#i'm sorry this stupid song gave me brainrot & this came out.

[bellsplit]

` ❅ ||   @fallesto.   »   (  unprompted.  )

IT'S  NOT  IMPOSSIBLE,   the concept of an imprint having been left by the mortal upon the mind of the immortal.     the dying influencing the undying with a touch of fleeting wisdom or some spared immaterial kindness.     something  meaningful.     of something ... just enough to encourage introspection.

the bellsplitter doesn't often  cogitate.     he's a very  active  demon,  the sort to throw fists first & ask important questions later ;    yet this evening finds him in tense thought as he closes the distance between himself & the scent of embers on a summer's night.     there are  other  scents  at  the  rengoku  estate  tonight,   coupled with the foreign stench of  wisteria  that makes him wrinkle his nose.     surely kyojuro hasn't lit any incense!     no,  that smell makes his guts writhe & his head become foggy :    it's  fresh,   flowers cut just this morning,  likely carried by someone with knowledge of the presence of an oni ...

the roof tiles are cool & slick with rain beneath his silent feet & akaza listens.     through the pitter—patter of inclement weather he makes out voices,  two of them ... no,  three :    gods,  all three rengokus sound so alike at times.     the frightened tremor of senjuro mixed with the slurred & muddled anger of shinjuro creates a furrow between pink brows,  causing the demon to crouch a bit lower so he can try to peer over the edge of the roof & see just  what  mess  is going on in the courtyard.

figures,  six of them :    the three rengokus & ... three strangers bearing the crest of the demon slayer corps on their backs.

he ought to turn away because this night has suddenly gotten  so  much  more  complicated  than he'd wanted it to be.     really,  what business is this of his?     let the demon slayers pry,  their master has already decided that kyojuro is unfit to return to duty,  hasn't he?     that he'll never recover enough to pick up a sword again?     so just  what  the  hell  can they want?

intrigued,  destructive death leans down a little bit more.     though it's true that akaza can't profess kyojuro to be  his  friend,   he also is no longer inclined to view him as simply another combatant ... & that,  perhaps,  is what has made all of this so enticing.     they've had nights of anger,  of harsh words,  of the expected exchange between beleagered human & persistent oni ;    nights of somber silence,  of melancholy sighs,  of heavy discussions of the inevitible ;    nights of blooming camraderie,  of shared meals,  maybe even of  mutual  connection.

so there has to be  something  going on here that deserves exploration ... right?

again there's an angry outburst from shinjuro,  followed by a defensive little interjection from senjuro,  whose tone has only increased in volume & pitch ... yet kyojuro  remains  silent,   his head downcast.     the person in the center of the group of three demon slayers,  whom he can only assume is  another  hashira  based on the level of fighting spirit that he can detect,  steps forward & puts a hand on kyojuro's shoulder,  speaks to him in hushed yet firm tones that are just barely drowned out by the rain but clear enough all the same.

they're  going  to  take  him  away. they're  going  to  take  him  away  because  of  me.

ice floods his veins.     to intervene is always a risk.     to intervene against  another  demon  is even larger.     but to intervene when it comes to the  demon  slayer  corps  is the worst possible decision of all.     but he's invested too much time,  too much energy,  too much  humanity  in the flame pillar to see his time come to an end now,  at  the  hands  of  humans  no  less.

but  they  could  EXECUTE  HIM  because  of  me.

NO.

"  KYOJURO !!  "

one moment he's veiled beneath the raindust obscuring the rooftops,  the next he's flying from the eaves with all the rage of a man with  everything  to  lose.     in an instant the courtyard is enveloped in his trademark chaos & panicked cries as he's scooping the flame pillar up by the waist before anyone can intervene,  the touch of fresh wisteria burning his pale skin where the purple petals have been  thrown  in the tumult.     carrying kyojuro's deadweight is no problem for the third moon,  who easily vaults to the top of the nearest wall,  ignoring his captive's protests if there are any,  &  throwing  himself  into the foggy abyss beyond.