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whenikissedthegiyuu · 1 month ago

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Kinktober 2024

Aphrodisiac w/ Rengoku Kyoujurou

word count 2.3k

this was a drabble i never finished for my rengoku x oc universe, i decided to finish it and make it x reader to use it for kinktober. the only details i left was giyuu being protective of reader, bc my oc is like a sister for him, and she lives with rengoku bc she's his tsuguko :)

18+ mdni. fem!reader, smut, use of aphrodisiacs (rengoku n reader don't know), masturbation (f), slight voyeurism, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), spitting, sex (p in v), pet names (baby, good girl, darling), breeding and pregnancy kinks, written in 2nd pov

kinktober 2024 mlist can also read on ao3

The Hashira glanced over his shoulder when he heard your footsteps behind him, watching as you knelt down beside him to place a tray on the floor of the engawa where he was sitting. A small smile was on his lips as he reached for the cup of tea you were offering him.

“Thank you!” He took a sip of the tea, humming at the unfamiliar taste. “Is this new? Where did you get this from?”

“Uzui gave it to me, he said I would like it, and to share it with you.” You grabbed your own tea, sipping at it as the two of you conversed until your cups were empty and you could barely keep your eyes open. You were exhausted after having so many missions back to back, finally having a few days to yourself, and you wanted to sleep like a baby for days.

Despite your tiredness, you felt your cheeks heating up and a familiar pulsing sensation between your legs. Kyoujurou seemed to be leaning toward you as he spoke to you, his pinky ending up curled over yours. Your breath hitched in your throat at the touch.

You sat up abruptly, tearing yourself away from him. “I should probably go to bed.”

The blond stared at you, lips parted and cheeks just as flushed as yours. He had always felt something for you from the moment he met you, something he identified as love now. He was always touching you, always making sure you ate, always making sure you trained hard, always ignoring the way Tomioka’s eyes narrowed when his hands lingered on your waist…

He watched as you grabbed the empty cups and stood up. He stared at the hem of your uniform, eyes taking in the skin of your thighs between the skirt and your stockings. He caught the way your legs pressed together for a moment before heading to the kitchen.

He didn’t have to look down to know that his uniform was doing little to nothing to hide the tent forming in his pants. He sighed and looked up at the bright moon in the sky, deciding to head out on his patrol when nothing he thought about made his erection go away.

It only became worse. He was panting for air by the time he made his way back to his estate. His eyes were glazed over, his cheeks sported a bright red blush, his cock was hard as a rock in his pants. His mind immediately went to the tea you had given him, but dismissed the thought immediately when he remembered just how composed you seemed when he left.

He stopped at your door, wanting to check up on you, but he didn’t want to wake you up after how tired you had seemed. He turned to head straight to his own room, only to hear a soft whimper from behind your door. He went to slide it open, but the moan that followed had him pausing when he had barely opened it an inch, but now he was at least able to see you.

Were his suspicions about the tea correct, after all?

You were laying on your futon, head thrown back and lips parted as another moan left you. You had changed into a yukata, which was left open as your hands worked between your legs. He could see the curve of your breast, your nipple barely concealed by your clothing. His cock twitched in his pants, throbbing almost painfully as he tried to force himself to close the door, but he was frozen in place.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull and your hips bucked toward your hand as you reached your climax. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, wishing that you would just lift your leg just enough to see your cunt clenching around your fingers.

You laid back on the bed as you caught your breath, completely unaware that the Hashira’s eyes were watching your every move, his hand moving to palm himself over his pants. You turned to lay on your stomach, but he saw your shoulder was moving.

You were still touching yourself.

He couldn’t help the shaky breath that left his lips, louder than he had intended. Your head suddenly turned toward the door, eyes wide. Despite every cell in his body begging him to stare at your body when you sat up on your knees, he turned his gaze to the floor as you covered yourself up.

“I-” Rengoku was uncharacteristically speechless, his breath catching in his throat as he felt his body grow warmer, the urge to take off his clothes and feel your soft skin against him trying to take over his senses. He held onto the door after he slid it open. “I shouldn’t have spied on you like that, I heard some noise and thought…” He trailed off, meeting your eyes again.

You didn’t seem mortified or upset with him. Your pupils were dilated, chest heaving as you stared up at him, still on your knees. Your eyes darted to his cock and it twitched when you leaned forward, as if about to crawl over to him, but caught yourself before you actually moved.

“I’m going to kill Tengen.” You laughed softly, coming to the same conclusion as Rengoku that the tea had been an aphrodisiac.

He slammed the door shut behind him and kneeled down in front of you in less than a second, a growl coming from his chest at hearing another man’s name coming from your mouth. From this close he noticed your tear stained cheeks, your wetness coating your fingers, your thighs clenching under his curious gaze.

“Please, don’t look at me like that.” You murmured.

He met your eyes again. “Like what?” His hand came up to cup your cheek and you leaned into his touch almost instinctively. “Like I want you push you down on this futon and fuck you until whatever herb we consumed is out of our systems?”

He grabbed your hand and slowly raised it up to his lips, pausing to allow you to say no, to push him away, to stop him. “Stop me if you don’t want this.” Your eyes darted curiously between his eyes and his lips, waiting with baited breath what he would do. Encountering no resistance from you, he opened his mouth and took your middle and ring fingers in, his grip tightening around your wrist at the taste of your pussy. He sucked them clean and dropped your hand to pull you into a kiss.

He swore that he could come just from your moans vibrating against his lips. You held onto his arms as you tasted yourself on his lips. You felt lightheaded, both from the aphrodisiac and the intensity of his kiss. He pulled away from your lips with a groan and pushed you to lay down. You propped yourself on your elbows to watch the blond as he pushed your yukata open, his eyes taking in every single inch of bare skin. He laid down between your parted legs and dove right in to lick from your entrance to your clit, making you clench and throw your head back.

“Oh, fuck me, Kyou-” You gasped, the herbs making you feel every touch intensely. You were already on the verge of coming and he had barely even touched you.

He looked down at your quivering hole, spreading your lips before spitting on your cunt. He watched it slide down from your clit, then slid a finger inside you. His lips fell to your thigh as he worked a second finger in. You were so warm and hot around his fingers, fuck he couldn’t wait to feel it around his cock.

He kissed and sucked and licked your inner thighs as he fingered you, his pace rough and unrelenting, but he would take his time once the effects had subsided, he would kiss you gently and whisper sweet nothings into your ear, but he just couldn’t take it slow when he felt you clenching so tightly around his fingers.

Your back arched off the futon, your hands fisted the fabric beneath you. You came with a cry of his name when his thumb started rubbing your clit. He panted as he watched you, his hips grinding down against the floor. He stopped moving his fingers, instead leaning down to lick at your wetness. Your thighs tensed at each side of his head.

“Feels so good, please, don’t stop.” You blabbered on, eyes half lidded as you looked down at him. “Please, please. So close…”

He couldn’t even laugh or tease you for being so desperate, so needy. He reached down to palm himself over his pants, his hips pushing against his own hand as he ate you out so messily. His nose bumped against your clit when his tongue pushed into your pussy, then he moved back up to suck the sensitive nub into his mouth. Your hand fell to the back of his head, fingers gripping tightly onto his golden hair as you pushed your hips into his mouth. “Kyou-” You gasped before your mouth fell open in a silent moan and his tongue pushed you over the edge.

He laid there between your legs, allowing you to move his head as you pleased. He felt the wetness against his palm before he realized he came. He groaned against your pussy, finally pulling away when you tugged at his hair. Your eyes zeroed on the thin string of saliva connecting your cunt with his mouth.

He sat up between your knees to take off his uniform jacket and shirt, eyes greedily taking in his chest as he threw his clothing somewhere behind him. You saw him shirtless all the time while training, but it seemed so different when now you focused on the trail of dark hairs leading down to his cock…

You pushed his hands away once he undid his belt and took it upon yourself to push his pants down. Your fingers curled around his girth, using his own cum to stroke him. He watched you as if in a trance when moved to kneel down in front of him and lick every drop of cum until his cock was glistening with your spit. He grabbed your hair and pulled you off to make you sit up on your knees. He grabbed your face, fingers digging into your cheeks to coax your mouth open. Your tongue lolled out and he leaned down to spit directly onto it. He let go of your face so you could close your mouth.

“Swallow for me, baby.” He murmured, your throat moving under his fingers as you swallowed his spit. Your mouth fell open again, showing Rengoku your tongue was clean. “Good girl.” He suddenly had you on your hands and knees, his hand on your upper back pushing down until your chest was pressed against the futon.

You moaned when you felt his cock, still hard as if he didn’t just come, against your pussy. His tip caught against your clit, your head falling forward to press your forehead against the softness of your pillow. He grabbed the base of his dick to guide it into you, both of you forgetting how to breathe once he slid into your cunt. You were thankful that he hadn’t moved once he was fully inside you. You felt like you would come again.

Rengoku leaned down to cover your body with his own. He grabbed tightly onto your hair, pulling your head back. He waited a few moments before pulling out, slowly pushing back into your pussy. Your mouth fell open as he repeated the motion until he was pounding into you. His free hand reached down, fingers rubbing your clit in quick circles. He rutted into you until you were clenching tightly around his cock and moaned out his name so loudly it bordered on a scream.

He pulled your head back until he could press his forehead to your temple and his lips to your cheek. “Where do you want it, darling?”

“Inside.” You cried out without hesitation, as if you didn’t even have to think about it. “Want your cum inside me.”

He let out a breathy laugh before groaning into your ear, filling you up with his cum in just a couple of thrusts. He fucked his cum into you, his cock showing no signs of softening anytime soon. He let go of your hair so you could collapse on your chest onto the futon. He slowly pulled out of you with a hiss and laid on his back beside you to catch his breath.

Your eyes were already on him when he turned his head to look at you. He chuckled, reaching out to run a hand down your back until he reached your ass. He gently kneaded at the fat before slapping it, your lips curling into a grin. You glanced down at his cock, resting against his abdomen, still hard. You had to admit that the throbbing in your clit had not lessened, even after the three orgasms he gave you. Whatever was in the tea Uzui gave you was strong as hell.

“I’ll ask Kochou for something tomorrow. No need to worry about me trapping you with a baby.” You joked as you turned to lay on your back, his mind only half distracted when he watched the bounce of your tits as you moved. “I guess it’s the aphrodisiac, but I felt like I needed it inside.”

Your breath hitched when he was on top of you the next second. He grabbed your chin and tilted it to press his lips against yours again. “As if watching you waddle around the estate all swollen with my baby is such a bad thing.” He breathed out against your mouth and parted your legs to push into you again.

Somewhere else in Japan, in the Sound Hashira’s estate, Uzui made bets with Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru if you and Kyoujurou took the tea and gave in to your desires or not.

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cryb4byem · 2 months ago

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Purgatorium

Kyojuro Rengoku x ArrangedMarriage! Reader

My first fanfic ever omg!

cw: 15.1k words, canon typical violence/injury, alcoholism, parental emotional abuse/neglect

divider by @saradika-graphics :)

You feel as though you might as well be merchandise as you approach the Rengoku Estate with your father. But you knew this would happen a long time ago.

The sound of an angry voice from over the high walls that surround the house like a fortress sends a shiver down your spine as you think with horror, “Is that him? Rengoku Kyojuro?”

You turn the corner to finally enter the expanse of property that had been home to generations of Flame Hashiras dating back to the Sengoku Period, you know this, you’ve been here before after all. Your heart is in your throat, you’re about to see the man who was chosen to be your husband when you were still a child after a decade of close to no communication.

Your mind drifts back to when you came here first. You had just turned ten, the same age as the eldest son of the Rengoku family, to one day assume the role of Flame Hashira from his father and become the head of the household. You had always been shy, not one to interact with strangers, but he had been so warm, much like flame itself.

After some discussion, your respective parents agreed that a marriage between the two of you would be mutually beneficial to both families, and just like that, your hand was promised in marriage when you reached adulthood. The whole day was hazy in your mind now, but Kyojuro’s bright smile and lively voice still appear vividly in your memory.

You wonder if he still had them, or maybe he was the source of the enraged noises you had heard as you drew closer. Even if it was him, it didn’t matter. You had to do this. Your family was one of well-repute, and it knew it could only stay that way with a strong strategic marriage every generation. This engagement was seen as just that. Not to mention, they were well aware that your tie to the Rengoku would open their ample pursestrings from centuries of Flame Hashiras.

You say a brief goodbye to your father, and enter the gates. The younger Rengoku son stands in the doorway of the home, impossible to miss thanks to the unmistakable hair and vibrant hued eyes that run through the men of the family.

The young man spoke politely, “Welcome, we hope your travels here weren’t too strenuous. I’m the only one here at the moment, I apologize my brother is coming back from some work with the corps.” He looked down for a moment, “And my father is unfortunately… unable to see you at the moment.” He introduced himself as Senjuro and welcomed you into their home, offering refreshments and recounting the epic tale his brother’s crow reported transpiring the night before.

Senjuro spoke of how he bravely vanquished a demon wreaking havoc in a town over the mountain. From the grandiose language to how his previously placid tone elevated, it was clear he idolized his brother. You act piqued courteously, however truly you don’t really have the understanding of demons or swordsmen to comprehend what kind of a task he had accomplished. Your chest felt hollow even as you tried to look composed, your mind spinning, overcome with nerves. A flurry of what ifs make up a cacophony in your thoughts, you may as well be meeting the man you were expected to raise children and share your life with for the first time in mere moments.

Your ears perk at the sound of the coarse gravel covering the walkway crunching beneath heavy footsteps, indicating someone approaching. The shoji door lightly drags against the floor as its opened by a firm grasp. One look, and there was no question who it was. A matured spitting image of Senjuro stood before you in corps uniform, with the same warm smile you recall seeing as a child.

An upbeat voice engulfs the room, “Hello! It’s been many years! I do hope you are well.” Minding your manners, you bow and reply as you’ve been instructed, “Thank you Rengoku-sama, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

He takes your shoulders and gently lifts you out of your bow to an upright position, “Oh please, no need for that! It’s Kyojuro!” His tone rings out a cross between assertive and cheerful, quite authoritative but deeply optimistic.Your eyes widen with shock at how casual he was being, you had yet to see a husband who treated his wife as such an equal before.

You don’t even know what to make of the man standing before you. He seemed nice enough, he was your age, he was attractive, not to mention highly motivated in a noble occupation, coming from what you knew from other arranged marriages, this was not a given.

On paper, he might’ve been “perfect,” but you still felt skeptical. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you both were pawns, both being used for the gain of others. You were strangers to each other. Based on what you had seen of other similar matches, there was a chance the rest of both of your lives together would be nothing more than what it began as, a business exchange.

You had gotten too lost in your own thoughts, it was apparent. Kyojuro’s bold gaze met yours that had been lingering on the floor for too long. His voice lowered to an inflection of sincerity. Kyojuro reigned in some of his fervor from moments ago, hoping he had not scared you with his temperament which has been called various things ranging from cheerful to overzealous. He slowly reached into his pocket to pull out a long rectangular box.

“Although, I admit I do not know you very well. You once told me how you liked the plum blossoms.” Suddenly you remember, sitting on the grass outside while the adults spoke, with Kyojuro picking up fallen flower petals and timidly saying how beautiful you found them.

You look at him with slight surprise at his memory of an event you all but forgot, and curiosity where he was going with this. “Please look inside, I hope it is to your liking.” Kyojuro says earnestly, passing the box to your hands.

You open it to find a hairpin adorned with the same color of petals from that day. The hairpin resembled them so closely it looks as though it could’ve been the very same blossoms crystallized into an accessory.

The gesture was so thoughtful, and not to mention unexpected. Kyojuro looked at you intently, clearly waiting for a response to his gift, any response. “This is simply lovely, Ren—Kyojuro. Thank you.” You say after a moment. Making your best effort to not let on your overwhelm, and your reluctance to find comfort in such an inherently uncomfortable situation.

Kyojuro says while taking your hands in his own much tougher ones to remove the hairpin from your grasp. “Allow me,” he asks respectfully. Understanding what he means, you tilt your head to the side for him to gently slide it into the side of your hairstyle. Your eyes dart up and down, unable to make eye contact, as you feel the cool metal against your scalp, and the heat emanating from his touch. With a soft smile he spoke reassuringly, “This will be an adjustment, but I believe we can find happiness together.”

He knows as well as you do the origins of your marriage, he knows that his father was urged to retire (rather dishonorably) once he began excessively drinking. The last straw being once it was discovered, by the Master as well as his fellow pillars, he was attending high-stakes missions completely intoxicated.

The Breath of Flames was intricately woven into the very existence of the corps. There had never been a generation of pillars that did not have a user of Flame or Water, and surely the Rengokus wouldn’t allow that tradition to be broken. So, the eldest son of the former pillar quickly satisfied all prerequisites, and assumed the mantle sooner than anyone anticipated to take his father’s place as the Flame Hashira.

Kyojuro knew as well as you, the good to the Rengoku name that would come from another successful marriage with a well bred young lady of a respected family. Duty was no foreign concept to him, but he cannot help but recall back to his early memories of joy he saw in the life his parents built together. He wants the same for himself naturally, even with the weight of expectation resting heavily on his shoulders.

But all the same, he can remember sitting on the grass with you a decade before. The delight radiating off your face at the simplest things, he’d like to see that in you now. He can tell you are guarded, but with some time, maybe he’ll get a glimpse again.

The days leading up to your wedding, ten years in the making, go by in a blur. Kyojuro had to work for several of them since he planned to take off for his wedding proceedings. You spent your time engaging in small talk with Senjuro, writing letters home to each relative letting them know you had arrived safely and were in the care of the Rengoku family now, or simply walking the expanse of the property. Slow, uneventful minutia, at best.

The elusive father, Rengoku Shinjuro, still yet to be seen by you, for whatever reason. Before you knew it you had both signed the license papers making you officially the lady of the Rengoku house. This all seemed to move at a breakneck speed, and as soon as you left the ceremony to move into a separate residence from the main house on the estate with your now husband, you remembered what came with your new position.

Would Kyojuro expect you to sleep together since it was your wedding night? Would you have to start giving birth to heirs as soon as possible? While you understood the whole reason you were brought here in the first place was to become his wife, you wondered if it all had to be so quick. You had barely been here a week, and had been with Kyojuro even less than that.

You shuddered at the idea that your fate was to be stripped of any sense of agency, and relegated to a vehicle for continuing the Rengoku line. But at this point, you felt like your wants were no longer relevant. This is why you were sent off here, it was all part of the arrangement. You would have to just go along with it all.

Kyojuro proudly took you inside the home on the Rengoku Estate set aside for you both to live in. It was just across the courtyard from the main house with a view of the entire property. As the evening trailed into night, Kyojuro could see you out of the corner of his eye standing stiffly in the corner, looking at the floor with the same pensive look he had seen days ago.

“How are you my dear?” he said in his usual upbeat tone looking at you with a genuine expression. “I’m alright…” you reply with a painfully forced smile that you hoped wouldn’t set off any alarms to Kyojuro about what you could possibly be dreading. “Oh I’m glad to hear that!” he beamed.

“You know, I tend to work at night, usually coming and going at all kinds of unholy hours! If you want a place to rest on your own I set up the room next door for you! Feel free to stay there as often as you would like. I would not want to disturb you with my irregular schedule.”

A wave of relief washes over you as you thank him and go into your own quarters for the night. As you walk in the outfitted room you notice a small vase off to the side, you realize it's a bundle of the same plum blossoms.

A pang of guilt stops you before you can lay down to sleep, you had run out of the room to be alone a little abruptly. Kyojuro was considerate enough to give you a separate room to sleep in and even tried to decorate it how you might like it.

Even if you resented the situation you found yourself in, Kyojuro was no more to blame than you were. You needed to have a little empathy. He was going through the same thing right now, he had just married what could be considered a stranger himself.

Popping your head in the other room to say something, you realize you had walked in just as Kyojuro removed his top. Not fazed by this a bit, he turned to look at you with his saying “Yes my dear?” in his usual tone.

You could see his muscular arms and chest leading down to his prominent abs followed by a chiseled v-line at the edges of your vision. You felt naive for a moment, had you expected him to be the same little boy you met all those years ago? For some reason in your head when you thought of him, that was still the person you saw. He had matured into a man, and not only that, was one of the nine elite weapons of the Demon Slayer Corps.

You refrained from making this awkward unnecessarily, you should’ve announced yourself or done something before just appearing in his doorway after making it clear you wanted to be by yourself. If you made it obvious you were gawking at him, it would just make things weird. No, worse, it would make it inappropriate.

You simply smile, a real genuine smile this time. “Uh, thank you, truly. Good night.”

Smiling sweetly, he replied “Oh, of course, good night darling.” Feeling somewhat foolish, you sheepishly return to your room next door to turn in for the night.

As you laid down studying the gifted hairpin in your hands, tracing your fingers over it, you felt a sense of hope? Like somehow, someway, this might all work out? Kyojuro returned to what he was doing with a sense of accomplishment, he finally got to see you smile with that delighted look, for the first time.

—————————————

The next day, Kyojuro returned to work. Such is the expectation of a hashira. You rose around dawn to look out in the courtyard to see Kyojuro awake, already sword in hand. His motivation really was commendable, it was known that he stopped receiving formal training from his father as a child and relied on historical texts to learn the art of Flame Breathing. Since then, he had taken his training upon himself, and rose to the rank of hashira with practically no outside help.

After noticing Kyojuro still completing his intense regimen after a few hours, you casually watched while reading at a safe distance across the courtyard. You slightly jump when you hear a gruff voice from behind you, you recognize it, it was the same rage filled one you heard the first day you arrived. It can only be the former Flame Hashira, Rengoku Shinjuro.

“The Rengoku men really take after each other in appearance,” you think to yourself upon seeing the same features possessed by both Senjuro and Kyojuro. “I was a bit surprised you went through with this. But I suppose you seem like the type to just go along with things. I bet you even told yourself it's your duty or something like that. We’ll see how far that gets you” he said to you bluntly.

“You’ll learn soon enough that the life of a Hashira isn’t some noble samurai existence. It’s a miracle when they all live long enough for the next appearance of the Master. The shadow of death follows them everywhere they go.” He took a long swig of sake, before muttering, almost incoherently. “Probably follows everyone around them too…”

This was definitely one of the more uncomfortable ways to be introduced to your father in law. “Do you even care for my son?” he followed up with. You didn’t know what to make of his first statement, the Rengoku were a long line of fierce warriors, clearly the “shadow of death” didn’t loom them too closely. What did he even mean by that? As for the second statement, you had hoped it wasn’t as obvious as it may seem, but you hardly even knew Kyojuro. Of course you married him for the good of your family. Did you care for Kyojuro? Was he asking if you loved him? Is it possible to truly love someone given the circumstances?

“Whatever. I really don’t give a damn. It’s none of my concern anyway.” Shinjuro said, walking away. Your pause might’ve been an answer enough, or maybe it was your expression that always tends to betray you. You knew you shouldn’t ponder the words of an inebriated person for long, but the question stuck in your mind for the rest of that day. There was no requirement to love him so long as you filled your duty as his wife, anything in addition to that was at your discretion alone.

—————————————

Not long after, the pillars were all called from their respective regions and responsibilities for a semi-annual meeting. The hub of the Demon Slayer Corps buzzed with a particularly lurid tale. News of an alleged benevolent demon, being carried and protected by a young slayer, spread like wildfire. Even a civilian like yourself could see the conflict of interest there. Apparently, the slayer was summoned by the Master himself, and was to appear before all nine Hashira.

You were relieved that there was something more exciting to be gossipped about than the latest rumors surrounding the ever-popular Flame Hashira’s personal life. After their meeting, which had clearly left an impression considering the looks on faces, Kyojuro began introducing you to some of his colleagues. Among the first was a fellow pillar, Uzui Tengen, whom he considered his closest friend. You don’t think you had ever met a bigger person before. You thought Kyojuro was tall and brawny, but he was dwarfed by the Sound Hashira.

“Uzui, this is my dear wife” he gestured to you with pride, that same glowing look he always had. “Oh so you're the flashy bride! I’ve heard a lot about you.” Those words made you pause for a moment, what did he mean by this? Had Kyojuro said how you refused to share a bed with him? Had he talked about how frigid you acted?

"I have to say, Rengoku," he began, a knowing glint in his eye, "you really undersold her. She’s even more ‘lovely’ than you described, if that’s possible!" Speaking through his teeth with a smirk he added, “No wonder you’re satisfied with one.”

Kyojuro laughed, bold and vibrant as ever. “You are too kind! My heart is truly filled to the brim!” Eager to return a retort, clearly relishing in banter on the topic of the number of wives the Sound Hashira possessed.

“Indeed you are correct. I suppose I was not able to do her justice with words alone, but, at least I gave you a notion of what to expect. I’m sure you recall my bewilderment when, after I introduced myself, and then proceeded to do so two more times when another, and then yet another wife stepped out.” You let out a soft chuckle, trying to hide the blush that crept up your cheeks. The warmth of Kyojuro’s joy was infectious, and you could feel your heart racing as he caught your eye. His bright smile widened, and you couldn’t help but smile back, even as a blush colored your cheeks.

You walk the grounds of the hub of the Demon Slayer Corps talking to whomever Kyojuro could borrow for a moment. Meeting people was not your forte, old habits die hard you suppose. It was relieving to be with someone so easily able to light up a room.

Something about being proudly introduced by your personable husband gave you a sense of security. You were happy to be able to just smile and do the bare minimum of talking to the onslaught of strangers. Kyojuro almost felt like a shield of charisma and positivity to hide how socially awkward you felt, and deflect those unwanted questions.

Especially since there were definitely some intimidating individuals around here. You were happy their enemies were the demons, never did you want to find yourself on the other end of any of their blades.

With each person you met, you found yourself inching closer and closer to Kyojuro. This didn’t go unnoticed, and he couldn’t help but get a flutter in his chest seeing you blushing and getting closer and closer to pressing yourself against his chest.

Eventually when walking, you gently took his four calloused fingers in your hand subconsciously. He paused and turned to you, “Here, if I may” he said with earnestness.

Kyojuro entwined your fingers, his grip secure yet gentle, and as you resumed your walk, his thumb began to stroke the back of your palm. There was an innocence and tenderness in this simple gesture, a quiet reassurance that spoke volumes. He seemed to sense your anxiety, and with each soothing caress of his thumb, it felt as if your worries were slowly melting away, replaced by an enveloping comfort.

—————————————

One thing you quickly learned about Kyojuro was that he was a creature of habit, and you soon saw yourself following suit. You had begun nonchalantly sitting in a usual spot at the edge of the courtyard with a direct view of where Kyojuro did his daily conditioning. Rain or shine, he would be out there honing his techniques and maintaining his fitness.

You preferred when it was bright out, the radiating light off the sheen of sweat on the surface of his skin was a sight indeed. Something about it was so fitting. He seemed to have a perpetual glow about him anyway, his energy taking on a visible manifestation seems like it was that way it was always meant to be.

He wasn’t always alone in his training. Nearly every pillar came by at least once, some more outgoing than others. Kyojuro’s former tsuguko, The Love Hashira, Kanroji Mitsuri, had even fawned over you as if she was meeting a celebrity. Absolutely bubbling with compliments over how “cute” you both were. You were happy to not be seen as the icy girl you feared everyone, including Kyojuro, saw you as. Upon hearing this comment, you glanced over at him to see a slight hue of red over the top of his cheeks? Was he actually blushing? No, you thought, it’s probably just warm out. You doubt he feels any way in particular about you yet.

Soon you realized you were reading and sketching less and less each day, and watching Kyojuro instead. In addition to the pillars joining him for spars and exercise, Senjuro also took part as well. Kyojuro had no official tsuguko at the moment, but he seemed prepared to give this role to his younger brother.

Senjuro wasn’t quite strong or skilled enough for a blade, but with a wooden stick he would do his best to copy his brother’s demonstration of each form of Flame Breathing. You were no master, but there was something obviously missing in Senjuro’s understanding of swordsmanship. Kyojuro’s movements carried so much power and fluidity through them, but no matter how he slowed them down and simplified them, Senjuro couldn’t seem to catch on.

Despite this, Kyojuro never looked disappointed or faltered in his passion for instructing him. Whenever Senjuro asked to practice with him, Kyojuro gladly took long breaks in his own regimen to try to correct Senjuro and encourage him with insightful pointers.

Senjuro wasn’t oblivious to his own ineptitude. One day after leaving his brother to resume his own training, he walked past where you sat watching as you always did looking especially dismayed. You felt as though you should say something to the young boy, he was your brother in law after all.

“Your swings are looking more and more like Kyojuro’s every day” you say as he passes. Senjuro stopped, pitifully turning to face you as if he had gotten caught doing something wrong, “I’m not sure about that, but thanks. I need to spend more time practicing...”

You frown slightly, “I see you spend lots of time out here as it is, you don’t want to burn out.”

Senjuro responds with desperation in his tone, as if he had reason for shame. “If I can’t master this, there might be a day I need to carry on the title of Flame Hashira, but won’t be able to. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me, my brother is the best teacher I could ask for.” You don’t know what to say, he clearly wanted this and was willing to work for it. But it was like he was trying to squeeze into a position that he couldn’t fit into, no matter how he tried.

“I can tell he likes being able to see you while he’s out here. I catch him looking over here at you all the time. He really is a great teacher, you should ask to try one day. I think it would make him happy.”

The dejected look on his face dissipated into resolve, “I’m going to work even harder until I’m as strong as my brother. Thank you for comparing me to him.” You were glad to be able to help him gain some confidence, but Kyojuro looked over at you often? Had he noticed how intently you had been watching him lately?

The next time you sat in your usual spot at the edge of the courtyard, you did something you didn’t think you would do. Honestly, you weren’t sure why you were walking towards Kyojuro right now, but nevertheless you had approached him and gotten his attention in doing so. He was in the middle of his striking drills when he noticed you, his demeanor changed in an instant.

He abandoned the formidable striking stance he was once in to an approachable posture, his brow furrowed once with concentration and lips curled into a pensive grimace snapped into his trademark look of unwavering joyfulness.

“My wife!” He exclaimed. “Do you need anything dear?” His words were enough to take you aback for a moment. It still didn’t feel real to you, you wonder if he felt the same deep down. It was easy to forget you were actually married sometimes. It often felt like you were friends at best, all things considered. “If you aren’t too busy, would you teach me a little?” You said almost as if you expected him to decline your request. “You want to try? Oh absolutely!” He gestured you over, standing beside you as he passed his katana into your grasp.

Upon his transferring the weight of the sword to you, it took you by surprise how heavy it was. Immediately the blade drooped sideways as you tried to keep it upright. When Kyojuro wielded his sword, he made it look as if it was another limb that he moved as easily as one could move any part of their body. Noticing your early difficulty, Kyojuro moved himself behind you to wrap his masculine battle worn hands over your own.

Your own forearms between his own corded muscular forearms coming out of his rolled sleeves, their vascularity on full display to you. More intimate than that, you could feel the heat coming from his presence directly behind you. Kyojuro was careful not to completely press up against you, a gentleman through and through. But that didn’t change how flustered it made you to hear his voice, not wanting to shout while so close to you, he lowered himself close to your ear to speak much more softly than usual to instruct you.

Using his strength to guide the blade in your hands, told you “Just start here and follow through the movement.” He paused for a moment to let you watch the sword's motion before continuing “Just like that, you’ve got it. Beautiful.” You copied the stroke once more with his help before trying it on your own.

“You might just have a career slaying demons if you keep that up! Ha ha!” His laugh rang out melodically, you understood why people enjoyed training alongside or under him. Hearing Kyojuro praise you even for the simplest thing made you feel so good, special even. “I’m proud of you, you did very well.”

He told you with the same electric smile you recalled from the first time you saw him, you had seen it many times in the time you had spent watching him and in his presence. But something about it never got old.

Feeling a sense of giddy as you walked up to the main house, you quickly came down when you heard the same negative gruff voice you knew belonged to your father in law. “I’m surprised you show yourself around here. Your family already got the money they sent you here for.”

He didn’t even make eye contact with you, focused on finding another bottle to get his fix. “You’re not obligated to spend time with him. The closer you get the harder it’ll be when he inevitably finds an early grave.” Shinjuro chuckled dryly, he seemed to want to hear what you had to say to that, a change considering he often speaks at you rather than to you.

“I don’t see why you think that. He is very ski-“ you are cut off mid sentence abruptly, his tone rising from indifference. “Skill is something you’re born with. He tries to cheat this rule by training himself to the bone. No amount of work can ever supplement an absence of talent. His fate is decided. You getting attached will only make it harder when that fate comes to pass.”

You were appalled by what you were hearing, wasn’t this man a hashira? He had to understand that a human is always at a disadvantage to a demon, yet that does not stop the righteous fury that compels them to confront those monsters anyway. Innate ability is overcome by work all the time, otherwise how would a human ever beat a demon?

The essence of the Demon Slayer Corps is finding strength through determination and will. Dismissing work ethic as a cheap short cut for those never meant to succeed was contradictory to everything it stood for. How did the man once celebrated as the greatest hashira of his generation end up like this? “You do whatever the hell you want, but I tried to warn you. It’s for the best that you didn’t marry him for love.” With this, Shinjuro got another jug of sake and returned to where he resided alone.

—————————————

You had always known how taxing the work of the nine leaders of the Demon Slayer Corps was, but even you were taken aback when you realized how much was demanded of Kyojuro. He was not only a leader in spirit for the other slayers, but the one who was tasked with being aware of everything happening throughout his sector.

Recently, he had learned about a village with a troubling incident involving a well, where someone had allegedly fallen in and vanished without a trace. It seemed that only a few lower-ranked slayers had been sent to investigate, but Kyojuro insisted on going along personally.

He wanted to be involved in as many missions in his sector as possible; it helped the lower-ranked Corps members assigned to the incident feel more at ease, even if he was just there to stand by and ensure the extermination went smoothly.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he set out to investigate. Taking off on foot to follow any traces, he suspected a blood demon art was the culprit. Now, he had been gone for what felt like over a full day. His absence was palpable, as if a swell of energy had been drained from the home.

As the late afternoon dragged into evening, you found Senjuro bags in hand coming through the gates. You watched as he made his way into the kitchen, and followed in suit.

“Gone to the market? You could’ve asked me to go.” Being the elder of the two of you, it was only natural that such tasks would be your responsibility. You felt bad that unbeknownst to you he had gone on his own.

Senjuro washed his hands before unpacking the groceries he had bought, donning a kitchen apron. “Some years ago, Father dismissed all our housekeepers. So I pretty much take care of the chores and cooking around here, I’m so used to it I didn’t think to mention.” As the youngest Rengoku informed you, it started making sense. You had always wondered why the son of a wealthy noble family spent so much time doing household errands, he had adopted it as his role in the family. “I don’t mind though. As much as my brother loves to eat, he really can’t cook anything,” Senjuro said endearingly.

“I try to have some food ready before he comes home from his duties, mainly because otherwise he’ll insist on helping, then end up making it all no matter how many hours he’s been working.” Senjuro put several large sweet potatoes in a loosely woven basket before submerging it into a wooden basin of fresh water, the dirt on the reddish-purple flesh coming off as he scrubbed them with a soft bristled tawashi brush.

“But also because I think he is far better with a katana than a kitchen knife.” Senjuro shook his head with a soft chuckle. You could tell he had his fair share of miso saltier than the sea and gluey rice balls.

As he worked, he moved to the stove, rinsing a measure of rice and putting it on to cook. The sound of water bubbling and the aromatic nutty scent on the steam filled the air.

“I’m a bit useless… but this is something I think I can do”

Senjuro lifted the basket of sweet potatoes out of the basin, the remnants of Earth cleared from the skin, leaving them ready to be cooked. The furnace was already warm and simmering a main course, that had seemingly been cooking for hours, to compliment the carb rich Rengoku family favorite side dish.

He had begun adding cubed bite-sized pieces of the starchy vegetables to a large pot to infuse the hearty taste into rice, before long the smell notified all that dinner was nearly done. When a roaring voice made Senjuro jump, leaving him clearly shaken to the core.

“Senjuro?! Where are you boy?”

The young man fumbled with the tie of his apron, frantically removing it, before scurrying off to the origin of the shout. You couldn’t help but overhear the conversation in the other room.

“Where’s the damn sake I told ya t’get?” The voice barked angrily. The words slurred in a state of intoxication. Your father in law. No doubt.

“I just thought maybe…” Senjuro replied sheepishly, trying desperately to keep the incident from escalating.

“Can’t even do something as simple as buyin’ sake from th’ market, huh? Worthless.” Shinjuro’s seething rage turned into cold disdain. It was sickening.

“Go back. Now! Don’t come back t’my house until you have some!” You couldn’t tell if Shinjuro was willing to make good on the threat he elucidated, but there was venom in his words nevertheless.

Senjuro piped up timidly, speaking as though any word could and would lead to consequences. “B-but brother will be back soon… I need to finish making hi-”

“I don’t give a damn! You will obey your father, boy!” The muddled speech from the alcohol was cut by Shinjuro’s fury, he bellowed clear as day.“He has someone else to do that anyway! It’s time you get a fucking life and stop worshiping that bastard!” You hear the door slide shut so forcefully you worry if it had broken.

Senjuro trudges by you with his head hanging low. You can see the glassiness of his eyes when he lifts his head to face you. Instinctually, you embrace him, holding his head as if you were his mother. As a tear escapes his eye, you wipe it away with your sleeve offering a warm smile that he halfheartedly returns after a moment.

“I… have to go, but please finish up making brother’s satsumaimo gohan for me? And if he tries to help in any way, promise me you’ll make him sit down! He’s been gone since before dusk yesterday!”

“Senjuro, you know I’m perfectly capable of sitting down and enjoying your cooking! But why not let me lend a hand while I’m already standing?” You felt the warmth of his presence, his charisma and energy igniting a sense of undeniable comfort.

“Brother!” Senjuro’s face lit up with joy as he went over to greet Kyojuro, still standing in the doorway, running to hug him with force that might’ve knocked over an average person. The boy had acted as though it had been months or years of separation the way he clung to Kyojuro, and rejoiced at seeing him standing in the doorway. Foolishly you had forgotten, or maybe just been illusioned by his nigh impenetrable invincibility, that the life of a demon slayer was one of uncertainty. Any time a swordsman left for work, might be their last. It certainly was something to be celebrated each time he returned home.

“Ha ha! Glad to see you are in high spirits Senjuro! Now what is this about needing to go somewhere?” Despite nearly 24 hours of fatigue weighing on him, Kyojuro’s vivacity was as potent as ever.

“Uh… Father has demanded I go and buy him more sake…”

“Nonsense! We ought to all enjoy the fruit of your labors! Surely Father will understand.” Kyojuro reassured, resting his hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. Senjuro seemed to be at ease with his elder brother’s blessing.

Turning to you, Kyojuro lowered to a knee, cradling your hand in his own grasp; the hardened hands of a warrior enveloped yours with a gentleness as though you were made of glass. His amber pools met yours before carefully bringing the back of your hand to his lips for a soft kiss, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Ah my flame!” His words were thick with affection, tenderness.

You might as well have been electrocuted at the point where your skin connected with his lips. It made you think of what it would be like if you both… You move such a thought from your head, “Welcome home, we’ve all missed you dearly.” You speak, basking in the bright glint in his eye upon hearing your greeting. He carried a scent of the woody musk with faint notes of smoke, no doubt indicating the remoteness he traversed on the way to the village, it was an essence befitting a man such as him. You couldn’t help but notice the way his golden hair was tousled and his features drawn with fatigue leaving shadows beneath his honey rimmed eyes, giving him a ruggedness you had yet to admire in its full glory yet.

“Okay Brother! Now please just sit down! You need to rest!” Senjuro implored, his brother heeding his insistence. The younger boy took the lid off the sturdy pot to reveal the gigantic portion of sweet potato rice, a cloud of steam wafting out carrying an earthy, saccharine aroma. Senjuro pulled a decorated cloth from over another dish to reveal succulent soy glazed meat, it was truly a meal befitting a gourmand like Kyojuro.

“Senjuro what a beautiful talent you have! Truly, what would we all do without you!” Senjuro’s delight at these words was palpable. The beratement received from his father not long ago, was seemingly replaced by Kyojuro's accolades.

Looking out the doorway to the sliding door of the master bedroom, Kyojuro’s smile faltered momentarily. “It would be a shame for Father to miss this! Perhaps I'll inform him that I’m back!” Without hesitation Kyojuro stood from the table.

—————————————

The noises of chatter within the kitchen sounded faint despite its proximity, his hardness of hearing only adding to the sense of anxiety and isolation as he steeled himself outside Father’s room. The irony was apparent. The title “hashira” alone struck terror in the hearts of horrible bloodthirsty monsters, despite their capacity for any amount of both power and unimaginable cruelty under the veil of night. Yet at this moment, in his own home, he found himself more uneasy than he ever had in the face of a demon. He could not hide behind years of discipline, victories, or raw strength. He felt as if he had become a small child again, simply seeking approval.

He hardly sensed any movement from within, exhaling sharply, sliding the door open to speak in a tone he consciously kept as even-keeled and humble as possible. His senses were overwhelmed with the pungence of undiluted alcohol.

“Father… I’ve returned.”

The older man laid his back facing the door, surrounded by the emptied vases of sake, and did not turn, not even to acknowledge the presence of another.

“Yeah? I could tell. I could probably hear you from the afterlife. Tch.” Shinjuro growled caustically, still refusing to meet his son’s gaze.

“Would you care to join us for dinner, Father? Senjuro would certainly be happy to see you enjoying the meal he worked so hard on.” Kyojuro prayed for once he would say yes. He rarely left his room much less the house, hardly doing anything but drinking in solace.

“I don’ give a damn about that. I told your fool of a brother to bring me sake, and of course even that is too difficult for him. Useless. Utterly useless.”

“Please Father do not speak so-”

“Get out. Stop disturbing me.” Shinjuro cut him off abruptly, haphazardly shaking each of the old bottles for anything left within.

Begrudgingly, Kyojuro began sliding the shoji door shut once again.

“As you wish, Father…”

With a small space left before the sliding door had completely shut, he remembered something. A message he was asked to pass on by a civilian he had met earlier.

“In the village I patrolled… another person recognized the family haori. They too, have asked me to thank you… for your time as the Flame Pillar…” Kyojuro waited for what felt like forever, he needed to hear what his Father would say. Yet another living proof professing their gratitude to the passion that he once held.

Setting down the empty bottle in his hand, Shinjuro sighed, even his breath marred with exasperation.

“It’s all meaningless…”

“In the end, we’re both destined to be nothing more than failures. Pathetic until the very end.”

Kyojuro clamped his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to repel the spiteful words. It would not dampen his spirit, he couldn’t succumb to that. Not when he had so many people depending on him, they deserved better than that. The horrible things his father said were not worth thinking of another minute. Kyojuro slid the door back shut, softly as he could, before rising to return to the table. The light emanating from the kitchen beckoned him back like a vessel to the land after days of traversing a cold, bitter sea.

Kyojuro entered once again to see his little brother and you inspect slices of the meat back and forth, before putting a few on a plate with an exceptionally large scoop of sweet potato rice. Senjuro presented the plate to him, his eyes shining with anticipation.

“We’ve decided these are the best pieces of meat, here!”

You nod in agreement beside Senjuro, a smile curling your lips. “For me? Ah! Thank you!” Kyojuro beamed at them, taking the plate from his brother. The juicy pieces making his mouth water at the sight alone. Chatter, warm laughter over trivial things, the sight almost felt like a dream he would be shaken from at any minute. He cannot remember a time in so long the Rengoku household had felt alive, for so long it had been just him and Senjuro. Well, that was not quite accurate, they were not “alone” necessarily.

“It appears Father is not hungry at the moment, let us just put some aside for him for now.” Outfitting the unattended plate with a generous serving of food, he waited until you and his brother were distracted when he transferred the tender slices of meat from his own plate.

“Father does not eat nearly well enough. Perhaps this would benefit his health.” He thought silently to himself.

—————————————

You understood how things worked around here now. You had stopped feeling like a stranger around the estate. Senjuro seemed to really trust you now, especially seeing his idol did too. You abandoned the thought that the father of the house would be much of a presence, he didn’t want to be bothered, and frankly you were okay with that.

Your job appearing as a member of the Rengoku family was in full effect. Of course, Kyojuro tried to make sure you were comfortable and happy, despite his duty keeping him busy. You sensed the guilt that creased his brow whenever he couldn’t see you, and made a conscious effort to make up for it when he did. You became aware of an annual festival to celebrate the transition of seasons, the late Spring entering early Summer.

The next day, during one of Senjuro’s increasingly regular conversations with you, he brought up something that took you back for a moment. “About the festival tonight, I told my brother not to worry about me this year.”

You were slightly taken aback by this, wasn’t it their yearly tradition? “I think you both should go and have some time together. After all, I've had plenty of turns to go alone with my brother, since this would be your first time going. I insist.”

Senjuro seemed sure of himself on this, you could guess he was trying to be an understanding brother and give Kyojuro some alone time with you. But you almost wanted Senjuro to go, it sounded silly, but this would be your first real date with your husband.

Aas day waned into night you felt butterflies in your stomach while getting ready to go. You felt as if you would have to meet Kyojuro for the first time all over again. A whole night, just the two of you with no one to break the tension.

You robe yourself in something presentable. Subconsciously you wondered what you could wear if you really wanted to catch his attention… You push it from your mind for now. You carefully remove the gifted hairpin from the rectangular box that housed it before sliding it into your hair. Your hand moves down from your updo as you glance in the mirror, and suddenly you feel a jolt of shock upon hearing the upbeat voice you’ve grown to know approaching.

You feel a soft tap on the sliding shoji door to your room. You rose and moved to open it. As your eyes met Kyojuro’s he beamed with a grin so infectious you couldn’t help but softly smile back. You noticed he was dressed differently than you usually saw him. Rather than his typical corps uniform, he was clad in traditional attire with a few fiery motifs reminiscent of his usual haori. You tried not to let your eyes drift down from his to rest on where the two halves of the fabric overlapped each other to reveal the upper curvature of his well built chest.

You approached the village center where the festival was being held together. There was an overwhelming buzzing ambiance as you approached, until you were close enough for a surge of stimulation to fully wash over you in a barrage of color and noise.

Worrying that you may be overwhelmed by the sight, Kyojuro turned to look at your reaction. The lights reflected in your eyes as you giggle “How beautiful,” slightly tightening your grip on his arm. Kyojuro wants to say the same, even though his gaze wasn’t on the view.

You walk by the stalls, each with a different delicacy to boast. The air is thick with the enticing aromas of grilled yakitori, sweet candied fruits, and the savory scent of meat sizzling on hot griddles. Colorful lanterns sway gently overhead, casting a warm glow over the main strip. Laughter and chatter fill the atmosphere, punctuated by the rhythmic beats of nearby taiko drums.

“This has always been my favorite part of the festivities. One year my family lost me in the crowds many years ago when I ran off, practically disappearing, after getting a whiff of shrimp tempura.” As you walked through the bustling streets together, the sounds of laughter and cheerful chatter surrounded, adults and children alike filling the street.

“I have been told I was a bit of a rambunctious child, always bursting with energy, but my mother was a remarkably stoic woman. I never saw her lose her temper, not even once. My father suggested tying my wrist to his with an obi sash after the time I went missing, but she was firm in me practicing discipline on my own.” Kyojuro said, his gaze drifting thoughtfully toward the colorful stalls.

You took a moment to reflect on his words, letting them linger in the air between you. “It sounds like she had a lot of faith in you, to be able to make the right decisions, even then.”

“She did.” Kyojuro nodded, a hint of warmth returning to his wistful expression. “I try to remember that, even now.” He paused, a smile widening as he glanced toward a nearby takoyaki stall. “And speaking of good decisions…”

Feeling your nose perk up at a savory aroma, your stomach rumbled. “Can we get some?” You say looking at him wide eyed with enthusiasm. His melodic laugh rang out as he replied “A fine idea! Anything you would like, dear!” After securing ample snacks and refreshments, Kyojuro and you find a nice place to sit down just off the bustling Main Street.

The night peaceful, and the sky a clear endless expanse of stars. This was contrasted by the steady vibration of energy emitted from the heart of the village. You finally cut the silence. “Thank you for inviting me” you say somewhat sheepishly. “We have gone every year since before Senjuro was born, so of course that includes you now! I’m glad you’re here!”

“Is your father,” you pause to gauge his reaction at the mention before continuing, “Busy perhaps today then?”

His usual bravado lowers into a more serious tone, a poignant smile still forced on his lips, “No. He actually hasn’t been in many years.” Despite not knowing all that much about the inner dynamics of the Rengoku family, this didn’t surprise you. “After Mother passed, I don’t think he ever recovered. He hasn’t come since.” That explains it then. The drinking, the bitterness, the isolation, he was caught in a cycle of grief. One he hasn’t been able to get out of. Instinctively, you place your hand gently on top of his much larger one.

“Senjuro was so young when we last all came together, and I just wanted him to have the memories that I was able to have. Even if he wasn’t able to remember coming with our parents. He could at least remember us going together, and I hoped maybe that would be enough.” You had never seen this kind of vulnerability from him before. At a young age, he devoted himself to filling the gaping void left in his family for his brother.

He would become mother, father, mentor, brother, whatever Senjuro needed. Never concerned for himself, or asking for anything. That was just the way he was, you suppose. A man who lived for the well being of others, never expecting anyone to ever reciprocate. A true pillar in all facets of life, one who exists to support and safeguard those around him. What about you? You want to ask. Who is there for you then?

Noticing your pensive expression, his lips spread into a genuine smile, an upbeat yet gentle voice reassures “You shouldn’t lose your smile my flame, it’s quite becoming on you.” He tucks a small piece of your bangs behind your ear as he speaks, his touch tender. “Please do not feel any sympathy on my behalf, this is simply a responsibility of mine that I carry with pride. The last thing I would ever want is to be the reason you wear a heavy heart. To me, that would be a failure on my behalf.”

“No, that’s not it.” Your tone matter-of-fact as your gaze shifted from his to your hands folded in your lap. Meeting his eyes again, you spoke with purpose, a firmness in your resolve. “Whether you want me to or not, I’m going to be there for you now. So, please take care of yourself, unless you want me to worry.” Kyojuro let out the euphonious laugh that you had learned to identify even when he was nowhere to be seen. He replied with a cheerful, ��Well I suppose I’ll have to be on my best behavior then!” You couldn’t help but giggle along in contagion with him, it was impossible not to.

Hearing a whistling noise overhead, you cock your head to the night sky where the projectile reached a peak before bursting in a flurry of vibrant hues followed by a loud BANG. You wince slightly at the collapse of sound that hits you all at once. Kyojuro’s brow furrowed seeing your face contort from the impact.

Despite having severely impaired his own hearing to withstand a blood demon art that weaponized music in his early days in the Demon Slayer Corps, Kyojuro remained acutely aware of others’s sensitivity to noise—even if he was incapable of experiencing it himself anymore.

Instinctively, he clasps his hands over your ears, a protective gesture to shield you from the cacophony of pops and cracks exploding in the sky. Slightly surprised, your fingertips grace the rough exterior of Kyojuro’s hands on the sides of your head.

As you begin to move his hands away, turning to face him, you catch the look in his eyes—a mix of concern and curiosity. Looking at you wide eyed, matching your look of surprise, he asked point blankly “Is it too loud?” His voice earnest, searching your expression for reassurance.

“No, I’m alright.” you say with a soft smile.

“Do you… ever think that I am too loud?” His expression remains unchanged, but there’s a hint of vulnerability in his question. You pause for a moment, considering his words. “No,” you reply, your voice steady and confident. “I like how self-assured you speak. It puts me at ease when I hear you; it makes me feel like I can trust whatever you say, unequivocally.”

In a quick attempt to distract you from the color that hadn’t left his cheeks for the past moments, he looked away, quickly directing your attention back to the light show.

“Look, my flame!” he exclaimed, his signature cheerfulness radiating from him, you raise your head to the sky, letting your eyes fall upon the illuminating bursts of color. Despite the brilliance of the fireworks dancing across the sky, you feel your head become heavy and your gaze flicker as you struggle to keep your eyes open. You can do little to stop yourself from swaying, beginning to nod off.

Kyojuro’s gaze falters from the display bursting through the darkness upon noticing, moving you to the side of his chest for support. You feel a gentle touch embrace you, lightly stroking your hair as you subconsciously nestle against the unknown surface you found yourself resting against. Kyojuro was convinced you must’ve been an angel how peaceful you looked with the way the man-made supernova above you flashes across your features, like an ever-changing watercolor on your skin.

You slowly lift your gaze, opening your eyes to meet his own ambered orbs, still flushed against him as if it was where you had belonged all along. Like puzzle pieces perfectly fitting together. Looking up at him, doey eyes, for the first time Rengoku Kyojuro found himself truly speechless.

You clear the haze from your mind and attempt to rouse yourself up. But you didn’t want to remove yourself from the security of the warmth emanating off him. Not yet. You wished you could just lay there, as long as you possibly could.

You felt as though he could see every one of your thoughts with how intently his golden irises pierced yours, with more affection than you thought possible for a person to muster.

“Would you allow me to kiss you?” There is a tremble of fear of rejection in his voice, and you finally notice the rosy blush crossing his cheeks as he looks at you longingly, clearly enraptured. “Please” you reply softly.

Feeling a hand brush against your cheek, your chin was gently raised as Kyojuro pulled you closer. You felt a spark ignite at where your lips joined and a surge of electricity rush through from where you connected.

You feel his hand shift from your jawline to the side of your face where you were sure he could feel the heat of your cheeks. You ran your fingers through the thick sunkissed locks of his hair, and at that moment you felt your frozen exterior melt.

The frigid ice that you encased yourself in a desperate attempt of self preservation, felt all but liquified now. All those painful feelings. There was no way to avoid the reality in your mind. Your own family considering you as no more than a bargaining chip, and giving you away as soon as you reached child bearing age.

That realization created the cold front you manufactured. Even if it kept you detached from the rest of the world, you didn’t want to feel the ache of abandonment or desertion again. Even as you resisted, you couldn’t help but open yourself up in that moment to the radiant warmth that Kyojuro gave off. But you knew this meant now you were vulnerable to succumb to the blaze between you two, you might even be consumed by it.

“A-Are you ready to go home my love.” Something you hadn’t heard him call you, ever. You nod your head in response as you continue to cling to him for support. The fatigue clouds your mind so much so that you hardly even notice what he calls you. But you could practically feel just that, what he called you.

—————————————

A harsh WHACK echoed from the impact of carefully placed hits. Kyojuro’s wooden training stick sharply hitting the solid log propped before him, a staple of training sessions for any swordsman, pillars being no exception. Kyojuro continued hitting the same spots on the log over and over with increasing speed and power, hardly even acknowledging the Sound Hashira leaning against the wall feet away from him.

“You haven't given me a pep talk, or even barked at me to stop screwing around and start 'surpassing my limits’ and all that” he snickered blithely “so what the hell is on your mind.”

Kyojuro stopped his incessant striking. His rough hands wiping a bead of sweat from rolling down his forehead, raking back loose strands of honey-golden hair before turning to his self proclaimed “flamboyant” but incredibly nosy dear friend. He looked blankly for a moment, clearly gathering his thoughts before speaking.

“Don’t make that face, you look like Tomioka.” He chuckled, shaking his head with thinly veiled disgust. “Shit, man, I haven't seen you like this before.” Uzui said, inspecting his multicolored fingernails feigning disinterest, despite his probing.

“Usually you're the type you can hear before you see. Now I have to pry a single word out of you.”

Kyojuro shook his head with a laugh “Come now. I’m the same as I’ve always been. I just don’t know if I ought to share what I’m thinking of, out of discretion for the person.”

Taking a wry smirk upon his face, the fellow hashira’s eyebrow raised slyly “So, what did you do to her?”

Despite being three years Kyojuro’s senior, Uzui had a penchant for regressing into a teenager both in impudence and coarseness. Much in contrast to Kyojuro, typically assuming a role more mature than his years.

“So I…” Kyojuro was interrupted by Uzui slinging a large arm, resembling that of a bear’s around his shoulders. “Aw you finally had your first time, huh? Was it good? I was starting to worry you two would blush and fist bump forever...”

“I kissed her,” Kyojuro said in a self-satisfied tone.

Uzui went silent for a moment before letting out a thunderous laugh, Kyojuro maintaining his expression of complete seriousness. “With a wife that looks like her? You’re a strong man, Rengoku. I probably would’ve gone crazy by now.”

Kyojuro’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You disrespect both her and yourself by talking like some kind of fiend, Uzui,” Kyojuro replied, crossing his arms like a disappointed father.

Uzui sighed petulantly, taking a step back with his hands up as if in surrender. “You’re right, you’re right, my bad. A kiss is still a first for you, so congratulations.”

“You do what you want, I just wonder why you waited until you were hitched to get any kind of a woman’s touch in the first place. I could’ve introduced you to so many girls over the years.” Uzui spoke bluntly.

Kyojuro held his arms straight out in front of him before executing the first four forms of Flame Breathing in rapid succession, deepening the existing divots marking the sides of the log. Looking over again with a bright smile, he answered “I suppose I’ve never felt tempted by the idea of a woman I do not love.”

Uzui replaced his impish visage with one of sincerity reading between the lines of his friend’s remark. “So now it’s all different, huh? You really love her don’t you?”

Kyojuro’s eyes dilated noticeably, his face overflowing with gratitude. “I always planned on making anyone who became my wife happy, but nothing is so simple anymore.”

“All that has faded away now, I cannot think of her as something as superficial as that. I just want her as purely as a man could. I do not think I could be without her if I tried.” The confidence in his voice eliminates any doubt when answering the question.

“I just hope she feels the same for me, even if nothing more than a fraction…” Kyojuro’s voice trailed off.

Uzui chuckles, dragging his palms over his face dramatically with a groan, “Ugghhh. Just don’t get all mushy on me. I still need someone who can match my flash!”

Uzui donned a smirk once again before adding “Albeit barely!”

Kyojuro ran a hand through his thick blazing hair with his unmistakable laugh, “Ha! Of course. If you’re going to keep up with me, you had better stop idling now Uzui.” Kyojuro said, gesturing over with his practice stick.

—————————————

As time passed, the heat intensified. With that, you found the only time it was pleasant for a breath of fresh air was as dusk fell.The plum blossoms that littered the estate upon your arrival had all but withered, and in their stead, small tender buds were maturing into fruit.

Even as the daylight waned, the heat clung to the air like a lingering embrace. The sky was a watercolor painting with streaks of saffron and rose fading into a deeper purple. The hued sky served as a grim warning for humans, and you made your way back to the gates with purpose.

A bead of sweat trickled down your brow, raking through the tussle of your hair, you freeze at the missing sensation of the stiff yet delicate gifted hairpin. You run your hands over your clothes and run your fingers through your hair once again to ensure what you already suspected, it was gone.

Using the remaining embers of the sun, you retrace your footsteps back down the path. The veil of night had fallen, but the moonlight made visibility no problem. It would only take a moment to search…

You recede from the gates in your sights trepidatiously, meandering the path with eyes at your feet. You were vehemently hoping to find the hairpin as quickly as you could. It was no doubt expensive, and you couldn’t shake how rotten you felt that you so carelessly lost it. After some pacing, you finally spy what you had been looking for. A little dirty, but undamaged. You blow some of the debris off before returning to where you ought to be at this time.

Your blood runs cold hearing stirring from somewhere around you, something is wrong. Are you being watched? You feel your heartbeat in your throat. It couldn’t possibly be what you feared. You try to take a breath but your lungs become shallow, unable to take in air. Afraid of making any sudden movement, your eyes darted around your surroundings for anything.

You instinctually jump with a yelp upon hearing a raucous CAW cut through the obscurity of the darkness and your own panic. A kasugai crow? You see the silhouette of the dark bird darting into the distance in the blink of an eye. Why had it flown off so urgently? Where could it be going? You dismiss such questions as you feel your muscles free from tension with a deep exhale. You feel your heart rate coming down to its normal pace with your nerves stilling. You continue walking down the path to return to the house, moving with haste before your luck could run out.

You are filled with the warmth of familiarity as you are but meters from the gates, when suddenly you feel a talloned grip of a murderous creature grab your left wrist yanking you back with such force you nearly bite your tongue. Time nearly stops as you turn your head and gaze upon the monster that wants nothing more than to feast on your flesh. You shriek in terror at the sight, two horrible red beady eyes, scaly white skin, and rows of razor sharp fangs. No doubt about it. A demon.

Doing whatever you could possibly think of to free yourself from the death grip of the beast, you firmly clutch the hairpin in your right hand. Using the breakneck momentum sending you throat first hurling towards the abomination, you dig the metal accessory deep in its eye.

The hair pin was left buried in its face. The creature howled in agony, throwing you to the ground as if you were weightless. Your ears ring and you feel warmth beginning to seep from your lower lip at the impact, but you know you’ve only bought yourself a few crucial seconds to get distance from the bloodthirsty monster.

You rake the ground with your fingertips attempting to force yourself to your feet before stumbling down again. Horror and pain manifesting in your body at last, leaving you frozen in shock. You turn your head upon hearing the shrill screeches of pain turn to aggression once again. Its eye had already regenerated completely.

The hairpin left a crumbled wire on the ground beside the beast. You can’t outrun this thing. If you turn from it again you’re dead for sure. Beads of crimson blood trickled from your lip, the metallic taste ripe in your mouth causing you to spit instinctually. The demon came lunging at you again, its speed and agility unreal as it launched from where it stood.

You braced yourself for the inevitable when you saw a blur of motion, a burst of blazing power. It was as if a fierce, explosive flame had ignited out of nowhere. Suddenly, you heard a pathetic plop as the demon’s decapitated head fell to the ground, disintegrating into ash.

The creature didn’t even know what happened before it was slain with ease, in the blink of an eye. Standing firmly, with a presence exuding both fortitude and finesse, a figure appeared in front of you. The unforgettable haori of the Flame Hashira draped over the shoulders of your rescuer.

In a fluid motion, Kyojuro thrusted the garnet blade out to the side, the demon blood shirking off cleanly. Then, lining the katana’s edge up with the sheath, he slid it into the wooden saya with a resounding click. He kneeled to your eye line, your breathing still ragged and uneven.

He lifted a hand to your face, almost as if to ground himself. You feel his palm tremble against your cheek. You hold your own hand on his, stilling the involuntary tremor. Feeling the warmth of your skin against his, he quieted the panicked white noise in his mind.

You looked in shock, but miraculously, mostly unharmed. Save for the blood dripping from your mouth down to your chin. He lightly swiped his thumb over your bottom lip in an attempt to wipe the blood from your face, the traces of what was nearly his greatest failure.

His mind went back to images of a distant past. She coughed blood as well. Mother.

When it became harder for her to move, he stood at her bedside wiping the red fluid from her lips as her chronic illness advanced. Around that time, the father he looked up to that was once full of passion seemed to forget he and Senjuro even existed, seemingly grieving the loss of his beloved wife already. When the day came she was unable to breathe anymore, she passed in the night, without anyone even getting a chance to say goodbye. And with that, whatever was left of the Rengoku “family” shattered.

“Mother has gone to heaven...”

The words felt like tons of lead hanging in the air when he broke the news to his younger brother the next day. As much as he wanted to scream, cry out, ask someone—anyone—why. Why did a gentle woman like her have to suffer to the very end without anyone even there when her body finally gave out? Why did father drink himself into a perpetual stupor? But he knew he couldn’t. Watching little Senjuro, barely four years of age, clinging to his arm, sobbing, he knew the last thing he could do was crumble. He had to be strong. Not just for himself, but for everyone. Strong enough to protect them all.

He winced at the thought of what could’ve happened if he followed the standard procedure of pillars on standby, and spent tonight fast asleep and blissfully unaware.

“If I only got here a few minutes sooner. Did that thing touch you anywhere else?” His eyes remained steady and solemn on your sole injury, still holding your chin between his index finger and thumb.

Your chest tightened seeing the look on his face, both shame and concern. You told him you would try to lessen the burden he felt. What an empty platitude you’d spewed that night.

“I-I’m alright… really, the Earth did me more damage than it did.” You knew he would only consider it as a personal ineptitude if the very being he swore to annihilate managed to do any degree of injury to you. Even with your futile attempt to ease the concern and remorse, no doubt digging deeper into his skin than any claw of a demon, his countenance was drawn thin. The man who you knew to burn with unwavering sanguinity, was reduced to a flicker of uncertainty at the sight before him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to worry about me, you already worry about everyone. I don’t want to be a burden or another thing hanging on your mind. And I broke my hairpin. I’m sor-” Your near hysterical drabble was abruptly cut off by Kyojuro pulling you closer, wrapping his arms around you as if to create a protective cocoon to keep you from harm henceforth, tenderly holding your head like a lifeline.

“Do not apologize. I won’t allow it. I am your husband… so just this once, please, you must obey me. I won’t let you apologize for anything.” His voice wracked with tremors, the usual self-assuredness cracking beneath the weight of everything.

“Even if you apologize for it, you will not leave my mind. It’s not possible. But it’s not because you’re a burden. You’ve never been a burden. Never.” He forcibly regained his composure, wiping a tear that had escaped to run down your cheek. Still holding your face so that he could take it in its entirety, sear each feature into his mind if he could. His lips curled back into a smile, one that he hoped you would mirror back at him.

Despite your insistence you were practically unscathed, Kyojuro insisted on carrying you back to the house. With careful hands, he lifted you effortlessly, as if you weighed no more than a feather. You could feel the heat radiating from him, if you didn’t know better you might’ve thought he was feverish.

“Warm” you think to yourself, he really was always so warm.

—————————————

The morning light filtered into the room like flecks of gold, but he paid no mind to it. He had been awake before dawn anyway. Unable to shake the feeling of a taint sticking to his skin like a film of filth. What had happened hours earlier, a blur of fangs, debris, shadows, and sanguine hued splatters.

He moved deliberately, as to not awaken you so early in the other room. Clamping a fabric tie between his teeth, he lifted his arms to gather the amber strands of his hair, his shoulders flexed, corded muscles shifting smoothly beneath his skin. Before dexterously pulling through and fastening his usual ponytail with one hand.

Next, he inspected the condition of the white haori accented with red and yellow left carefully folded across the room. Scanning it, running his hands over it, he ensured the prized heirloom wasn’t soiled as he did each time he worked. He was meticulous about his corps uniform, never did he allow it to look creased, disheveled, or unprofessional. But the most important piece of the ensemble was his haori.

Passed down from generation to generation, the garment was a symbol of the house Rengoku going back to the Sengoku era, precious, and only be to worn by the current Flame Hashira.The kaen pattern was a sacred motif that served as both a beacon of light to those in need of salvation, as well as a searing warning to evil. The privilege of donning it was not one to be taken lightly. He most literally carried the long legacy of Flame Breathing on his shoulders.

With that legacy came an unyielding duty. Every hashira had a sector they were responsible for protecting, mainly by remaining vigilant for anything suspicious that could be related to demonic movements. Weak demons were much like mindless animals, prowling the night haphazardly seeking human flesh to feast on.

They were easy to both find and slay. On the other hand, powerful demons were intelligent, sinister. They spun elaborate webs, even employing humans or feigning humanity themselves to strategically ensnare unsuspecting victims to devour, only to then return to the shadows and repeat the cycle again and again.

In recent days, Kyojuro knew something was horribly awry in his district. Forty passengers and a small platoon of demon slayers did not simply vanish from their seats halfway through a train ride. And just as that same “man-eating train” was to return to the rails, a demon dubbed “The Slasher” doing absolutely nothing to conceal itself, suddenly begins wreaking havoc? A distraction, no doubt.

There was a foreboding bitterness in the air of something horrific to come, a phase two of this calculated plot. A twelve kizuki, perhaps even an upper rank, was lying in wait. Reporting his findings to the Master, Kyojuro was officially dispatched, and to board the Mugen Train at dusk in two days time.

It was standard procedure for the pillars to have a short period to arrange preparations and fully rest before the ordeal to come when assigned a mission from the Master himself; he had not been personally sent by the Master on a mission more than but a few times in his career.

When a hashira was sent at all, it was a signifier as to the direness and expected peril of the situation. A code red emergency. It was a necessity for anyone attending such a high stakes operation to be both mentally and physically at their pinnacle, a few nights of leaving patrol to the sector’s subordinate kinoe and kinoto battalions was in the best interests of all. Even a pillar is only human after all.

He was no stranger to any of this, he had been on countless missions, even eliminating the twelve kizuki was something he knew he was capable of doing. He usually did follow the expectation of a brief rest period, but he was under no real obligation to. No one, not even the wise Master, would try to convince a pillar of their own physical threshold if one continued duties anyway.

Images of ruby droplets dripping down your lip played in his mind on loop. It stirred something fierce in him, something that made any prospect of fatigue irrelevant. You had been so close to becoming another victim, another statistic of demonic cruelty. His jaw tightened at such a thought. Was respite a luxury he could afford?

The Slasher was known for its speed; just last night, several crows reported sightings from different towns in a span of a few minutes. He could not let the beast stay on the prowl another night. He would eliminate it now if he could. He could not entrust its defeat to another slayer, or even another pillar.

The sightings had been too close to the estate; he wanted to track and dispose of it himself. He would never forgive himself if he stood idly by waiting for the Master’s order to board the Mugen Train, and something happened to someone he cared about again. Every fiber of his being screamed to act, to protect, unwilling to afford to think of anything else right now—not even the impending mission.

All his pursuits of strength, in an attempt to fulfill his promise, no, his duty not just to Mother, but to everyone he was capable of defending. Was it all for naught? He could not succumb to the trap of self satisfaction. Continue. Onward. There had to be more he could do, more who he could protect. A pillar is an immovable object to support all that rests upon it, and he would be the same. Solidified with an overwhelming passion. A couple of sleepless nights should be nothing to inhibit a hashira, right? He just needed to push himself harder.

“Please take care of yourself, unless you want me to worry”

A softer image of you enters his mind. Warm lantern light reflecting from your face, cheeks dusted with a rosy hue, and a wistful smile. Your echoes in his mind, almost hauntingly so. Your voice is saccharine like honey, and your words even more so.

He began slipping into his usual uniform attire, each button latched a manifestation of his ironclad resolve. He would investigate the Slasher incidents even if it took the next two day, and dispose of it. He would try to stop home for a quick goodbye, then straight away mount the Mugen Train next.

You would have to find it in your heart to excuse what he was planning to do. He slid the shoji open a crack large enough to peer inside. He looked in on you, peacefully asleep. The sunlight, a golden cascade against your skin. It may have well cast a halo upon you, the way you look positively ethereal. Whispering in a voice uncharacteristically low as to not cut through the tranquil, he uttered solemnly:

“Please, forgive me…”

—————————————

The cicadas chirped with the evening upon them, the warm air sat like a blanket over the Earth, with barely any breeze. With the company of the youngest Rengoku, you sat on the back porch of the house. Time moved slow, seemingly not even at all, like they were suspended in placidity, or maybe even monotony.

“Is it normal for pillars to be sent out for over two days straight?” You ask the young boy next to you.

“No,” he replied with certainty “They are the most valuable assets of the entire corps. Only to be dispatched when all logistics and reconnaissance is done, and they need someone to finish off the threat itself. Or perhaps if there is a devastating emergency or something, but even then.”

You nod, expressing understanding. “Brother likes to be involved every step of the way though, he likes enforcing that every position in the corps is equally essential, including hashira” Senjuro can’t hide his starry-eyed look at the mere mention of his idol.

You hum amusedly, how had you forgotten? You can picture him now, tirelessly ensuring that every corps member feels valued, regardless of rank or whether they wield a sword or simply provide support.

You can’t help but acknowledge how characteristic that kind of mindset was. That man really takes every opportunity to work as hard as humanly possible to set an example for others.

“You think he will send a crow soon?” Despite Senjuro’s steady tone and demeanor, you see his lip quivering.

“He always comes straight here as soon as he can, I’m sure he will be back by tomorrow morning at the latest.” You steel yourself, speaking confidently and self assured, smiling back at Senjuro.

“That’s what Kyojuro would do.” You think to yourself.

“W-would you come with me to our Mother’s altar?” Senjuro looked at you, concern still wrought into his features.

“Oh, uh sure.” You had yet to see where the late lady of the house was laid to rest, or the shrine that served as a physical memory of her within the home. The right occasion just hadn’t come up.

Maybe you remembered seeing her when you were a child the day you were promised to the Rengoku family? You can vaguely recall a beautiful measured woman with long, dark hair, in every manner down to how she breathed she exuded elegance and poise. Judging by how many years ago that was, Senjuro probably remembers her about as much as you do.

Regardless of that, her spirit was likened to that of an angelic being. Either serving as a fond memory of simpler times, or a bitter reminder of when life was worth living for all those who once loved her.

The boy rose to his feet beckoning you to follow him, taking a stick of incense before leading you into a small room.

Adorning the tiered altar were chrysanthemums and fine silks, leading to a portrait with an inscription beneath reading “Rengoku Ruka: Beloved Wife and Mother.” Her deep crimson eyes reflected a patience extending infinitely, steadily taking in all they surveyed.

“Someone already lit incense?” You say gesturing to the aromatic as it sat already burning, concentrated sake poured into an ornate ceremonial ochoko beside it. It looked as if the offering had been left earlier that same day.

“There’s never any incense here when my brother is gone.” Senjuro frowned at the untouched stick in his own hand. “There’s a bit of an old school tradition he told me about from The Flame Hashira Chronicles talking about pillars lighting incense for each other when they are sent into the field for an extended period, kind of as a way of praying for their safety. I’m not sure if the current pillars still believe in it, but my brother definitely does. He really tries his best to follow the ways of previous generations of hashira.”

You wondered why such a ritual was getting phased out, perhaps it was just considered archaic? You were no elite swordsman yourself, but it only made sense in your mind. The longer they are forced to continue fighting, the more difficult the mission becomes as they slowly fatigue. They deserve all the support from their fellow pillars in that case.

Senjuro sighed, “I figured he would like it if we followed that custom and lit some for his protection, just in case none of his comrades did it for him.”

As much as you were sure Kyojuro would be touched by you and Senjuro wanting to burn incense for him, your heart bled at the thought of being the only ones to do so. However, clearly there was someone else in the house who showed concern and solidarity for his endeavor…

“Well, I guess we won’t have to.” You assure Senjuro in an attempt to ease his disappointment. You could tell he wanted to be the one to ask Ruka’s spirit for guardianship and watchfulness over his brother. Nevertheless, you both kneeled on the zabuton cushion before the altar, your hands both folded reverently.

“Please Mother, keep brother from harm. Please guide him home when he is victorious over the demons.”

You shut your eyes while listening to Senjuro’s plea, feeling your breath shallow with worry hearing his words. You hadn’t said it to each other yet, but there it was. You and Senjuro both had considered the possibility of something dreadful, even as hard as you tried not to. You found yourself imploring as well.

“Please Ruka-san… watch over him.”

—————————————

He looked over his shoulder at the younger slayer incapacitated on the ground, and the civilians of the Mugen Train as they attempted to recover from the aftermath of the locomotive going off the rails.

The tattooed demon seemed in a state of bliss at the sensation of his blade slicing its body, as if it was in a state of bliss from the adrenaline of battle. The slashes closed as quickly as he created them, his enemy standing unharmed. “You still don’t get it? That if you continue attacking, you’re just getting closer to death, Kyojuro?”

Blood obscured his left eye to the point he couldn’t even see out of it. He felt sharp splinters of rib bone against his side, nearly making him dizzy from the pain. He tightened his core to do whatever he could to prevent the fragments from puncturing his vitals from within. He could not falter now. Not when over 200 lives hung in the balance. Firming his resolve, he gripped his blade with a vice.

The final and most powerful form of Flame Breathing was a Rengoku family secret technique. A mystery to demons and swordsmen alike. There were no records of an enemy living to tell the tale once it was wielded, even tsuguko hailing from outside the family were only told of eight forms in existence.

No matter how many centuries the monster known as Upper Moon 3 had lived, he could not possibly know of this move if he had never encountered a Flame Hashira before, as he had previously boasted.

This creature was not a demon, he was a calamity. A being only devoted to destruction. One that needed to be taken down here and now. This was his last chance, even if all he could do was trap the demon in place until dawn. He had to use it, the penultimate stance of Flame Breathing. A form that could only be described as using mind, body, very soul as kerosene and setting one alight to burn, burn!

“Flame Breathing Esoteric Art, Ninth Form: Rengoku!”

Taking off full speed, the rest of the world fragmenting into oblivion as his vision darkened at the edges. His only focus was striking with as much speed and power as he possibly could. A burning ferocity went ripping through every nerve ending, focusing every ounce of strength from everything down to each individual cell, to a single objective.

His opponent’s face lit up with ecstasy, cackling in a fit of twisted delight. “Now you must become a demon! We could continue to duel each other for the rest of eternity!”

The ground shook at both forces of nature colliding, all the pain reaching a threshold in his body that it became numb at once. He entered a dreamlike state. As if he was no longer in control of his own body, the righteous fury from within was overflowing to move him without thinking. It was only when the beast launched himself into the air, both arms ripped that he understood what had happened as they stood in a deadlock. Feeling his muscles finally give, he fell to his knees. Everything went white, the overwhelming silence gripping him in place. It was as if he was suspended in the crossroads of reality and time.

He sat kneeling in a maroon yukata. The familiar tatami floors he had known all his life beneath him. He was home? He looked down his lap to see the calloused, hardened palms he had acquired over years of combat were replaced with small, soft hands of a child.

Lifting his head from the ground, his breath caught in his throat at the sight before him. Serene ruby eyes met his gaze, complemented by the same sage countenance he had once known.

“Mother? Did I… did I do right by you? My duty… being strong... Did I fail?”

Her expression remained calm, the picture of composure, even now, embodying the quiet strength that had always defined her. “Kyojuro,” she spoke, her voice flowing like a babbling brook, soothing and reassuring. “You have never failed.”

“Why… Why can’t I embrace you Mother?” He was moving in slow motion, the harder he strained to reach her, the more resistance he felt on his body. What was this place?

“That is because it's not time. You are not finished yet. You promised to see your duty fulfilled, so fulfill it.” She continued, her eternally stoic gaze softened. “I’m so proud of you, my son.”

To be continued...

#rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku x you #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader

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vrystalius · 2 months ago

Note

Hey babess, i have quite the heartwarming request.

So imagine that wife reader is heavily and her water randomly breaks so ofc she gives birth with the help of shinobu(i love her so much) and other midwives ofc. So how would the hashias react during the late stages of pregnancy and birth??

Hear me outtt, what if preg reader was pregnant with twins(im a big family girl lol, i had to let that out). Stuff stuff

Hashira’s reactions during your pregnancy

You’re heavily pregnant. How will your husband react?

Note: I didn’t include the gender and names of the babies, so you can choose the genders and names yourself!

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x fem!reader

Includes: Food cravings, mood swings, sickness, talking to the baby, birth and a little bonus scenario in the end (different for every hashira)

Words: 5.1k, enjoy!

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Food cravings

What? You want to eat ohagi again? Sure it’s Sanemi’s favourite food, but you’ve insisted on eating ohagi for every day the past week. The baby needs some vegetables, fruits, vitamins and whatever else. Just anything but ohagi!

He couldn’t even watch when you proceeded to devour sweet potatoes with a chocolate sauce. The worst part is that Sanemi is the main chef of this household and was forced to cook all kinds of monstrosities for you during your pregnancy. But he never said a word about it and just silently judged you for even asking him to bake a whole fish just so you can covered it in sliced fruits and chocolate sauce.

“Are ya sure you’re not poisoning our baby? Are ya really, really sure?”

Sometimes, Sanemi’ll try to sneak in healthy foods into your diet like one would to with a toddler. He’d chop the vegetables as small as possible and try to feed them to you in bits by bits by incorporating them into your favourite foods. You weirdly enough never noticed how your ohagis began to taste like carrots more and more.

“What? No. I’m making them like always. I.. just used the same knife for both carrots and the beans of the ohagi… Whatcha looking at me like that for??”

Mood swings

It’s very confusing to Sanemi how you can be happily munching on your snacks in one moment and then began crying about a dog wandering the streets, thinking someone abandoned him. He’s putting up with it, though. He’d would take you into his arms and try to explain to you that no, that dog is not living on the street and that it belongs to the nice old lady that lives just down the street. He gets a little nervous every time you get emotional when standing in the nursery and inspect all the prepared toys and clothes. Why are you crying so hard? Do you not want a baby? Or are you just this excited to have one?

He doesn’t get your mood swings but’ll try his best to give you reassurance and support. Even though Sanemi’ll be a little awkward and just hover around you in fear of triggering another random emotion in you.

“Hey, darling… how about we move to the bedroom? The nursey is makin’ ya emotional. You’re gonna loose control over ya bladder and I’m gonna be forced to clean after ya. Again.”

But most of the time, Sanemi’ll get soft when you get emotional over the baby stuff like this. Sometimes, he’ll sneak into the nursery during the nights he can’t sleep and rumage all the baby’s things. Sanemi would look through all the neatly folded baby clothes Giyu send over and the toys Tengen’s wives made themselves for the baby. He can’t help but get a little teary-eyed himself, leaning against the crib and looking down at the soft mattress below. He just can’t want to have a little baby in there.

“Fuck, don’t sneak up on me like that! A-And ‘m not cryin’, I-I’m just checkin’ on the crib. Y’know, if it looks stable and shit. It gotta handle our fatass baby.”

Talking to the baby

Sanemi loves to lay his head against your stomach and just listen to the baby’s heart beat. His hand would gently caress your stomach while mumbling against your skin.

“Whatcha doing in there, hm? Why are you kicking your mommy? You’re hurting her, y’know.”

It’s a weird sight, seeing a strong man like him baby talking to your stomach while having his cheek pressed up against your belly. He’d take at least one hour in his day just to talk to your baby and tell it aaaalll about your and his day.

“Your mom threw up onto our new carpet and that’s your fault, you know that, right? I’m gonna kick your ass for it one day. Maybe when you become a shitbag in your teenage years.”

Sickness

“In both sickness and in health,” and Sanemi meant that wholeheartedly after speaking those words out loud during your wedding. Even if that means sitting beside you in the middle of the night, holding your hair and patting your back while you throw your guts up. He’s sleepy, he’s tired, but he won’t return to back without you. If Sanemi has to, he’ll cook up some tea or soup for you to calm your stomach. He’d even break Shinobu’s door down for some herbs or medicine if it means making you feel better and cuddling you back to sleep with no worries.

“You’re okay, I’m here. Don’t hold back.”

If you’re throwing up for a while, Sanemi might fall asleep in the hunched over position while holding your hair behind your head, his hand still firmly resting on your shoulder in quiet support. He jumps back awake when you throw up violently again.

“Ugh, you good? Told you seaweed n’ cherries don’t go together…”

Birth

Sanemi wanted to complete one last mission before retiring for good. He noticed how his muscles were starting to soften up and the callouses in his hands began to disappear. Just one last mission, then he’ll become a full-time dad! He promised you it’ll be for just three nights and that Shinobu will be looking out for you while he’s gone. You two can talk about preparations, body changes and whatever you two always talk about.

He was close to tracking this scum demon down when he received a message from his crow about you going into labour. Sanemi wanted to go on a mission one time, just one time! Can’t you hold the baby in or something until he comes home? He knows that he has to behead this demon before coming home. That thing already did enough harm and he didn’t want to retire on a bad note by ditching his final mission. So, Sanemi proceeded to chase the demon down while steaming in anger. He wanted to go on a mission just ONE last time, damnit!!

“COME BACK HERE YOU PIECE OF SHIT!! MY WIFE’S GIVIN’ BIRTH, WHILE I’M CHASING YOUR SORRY ASS!!”

Shinobu helped you through the whole process of giving birth. The contractions and labour lasted for almost half a day, and you managed to almost broke two of the three butterfly girl’s hand in an attempt to release some pain. You were supposed to hold Sanemi’s hand and almost break his bones while giving birth, not theirs! Shinobu kept reassuring you that Sanemi surely is already on his way! Surely. She had her soft smile on her face the whole time while you pushed and screamed through the pain, reassuring you and offering all kinds of ways to relieve pain during the whole process.

After Sanemi returned from his missions, he was staring at two babies in your arms. His eyes darted back in forth from the one to another. The baby on your left had beautiful white hair and was squirming around a lot, grabbing your robes and was seemingly already complaining about the lack of feeding you’re doing. The other baby had darker hair and was much calmer. It was asleep, resting against your chest.

His heart shattered in a million pieces after processing what just happened. In a good way, that is. He never commented on it, but Sanemi did notice that you were a little bigger for being pregnant with only one baby. He just brushed it off as being a bit bloated or the baby being really big, but never that it were two babies that were hogging all the food you were devouring. Sanemi was bawling his eyes out while holding both of his babies in his arms for the first time. They’re so tiny, so cute and chubby! How could anyone not love them? He was barely able to speak while trying to express how much he loves you and is so glad that you and the babies are fine. This is everything he had ever hoped for: a perfect wive, a family home and two kids. If only his other siblings were here to celebrate this moment with him. Perhaps he’ll allow Genya to visit every now and then.

“I-I- *hic* W-We need an-another- *hic* … the crib’s not b-big enough- f-for- *hic* gah, f-fuck!! *hic*

Bonus: A tight crib

You noticed how Sanemi insisted on putting the babies back to sleep every time they woke up during the night for anything. You usually fall back asleep and wake up in the mornings back in his arms, but tonight, you wanted to wait until he returns to bed to cuddle him. After the babies quieted down and your husband didn’t return, you dragged yourself out of bed and stepped into the nursery, only to find Sanemi laying inside the cramped crib, having the baby lay on one side and the other on the other. He was laying in an extremely uncomfortable position, with hid neck bend at an awkward angle and him laying in the crib with his legs dangling out over the edge. You couldn’t help but giggle a little, seeing your husband scarfing his own comfort for his babies.

“Nemi?…”

Your whispering made his eyes flutter open. His face contorting into a tired scowl.

“It’s the only way to put ‘em to sleep, not my fault they like me so much.”

Now, are the babies attached to their papa, or is Sanemi being very attached to them?

Kyojuro Rengoku

Food cravings

Whatever you’d like to eat, he’ll provide! Sometimes, if the combinations you come up with sound appetising enough, Kyojuro’ll even try some the foods alongside you! He will not judge you for craving weird foods during your pregnancies, but he is a little worried about your choices. You need to make sure that you eat enough nutrients for you and the baby! Kyojuro’ll try his best to cook up something nice for you, but he ends up buying take-out and feeding that to you instead. He’s scared he might burn something or accidentally poison you, so he’d rather leave food up to the chefs.

“I brought some tempura, some soup dumplings, ramen, udon noodles, mushed and baked sweet and regular potatoes. Oh! And some dessert… Mochi, dango and a slice of cake! Everything you ordered, my flame!”

Shinjuro, after finding out about your pregnancy, would offer to cook for you sometime. He used to make meals for Ruka while she was pregnant, so he thought he might make himself useful and help out. Kyojuro’s father actually vowed to stop with the drinking to make sure his grandkid doesn’t grow up around a drunk grandpa, so this is a first nice step for him. Besides, he feels guilty for being so terrible to Senjuro and Kyojuro.

His meals are surprisingly very well made and tasty. They soothe your nausea, lessen the swelling in the feet and help a lot with your headaches.

“Father, I never knew you could cook this good!” “Shut up and eat your plate.”

Mood swings

Kyojuro feels like he’s causing your mood swings sometimes. He feels guilty when you start crying over little things, like how your favourite tree is starting to change colours in the leaves, or just how much you missed your husband after him leaving for half an hour to get you dinner. He’s used to comforting Senjuro while the two grew up together, so he might know a thing about holding someone. Kyojuro would pull you closer and place lots of kisses on your head and top of your head, rubbing your shoulder with his warm hands. His warmth is very comforting to you, making you calm down a little.

“Are you feeling unwell? What made you so upset, love?”

He’ll try to cheer you up by talking about baby names. In his family, most of the names sound similar and end with an “juro”. Shinjuro, Senjuro, Kyojuro… how about Tojuro? Sounds nice, doesn’t it!? Or how about Kijuro? Or how about you combine your first letters with Juro? That sounds very fitting! And see, your tears are already gone!

“I’m not sure if we should think about girl’s names, my love! My family birthed sons for generations now! But we can write some down if you like, just in case.”

Sickness

Seeing you sick makes Kyojuro nervous, but he’ll stay beside you during your morning sicknesses and nausea. You kind of remind him of his mother, back when she was in the late stages of her sickness, that’s why he gets a little jumpy when you hunch over the toilet snd wretch your guts out. He’ll hold your hair and gently caress your back, silently hovering beside you.

To make sure you don’t have to get out of bed in the middle of the night to throw up, Kyojuro equipped your nightstand with a bowl you can throw up into anytime you felt nausea hitting you.

“I’ll make some tea for you once you get nauseous again, okay? My mother’s recipe.”

Talking to the baby

Kyojuro loves to talk to your stomach as if the baby is already out and able to talk back. He’d sit beside you in bed, gently caressing the side of your stomach while grinning brightly.

“What kind of hair will you have, hm? Like mine? Or like mom’s?”

Sometimes, he’ll try to convince the baby to let you sleep for once. If you can’t sleep, Kyojuro can’t sleep. He’d lay his head on your chest and sleepily mumble to the stomach while slowly rubbing your sides.

“You’re quite the active one, hm?.. mh.. How about we go to sleep together, okay? Be a good kid and give your mommy some rest…”

Birth

When your water first broke, Kyojuro thought the baby might’ve kicked your bladder or something, causing you to leak. But the horror on your face that followed soon after changed his mind in an instant. He sent out a crow to Shinobu, notifying her about your labour, but it might take a while until she arrives. In the meantime, your husband prepared all the things for a homebirth. You probably wont be able to reach the butterfly mansion in time to give birth there, but in the meantime, would you like water? Food? Sweets? A towel? Maybe not the last one because you’re able to hit him with that. You’re very angry about him impregnating you nine months ago while being in painful labour right now.

Shinobu surprisingly arrived very quickly and got right to work. Her soft voice and kind words as encouragement managed to calm you down as far as to not curse Kyojuro and all his ancestors out. Your anger directed at him actually helped you press the baby, so your husband happily sat there and held your hand while you were attempting to break it while redirecting your pain

Finally, after hours on hours of labour, Shinobu’s encouragement and Kyojuro’s hand turning blue from blood being cut off, you birthed two identical twins. Both had your husband’s flamboyant hair colour and prominent eyebrows. Your husband was trembling and crying after seeing them for the first time. His babies, his kids! And two of them?? In one go?? This couldn’t have gone any better. For around the next hour, while your babies were nursing on you, he kept thanking you for everything you ever did for him.

“I-I love you! I-I love y-you! Th-Thank you for marrying m-me, my fl-flame! Than-Thank you for giving me t-two babies! Thank y-you! T-Thank you!!”

Bonus: Tasty hair

Your babies are for some reason obsessed with your husband’s hair. Maybe it’s because of how bright his hair is or how nice it is to chew on it. You caught Kyojuro offering his baby his hair to hold and play around with, only for it to start pulling tightly on it. It hurts a little and he’s not quite sure how his baby got this strength out of nowhere, but he’s incredibly happy that his baby likes his hair so much!

But he also learned that the twins prefer their grandpa’s hair a little more over his. Shinjuro doesn’t appreciate it as much as Kyojuro is, though. He tolerates them pulling on his hair but doesn’t like it. At all. He’ll glare at his son until he finally takes his baby away from his damn hair! His scalp is already burning!

(But we all know that Shinjuro takes them back into his arms on purpose to tickle their stomachs and to let them pull on his hair as they please. They’re just too cute!)

“My flame, could you help me remove our child? This one seems particularly fascinated by the taste of my shampoo!”

Gyomei Himejima

Food cravings

Gyomei will not always give into your odd cravings. Instead, he’ll try to redirect your cravings to tastier things. He’s worried that you don’t get enough nourishment for the baby and for yourself, so Gyomei’ll try to feed you healthy foods instead of eating the creations you came up with. Why do you even thought about eating pieces of clay you picked up from right next to the waterfall? You’re lucky Genya caught you before you managed to take a bite.

To be completely honest, Gyomei is incredibly worried that you’re eating things you aren’t supposed to eat while he’s not watching/listening.

“Love, what are you chewing?”

His calm and deep voice makes you stop munching on the raw onion and immediately put it back down onto the counter of the kitchen.

Gyomei insists on cooking for you, even if he’s blind. He’s surprisingly good with cooking and always manages to slip vegetables into the meals in the tastiest way possible! You somehow never notice and just are incredibly happy that he takes some time out of his day just to cook meals for you! Sometimes, Genya joins in when you two eat and just chats with you about your husband’s training and his big brother. He’s also very curious about your pregnancy and how you’re coming along. That boy is just as excited about your baby as your husband is! Genya even gifted you one of his best bonsai trees to keep in the nursery!

“Miss Himejima, are you still hungry? You can have my plate if you like, I’m going to meet up with Tanjiro to eat later in the city together anyway.”

Mood swings

Gyomei understands that your hormones are going a little crazy during your pregnancy, but he still gets a little surprised when your mood changes so suddenly. You get emotional mostly over Genya and how hard he’s training to make up with his brother. You cry everytime when you see him train hard under Gyomei. Your husband finds it kind how much empathy you’re feeling for that boy, but the poor boy can’t really concentrate when a crying pregnant lady watching him train. So, your husband suggested you to not watch them train as much anymore and instead do something else. As compensation, Gyomei promises you to tell you everything he and Genya have been doing that day.

Sometimes, when you get angry out of nowhere, Gyomei’ll just let you throw your little tantrum while listening you silently. After you finished, he might suggest exorcising you as a joke to lighten your mood, but his serious tone and unmoving expression made him look like he’s serious. Wich makes you cry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m not going to exorcise you, I promise, my pearl. I would only do that in the extrem case.”

Sickness

Gyomei knows how to deal with sicknesses and nausea. Once you express feeling sick in any way, he’ll prepare a special herbal tea, open up all the windows for fresh air, feed you crackers and dry food, and of course, equip you with a bowl to vomit into just in case. He’ll sit with you in bed, your head laying on his thighs and his palm resting on your forehead, slowly petting your hair.

He’s mumbling quiet prayers for you and your baby, his deep and smooth voice calming your stomach slowly. Gyomei’d smile softly while having his eyes closed. You told him that his smile is always making you calm, so he’s trying to smile more often for you.

“How are you feeling? I can brew you another cup if you like, it’ll help you.”

Talking to the baby

Gyomei barely talks to the baby while you’re awake. He’ll sometimes lean down and mumble a couple of greetings and kind words before moving on with his day, but when you fall asleep at night, your husband likes to have one-on-one conversation with his child. He’d have his large palm resting on your belly, rubbing it up and down. Gyomei sometimes nuzzles into your sides and places a few kisses on the side before talking.

He’d be praying first, making sure that the baby is alright and’ll come healthy into the world. Then, he’d quietly talk about you. Your husband’ll talk about the things you like to do, about how emotional you get over Genya, how you pout everytime he leaves early in the mornings to train, how much he loves you and how you insisted on get even more toys, even though the toybox is already filled to the brim.

“We are both very excited to meet you… please be more kind to your mother until birth. Her bladder is not as strong during the pregnancy, so do not test it again.”

Birth

Gyomei was praying the whole time he was waiting outside the chambers of where you were currently yelling in pain. His eyes were closed in concentration and his palms rubbing together, his red pearly beads wrapped around his hands. He could hear every mumble of Shinobu to Aoi, every curse you’re throwing around and every bed creak after changing the position. Shinobu suggested that Gyomei should wait outside since he’s quite large and they need more space to move around you. You promised to him that you’ll be fine on your own. He has been crying and praying, crying and praying the whole time for you and the baby, until finally, everything got quiet. Your cries died down, but there wasn’t any signs of a baby crying either. Gyomei was silent, stopping his prayers for a moment.

Until finally, first one baby, then another started to cry out. Two? You were carrying two miracles in your stomach all this time? Shinobu permitted Gyomei back inside and allowed him to meet the babies for the first time. They felt so incredibly tiny in his arms, so so tiny and fragile… The babies are the most precious things, and he felt like the luckiest man in all of history, holding his babies in his arms. His voice was very shaky and more tears than usual were running down his face.

“My love. I thank you for all eternity for giving me this gift… thank you. I am incredibly grateful for everything you have ever done for me.”

Bonus: Who’s who?

Given that Gyomei’s blind, he has always relied on his senses to move through the world. But funnily to you, his senses fail to differentiate wich baby is who. Sometimes you catch your husband holding one of the babies, standing silently there, thinking about who exactly he’s holding right now.

“Need some help, dear?”

Your voice made him turn his head towards you, smiling slightly.

“Yes, I already fed one of our twins. I went to retrieve more milk and lost track of wich one I already fed.”

His voice sounded a little confused but also slightly amused. Stepping closer, you saw how the baby that was laying in the crib was uneasy and wiggling it’s legs around, while the one Gyomei was holding was calm and content. You figured that the squirmy one wasn’t fed yet and took the sleepy baby out of your husband’s arms, setting it back into the crib and taking out the other.

“Here, this one seems hungry, hm? Aren’t you?”

You sweet-talked the baby a little, tickling the little stomach, making it giggle and kick against your husband a little. Gyomei nodded quietly.

“Thank you. I have yet to figure out how to differentiate our twins properly.”

Giyu Tomioka

Food cravings

He’s a little confused out by your requests that keep getting weirder and weirder. Are you sure you want to eat that? If Giyu would eat that, he’d be throwing up. Oh wait, you actually are vomiting up regularly…

Giyu will give you everything you asked for, but hesitantly. Before placing the plate down, he’d eye you up and down, judging you heavily for what he’s about to dish you. His silent judging eyes are enough to second guess your life choices that made you ask your poor husband to cook mashed potatoes mixed in with strawberry yogurt and sakura mochi with fish filling. Perhaps you’ll take the miso soup instead.

Sometimes, he’ll get so worried he approached Shinobu by himself and asked if there’s any medication he can give to you to make you crave less weird things and eat more healthy. Sadly, there is nothing like that, so Giyu’ll eventually resolved to force feed you regular foods instead. He’ll sit you down and feed stir fried veggies, rice, eggs, soup, tea, dessert and whatnot. Anything else but the monstrosity you keep craving.

One time, he caught you mixing chocolate sauce and soup together in the middle of the night. Giyu was just standing in the doorframe, looking utterly defeated and distraught at your actions.

“I love you, but can you stop poisoning our baby? I want it coming out of you alive.”

Mood swings

Giyu feels like he’s the reason you feel upset so suddenly. Perhaps he should’ve cleaned the house more, or finally finish building that crib. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so angry so randomly. He still is quite surprised how quickly your emotions can change from happy to sobbing about the cuteness of the teddybear Giyu brought home for the baby. It’s confusing.

He’ll try to comfort you the best he can, but your husband already struggled to comfort you when you’re not pregnant and had real reasons to cry about, so how is Giyu supposed to comfort you when you sob over the rice being undercooked?

He’ll just awkwardly pull you into a side-hug, rubbing your shoulders gently.

“Do you want chocolate? I heard people eat chocolate when sad. Or do you just want a hug?”

Sickness

You throwing up and being sick is making Giyu sick. While you throw up into the toilet, your husband would hold your hair back while leaning over the sink, trying not to vomit himself. After your morning sickness passes, he still remains crouched over the sink for a moment longer before preparing a ginger tea for the both of you. He’ll lay in bed for a while, cuddling the blanket while sipping on his tea. He looks like a wet, depressed cat, sipping on his tea with a straw while lying on his stomach like that. He mostly recovers after finishing his tea, but sometimes, he gets really sick. You’ll be forced to take care of your nauseous husband who is supposed to be taking care of you right now! How is he supposed to handle watching you birth your child? How can he slay demons but is not able to watch you throw up?

“Love… can you get me another cup of ginger tea? I’m getting sick again…”

Talking to the baby

Giyu didn’t start talking to your baby until you encouraged him to do so. You told him that talking to the baby creates a bond before it’s even born! So, he’ll slowly start conversations with your belly. He’s not sweet-talking to your stomach, but instead awkwardly holding a conversation with it as if he’s speaking to an adult. Giyu’d sit across you on the bed, his hands propped on his thighs, leaning forward slightly.

“So… how is it like inside the womb? When do you want to come out and meet your mom and dad?”

Birth

Giyu was very panicked when you went into labor. He send out a crow to Shinobu immediately and began assembling something similar to a throne made out of towels and blankets. He forced you to sit down and make yourself comfortable while he waiting on the porch to see when the butterfly hashira is coming. His grip was to tight on the fence of the engawa, he accidentally shattered the wood.

He tried to watch you giving birth, but once he saw the head slowly press out of you, he couldn’t anymore. Giyu held your hand in support and let you squeeze as hard as you want, but he was turned away your lower body, facing you instead. Once he heard the baby’s cries fill the room, he snapped his head around in an instant.

Your husband almost fainted when he saw another baby slowly squeeze out of you. Shinobu handed Giyu the first baby, wich was already wrapped in a towel, so she could direct her attention back to the second baby. His head felt dizzy while holding his baby, not able to comprehend that he’s about to be the father of two. He only build one crib, there’s no room for another. Is he even capable of raising two kids? What if they outnumber and team up on him once they grow up? Now he has twice the chance to fail at parenting and become a bad father!

But once your husband held both babies, all his worries washed away. It was like he was in some sort of trance, watching the babies just sleep and squirm around a little. Giyu didn’t even notice how he started crying until his tears fell onto one of his baby’s forehead and started crying.

“Ahh… uhm. How do you calm a baby down? Do you just rock it? Uhm. Help me, please-“

Bonus: How are you supposed to know what they want?

You watch your husband stress out over why the baby is crying for so many times already, and they’re only two weeks old. You caught him talking to your baby multiple times, just straight up asking what they want. He’s slowly starting to get desperate and you can see it.

“You want food?… No? You wanna be held? Maybe… play? Also no? What do you want then?”

Somehow, only you could understand when and what your babies want. Giyu watches in awe as you immediately figure out that the baby wants to be held and fed, and how quickly they calm down afterwards. You’re just magical, truly.

“How do you know? What do you know that I don’t?”

💠

Phew, this took a while to write! Hope you enjoyed this anon! I tried to incorporate the requested things in this ask from another post of mine, but I might’ve forgotten some. Anyways, my posts haven’t gotten much traction lately, so I hope this one’ll do a little better! I’m looking forward to reading all the reposts and comments you leave, I read every single one of them! Just know that they make me smile like an idiot <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

Note: Over 200 Notes!! Tysm!! <33

— I’d like to credit my cat as a co-author and professional purrer.

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