers gently turned her chin up to look into her eyes. “What luck I have then, as that means I get to claim you both as mine.

#sandwitchstories #the crone of purgatory #Kyojuro Rengoku x OC #rengoku kyojuro x oc #rengoku x OC #kny x oc #demon slayer x oc #high fantasy au #witches and shapeshifters au #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fantasy au #totally original fantasy world #rengoku is my husband in every universe #rengoku #kny rengoku #kny rengoku x oc

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