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cryb4byem · 4 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

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.”

part two here

#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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gingernut1314 · 3 months ago

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Good Omen

Kyojuro Rengoku x F!Reader

Summary: The Rengoku genes are hard to fight against, but your newborn child finds a way.

Warnings: gendered terms (wife, husband, female, male), reader has just given birth (birth not show), Kyojuro being the supportive man that is his

Word Count: 840+

A/N: First time writing for Kyojuro and I don't know why I haven't before this because I LOVE that man too much. He is one of my many, dearly beloved husbands ✋😩. I hope you all enjoy!

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You had pushed out a carbon copy of Kyojuro Rengoku.

You had thought maybe--maybe your genes would stand a chance in the creation of your child.

You thought that maybe the sweet new life you would bring into this world might have your nose or your eyes or even your cheekbones.

You, of course, thought wrong.

You didn’t know why you had hoped so passionately for your child to look like you, not when the entirety of the Rengoku line looked like one person had transported himself through time to live with himself from various different ages.

Bushy and wild yellow hair already grew from your sweet babes head. Bright, red and yellow-rimmed, owl-wide eyes blinked up at you. Pointed nose, high cheekbones, strong grip around your finger, and small but dark eyebrows.

This baby was your husband's clone, just as he and his brother had been clones of their father, and their father a clone of his father.

The one thing you had gifted your baby--the one thing that seemed to have fought tooth and nail through the overwhelming power of Rengoku genealogy had you worrying your lip between your teeth.

Your baby was born female.

Female when generation after generation of Rengoku and Flame Hashira had been male.

You couldn’t help the bit of panic that wound tightly in your chest as you turned your gaze from your baby to your husband, who burst into your room eyes shining and smile so wide you thought the corners might brush the lobe of each ear.

“How is my darling wife?” Kyojuro’s voice boomed through the room, making your midwives cringe and shush him. You, nor it seemed your child, cared. You were used to it, comforted by its consistent optimism, and your baby seemed to feel the same way.

Kyojuro noticed the shushes and whispered an apology back. A whisper that still managed to be projected further than your midwives cared for.

“Sweetheart,” You started as Kyojuro gracefully knelt next to where you sat.

“Yes?” He murmured, softer now that he was leaning closer to gaze upon his baby. You moved her so that you could present her sleeping face to her father.

“The baby…she’s--well she’s a girl.” You heard Kyojuro take a small inhale of breath and your panic spiked. There hadn’t been a single girl in his family for generations. Not one and here you were, giving him a female heir.

You had never known your husband to grow angered. To get mad at you but--maybe this was the line? Maybe it was the line and you were panicking to know what he was thinking.

“Perfect!” He boomed spooking the midwives, some of who gave strangled yelps. “Perfect!” He repeated proudly. “A girl? Are you sure?” He turned to look back at you in his excitement, yellow and red eyes--they were brimming with tears as they looked at you. You felt your own eyes burn in relief. In your utter love for the man kneeling beside you.

“Yes, I’m sure. You’re not mad?” Kyojuro gave a barking laugh at such a thought.

“Mad? No. I’m ecstatic!” You gave your own laugh, your tears spilling from your eyes. Kyojuro brushed his calloused thumb over your cheeks, clearing them both of the racing droplets. “You know there hasn’t been a single female Rengoku since the beginning of our family line.” You nodded, giving a humming “mm-hmm” that caught in your throat, which had tightened painfully in your fear. “Many believed we were divinely blessed for this, but I always felt it was a curse.”

“Do you want to hold her?”

“More than anything.” Kyojuro beamed. You gently passed your baby to her father, her dark brows furrowing at the sudden change.

Kyojuro never once took his eyes off his child. Didn’t stop to brush his own tears away as he took in every last detail of your daughter's face, a look of such love in his eyes it was overwhelming.

“You are special. A good omen.” He whispered down to her. “And I love you. Oh dear--how my heart bursts for you.”

Your own heart felt like it would flutter so hard it would explode right from your chest at the words he gifted his daughter. He was a good man and already a good father.

You brushed your own fingers over his cheeks, clearing them of his tears and running them through his wild hair.

“Want to invite Senjuro in?”

“Only if you wish, dear.” You nodded your head and Kyojuro took a few more, unhurried minutes to hold and watch over his child before passing her back to you. As soon as she was securely within your hold once more, he was popping up to his feet.

“Senjuro!” He called, giving the midwives another frightful start. You watched your husband rush out of the room, lips in a near-painful smile as you chuckled at his excitement. “Senjuro! My baby is a girl! She’s a girl!”

You had been completely foolish to worry.

You and your daughter were in very good and loving hands.

#rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro x you #rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyojuro x y/n #rengoku x you #rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #kyojuro x you #kyojuro x reader #kyouro x y/n #kny #kny fic #kyojuro fluff #kyojuro fic #demon slayer #demon slayer fic #my fic #dividers by enchanthings

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vrystalius · 3 months ago

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HELLOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! Is it okk to ask for like Hashiras/upper moons reaction to a little kid having a crush on reader?? Sorry if this sounds weird btw 😖

Hashira’s reaction to a child having a crush on you

How will your husband react to a small boy having a sweet, innocent crush on their wife?

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

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He will not let the crush slide. The first time Sanemi noticed the dreamy stare of the kid, how he was admiring you quietly from afar with a shy grin on their face, he stares at them with his usual intense glare, but didn’t do anything else about it. It’s just a small crush after all. But once the kid’s getting a little more hands-on by offering you a pretty flower he found on his way to the estate or shyly asking you to play with him during breaks, Sanemi would get more hands-on in return by playing along, as if fighting for your honour in a more childish way. He’d slip you into his arms and lift you above the ground, holstering you onto his shoulder and smirk at the surprised kid, watching you quite literally get kidnapped.

“She’s mine, kid. Get lost.”

Yet, once the child starts feeling heartbroken from you gently rejecting his advances, explaining how you are already married and how he should seek a nice partner of their own age, Sanemi’ll give them a small pep-talk while also slightly intimidating the poor boy at the same time by saying things like “You should become stronger, and maybe you’ll win her over one day” and “Still, be nice to my wife or else I’ll hear about it”. Despite everything, your husband respects the guts the kid has, confessing their love to you despite having a husband like him.

Kyojuro Rengoku

He finds it absolutely adorable! The kid actually confessed to Kyojuro about their crush first, seeking support and encouragement from him despite being the husband of yours. He can’t suppress his grin while they innocently explain all the things he likes about you; you’re pretty, you’re super nice, so strong and make super yummy snacks for them when he comes to visit. Kyojuro would start playing along with the kid, handing him small gifts he could give to you. Together, they once even made a handcrafted charm, both of them gifting it to you on Valentine’s day. In the evenings, you and your husband would quietly laugh about the adorableness of the kid, wondering if he’ll ever stop crushing on you.

“I might have competition! I’ll do everything in my power to convince you to stay married to me, my flame!”

Kyojuro greatly respects the child’s admiration for you, viewing it as an early sign of nobility. Whenever the kid gets shy or nervous around you, your husband might give him a pep-talk about bravery and kindness, saying that he’ll one day find his own wonderful partner, exactly how Kyojuro fell in love with you.

“I’m afraid that you’ll have to one day find a partner of your own, the woman you like so much sadly is already married to me.”

Gyomei Himejima

Your husband is soft-hearted about it, a little teary eyed by the innocence of the whole situation. You told him about the boy that always fights his way up the mountain just to come visit you and keep you company while you do boring tasks. He senses the pure heart of the child, never getting jealous or overprotective of you, instead Gyomei is calm and even entertained by the antics of the boy, how persistent and determined he is. He treats the kid and his feelings with respect and even sits him down to talk. One afternoon, your husband sits down with the child with some mochi for the boy to eat while he talks.

“When we care for someone, we do what is best for them. If you truly admire her, then always be kind, always be respectful. Even if she belongs to another, you can still honor her by being the best you can be.”

Giyu Tomioka

His reaction is a rather quiet one, as expected. Giyu is confused by the whole situation at first and doesn’t know how to react upon seeing the boy shyly approaching you with a bright blush and smile on his face, asking you to join him play. He watches as the kid’s innocent crush obviously shines through by stumbling over his words or by avoiding eye contact and kicking his feet around. Your husband feels a weird uncomfortableness pool in his stomach while watching from two afar, not quite understanding how he’s getting jealous over a child having a small crush on you. Is he seriously that insecure about himself?

As the boy’s antics continues, Giyu might start to show affection more openly when the kid is around, placing kisses on your cheek or holding you closer against his body by slipping an arm around your waist. It’s his silent way to “mark his territory”. Eventually, your husband would sit the kid down and have an awkward conversation with him about having crushes on people his own age and that you’re too old for him. Besides, you’re also married. To Giyu.

“You’re young, you’ll maybe understand one day.”

💠

I’m actually very sick right now and extremely nauseous, that’s why this fell a little short XD I hope you enjoyed this anyway, anon!! Today, my Tamagotchi evolved into Sanemi! He’s so adorable I can barely put it into words XD apparently if I do things right, he can also evolve into Genya in three days! Thank you for leaving all the kind comments and reblogs, I really love reading them all <3

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

Take care of yourselves <3

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bennysblabbering · 4 months ago

Text

Change of Plans

Kinktober: "Breeding" || Kyojuro Rengoku x reader

contents: hashira!reader, wholesome sex, love-making, creampie

words: 1.2k

g/n afab reader

↓ Ficlet below the cut ↓

The soft pillows meet the back of your head as your husband sets you down gently, strong arms wrapped around your waist as he places loving kisses along your neck. All day you’d been giving him that look whenever you could catch his eye during meetings and group training, and you giggled as his cheeks got redder every time. When you woke up that morning, you could tell you were ovulating by the way you immediately craved your husband’s touch and attention, but you knew you’d have to wait until the evening as you both had busy schedules ahead of you. After an agonizingly long day of yearning gazes and cravings from afar, you two had headed home; the eager man instantly picked you up and carried you to the bedroom the moment your front door was shut.

He parts his lips from your neck, smiling against your skin and humming. “I’ve been waiting for this all day, my darling. You know exactly what you’re doing when you look at me like that.” You giggle, running your hands over his toned bare back- both of you had already completely stripped fairly quickly after getting home and couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

He moves his face upward to meet his plush lips with yours, your faces sensually meeting with passion as he reaches downward to knead at your chest. He gently rubs your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, his erection twitching as you moan into the kiss from the sensation. Your hands stroke up and down his muscular body, exploring his back and torso; even though you’d grown more than familiar with every inch of his body, it still felt exhilarating to touch his perfect figure. A figure that was all yours. Every time you saw his strong and sculpted body, you thanked every god above that you had the privilege of getting fucked by this man on the regular.

He exhales from his nose as he pulls away from the kiss, his sunset eyes half-lidded and gazing at you with such enamor that only a husband could express. “I can’t wait any longer, angel…I need to make love to you.”

A warm blush spreads across your cheeks as your expression matches his and you nod. “Go ahead…I want to feel you inside me.”

Humming, he lines his cock up with your entrance, thrusting in with ease due to your soaking wet cunt. You moan loudly from the satisfaction of finally being filled by your husband after waiting all day to have sex with him; he always took such good care of you and made sure you felt satisfied. You gasp and wrap your arms around his neck as he bottoms out inside you, the both of you groaning in satisfaction of the tight fit.

“Ohhh Kyo…y’feel so good…”

He chuckles a bit in reply. “My love, I haven’t even started moving yet.”

“Sooooo? Still feels good. Been waiting hours for this. Been thinking about it all day.”

“Oh, have you?” He playfully smirks as he starts to move his hips back and forth, leaning down to speak softly into your ear. “You’ve been waiting all day to feel me inside you? Is it so satisfying to finally have what you’ve been craving for so long?”

You card your weakening fingers through his golden locks, nodding with your jaw slack. “M’ovulating. Ever since I woke up I’ve been wanting your attention n’hands on me. And cock inside me.”

He gives your earlobe a playful nip before peppering small kisses down your jaw and neck, moving a bit faster with his hips as his hands wander over your bare body. “Well now you can have all of those. I’m glad I can too, you’ve been making me crazy. You know exactly what you’ve been doing, haven’t you?”

Your moans increase in volume as he picks up the pace, and you chuckle from his question. “Of course. Gotta make you want it just as bad as I do.” Your body is shoved back and forth from the force of his thrusts, and your coherent thinking starts to slip away as all you can focus on is the feeling of your loving husband’s hard cock drilling into you.

Your ovulation starts to grab a hold of your thoughts and you begin to think about what sex’s actual intended purpose is, the reason you get so horny during this part of your cycle- for making a baby. You two had briefly discussed the idea of having kids off and on, deciding that if it happens it happens, and you wouldn’t go out of your way to try for one. But right now, as your hormones run rampant through your body, your instincts naturally crave your husband’s seed.

Your round doe eyes look up at him with all the love in the world as each thrust forces a whimper from your throat, and the words escape your mouth before you can even think about it.

“Kyojuro….breed me…”

His brows raise in surprise and a deep red blush spreads across his face as he slows down a bit, but doesn’t stop. “B…breed you?”

You can feel a heat creeping onto your face, a blush adorning your expression to match his. You really just said that, didn’t you? Well…he doesn’t seem to dislike the idea. You gulp and nod, gently chewing on your bottom lip as you continue to give him the same loving gaze. “W-wanna…make a baby…fill me with your seed…”

His lips turn up into a grin as he stops for a moment. Pulling out of you, he folds your legs further, your thighs parallel to your abdomen and your legs in the air as he pins you into a mating press. After a second, he starts to absolutely pound into your pussy with a passionate vigor. “Who am I to deny my loving spouse what they want, hm? If you want to be bred, then breed you I will. I’ll get you pregnant, my love.”

You go completely silent as you claw at his back with rolled eyes and your mouth open, tongue hung out like a puppy. Now that he was into it, you had a one-track mind; your womb craved your husband’s warm cum to fill you up and impregnate you. It felt so perfectly primal to be fucked so hard and so lovingly with the goal of breeding in mind, every inward thrust sucked in so eagerly by your sensitive walls. Pathetic whines escape your throat as he’s railing you and you can feel your orgasm approaching fast.

“Kyo…Kyo, baby, I’m gonna cum…”

“I am too. Cum with me, darling.”

Your body tenses as you feel the pleasure wash through you, and your husband’s body stills, his brows furrowing and balls emptying themselves into you to give you every single drop of cum he has. Your bodies synchronize in a numb and warm glow, your climaxes unifying your bodies as they combine in a sexual euphoria.

Staying inside you, he sits up a bit to help your legs back into a lying position, massaging any soreness out of your thighs and hips. He lays on top of you, making himself comfortable as you embrace each other with a loving smile on both of your faces.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, darling. You’re going to be a great father.”

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 11 months ago

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w.count: 1.8k- he's back.. as a treat c:

recently, kyojurou always sleeps best with a weight on his chest.

this hasn't always been the case, however. no, for the vast majority of his life, sleep had usually always found him quite easily. the small douse of sleep resistance in his early days was the only time on mental record that he could truly recall sleep evading him. on top of his usual power naps on the clock- since traveling in the sun and working under the moon left little time for many full nights rest- he can say he does well for himself in the exhaustless department.

of course, that was until you threw a wrench into everything.

the casual relationship you both had was something both frustrating and comforting to the 20-something flame hashira. on one hand, you both knew that relationships could prove to be difficult in the long run with this occupation. with him being sent out on near back-to-back high-level jobs dealing with more lethal demons than others... he didn't want to unintentionally burden you with anxiety over his safety and well-being. kyojuro was strong, stronger than other fellow hashira, but still weaker than others. and even if his strength seemed flawless in the eyes of weaker people- he isn't infallible and you know that.

so, after a long discussion with you on a night where he had downtime, the conclusion you both came to was- as forementioned- a simple and complicated one. he would continue to care for and about you, treating you with affection he knows you deserve. but he would always be mindful never to cross that threshold into a labeled relationship. you agreed to his terms and offered to return everything he gave you in kind.

however, even if that was what was decided by you both mutually, the turning in his gut when something happened to his distaste didn't just go away. situations where someone was too close to you, where you looked someone else's way so that you wouldn't stick to him like a leech looking for sustenance. when you would excuse yourself to some other task so you wouldn't overstep the bonds of your agreement. it irked him down into the pit of his stomach.

perhaps it was jealousy of others or maybe it was envy since even though he cared so much he couldn't comfortably have you like others could.

it was moments like the one he found himself a week ago where all those feelings fell off his shoulders like dried clumps of dirt. cracking and chipping off his body. a rare chance to accompany you on a mission was always a welcome occasion in his books.

the missions location was in the moutains and the rain was heavy all day and well into the evening. with the lack of light from the sun that had long since set and the terrain that was only worsening, he implored that you both seek shelter in the nearest abandoned hut or cave you could find.

"it would be far too careless to continue on this way," he instructs. to ensure you stay at his side, his hand held tightly onto yours. the way the rain and wind tried to make his hand slip against yours and threaten to break you apart from him only made his hold tighten. "come, under here." he yanks you gently into a small undercut of rock and grass and mud. it was hardly the ideal place for shelter, but it was the best option for the current situation.

grabbing onto the cutout rock made throughout time, he lets you sit and tuck your knees in first before he's clambering under beside you. admittedly, the fit is tight since this particular undercut courtesy of the land wasn't particularly large. in fact, the longer you both sat squeezed together with your toes still getting soaked by rainwater and mud, the more it seemed like this was actually a bad idea and that you should've just kept on going until something more suitable popped up.

"perhaps we should-" his suggestion of possibly relocating somewhere else was promptly cut off by your body sliding off his shoulder that you had been leaning against. your head lulled off, ducking and acting as a weight that caused your whole upper body to shift. your shoulder slides off his and across half of his chest before he quickly catches it in the palm of his opposite hand to stop you from falling into his lap entirely. "are you-" the word 'alright' never makes it out of his mouth when he sees you... "asleep?"

how in the world you managed to tune out the sound of the heavy downpour a foot away from your face, or even find comfort in your soaked and chilly clothes is lost on him. maybe you had been exhausted and he didn't notice- which sends a pang of guilt through his chest- but surely you would've told him so if that were the case.

using his other hand that wasn't holding your shoulder up, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing it around to place on your forehead. you weren't sick, were you? through the dampness of your skin, he felt no heat of fever, so that wasn't it.

kyojuro doesn't understand, but he doesn't truly need to. understanding wouldn't change the fact you were asleep.

his arm that was used to check your temperature stayed around you and even pulls you closer to him. his knee that was closest to you was bent to avoid the rain, though he extends it back out into the rainfall once again to make room for your comfort soaking the fabric straight through. your back pushed against his chest in a comforting sense of pressure. your head lay tilted under his jaw- nose just barely brushing against his throat- which he had adjusted so he could rest his chin easily on your crown.

you smell of rain and grass, but under it, he still could smell the scent of you among the elements. even though you were both drenched, he still found you warm against him and as he shut his eyes to take in the moment of peace, he thought that perhaps this peace was how you managed to fall asleep in the first place.

now, kyojuro sits irritated. legs and arms crossed as his eyes scrunch closed. his leg bounces and his fingers tap against his bicep as he sits in his resting robes on top of his futon.

since that day, the great annoyance he feels creep up his neck when he lays down to rest keeps him from doing so. boring himself to sleep has worked once or twice, but it never lasts. even when he did get sleep, he was always restless, which he greatly disliked since his whole life before this, he was a fairly heavy sleeper.

he's tried other possible solutions. using an extra pillow and laying it on his chest. folding a large blanket up to sit on top of him. he's even contemplating getting a stray dog off the street just for it to curl up on his warm chest- even if that was a considerably foolish idea.

kyojuro's stay at this abode was temporary. it was one of the few wisteria houses that take in and care of demon slayers, and he was set to leave in a day or so. becoming fed up with his impossible plight, he pulls his robes tighter around his waist and shifts the sleeves to cover his shoulders more appropriately before he leaves his temporary room.

perhaps some fresh air would be good for him.

he barely makes it two steps out of his room before he's being addressed. down the hall, his name comes from the mouth that is the cause for all his restless nights unbeknownst to you.

"kyojuro!" you softly call so as to not wake anyone sleeping at the late hour. he turns to see you waving at him and coming closer. at your approach feels his resolve crack. "i heard you were staying here when i arrived earlier. what're you still doing up?"

when you come up to him and stop at his bare feet standing on the veranda, he splinters more. he can hear the cracks in his subconscious instead of your words he knows what you're saying because your lips are moving.

"are you going to sleep?" his sudden question cuts you off and you stare at him with pure confusion since it had nothing to do with what you were previously saying. even in this dull lighting, he seemed awfully tired. more so than you remember ever seeing before. reaching up, you cup his cheek in one of your hands with concern painting your face.

kyojuro shatters at the contact.

you yelp when he gently takes your hand into his and pulls it off his face only to march back into his still-open door and drag you in after him. kyojuro shuts the door behind you before he grabs your shoulders and pushes you down as gently as he can onto his futon after marching you to it.

"hey!" you whisper yell, hardly able to see anything aside from the moonlight casting shadows into his room. "what's this all about?" you yelp again when he wordlessly yanks the covers out from under you so he can crawl under them. before you can start questioning him again, he's snaking his arm under your arm and pushing his palm against the middle of your back.

your hands brace yourself against his chest as he falls onto his back, and you're left awkwardly lying halfway on top of him. at your weight, you feel him let out a deflating breath onto the top of your head.

"uh, kyojuro?" you attempt to push against his chest and sit up to ask him what in the world has gotten into him, but he stops you. his grip around you is solid and you feel the tips of his fingers push further into your back to keep you in place.

"stay." he all but commands in a tone that was soaked in irritated drozziness. you simply drop your forehead into the crook of his neck defeated. there are no more words exchanged that night. with you perched on top of him, kyojuro easily falls asleep for the first full nights rest he's had in a week.

in the morning, when he fesses up to his body's sudden demand of your presence, weight, and warmth for even a decent night of rest, you can't help but tease him.

it takes a while to find some sort of middle solution to his sleepless problems since you can't always be around him for obvious work-related reasons. kyojuro doesn't say it out loud, but you're his just as much as he's yours- as per your agreement. that alone should give him the right to hold you at night when you're around at the very least.

a/n: mmmm i feel like this could've been so much better but im rUSTY ;n;

#teehee #rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #rengoku fluff #rengoku blurb #rengoku scenario #rengoku #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku x you #rengoku fic #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer rengoku #demon slayer kyojuro #demon slayer kyojuro rengoku

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actuallysaiyan · 2 years ago

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Let's Get Together, Build Us A Fire(Demon Slayer headcanons)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, mentions of fellation/male receiving oral sex, size kink, struggling to take cock, slight dub-con, slight power play word count: 1k pairings: Kyojuro Rengoku x Fem!Reader, Tengen Uzui x Fem!Reader and Giyu Tomioka x Fem!Reader a/n: this new season of demon slayer is WILD! I'm hooked! Smut under the cut.

He knows he’s big. Big in so many different ways. But to watch you struggle to take all of him inside of you, it’s such a stroke to his ego.

Kyojuro doesn’t want to hurt you, but if you whine that he’s “too big” while he’s sliding into you, he has a hard time not just pressing you into the mattress and pounding into you.

He’ll watch as your little cunt dribbles as he enters you, his thumb on your clit to help ease you into taking him. As your walls just suck him in, he’s having a hard time concentrating.

“Kyo…” you whine as he has you pressed against the soft mattress. “S’too much. S’too big,”

Kyojuro chuckles softly, “Awh, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.”

Despite the way he treats his students, he’s so gentle and kind with you. You’re his little lover, his flame. You truly are so precious to him, so he knows he needs to keep going so slow whenever he fucks you. You took so much preparation the first time, but you’re still ever so tight now. He loves it though. It really makes him feel so good about himself. Sometimes he does feel insecure, despite his calm and collected demeanor.

“Halfway there, my flower.” Kyojuro praises you. His thumb reaches down to your clit, slowly rubbing it in the way that makes you dribble out even more slick.

You aren’t even sure how you manage to take all of his cock inside of you every time. It’s so damn big and it just makes you feel so full. Once he bottoms out, it’s just pressing against your cervix. He’s slow and gentle with you most times, but sometimes he can’t help himself as he gets too excited and eager.

Soon, he feels less resistance from your cunt. He slips even further inside until his balls are plush against your ass and his cock is all the way inside. Kyojuro’s eyes roll back in his head as he feels your walls clamping down around him so tightly.

“See,” he says breathily as he leans in to kiss you, “I knew you could take it.”

Nothing makes him feel more smug than seeing you struggle to take his fat cock. It’s just so perfect to watch you whine and beg for him to slow down.

Tengen does what he can to take it slow, but most of the time he just pushes his cock deep into you. Once he’s balls deep inside of you, he lets his instincts take over.

You can also expect him to love watching you struggle to suck his cock. If you drool and choke on it, it only makes him even harder than before. Don’t worry, he’ll praise you for being so good.

“That’s it,” Tengen grunts as he pounds into your little cunt. He’s had enough of you trying to push him out of you. “You can take it.”

You cry out, “T-too big!”

He chuckles darkly, “then why is your cunt squeezing me so tight, hm? Your little pussy is betraying you, babygirl.”

You can barely think straight when he’s stretching you out like this. It makes you cling to him as you try to get used to this. Nothing could truly prepare you for the size of him, considering how he towers over you as well. It’s all just a game to him sometimes. He knows how to push your buttons.

“Awh,” Tengen teases, “look at you, baby. You’re so wet for daddy,”

Your cheeks burn, “That’s filthy, daddy.”

He loves how he has you so fucked out. You’re a good girl, that’s for sure. Despite your tight cunt that makes it hard for him to hold on for long, he knows he has you conditioned so well for him. You’ll always let him have his fun, even when you’re being a brat or you say you’re not in the mood.

“I could fuck you for days, you know that?” Tengen groans, pressing kisses to your tits.

“D-don’t say that,”

He grabs your ass, squeezing slightly as he pushes into you even deeper. Oh, he could definitely fuck you for days.

He gets off on watching you struggle. You’ll whine and whimper, but it just makes him so fucking hard. He enjoys pressing the tip to your leaking cunt and pressing in slowly.

As soon as he bottoms out though, he’s like an animal. He can’t stop himself. He’s going to fuck you into the mattress. He knows he can’t always have moments like these, so he takes advantage.

One of his favorite things is to have you bouncing on his cock, whining as he guides you to continue to ride him. He’ll certainly overstimulate you this way.

“I dunno if I can take it,” you whine as the tip of his cock prods your tight little hole.

Giyu sighs, “Let’s not play these games, yeah?”

He knows he should be a bit more gentle with you, but it’s all too much for him to handle right now. You’re making him so dizzy with lust. When was the last time he was able to fuck you like this? It feels like centuries. And now you were trying to deny him the pleasure he’s been craving.

“Be a good girl for me,” he murmurs before guiding your hips to come down.

“Giyu…” you whine once more, but it’s too late.

The tip of his fat cock begins splitting your pussy, and you’re moaning and shuddering. It’s causing you to drip all over him as his cock keeps bullying its way deeper into you. Once it hits your sweet spot, you swear you can already see stars in your vision.

“Hm, I guess I was right. You can take my cock,”

It’s not long before he’s guiding you to start bouncing up and down on his cock, and this only makes you drench him in your juices even more. Something about the scent of you and the feeling of your juices coating his cock makes him so weak. His tough facade slips away for a few moments as he pulls you down to kiss you.

“You’re my precious girl,” he says between sweet and sloppy kisses.

“I missed you so much,” you finally let out, your breaths all shaky and ragged.

He chuckles to himself, and then pumps up into you. This makes you squeal loudly, and he has no choice but to get this pace going. You’re having a hard time concentrating, it would seem.

“Missed you too, darling. Now be a good girl and ride my cock.”

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varyajc · 6 months ago

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UNHEALTHY BEHAVIORS(?) THE HASHIRA HAVE

Pillars x GN!Reader

a/n; Friendly reminder that this is how I view them. None of the things below are canon or hating on their character. I’d also like to add; I don’t know what to make the title, so I’m making it unhealthy behaviors. Some may be healthy, some may not, so ignore the title and enjoy these headcanons (?)

warnings; unintentional gaslight / intentional gaslighting, toxic behaviors / habits, angst(ish), toxic relationships(?)

bold words = unhealthy behaviors

GIYU TOMIOKA

~He has extreme depression episodes to the point he doesn’t want to see you, in order to prevent you from getting hurt.

Tomioka loves you, he really does. However, in order to prevent him from hurting your feelings (or hurting you in general) he distances himself whenever things get slightly bad. He thinks he’s a disease and doesn’t want to affect you in away way, so he does it in the worst way possible; not talking with you.

~He ghosts you unintentionally

This is similar to the first one, however, he does it whenever he’s feeling better, but still feels guilty for not interacting with you. He doesn’t speak with you, avoids you like the plague, sometimes doesn’t attend Hashira meetings in order to avoid you. After a few months, he goes back to you like nothing had happened. This ended up the relationship forming between the two of you to die out.

SHINOBU KOCHO

~She’s really rude to you for no “apparent” reason.

When the two of you started your relationship, you knew she masks her hostility with a soft smile. She didn’t feel the need to mask her true self around you. However, she can be rude to you for no reason or that something is bothering her. Sure, she’s a mature person, but even mature people can be petty. She doesn’t tell you what’s wrong and even sometimes blames it on you.

~She doesn’t take your concerns seriously.

This applies to her consuming poison. You worry for her health, obviously voicing your concerns. However, she brushes it off like it’s nothing. You guys had numerous arguments because of this subject.

KYOJURO RENGOKU

~He’s too pushy

Whenever you need comfort, he tends to give advice that would more likely help his situation rather than your own. He doesn’t understand why you won’t take it, he tends to get upset because you don’t ’trust him.’

~Too positive

He always tries to find the bright-side of the situation. For example: whenever somebody you’re close with passes or gets severely injured, he always tries to find positive energy of the situation. Which, understandably, makes you upset. He doesn’t mean it, yet he can’t help it in a way?

TENGEN UZUI

~He gets upset when things don’t go his way

Now, I’m not saying this man is a child, but I do sometimes see him getting upset over things that aren’t important. Like, choosing where the five of you get to eat, who’s choosing the dress, etc. He just finds it somewhat degrading..in a way. Like, he’s the man, of course he should have the final say in everything. (Sarcasm)

~His mood determines everybody’s moods

Whenever he’s angry, everybody else’s mood is suddenly down. The air is extremely palpable.

MITSURI KANROJI

~Overthinks, a lot. This sweet angel, known as Mitsuri, tends to overthink a lot. She knows you’ll never cheat on her or betray her in anyway, but she still can’t help that you have eyes for somebody else or wants to pursue someone else. You have reassured her many times that your eyes are on her and her only, but she still has doubts and it just won’t go away. She wants it to go away, but it simply can’t. These doubts in her mind made her somewhat self-conscious.

~Unintentionally guilt-trips you.

Mitsuri tends not to watch her wording or how it’s phrased, so she’ll often say things like, “I’m sorry, I’m such a screw-up, I ruin everything.” However, I don’t think she’ll word it like that, but it’s something along those lines. She doesn’t mean too, but it just slips out, like word vomit.

OBANAI IGURO

~Is extremely controlling, jealous, and manipulative + it’s all intentional

This man right here, knows you better than anybody else, he KNOWS how to get into your head and make you rethink everything. “You’re crazy, I never said that!” Or something along those lines. He always twists things into thinking you did something wrong instead of him.

~He twists your words often

Despite Obanai’s tough demeanor, he actually takes everything bad you say about him to heart. He often uses it against you or make it sound worse than it already is.

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

~Extremely possessive

Unlike Obanai, this man knows you can’t and won’t find somebody better than him. However, he still likes to claim his territory? I guess you can say. Whenever you’re out and about with friends, he’s calling you like something happened, and when you rush over to his side, he always repeats “Oh, I just wanted to spend some time with you, baby.”

~He can’t open up

Sanemi is NEVER willing to open up to you, no matter how much you try to persuade him. He pushes you away, and, sometimes, yells at you for trying to persuade him. He doesn’t mean it, I think, however, he finds it offensive that he needs to open up.

a/n; UGH. I didn’t do Muichiro + Gyomei because this an an 18+ reader and I dunno how to write for Gyomei..so. Yh! Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

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miss-yn-ln · 10 months ago

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Gentle - Kyojuro Rengoku x Fem! Reader

In which you and Kyojuro have your first night together.

"That's my good girl, you're doing so well taking me like that."

Warnings: cunnilingus, soft sex, kyo has a big dick. Word count: 1.4k NOT PROOF READ

"Kyo." You whispered, your hot breath fanning over his lips, "i want you."

Kyojuro's heart slammed against his rib cage, hearing you say those words to him will forever be imprinted in his brain, as well as the image below him. Your locks spread out effortlessly on the pillow, pouty lips parted, releasing soft pants of want and your cheeks a shade of dusty pink.

He pulled back to sit on his knees, looking at your mostly bare body and smiling at the wet spot on your panties; he placed a kiss on your clothed cunt making you gasp at how sensitive you were already. He couldn't help but feel giddy knowing his little touches alone had brought you to this state.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, slowly tugging them down your legs before setting them aside. Your shaky limbs were enough of a sign to alert him you were anxious; your eyes were tightly shut to stop the feeling of embarrassment at seeing him so close to your most private part. He leaned closer to your plush thighs, a trail of feathery kisses were left from the right thigh to the left, happily teasing you and relishing in your soft pants.

Your sharp gasp rumbled through the room when you felt his fingers slide through your folds, gathering your slick at the bottom of your entrance and spreading it to the top of your bundle of nerves. Broken moans left your lips; he was gliding his fingers effortlessly in circles on your throbbing clit, your sounds sending blood down to his hardening member. His finger travelled down to your entrance, sinking knuckle deep and watching with a smile when you arched your back into his touch, whining his name.

"You're already so wet." He mused, his cock twitching in excitement when you bit your lip shyly, softly smiling down at him.

Hooking his muscular arms around your thighs, he lowered his mouth to your cunt and lapped his tongue hungrily at your clit. He didn't ease into it - choosing rather to immediately devour you as if you were his favorite meal. He decided then and there that you are. It had you wondering if he was seeing how fast he could make you cum, but then his tongue licked a spot just right and you found yourself unable to think at all. His mouth then latched onto the sensitive nerves, sucking just enough to let them go with a pop and repeating his motions whilst continuing to pump a finger, your wetness allowing him to easily slip another.

He could feel your legs closing in on his head, shaking miraculously as you came harder than you ever have before with cries of his name. He pulled back, cleaning his fingers with his mouth as he watched your chest heave in pleasure, soft breasts begging to be fondled. He rubbed your legs gently as you came down from your high, an amused chuckle escaping his lips at your heavy hooded eyes looking down at him.

You were in awe as he moved to hover over you, the candle light in the room making his physique all the more admirable. When you dared to look further down, capturing sight of his painfully hard length, thick and long, pressing into your thigh, you let out a panicked gasp. As impressive as he was in all his glory, there's no way he was going to fit. He sensed your panic; Kyojuro raised a calloused hand to your pretty face, stroking his thumb across your cheek. "What's wrong, my darling girl?"

A heat spread across your face before you spluttered out "I- how... is it going to fit?"

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle but tell me to stop and I will." He promised in a soft voice that was quite the contrast to his usual boisterous tone.

You nodded and held his gaze as he slowly pushed into your sopping cunt. You both let out a gasp when his tip slipped in, your eyes fluttering shut and hands softly resting on his arms that your head was caged between.

You took him in inch by inch, but the small breaks did little to help you adjust to how thick he was. Your entrance ached: it was a searing, fiery pain and you couldn't help the crack in your voice when you whimpered, "K-kyo, it hurts." His hips stilled as he looked at your teary eyes - you pulled him closer to you, burying your face in his neck whilst wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

It was when he heard the soft sniffles muffled into his shoulder, felt the drip of tears and the faint sting of your nails digging into his skin that he got very worried. His hand cupped your head, keeping you tucked into his shoulder, before he started to softly coo too you.

"Shhh. Open up for me, little one." His calloused hand came between your bodies, brushing a thumb over your sensitive nipple. He lent down to leave soft intimate kisses on your neck, relishing as your cries and sobs turned into tiny moans, "there you go." He praised you when he felt your body naturally opening up on instinct and sucking him in further, slowly pushing the rest of himself into you. He brought the hand down from your breast to your stomach, placing it right above your cunt: "feel me there? That's my good girl, you're doing so well taking me like that."

"Oh... oh Kyo," you whined, your glassy eyes looking up at him big and wide as he slowly began to pull out from your dripping cunt before easing himself back in. The way his hard cock dragged across your walls made it impossible for you to control your breathing, you were acutely aware of his hooded gaze staring at your furrowed brows and agape mouth. Your cute reactions had Kyojuro himself groaning into your ear, a cacophony of yours and his pleasured moans filled his room at the flame estate - you inwardly prayed Senjuro and Shinjuro could not hear you both.

When he leaned down to moan filthily right in your ear you were sure your orgasm was approaching twice as fast, unintentionally squeezing him which in result, caused Kyojuro to squeeze his eyes shut and murmur praises. "Taking me so well... so good for me." He dragged his lips across the delicate skin of your neck before resting back on his hands to admire your body; legs spread for him, pillow-like breasts bouncing with each thrust, smooth thighs wrapped around him and a cute waist, he couldn't help himself "you're so beautiful, you know that?"

Your reaction to his words was instantaneous: "god Kyo!" You all but screamed, back arching up into him, hands scrambling to his muscular shoulders to scratch at them. There was a hot, burning coil in your stomach and he felt relieved to know it was gonna snap at any second, with his release straight behind it.

He lifted himself from you, onto his knees and grabbed onto your thighs to push them as far back as they could go - you secretly thanked Mitsuri for the flexibility training in your head - groaning at how tight you felt around him. He sped up with his gentle thrusts, keeping them precise to hit that spot he finally found in you."K-kyo I'm g- I'm gonna," you tried to warn pathetically, you were on the absolute edge.

"Shh it's alright, I've got you." His voice was gentle yet strained as he coaxed you to your orgasm. His golden eyes were tightly squeezed shut as he focused on the whimpers leaving your lips and the way you squeezed around him so hard as you got closer and closer, he could feel himself nearing too. He wrapped one of your legs around his waist and moved the other higher up than before and that's when you lost it - your walls spasmed around his cock as you came shouting his name, gripping the sheets, toes curled.

It must've been the way you were so unabashed by your pleasure that set Kyojuro off, because after a quick three thrusts he was pulling out and spilling his cum on your gorgeous, satiny thighs, groaning loudly all the while, before collapsing next to you in his bed.

There was a moment of silence.

You both looked at each other, panting for breath.

And then you both smiled.

"I love you. You know that right?"

You felt your blood rush to your cheeks, "I love you, Kyo."

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lonely-lost-soul · 1 year ago

Text

Day 2: Tengen and Rengoku

Day 2: Threesome

Tengen licked his lips, staring intently at the young lady in the entertainment district's kiosk before him. By his side was his most trusted friend, Rengoku, who seemed to be intently staring at the same woman, the way her hips moved as she walked, her shyness evident as the lady of the house seemed to fix up her hair. Almost scolding her as if she wasn't presentable enough as a lady. Uzui thought the hag couldn't be more wrong, “Are you positive your wives won’t mind that we are here?” The man asked, adjusting his leg slowly, one of his permanent injuries from the battle of Akaza. In his own opinion, he was much better off than Tengen; his friend had lost one of his eyes. But both men were forced into an early retirement from the Demon Slayers due to their injuries. Tengen only laughed, turning to face the man,

“I already told them I’m scoping out another wife, either for me or you." He winked, causing Kyojuro to laugh from his chest, "The main thing they’re not happy about is me returning to this district.” Tengen snorted, hair falling prettily in front of his face, and Rengoku looked at him with a smile,

“If it’s alright with them, then it’s alright with me! So long as everyone is treated with proper respect!” He shouted, pounding a fist to the palm of his hand before reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Tengen’s ear like a good friend would. Tengen snorted, wrapping an arm around his companion,

“If you were a girl. You’d be my fourth wife without a doubt.” Rengokou beamed with pride,

“I’d be honored! And accept without hesitation!”

“Flashy!”

“Excuse me, the lady of the house said you requested me,” Your soft voice spoke, causing them both to turn to look at you. You were even prettier up close than you were from afar, hair elegantly styled, red and gold kimono covering you just as elegantly, makeup placed flawlessly on your cheeks and eyes, “I’m at your service.”

Tengen hummed, better with words than Kyojuro, “Please sit and enjoy a cup of sake with us for now. We paid for the night, relax.” Rengoku shot Tengen a questioning look, knowing they’d spent a lot of money on you. They'd free you from this wretched district if all went well tonight. You looked slightly surprised at the offer and moved to sit down, “Pretty thing, not there in between us.” Rengoku saw your cheeks burn as you sat beside the two men; Tengen leaned back with a grin, bringing sake to his lips, “What’s your name?”

You told them your first name, fluttering your pretty eyelashes at the both of them. “I’m Rengoku Kyojuro; if we are going by first names, feel free to call me Kyojuro!” He chipped, grinning fondly at the woman, “This is Uzui.” The silver-haired man winked, “We’re here to make love to you!”

“H-huh?” You sputtered, and Tengen spat out his drink, choking on it, “I-I mean…” You smile shyly, “That’s quite the demand.”

“Kyo-” Tengen hissed, pressing his fingers to his nose, “Do you even know subtly? So unflashy?”

“No!” He hummed proudly, “The best way to communicate your point is directly and honestly! This also gives our little spark room to decline if she needed to.” Tengen couldn’t deny that point; they weren’t monsters. After all, you’d always have a choice. “Will you spend the night with us?”

You eyed the two men before you; they were former demon slayers. Even in casual clothes, word spread about the silver-haired man who solely saved this district from two demons and the man with hair of fire who saved all the innocents on the Mugen Train. Honestly, you couldn’t say no to them, not that you wanted to; these men were probably the two most attractive men you’ve ever encountered. “Yes,” you nodded, “it would be my pleasure.”

“Not your pleasure, little one,” Tengen hummed, kissing your hand softly, “It’s truly our pleasure to be accepted by a beauty such as you.” He delighted in how your face turned a beautiful color as you were flustered. “Come, let's go somewhere a little more private,” He purred, helping you to your feet before turning to his friend and helping him stumble.

“Ah, my apologies.” Rengoku smiled nervously, “My legs aren’t what they used to be, I'm afraid. But I assure you my performance regarding intimacy is not hindered.”

“Kyojuro.” Uzui groaned, “She did not need to know that. I’m sure she wasn’t questioning your sexual prowess.” Both men stopped as you giggled, opening the door to the private room, the kimono falling off your shoulders seductively. Exposing your shoulder blades and the swell of your breasts, Tengen shut up almost immediately, eyes training down your body.

“Beautiful!” Kyojuro praised, hobbling into the room, hands finding your waist, and you helped to balance him as he stumbled into you. “You’re beautiful!” His eyes burned like fire; staring into your own, he captured your lips in a quick kiss, and your cheeks flushed.

“I’m sure you could find prettier girls here, but thank you-” You squeaked, feeling the other man’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind. His hair tickled your cheeks as his chin rested on your head,

“Is that self-depreciation I hear?” Uzui mused from behind you, his hands slowly moving up to slide up to cup your breasts tenderly, “because you’re the only one here who caught our eye.” His large hands palmed your breasts, massaging them and causing you to lean against his body. “This is perfect, you are perfect, right Kyo?”

“Absolutely!” Kyojiro hummed as Tengen slid your kimono down, exposing yourself to the men before you. The room's cold air made your nipples perk up as Kyojiro buried his face between them; his warm lips against your skin made you shiver. “I never wanna leave,” He purred, squishing his head between your chest and pressing kitten kisses to the sensitive area, causing you to mewl.

“Look at you. Enjoying yourself?” Tengen snickered as you looked up at him through wet lashes,

“Y-yes-” You breathed, stretching your neck up, “kiss me?”

“You don’t need to ask twice.” Uzui leaned down to capture your lips with his own, and his lips were skilled as his tongue slipped inside your mouth. You groaned against him as your tongues battled for dominance; yours was easily overpowered. Your fingers tangled themselves in Rengoku’s hair, and the embodiment of sunshine purred, biting the skin on your breasts. You moaned hotly as he trailed marks across your chest, allowing your kimono to open fully as he continued his way downward toward your core. You pulled away from Tengen’s lips to choke out a moan, feeling Rengoku’s tongue prod at your entrance. He hissed a little, trying to settle on his bad knee, and Tengen clicked his tongue, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’m not; this is worth it.” Kyo grinned and attacked your center like a man starved; you tossed your head back and moaned with delight. Uzui had to catch you as your legs melted against Rengoku’s mouth and tongue.

“He has no self-preservation truly,” Tengen mused, watching you squeeze your legs around his comrade's head, which only egged him further, his fingers coming up to massage your clit. “You’re just that intoxicating, lovely,” His mouth latched itself onto your neck, nipping and kissing at the sensitive spots there, which only fueled your moans louder. Kyojiro pulled away, lips glistening with your arousal,

“Umai!” You giggle, hands gently threading through his flame-colored hair, “Uzui!’ He shouted, “She’s close may I make her cum on my tongue?”

“Don’t ask me; ask the lady you’re eating out.” Kyo looked at you with the most enormous puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen,

“Yes. Please let me cum, Kyo.” Kyojiro grinned before looking at Tengen, who rolled his eyes. He knew what that look meant. You won’t be able to continue after Rengoku had his way with you, but it was fine you were coming back with them after all; you can cum on his cock another time. With a nod from Uzui, he dove back in between your legs; you moaned hotly as you felt his fingers begin to pump in and out of your pussy working in tandem with his tongue. You felt warm pressure as you yelped a little, standing up straighter, riding Kyojiro’s mouth. His fingers started heating up inside you, and your legs trembled in ecstasy.

“That’s what he does,” Tenegn purred, “use his breathing technique to last a while, heating his fingers for maximum pleasure.” Uzui continued to play with your breasts, pinching your nipples between his fingers and enjoying the loud sounds you made against his shoulder. “You feel it, don’t you? His tongue works wonders inside your throbbing pussy, the heat as you clench on Kyo’s face.” You could only nod as Rengoku’s fingers found the spongy spot inside you and began to pound into it repeatedly with his fingers. Wet sounds of pleasure filled the room as you shuddered, coming around the man’s face with a cry, suffocating the man between your thighs. This time when Rengoku pulled away, he looked horny and dizzy, with a red face,

“Holy. Shit.” a shit-eating grin spread across his lips, “You almost killed me between your thighs. What a way that would’ve been, aye Uzui?”

“Lucky bastard.” Tengen scoffed as you lay limp against his muscular body, shuddering in the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Let’s rest now, little one; we can continue in the morning.”

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ponderingmoonlight · 5 months ago

Note

kny short please?

y/n's feelings for rengoku being accidentally exposed by tengen saying something like "what are you in love with him or something?" and y/n turns absolutely red in front of rengoku

All hashira are gathered around the campfire, the night air cool and filled with the comforting crackle of the flames as all of them just returned from their missions. You sit across from Rengoku, trying not to stare too much.

But it's hard not to. His warm smile and bright eyes are almost hypnotic, and you feel your heart race whenever he looks your way.

Tengen is talking animatedly, as usual, making especially Mitsuri laugh with his exaggerated stories. You try to focus on the conversation, but your thoughts keep drifting back to him, the flame hashira. You’ve always admired him, maybe a little too much, and lately, it’s been harder to keep those feelings hidden.

"Y/N, are you even listening?" Tengen’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

You blink, realizing in pure horror that everyone is looking at you.

"Uh, sorry. What were you saying?"

Tengen grins, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I asked what got you so distracted? Is it our dearest Rengoku, maybe?”

You swallow hard, not a single logical sentence leaving your mouth. Did you really get caught staring? Why on earth does it have to be Tengen?

“What, are you in love with him or something?"

The words hang in the air, and for a second, you forget how to breathe. Your face heats up immediately, and you can’t help the way your eyes dart over to Rengoku, who’s watching you with a curious expression. You can feel the blush spreading down your neck, and you desperately wish you could disappear into thin air.

Tengen's teasing grin fades slightly as he notices your reaction.

"Oh, wait, were you-" he starts, but you cut him off with a nervous laugh.

"N-no, that's... I mean... It's not like that!"

But your stammering only makes things worse. Rengoku’s expression softens, and you see something unreadable in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches you with that same gentle smile that makes your heart flutter.

“(y/n),” he finally says, his voice as warm as the fire between you,

“it’s alright. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Your blush deepens, and you can barely meet his gaze. Tengen, surprisingly, doesn’t push further. Instead, he leans back with a thoughtful look, as if realizing he might have just stumbled into something more serious than he intended.

The silence stretches on, and you feel like your heart might burst out of your chest. Finally, you force yourself to look up at Rengoku again, and when your eyes meet, there’s something comforting in the way he’s smiling at you.

For a brief moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you, sitting by the fire.

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cryb4byem · 2 months ago

Text

Purgatorium Part II

Kyojuro Rengoku x ArrangedMarriage! Reader

cw: 14.1k words, canon typical violence/injury, alcoholism, mild parental abuse/neglect

part one here

Every cell. Every fiber felt like it was trying to break free from your body. You had no idea what you were about to learn, and your implosion felt inevitable if you didn’t find out.

The head of the Butterfly Mansion, the Insect Hashira, greeted you at the door. “Thank you for coming so swiftly, and by yourself. I am aware of your father-in-law's condition as well as how young your brother-in-law is.” She slid on a pair of white linen gloves before continuing.

“I’m sure you would like to know why my crow alerted you so suddenly.” If you weren’t wracked with panic, you would’ve admired her graceful, natural beauty. It seemed her almost enigmatic equanimity was the only thing keeping those around her, including you from spiraling.

Her measured countenance and calm voice couldn’t have contrasted more with the state of the room around her. Three kakushi were slumped over each other, their faces to the wall quietly crying. Meanwhile other small girls with similar butterfly hair clips went in and out of the room beyond her with a controlled franticness.

“Please listen to me carefully.” Her amethyst eyes pierced yours with a seriousness that was frankly, unsettling. “There was a confrontation between the Flame Pillar and the 3rd most powerful demon of Kibutsuji’s ranks about an hour ago.” Your breath catches in your throat, at the words. The 3rd most powerful demon?

“He sustained severe transfixion trauma to his epigastric region. We moved quickly, and kept the demon’s limb in place as long as we could, and in that time he was able to stop most of the blood loss using a breathing technique.” Your hand shakily covers your mouth, the savagery of the attack, and the horror of such an injury were almost too much for you.

“The amount of pain he is managing while conscious is unnatural, and quite concerning. We have been trying to sedate him since he arrived, but he begged to wait until you got here.” Her sharp gaze left you finally, shifting to the floor. “Despite his state, he was quite stubborn, and resisted our attempts to give it to him anyway.”

You speak in a tensed whisper, “C-can I see him?” Each syllable was dragged from the pit of your body, you needed every bit of strength to not lose all composure.

“Yes, quickly please. I trust you understand the criticality of this situation.” Shinobu looked over her shoulder to a young girl with bright blue eyes and pigtails as she turned into the room that seemed to be at the heart of the commotion in the Butterfly Mansion.

“Aoi… please pull up the sheet on the Flame Pillar.” The girl’s brow furrowed in concentration, releases as she sees you, expression softening as she nods to Shinobu before disappearing behind the room’s entryway.

“You can go ahead now.” Shinobu tells you finally. Upon her permission you begin hurrying into the room Aoi just turned into. “I just want to remind you we are doing all we can, and he is relatively stable for now… but… just be prepared…”

You look over your shoulder back at Shinobu, words failing you before going in. The air hung heavy beyond the doorway, three little girls stood to the back wall awaiting orders while the slightly older girl, Aoi lighty ran a damp cloth over Kyojuro’s forehead. Delusionally, you imagined it was due to his warmth, the perpetual warmth emanating from his body everywhere he went, and not the onset of a stress induced fever and intense pain.

He laid, left eye wrapped in layers of bandage wrapping around his head, the thin hospital bed linens drawn to the base of his neck. Each of his labored inhale and exhale audible, a testament to his will actively clinging him to consciousness and keeping the looming threat of bleeding out at bay.

His right eye fluttered open at your presence even without saying a word, the keen instincts of a warrior sharp as ever.

“My flam-ACK.” He jumped to sit up, only for a guttural cough to send an abrupt jolt through his body, putting him onto his back. Laying immobilized once again, his breathing intensifying.

“Rengoku-sama! Your wound! Shinobu-san told you not to move!” The little voice of one of the young girls behind you calls out her voice cracking, riddled with fear.

His face contorts in discomfort, straining to utter “My apologies…” The words tumble out almost as if he doesn’t even know who he is saying it to; the little girls, you, himself, or maybe someone not even there.

You look deeply into his uninjured eye, the bright golden orb that even now was completely free of clouds. You kneel at his bedside, feeling tears beginning to burn in the corners of your own eyes, you try to keep your tone as reassuring as possible and not let on how terrified you are. “Everything is going to be ok, alright?”

His lips curl into a soft smile, his gaze softens, melting into yours like a stream of amber. You waited anxiously for a response, any response.

“Are you in pain?” His gentle expression remains unchanged as if he had just awoken from an afternoon nap, looking back at you.

“Not anymore… If you’re here, I won’t feel a thing. I am fine, please do not worry.” His eye clamps shut as another searing pain courses through his body, making his breathing stutter again with a curt strangled groan. Despite what he said, it was clear he was in agony.

“Kyojuro…” Your brow furrows with concern as your eyes rake over his battered form. You look deeply into his eye intently trying to imprint every detail into your mind, as if the light may drain from it at any moment.

You didn’t even hear Shinobu’s delicate footsteps on the wooden floors or notice her until you looked up to see her at his opposite bedside, you were taken aback by her sudden presence. You shouldn’t be surprised, she is a hashira after all.

“I’m sorry. We cannot wait any longer for the sedative. The more time goes without it…” She spoke solemnly, as though she knew what she needed to do, but almost didn’t have the heart to do it, almost.

You felt one of the three small girls try to pull you back by your arm, “Ma’am please! Shinobu-san needs to work, you need to leave this room!” The words don’t even faze you, unmoving from your spot at his bedside. Making it clear to the entire Butterfly Mansion your stubbornness was only matched by Kyojuro’s himself.

“Please don’t take him from me, not now. Please don't let someone else abandon me.”

The words echo in your mind, like a cacophony of a lifetime of anxiety thrust to the surface all at once.

“She can stay. I’ll allow it.” Shinobu spoke, not taking her focus from the vial as she filled it with a solution, flicking it firmly to disperse any air bubbles.

You feel the small girl release your arm going back to stand with the other two. You kept looking at Kyojuro, scared to look away, as if it was the last time you would ever bask in the warmth of his gaze.

“My flame, let me tell you a few things.” His voice was steady but strained, each word laced with sincerity.

“You don’t need to say anything… just save your strength.” You felt as though you were pleading with him at this point.

“You’ve done enough, just rest.”

You want to say to him, but you could see the seriousness on his face. Every man deserves to do with their last moments what they wish, and if these were just that, you would not be the one to deny him that.

“Please, I want you to tell Senjuro he ought to follow the path he knows to be true, whatever path that may be. Remind my father to take care of his body.”

You look at Shinobu, almost as if to ask if there should be more witnesses to what could be the last words of the Flame Hashira, but she continued working, not even glancing down at you as she began administering the vial.

“And I want you to know that I love you.”

The tears you held in your eyes finally began to escape, your vision was cloaked in obscurity, but what did it even matter? As if anything was truly clear right now.

“I love you too.” That was clear to you if nothing else. What were otherwise the three most beautiful words one could utter to another, felt like they were just another deep wound you both inflicted each other with. Had he even heard what you said? Knowing him, he would feel personally responsible for the notion that another person would be agonizing over his condition.

The onslaught of emotion finally manifests in a strangled sob, wiping the tears from your eyes with the back of your sleeve. Seeing his golden iris enveloped beneath his closed eyelid and breathing softened, it is obvious the vial Shinobu gave him had already taken effect.

Pressing the back of two fingers to his forehead, the only thing that you can use to ground yourself is that same unyielding warmth he radiated.

—————————————

You aren’t sure how many hours you’d been in the room. Time didn’t feel like it was passing. Maybe a part of you thought that if you kept looking at him long enough, you could pretend maybe he was finally getting the rest he deserved and not in a catatonic, forced respite from the wound that should have taken his life.

“You should go home. I’ll keep an eye on him personally.” Shinobu's voice was lighter than the chirp of a sparrow. “Trust me, the best recovery is sleep. Sometimes slayers sleep for months here, regaining their strength.”

You cock your head over your shoulder to look at her, eyes wide and mouth agape. She raised a pointed finger, she was like a doll the way a perpetual contentment was painted to her face, it was a bit uncanny.

“Not that I’m saying this will happen here. I induced the comatose state he is in, so everything is controlled, I made the compound so that he would naturally awaken when his body is in better condition.”

This woman was truly a genius apothecarist, how did she even learn to make such a solution?

“I see…” You didn’t want to stand yet; you craved just a moment more in his presence. You try to smile at her genuinely, but you knew it must have looked just as contrived as hers did. You didn’t have Kyojuro’s gift—the ability to smile authentically and joyfully, no matter how bleak things appeared.

“Before you go, can I give you his personal effects?” Your eyes moved from the floor to meet hers, nodding with the same polite smile still plastered on.

Shinobu took a package that couldn’t have contained more than a couple items from one of the youngest girls that helped around the Butterfly Mansion, transferring it into your grasp.

Removing the thread and paper encasing the items, Shinobu stood unmoving before you, her eyes following your hands. Despite the smile she armed herself with, her gaze deepened, like this was something she understood all too well.

Seeing the familiar kaen pattern, you stroked the back of your hand across the sturdy fabric of the Flame Hashira haori. Only to freeze as you feel something solid wrapped inside of it. Without hesitation, you reached within the white accented garment to pull out a rectangular box.

Could it be? Sliding the lid from the basin of the firm container to see delicate metal and crystal intertwined to make a plum blossom hairpin, the same kind that had saved your life not long ago. Your hands tremble uncontrollably as you remove it from its resting place.

“We found it in his pocket, even with the aftermath of the battle and the panic as he was rushed in, he implored us to be gentle in handling it…”

After your first hairpin broke he must’ve planned to bring a new one for you that morning. Even with a gaping wound, he was concerning himself with being able to offer you an undamaged gift to replace the one he initially gave you when you arrived.

You clutched the package as if it was sacred, like maybe that if you didn’t, it would all slip through your grasp and cease to be like everything seemed to at the moment.

“Thank you for everything…” You finally broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper. You lower yourself to bow to Shinobu, before leaving, perhaps leaving a part of yourself behind as you do.

—————————————

There was a general malaise of silence at the house in contrast to the mid morning light, seemingly blanketing the grounds as if it was just another day. Something felt wrong about returning here alone from the Butterfly Estate. You scoured for the younger Rengoku, no doubt wanting– needing an update on the state of his older brother.

You finally found him sitting alone in a room holding a sheathed sword in his lap. His head lowered as if in surrender, he was trembling as if terrified of what laid beneath the sheath.

You didn’t even know Senjuro owned a blade, it seemed ornamental at best. It looked as though it had never used a day since it was forged.

Upon seeing you, his hazed and shaky expression was replaced with a mix of worry. Before he could ask you the burning question that had no doubt been haunting him, you notice a patch of tender skin on his cheek, an abrasion that looked as though it would bruise.

“What happened to your face?” You lean lower yourself next to him to inspect, running your thumb over the skin, flushed red and running warm from the inflammation.

He turned his face to conceal the sore cheek from your view, putting his own hand over it. “One of the other swordsmen that joined brother on the mission came by the house…” His gaze faltered, shifting to looking at the ground. “He wanted to apologize… he was ashamed, for not being able to do more in that battle.”

“Father began insulting my brother, then suddenly was enraged by the slayer. Things began escalating. I tried to protect the slayer, and Father hit me…”

You couldn’t believe the words you heard. You were sickened to your core. Beyond the scope of a Hashira, the scope of a patriarch, how could a father act this way?

Words are one thing, as merciless as they were, especially to a man fighting for his life, but to strike someone so much smaller and weaker was despicable. Both were so egregious, it was impossible to even say which was worse.

Taking a moment, you calmed yourself down, grounding your thoughts before responding. “Are you ok?”

Senjuro kept his face angled down and the evidence of the violence that had occurred in your own home while you were out.

“I’m fine… this is nothing.” He dragged his sleeve across his eyes with a soft sniffle, you could see how hard he worked to hide his emotions coming to the surface, there was something more important to him. “My brother… is he…?”

“He’s… sleeping, that’s all. They’re doing everything they can… ” You feel a lump forming in your throat at the words. You didn’t want to acknowledge what you were both thinking just as much as Senjuro didn’t want to.

“I-I see.” His gaze stayed low to the ground, even as his fists balled at his sides with resolve. “Maybe… it will work now. It has to.”

Senjuro shakily removed the blade from its cover, sticking it straight in the air, looking up at it with anticipation. The sword quivered in the trembling hands of the boy. He looked up at it as if it was a beacon with the ability to connect him to a higher power. He stared up, waiting for something, anything to happen. Releasing a resigned exhale, his head dropped as the tears he had desperately held back began to flow freely.

“I really don’t have any talent at all.” He looked up at you, dejection etched into every one of his features, “I prayed this day would never come, I knew I wouldn’t ever be able to carry on the Flame Hashira. This time, more than ever, my nichirin sword needed to change color. But even now, it refuses to. All because I simply don’t have what it takes.”

He set the sword down, his palms face up on his knees, silently sitting on the tatami floors. You wrap your arms around him, feeling him starting to shudder against you punctuating each sharp sob.

“Do you want to know what your brother told me to tell you before he fell asleep?” You lower your voice to a murmur.

“Wh-What did he say?” he stuttered, his lips pursed and voice trembling, but there remained a glint of hope evident as he stared at you, waiting intently to hear.

You spoke steadily, trying to fully encapsulate the sincerity of Kyojuro’s words, hoping if he could hear his brother’s voice through you, maybe it would comfort him in ways you never could. “‘Walk the path you know to be true, whatever path that may be.’”

He looked up at you, his glassy eyes widened, you could see him absorbing every syllable as if it was from a holy text leading him into enlightenment when the shoji door flew open to both of your shock.

“Senjuro! What did I tell you about the blubbering? I can hear your pathetic crying from across the house! As if Kyojuro hadn’t done enough, you had to show that Sun Breather how weak you are too! As if our family couldn’t be any more humiliated!”

Senjuro’s face drained of color, his pupils trembling at the intimidating figure in the doorway.

“You’re the eldest son of this family now, so learn something from your fool of a brother!” He gritted his teeth, now speaking to no one in particular. “Trying to supplement his own inferiority, trying to make up for our insignificant bloodline, I have no doubt he used that cursed form to try to salvage a battle he was doomed to lose from the start. He should’ve never even picked up a sword to begin with!”

Cursed form? Sun Breather? Did he mean the boy with the earrings that Senjuro spoke of? You had learned to ignore most of what Shinjuro said; these ravings were likely just another temper tantrum fueled by the stuporous overindulgence he found at the bottom of several bottles.

The discomfort hung like a chill in the air, filling the space between the fragmented inanities of the harsh words echoing through the room. Shinjuro finally lumbered away, the jug still tied around his wrist. You sat in the silence left in his wake, almost envisioning Kyojuro in that hospital bed, each breath he took and each pound within his chest a cry of hope.

You close your eyes for a moment before speaking in a hushed voice to Senjuro, “Your brother believes in you, always has. He’s fighting so he can be sure to come home and remind you of that himself.”

—————————————

“This hurts like hell!” The Sound Hashira grumbled to no one in particular. Kyojuro could only watch as his fellow Hashira limped from the doorway into the hospital bed the Butterfly Mansion staff had apathetically pointed to.

The young nurses reassuring him that the Insect Hashira would be there “when she gets the chance” to treat his injuries. The adrenaline from battle must’ve finally dissipated by the time he reached the Butterfly Mansion.

After settling in with a few labored breaths, the man finally turned to his side, noticing Kyojuro in the bed beside him.“Rengoku? How long have you been up? Why are you still here?”

“A few hours. Kocho has been keeping a close eye before she discharges me, but I should be good to go by now. Nevermind that though, what happened to you?” He had never seen the Sound Pillar as battered and bloody as he appeared before him now.

“Remember how I was organizing some infiltration into the Entertainment District? Looking for an upper rank?” Kyojuro nodded intently, he was well aware of the operation in the Sound Pillar’s sector before he even boarded the train.

“Well, we found it. The district is leveled, but we defeated the threat. And look, the two of us are matching now, and I even got one up on you.” The man gestured to his own covered eye before waving his left arm, permanently disfigured.

Even in this state, Uzui always had something to say to lighten the mood. Kyojuro always respected that trait in him, it was one of the primary reasons they got along as well as they did.

“You didn’t…” Kyojuro searched for the right word to describe the Sound Pillar's hobbled gait as he made his way from the entrance to the cot where he was now confined, as respectfully as possible. “Ambulate… yourself all the way from Yoshiwara I hope?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” The Sound Hashira shook his head with pride. “My wives were there for me, of course. But Kocho said they couldn’t help me inside. Something about a very strict rule with spouses not being allowed to enter the Butterfly Mansion for any reason.”

Uzui spoke with restlessness, trying to get comfortable in the hospital bed clearly not befitting his frame before trying to read the face of the Flame Pillar beside him. “Did she tell you about that too?”

Kyojuro’s eyebrows knit together. “I was not aware of such a policy…” He said slowly, as if he was trying to figure out what his fellow pillar was referring to with each word. He affixed his gaze upon his comrade’s arm, bandaged shoddily in the heat of battle, severed at the wrist.

“As a dual wielder…” His lips pursed as he analyzed the sight before him. “You may have to adapt your swordsmanship.”

Kyojuro chuckled before resting his hand lightly on the covered wound punctured into his abdomen, “I was quite concerned for myself, but fortunately recovery is an option for me as well. It’s all of no matter, we will just have to train harder and get back to where we were!”

Uzui studied the face of the Flame Hashira looking for any shred of sarcasm. “A-are you serious?” His eyes widened with shock, glancing down at the tightly wrapped bandages over Kyojuro’s chest.

“Of course I am, what are you trying to say?” Kyojuro looked at the Sound Pillar inquisitively.

The Sound Hashira exhaled sharply, lowering his eyes resolutely with a soft smile, “I’m stepping down. I’m done fighting.” Upon processing the rest of what Kyojuro confidently announced to him his head jerked to face him in disbelief. “You aren’t actually considering going back are you?”

“But as pillars-” Kyojuro was cut off mid sentence, his curiosity now only building with what his friend was telling him.

“I like to think I’m Lord Uzui Tengen before I’m the Sound Pillar.” He declared matter of factly, before his tone devolved back into its characteristic quippiness. “You’ve always blurred that line, but most bastards lucky enough to take a hole in the chest and live would see themselves the same.”

Kyojuro tried to think back to the exact moment of impact, the demonic fist piercing his flesh, in the face of what could only be described as certain death had he drawn a distinction between the two?

Kyojuro’s ponderance was interrupted by the petite form of the Insect Pillar shadowed by the younger girl with blue eyes and pigtails coming in the doorway seemingly with no urgency at all. “Thank gods!” Uzui exclaimed, the exasperation ripe in his voice. “I thought you all forgot about me!”

Kocho spoke her voice sweet and light as ever complimented by the poignant, contented countenance she always had. “Oh dear! Of course not!” She gestured to the three youngest Butterfly Mansion girls to bring her a tray with some instruments and antiseptics.

Tears formed in the corner of their eyes as they approached the Sound Hashira’s bedside to hand it off to their master, clinging to each other and hurrying away once they did as they were instructed.

“Hey Kocho, do you have any painkillers or anything before you stitch me up?” Uzui spoke with a tinge of desperation, one he was clearly trying to suppress in the presence of others.

“Unfortunately, I don't recall we have anything strong enough for you here.” The Insect Pillar spoke with a curt sharpness.

The blue-eyed nurse with pigtails was much easier to read than her master. Even with the grimace she typically bore while concentrating on work, there was a particular scorn in her eyes that seemed to run deep. She stared daggers at the Sound Pillar, it was truly a distaste only unpleasant familiarity can foster.

The Insect Pillar worked, doing little to prepare her patient for her next action, hastily attending to the injuries of her fellow Hashira. Her doll-like smile unchanging as heavy handedly she doused his deep lacerations with antiseptic before stitching them shut with fresh bandages.

Upon finishing, she walked away without another word or so much as a check in to ask how the Sound Pillar was feeling now, even though she hadn’t seemed to be rushing to another bedside as she retreated without a second glance

Uzui released the grit of his teeth following his treatment, sincerity filling his tone. “About your injury, sorry I didn’t come see you. I had my crow watch closely; it told me you were stable in Kocho’s care, although maybe that should’ve been something that worried me more than it did.” He squirmed in place momentarily, no doubt feeling some residual discomfort in the absence of anything to ease his pain before being treated.

Kyojuro shook his head “No, the staff here is the picture of gentleness and care for its patients, Kocho and all her sisters treated me with the utmost kindness and consideration.”

Uzui looked out the doorway to see the three youngest Butterfly Sisters looking at him with aversion, still on the verge of tears, while the blue-eyed pigtailed nurse’s contemptuous stare only intensified in her master’s absence.

The Sound Hashira chuckled to himself blithely. “Huh. You don’t say.”

His gaze moved from the main room beyond the doorway back to Kyojuro in the hospital bed beside him. “I just couldn’t bring myself to leave the district once I stopped getting updates from my girls.” A playful smirk crossed his face again as his solemn tone brightened, “I figured mere Upper Three wouldn’t be enough to take you out. I trust you understand.”

Kyojuro looked at him knowingly with a reassuring smile, “Of course. No need to explain any further.”

“You know, the kids that were on the train with you volunteered to come to the district with me. The Kamado boy in particular gushed on and on, don’t be surprised if you start getting fan mail from him.”

A warm smile crept across Kyojuro’s features at the mention. Hearing they had all recovered quickly and been assigned another mission while he had been out, made every drop of blood shed feel all the more worth it. He really had been able to protect them as he was expected to after the train incident, even if he in the end failed to finish off the upper rank.

“Ah yes, young Kamado. Truly good natured. I’m sure he would speak fondly of anyone who fought by his side.” He folded his arms across his chest assuredly as he always seemed to when he felt idle.

The Sound Pillar moved his one good arm casually behind his head. “I don’t think just ‘anyone’ could have done what you did in the first place.”

Uzui sighed. “You’ve done good, Mister Flame Pillar. I think you deserve to just be Rengoku now.” Kyojuro tried to hide the thoughtful pensivity welling behind his eyes before spreading across his face. Kyojuro knew he had always been able to read like a book, trying as he might to hide how he felt.

“Ugh. No need to do the Tomioka face.” The Sound Hashira said less than affectionately, He feigned annoyance, but his genuine concern was evident. “It’s up to you of course, but I think you should take a cue from me and go home to your wife now. Give my best to your mini-me.”

—————————————

By the time Kocho had let him leave the Butterfly Mansion, she wrapped his bandages extra taught, surely expecting he would have removed them the minute he was out of her sight. She was not wrong, he had definitely contemplated tearing them off before he returned to his home.

But he knew he ought to leave them for now. Show the bare wound? Too disturbing. An eyepatch felt too drastic, permanent. Even though he was told to be cautiously optimistic at best on recovering his sight in that eye, bandages gave the hopeful impression to both his family and himself that regaining his vision was not out of the realm of possibility just yet.

And there was the matter of crutches. He’d declined the nurses’ offer without a second thought. He wasn’t above using them, of course—he had used crutches before when it was necessary.

But this time felt different. This time, he had come closer to death than he ever had before, closer than he had ever imagined. The weight of that knowledge was still fresh, he liked to think that was to blame for the piercing sensation beneath his ribs rather than the obvious.

Turning the corner into his ancestral home, he was not surprised to see his brother doing his daily chores per usual. Senjuro swept the entryway with a thousand yard stare. His gaze was unfocused, the bristles haphazardly brushing over the floor as if he wasn’t truly seeing it beneath him. He seemed to move mechanically as if the incessant noise in his head left him catatonic.

As much as he wished Senjuro would let others help him, he knew productivity usually brought him peace of mind. Likely now more than ever thanks to his extended stay at the Butterfly Mansion riddling them all with uncertainty.

Upon seeing him, Senjuro dropped his broom, his hazed expression replaced with overjoy. He ran over stopping himself in his tracks before jumping into his still recovering older brother’s arms.

Senjuro’s smile faltered as he took a small, hesitant step back, his gaze flickering down to Kyojuro’s chest, then back up to his face. He looked scared to get any closer, as if Kyojuro was made of glass and the slightest touch would make him shatter before his eyes. Kyojuro slowly opened his arms, donning his iconic smile brimming with warmth and familiarity. A simple reassurance.

That was all needed for Senjuro’s momentary unease to be erased. Without a second thought, Senjuro closed the distance, throwing his arms around his elder brother in a tight embrace.

He let out a slight hmph slightly faltering backward for a moment. The pressure against his abdomen was not exactly comfortable, but that did not stop him from tightening his own arms around his little brother.

“Thank gods Kanroji-san brought some sweet potato and sakura mochi earlier! I would’ve made more if we had gotten a crow you were discharged!”

Kyojuro did not have the heart to tell Senjuro he had been living off extra salted miso soups and herbal tea since awakening, and was told to continue doing so until breathing was more comfortable.

Kocho had mentioned that at least three times as he left the manor. She must’ve correctly suspected yet again his own appetite was a potential hazard to his recovery. Even castella cake was too solid and dense for him to consume in his condition.

“I will have to thank my former tsuguko for her thoughtfulness when I see her next!” He tried to remain as lighthearted as possible as he declared what no one ever believed they would live to hear him say. “As delicious as that sounds, I am not hungry at the moment!”

“Not hungry?” Senjuro repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You?” His eyes raked over his elder brother searching for the cause of such an anomaly.

Just as Senjuro inspected the state of him, Kyojuro noticed the dark circles beneath his brother’s eyes, and the complexion of his face paler than he remembered.

“I am simply so full of energy and vitality I have no need for anything to eat! Why don’t you off from your chores for the rest of the day, Senjuro!”

“A-are you sure?” Senjuro swiftly took his broom back into his hands as if to prove he had no reason to not continue as he was.

Kyojuro put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, a gesture that always seemed to make Senjuro feel more at ease. “Certainly, you look as though you could use rest. I will take over for you”

Not being deterred in the slightest Senjuro replied, “No I can do it I promise!” Senjuro swiftly took his broom back into his hands as if to prove he had no reason to not continue as he was before Kyojuro came.

“She’s doing the laundry for me already outside. So at least let me do the rest of the chores!” The younger Rengoku boy seemed almost frantic as he tried to prove that he was still more than capable of carrying out his perceived responsibilities.

Kyojuro was momentarily taken aback looking into the fuzzy silhouette of a reflection of himself, one that went deeper than their appearance.

He had spent the better part of his life encouraging and reassuring his brother, for this exact reason. He had foolishly believed that maybe that would be enough for Senjuro to ignore the example that had been before him since their mother had died nearly a decade ago.

There were many things he was capable of protecting him from, however there remained some things he could only try to ward off. He was more than happy to act as a human shield to all the unpleasantness of the world he had dealt with himself.

That was not to say his brother was delicate. Senjuro’s meek and sensitive exterior was not beguiling of his fiercely loyal and indomitable spirit. His patience was seemingly boundless, while being the most empathetic person Kyojuro had ever met. Senjuro’s maturity was indeed far beyond his years.

In spite of all of this, Kyojuro wanted him to have had a normal and carefree childhood. Maybe if they were another family under different circumstances, in some kind of a perfect world, Senjuro would not be confined to doing household work all day. He would have a plethora of friends to enjoy the blissful innocence of juvenility, with two loving parents at home, and no perceived expectations he was forced to inherit or self-condemnate over.

Most of all he would not feel the need to fight for the validation of others, or establish his worth in his actions. While he could not protect him from loss or neglect, surely he could do that much even now.

There was no use grieving over what could have been, the reality was Senjuro had begun to take after his own tendencies. Something he could never forgive himself for being the cause of if it went too far. His own resolve was still strong, but he could at least try to set an example of self preservation when Senjuro was watching.

He took the broom from Senjuro’s hands once again, leaning it against the wall beside them.”Why don’t we both take some time off today!” He proclaimed as confidently as possible. Senjuro’s shoulders, which had been taut with unease, dropped and with them Kyojuro breathed his own sigh of relief.

He no longer protested his elder brother’s suggestion to get some rest. Kyojuro walked his little brother to his room. As he followed, the younger boy barely lifted his head, his gaze still unfocused, lost in the exhaustion that clung to him.

Tucking him into his futon, Kyojuro adjusted the pillow beneath his brother’s head, fluffing it gently, even though he knew Senjuro wouldn’t mind either way. He moved deliberately, his smile unchanged despite his mind spinning. He couldn’t help but hope that his little brother wouldn’t notice the subtle shift in Kyojuro’s actions today—the slight urgency in his insistence.

Perhaps fatigue dulled Senjuro’s emotional intelligence enough that he failed to detect the thinly veiled half-heartedness behind him emphasizing they deserve to both call it for the day. He had been home for moments, and on bedrest before that while Senjuro had been beside himself with worry, maintaining their home. Kyojuro felt dread pool in his stomach, the thought nearly sickened him.

Once making sure his little brother was comfortable in his futon, he rose from his crouched position to his feet again, clamping his eyes shut with a sharp exhale at the shooting pain through his abdomen at the sudden movement.

Luckily, Senjuro had succumbed to exhaustion the moment his head touched the pillow, sparing him any more anxiety over his big brother’s condition.

He was embarrassed at how rapidly even the simplest tasks; walking, standing, really had exhausted him. Kocho had not necessarily given him advice on activity now that he was no longer in critical condition, she just reiterated not putting “undue strain” on the body. As vague as that was, he figured he must be experiencing some version of that as his breath became more labored as he walked through the corridors of his own home.

Almost as if moving against his will, he lowered himself into his futon. He hoped maybe he could get some sleep as soundly as Senjuro, his head barely made contact with the pillow before he drifted off even with rays of early evening daybreak still illuminating the sky.

He was happy he had managed to soothe the terrifying thoughts eating his little brother from the inside while he was recovering at the Butterfly Mansion.

Hopefully, Senjuro genuinely believed things were right in the world again, and that he had no need to prove himself to those around him any further. If he did genuinely believe that, Kyojuro envied it.

—————————————

The laundry had kept you busy from the late afternoon until the sun hung low in the sky, and you were grateful for the long days of summer, which offered a grace period of a few more hours of safety outside.

You must have looked strange in your tsumugi woven silk kimono, churning laundry by the creek. You wiped a bead of sweat from your brow, before brushing your hands over your hair to ensure the hairpin was still in place. You refocused on the task at hand, gripping the sentakubō with both hands once again.

The water stirring and forming small whirlpools as you plunge the wooden paddle into the melange of soaking garments with a slosh. You raise the paddle up before submerging it again, fabric swirling in the sekken infused water.

These were the ancient methods Senjuro had told you had been used for centuries in the family.

“Drinkable well water is too precious to be used on clothes, there is flowing mountain water just beyond the gates by a small grove of wisteria trees. That’s where we have done laundry for as far back as I know of.”

The fatigue evident in his every motion momentarily ceased for him to give you particular instructions before you handle the household laundry on your own for the first time.

In Tokyo, you heard some families had found ways to pump water into their homes. No access to wells or streams necessary. You were unsure whether to be skeptical or amazed at the Western innovations being integrated at breakneck speed into the capital, but the Rengoku family seemed utterly disinterested and unimpressed by anything that brought them away from the techniques of the past.

Regardless of the flow of time, the Rengoku family had yet to betray the techniques of their ancestors that had never failed them before.

Perhaps they felt both indebted and venerated by the practices that had upheld their name through generations of Flame Pillars and centuries of war against man-eating evil. Each Hashira over the ages living long enough to pass on every aspect, no matter how trivial, of traditional lifestyle to their children and then their children’s children.

Proof of demons and time alike being unable to erode them into nothing more than history, a bloodline persisting even today, against all odds.

Your nose prickled at the herbal scent of the laundry solution you had handled for the past few hours soaking, scrubbing the items against the ridges of a washboard before draping each clean textile over a clothesline to dry in the tepid air.

It was dull, tedious, and somewhat exhausting work, but anything to take your mind and a piece of your heart from the Butterfly Mansion was a welcome distraction.

As you carried out mundane household chores as of late, you had made it more engaging by picturing Kyojuro watching you with pride, a glint of familiar affection in his eye.

It only pushed you harder to put your all into everything you did, regardless of how unremarkable it may seem to others. That was what he would no doubt do in your shoes.

—————————————

You had expected Senjuro to be milling about getting things done for the same reason when you arrived back at the estate.The broom leaned against the wall of the engawa was telling enough to you he must’ve finished his daily tasks up and retired into the house for the time being. It might have been slightly unusual, but not anything provoking much cause for concern otherwise.

You looked forward to idleness for the remainder of the evening. Slipping into fresh clothes, you made your way to your room, eager to lie down and rest.

As you walk the corridor, a blur of fiery colors ignites in your peripheral vision beyond the sliding door of a room that had sat empty as of late. Was that? You freeze in disbelief.

“Kyojuro?” The name slips from your lips before you can stop it, even though you know the chances of him hearing you from this distance without even seeing your lips were low, but it doesn’t stop your heart from leaping in your chest nevertheless.

Eventually he must sense your presence, his unwrapped eye meeting yours, and in that instant, it feels like everything else fades away. He shifts from his reclined position to sit upright. Even just sitting up in his futon, you notice the subtle tension in his body, the familiar way his arms instinctively cross in front of him—, a pose you know he adopts when idle, as idle as he was capable of being anyway.

You had seen him like this before, when he was always on guard, always ready for battle. The weight of responsibility had never left him, even when he wasn’t fighting. But now, in this quiet moment, it felt almost surreal. You felt a wave of relief flood over you—he was here. He was home.

You didn’t know whether to run over to him, break down into tears, fall to your knees thanking every god and spirit that was looking out for him, or all three at the same time. He watches you with that familiar intensity in his eyes, but there's something softer now, an unspoken heaviness in his gaze

“You were resting… I’m sorry for the disruption.” You did something you hadn’t done since you arrived at the house, lowering your head into a bow. It simply felt appropriate, the least you could do was show your respect, as unnatural as it felt. Kyojuro blinked, taken aback by your gesture, his brows clenching together in confusion as he watched you.

There was a moment where his eyes seemed to search yours, as if uncertain how to respond, had a distance that great grown between you? You raised from your bow before he could tell you it was ‘not necessary for the likes of him,’ your grasp taking hold of the edge of the shoji door to drag it shut.

“I’ll let you enjoy some peace and quiet.” Your words felt inauthentic as you spoke, it wasn’t what you wanted, but it felt like what you deserved. You wished you knew what to say to him, but how could you? You could do nothing but watch helplessly while he writhed in pain waiting for you at the Butterfly Mansion.

Standing by watching the sparks fade his eyes, feeling the room grow colder and colder still. Was that really all you could do?

Every night since then, you had hoped for a miracle, that you would wake up and he would be back. Now here he was and all you could do was grapple with the futility of your every effort against the inevitable, one that would have come to pass with or without your consent. Like almost all else in his life, he overcame this on his own.

He tilted his head to the side trying to catch your downturned gaze with a soft smile, “You know” He paused until your glassy eyes met his. “I’ve had enough ‘peace and quiet’ for this lifetime.”

He hesitated for a heartbeat, there was an almost imperceptible urgency in his tone, as though the simple request held more than he could express. “I would enjoy your companionship…” His eye locked onto yours, and you could hear him telling you what he truly felt, but couldn’t bring himself to say, “Please don’t leave me alone…”

Your fists closed around your sleeves as you looked on from the doorway.

“Could I lay beside you?” You meant to ask gracefully, but a tremble caught itself at the end of your words. In spite of you both being wedded, something ignited embarrassment within you at your own request. You weren’t quite sure what his experience with such things were, but you certainly had none to speak of.

You had been confident everything would be ok, but a part of you filled with dread at every crow that flew overhead. Terrified, one of them was Shinobu-san informing you regrettably that they had failed, and he was gone. You just wanted to be close to him, close enough to hold onto and hope he wouldn’t come so close to slipping away from you again.

“Absolutely!” His boyish excitement quickly commanding sincerity, his voice lowering to just above a breathy whisper “I mean… you do not need to ask. I am yours after all.”

If anything was capable of soothing the apprehension you felt, it was hearing him deliver an enthusiastic exclamation. You studied him, your eyes drifted down again to his arms crossed on top of his chest. Whether be a barrage of responsibility or self doubt, he always carried a tension palpable in every fiber.

In a gentler world that asked for less of someone like him, maybe he wouldn’t need to. But even if he was not of that world, you could create a piece of it for him to dwell in. A place both his weary body and mind could be at ease.

You lowered yourself into the futon, trying to not focus on your heart, beginning to quicken, as the sound of his breath became audible each inhale and following exhale affirming to you he was alive, and he was yours.

“Am I making you nervous?” You asked genuinely, seeing his shoulders tighten and arms stitch together more tautly and a rouge flush across his cheeks even in the low light.

He conveniently subverted your inquiry, rebounding it back to you.“You are not nervous, are you, my flame?” His tone seemed to waver in its usual certainty.

“Not with you…” Even the intoxicating stillness, you cannot help but notice his strained comportment. “You’re so stiff…”

He spoke no doubt a bit louder than even he anticipated, “Not stiff!” His sudden surge in volume took you back, the abruptness of his response leaving you momentarily unsettled. But as his words settled into the space between you, you quickly found yourself adjusting again into comfort.

“Just a habit, I assure you.” His voice was softer this time, a hint of something more raw slipping through his usual certainty. “I have been trained to be vigilant, at all times. I suppose it’s just how I’ve learned to exist.”

“Hm. I see…” Your brow furrowed, pursing your lips together almost imperceivably. You extend your arms to place one hand on each of his shoulders, meeting his gaze you search the embers of his unbandaged iris for any sign of discomfort before cupping your hands.

You, for only a moment, feel the heat of his gaze rake over, consuming each inch of your form. It was enough to make your skin prickle under its blistering intensity. Being used as its fuel, a slow burn ignited in your chest, radiating outward in waves, trailing sparks down to your fingertips and toes. You pry your eyes from your own hands back to his blistering stare to catch his lashes flutter briefly, clenching his eyes shut as if mentally reprimanding himself.

Your palms take in the dense sinews forming sharp lines and curved ridges beneath your palms, before you push them down from their contraction. His arms finally dropping from their cross to his sides. You try to cut through the tension imparting a squeeze in a circular motion to the corded muscle between your thumb and fingers.

As the pressure deepened, a soft, involuntary shudder rippled through him, a sudden tremor that surged from his shoulders down to his spine. It caused him to partially heave forward, his posture faltering as his head tilted to the side. A strangled sound—somewhere between a gasp and a whimper—escaped his lips.

You pull back your hands instinctively. “I-I didn’t mean…”

He shifted slightly, avoiding your gaze for a brief moment, the blush deepening down to his neck. “I... I think I made a rather odd sound just now... My sincerest apologies” He spoke just above a murmur, his tone uncharacteristically timid, and pupils blown wide. “I must have broken my Total Concentration Breathing. I-I just… did not expect that to feel so good.”

After a moment, his voice came again, a little more vulnerable than usual, almost tentative. “May I hold you?” For a man so often brimming with confidence and conviction, this sudden bashfulness was endearing, almost disarming.

You echoed the words that had made your heart flutter since you heard them, “I am yours after all.” As the moments stretched on, the world outside began to blur, your breaths falling in sync with his. His hand trailed absentmindedly through your hair, his touch lulling you closer to sleep. Just before the haze of slumber overtook you, you felt him press the lightest kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as though committing the moment to memory.

And so, wrapped in his embrace, safe within the steady glow of his presence, you drifted off. For even in sleep, you knew you were wholly his, and he, yours.

—————————————

Kyojuro found himself restless with the first breaks of light, the flecks of dawn slowly spreading from the base of the horizon as the sky remained inked with the deep indigo of night.

He sat up, given the opaque darkness of the sky it was hard to believe that golden rays of light would cut through the boundless pitch black expanse above him.

Since he had awoken, he had begun to be enchanted by things he had never paid much mind to before. The way the dawn happened to bleed into night, if there was nothing else you could rely on in this world, there was solace to be found in the consistency of daybreak.

No matter how empty the void of night seemed, the dawn would overcome it anyway, illuminating the heavens without fail. Admirable. It was truly admirable.

Turning his gaze toward you, his heart softened even further. You lay curled beside him, your expression serene in the half-light, your hair tousled from sleep. Kyojuro couldn’t help but smile—bright and warm, though he kept it quiet, not wanting to disturb you. He leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to the crest of your hairline, lingering for a moment as if to savor the touch.

"Rest well," he whispered, his voice low and affectionate. Carefully, he slipped from the futon, each movement deliberate and gentle so as not to disturb the stillness that wrapped around you like a cocoon.

While cooking was outside his expertise, he was more than capable of boiling water in a hagama with tea leaves.

As he entered the main room to prepare it, he noticed his father already seated with his gaze fixed on the sky. Kyojuro’s instincts made him want to turn around and recede right then and there, before stopping himself.

“You are up early, Father.” Kyojuro shifted his head to the side almost as if to hide his face. He could hardly bring himself to face the former Flame Hashira. In his father's eyes, the cold sweat on his brow and the ghostly pallor of his skin would no doubt serve as a (half) living testament to the very words he had insisted upon to Kyojuro for years.

His hand quivered as he sprinkled a spoonful of the tea leaves into water before beginning to boil them together on the wood stove.

Shinjuro hardly acknowledged the presence of another behind him more than a quick glance over the shoulder. His expression was as equally austere and annoyed as usual.

Similar to how Shinjuro kept his eyes firmly locked onto the slow ascent of the sun, Kyojuro relegated his own gaze to the kettle on the stove, barely looking away as the silence was intermittently broken by the sound of chimes swaying in the breeze.

When the water adopted the greenish hue from the tea leaves, he removed the hagama from the heat.

“Uh... tea, Father?” Kyojuro said as he set out two cups just in case. It was unusual enough his father was awake at dawn, and out of his room. He rarely saw Shinjuro eat or drink much, usually sleeping or drinking the day away, it would be even more unusual for him to break that pattern. But, he felt obliged to ask him anyway.

Shinjuro spoke, his voice gruff as it had been as long as Kyojuro could remember. “Sure.” He paused for a long time before adding, “Thank you…”

Kyojuro looked up with shock, but only to look at the back of Shinjuro’s head once again. He poured the liquid into the cups, curls of steam wafting from each one with an earthy aroma.

With one in each hand he brought it over to where his father sat at the edge of the room, the sky fading from nox to a peach tone as the apex of the sun became visible over the horizon line.

He lowered his head as he placed the cup on the ground, Shinjuro’s scarred hand wrapping around it where it sat. Kyojuro slowly backed away from where he resided to leave him be.

“You can sit, son.” Shinjuro said, finally turning over his shoulder to meet Kyojuro’s gaze. Kyojuro moved closer again trepidatiously before lowering himself to the ground with a sharp exhale, the pressure on his wound making his face twist momentarily as he did so.

Kyojuro could not help but notice the thick, pungent smell of sake—a scent that had been a constant companion to his father for as long as he could remember—was completely absent this morning.

“In nearly 20 years as a pillar, I used that damned form three times.” Shinjuro spoke, his eyes not leaving the sky as he took a sip of the tea in his hand. “You’ve used it twice that I know of, but it’s been more times than that, right?”

Kyojuro did not even want to reply to his father’s probing, it would not matter anyway, they both knew the answer to the question.

The former pillar’s jaw clenched in grim recognition of Kyojuro's telling silence. However, the response was not angered, but seemed shackled with the heaviness of frustration.

Kyojuro took a long drink of the cup of tea in his hand, it was easier than thinking of the right thing to say.

Shinjuro continued, his voice steady but carrying a hint of weariness. “I practically memorized each word of the chronicles. The Breath of Flames like every other breath will always be derivative. Yet our swordsmen are the only ones who refuse to believe that. Neither the chosen ones nor those blissfully content with their own mediocrity use anything as foolish or self destructive as that damn 9th form.”

Kyojuro knows the destruction he spoke of all too well. The gelatinous cartilage protecting the shoulders, knees, elbows, hip flexors, ankles, spine, it was all fickle.

Once the body has worn it down, usually through decades upon decades of usage the grating discomfort of bone on bone friction rarely goes away, in many cases it can leave one chair bound from the intensity of every joint aching.

While all such an affliction can happen naturally with the flow of time, but the amount of power emitted from the 9th form was anything but natural.

The records of the ways of Flame Breathing made this clear to the user. Even by the standard of breath forms, which already amplify the body beyond its innate threshold, the concentration of power in the 9th form of Flame Breathing was exceptionally great.

The amount of strain on the body by the 9th form was more than some could handle. Some Flame Pillars of the past did not have the composition to use it more than once or twice at absolute most. The immense pressure on the body had a way of hastening degeneration. The form was strictly a last resort when facing a foe that needed to be defeated at all costs.

The brighter and hotter a flame burns, the sooner it flickers out. Yet each time he was left with no other option but to use it, he did so without hesitation.

He had always fought to save lives with his body as little more than collateral in the grand scheme of his duty, so what did a few adverse side effects matter if it allowed him to prevail against a powerful demon that could go on to devour dozens?

Shinjuro muttered under his breath bitterly as if trying to suppress a visceral growl gathering in his lungs at the words alone. “The Breath of Flames, the Flame Hashira mantle, all of it, who gives a damn about a line of talentless fools breaking themselves just to end up average. It’s just a pitiful tale, nothing more. I’ve asked myself over and over why anyone would want to pass that on to the next generations.”

He shook his head slowly with an exhale, his knuckles becoming lighter as he gripped his cup more tightly before releasing it again. “I knew I should’ve destroyed the infernal pages of the Flame Hashira Chronicles a long time ago.”

Kyojuro’s tone became calmer than even he knew it to be, almost as if unconsciously imitating the softness of how his own mother spoke to him all those years ago. “Whether it is pitiful or not, it memorializes their will. Their triumph, their struggle, none of it will go unnoticed, and they will be remembered fondly for their bravery and their role in our history.”

Shinjuro was quiet for a moment, his gaze distant still settled on the peach streaks as they became gold across the sky. “Did you ever read about my predecessor?” He grumbled with narrowed eyes.

Kyojuro’s brow furrowed into thought before replying. “Our grandfather, yes of course. I read about every Flame Hashira. It is a shame Senjuro and I never met him.”

“Trust me, you’re lucky you only ever read about him.” Shinjuro let out a forced chuckle before taking another sip. “Obsessed with the family legacy, he’d probably have carved ‘Flame Hashira’ into my chest the day I was born if he thought it would keep me from forgetting who I was meant to be. And just my luck—I happened to be the bastard’s only child. That meant all his expectations, all his delusions about immortality through legacy, fell squarely on my shoulders.”

Kyojuro heard a pain in his father’s voice that he had only caught a handful of times before—a rare, almost fleeting vulnerability that Shinjuro rarely allowed anyone to see. His mind drifted back to faded, gilded memories. When his father’s smile had been constant, his pride unwavering. He could still recall the way his father’s eyes would light up as he passed down his sword skills to him and Senjuro, enthusiastic and patient.

Those memories were growing hazy with time, as though they were trapped in the mist of nostalgia, but the warmth they stirred within him was unmistakable. It was the kind of warmth that invigorated him—like the very ichorous blood of the Flame Hashira flowed through his veins, and he was destined for greatness.

“Perhaps…” Kyojuro murmured, his voice wistful, “Perhaps… He must have seen potential in you… " His eyes fell to the ground, his chest felt hollow as if the air was being drawn from it. "And that was the reason he pushed you so hard and did not ever give up on you...”

Shinjuro’s lips pressed together into a firm line. “Potential? No. He didn’t see me. Not as a person. I was a tool, a means to an end—a way to keep the Rengoku name alive, to make himself feel like he mattered.”

Shinjuro's voice held calm, but kept carrying the crushing weight of resignation.“Part of me wanted to show him I would be the last Flame Breathing user,” His eyes stayed distant, unblinking.

“Just let our name die out, fade into oblivion as a fragment of history. Just so my miserable old man’s last thought would be regret. That nothing he tried his damndest to maintain would last after one generation. I refused to be another cog in the perpetual machine.”

Kyojuro looked down at the swirls of green fluid in the cup as he held it in his lap. His voice curious as he looked over, as though trying to understand a piece of the past he had never been allowed to see. “What changed your mind?”

“Your mother…” Shinjuro’s lips twisted slightly, but not with anger—more like a quiet bitterness that he no longer had the energy to hide under anger or indifference. “But just like everything else, it was all futile, just a beautiful dream she was kind enough to let me believe in. Even for just a little while.”

Kyojuro’s eyes flickered, a quiet understanding passing between them at her mention.

Shinjuro let out a long sigh, setting his cup down with a soft clink, though his movements remained languid. “I don’t know if she fell victim to the suffering fate has ordained for us by becoming my bride. Maybe she stood a chance before then. But not us, if you’re born into it, you don’t have a choice, it's your cross to bear whether you want it or not. That’s the cruel joke. That’s the purgatory we’re bound to.”

The sun was higher now, and the colors in the sky deepened, casting a warm glow over everything.

Shinjuro’s voice broke the stillness again, his voice softer now than Kyojuro had known in so long. “I never wanted to be the kind of man to force a son to swing a sword until he vomited and his hands were torn open and bleeding. I should’ve never let either of you boys touch a blade. Just let the cycle end and be free. But you and Senjuro... you were always drawn to it. Always. I could see it in your eyes.”

His gaze turned, albeit reluctantly, to Kyojuro, meeting his gaze in earnest. “We can’t help it, can we? It's in our blood I suppose.”

The sun was fully risen now, casting a golden glow over the room, spilling warmth across the tatami floor. Shinjuro, still staring out at the horizon, sighed deeply, a silent self condemnation. “I wasn’t capable of protecting Ruka, or the many junior swordsmen, or countless civilians, but I once hoped even a good for nothing father could protect his own children if nothing else.”

Kyojuro’s eyes lingered on his father, the warmth of the rising sun casting a gentle light on the hard lines of Shinjuro’s face. He didn’t know what he could possibly say.

Kyojuro sat in the silence that followed his father's words, the weight of Shinjuro’s rare admission lingering in the air. He could feel the old, familiar tension between them, but it was softer now—more fragile, like the delicate balance of the morning light spilling across the floor.

Shinjuro’s voice was both steady and solemn. "Kyojuro, you are a better man than I. You and your brother both. A strong man can learn from a weaker one how to become even stronger."

The words were unexpected, catching Kyojuro off guard. He glanced up at his father, his eyes searching the features of Shinjuro’s face for some sign that this wasn’t just another passing moment of wistful resignation. But there was no mistaking the sincerity in his tone. Kyojuro’s chest tightened, though he didn’t fully know why.

Shinjuro took a breath, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, a faraway look in his eyes. “Just remember, you have a whole life ahead of you. It’s yours to do with what you wish.”

There was something in Shinjuro’s words that stirred in Kyojuro—a faint flicker of hope, like a spark in the dark. He wanted to say something, to respond, but the weight of the moment was so heavy, so rare, that all he could do was nod.

Shinjuro shifted slightly, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, before leaving on heavy footsteps.

Shinjuro shifted slightly, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, as though the weight of his own body was a burden he carried with resignation.

He gave Kyojuro one last look, something softer than usual in his eyes, before he turned toward the door. "I’m going to go check on Senjuro. He’s been having nightmares lately."

Kyojuro’s gaze lingered on his father’s retreating back. The room felt quieter now, the silence settling between them like something solid. He wanted to speak—wanted to say something that could erase the years of distance between them, and his father’s regrets.

The warmth of the sun seemed to spill into his very bones, filling the hollow places with a kind of quiet understanding. It wasn't a resolution. It wasn’t a grand moment of reconciliation. But it was something.

A rare crack in the wall that had always stood between them. And for the first time in a long while, Kyojuro thought maybe, just maybe, it was a step toward something else. Something better.

—————————————

He awoke to start the day as he had nearly every day for the past. Getting ready at dawn as he always did, cautious not to awaken you in the room beyond the thin panel walls. Donning his corps uniform kaen haori, against Kocho’s advice to receive help.

Moving deliberately he raised his arms to twist the thick honey blonde layers of his hair, he felt a sharp pang in his abdomen. He froze in place, his eyes widened before clenching shut. The pain forcing him to grip the edge of the nearest furniture for support.

His hand moved from his chest back to his sides as he opened his eyes slowly, a hint of embarrassment creeping over him. It was as if he feared that when his eyelids lifted, he would find disappointed faces gazing back at him.

He continued the routine that made him worthy of the rank of Hashira. His resolve only strengthened, it would not matter so long as he could prove to himself, he was still strong, the capable protector of others.

The sun’s early light casting across his face, he moved with purpose across the same grounds that he and generations of Flame Pillars before him honed their skills in the heart of the ancestral estate. The ground beneath him was packed earth, worn smooth from endless footfalls.

Unsheathing his katana, he took a deep breath, grip tightening on the handle of his garnet nichirin sword. But the blade that was once a weightless extension of himself felt heavier, more cumbersome.

Performing the stances he had forged into his very bones with the years. His fluidity between each form was lacking. Even in total concentration he found himself sputtering if his chest expanded too much on the inhale. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple in the Summer sun, the brine making the unhealed gash across his eye socket sting lightly.

He was not blessed with the near supernatural acuteness of sense others possessed. Some of his comrades had such heightened perception, blindness itself was not even a burden. But he was quite the opposite, since the mission he lost most of his hearing, he had learned to instead rely on his vision to be fully aware of his surroundings at all times.

In the line of duty, he even had trained himself to reduce the frequency of blinking so as to not let his own inability to perceive his surroundings with his other senses create an opening for an enemy to strike.

Each swing and subsequent sharp ache in his abdomen was a reminder that not long ago, a demon had punched straight through his body as if he were hollow. A lifetime of working towards becoming a paragon of invincibility rendered worthless in an instant.

He had spent his life mastering control over every part of his own body. Every fiber, every nerve ending. The idea he was spared by chance was nauseating. By chance, the blow didn’t destroy any vital organs, killing him instantly. By chance, the kakushi were able to move him quickly enough. By chance, he managed to wake up from Kocho’s induced sleep at all.

Kyojuro shifted into the next stance, forcing his body to remember the rhythm of each fiery surge of power. He longed for the zone he could so easily slip into. When each cell of his body felt as though it burned with the intensity of his soul, no amount of pain or exhaustion could dampen it.

The searing tenacity, the flow. Wiping his brow he found the warm flow he desired, albeit in a drastically different form. A crimson streak across the back of his hand was the last thing he saw before sanguine blood obscured the vision in his left eye once again. Pressing the heel of his hand against his eye once again in an attempt to stop the seep from the wound.

—————————————

You were well aware of Kyojuro’s routine, if he was off bed rest chances are he would go back to it even against the better judgment of others, and probably himself too.

So when you saw him sitting with his back to the house, cross legged in the middle of the training field, his katana sheathed on his right side a change from it usually placed on his left. Stranger than that, you had rarely seen him take breaks much less fully sit down on the grass.

“Are you alr-You’re bleeding!” Once you were within his earshot, you

He looked over his shoulder with his right eye anxiously following your exclamatory reaction. He assured you with a forced cheerfulness, though the flicker of uncertainty in his voice betrayed the bravado. “Although,” he continued, his tone lowering slightly, “I fear if Senjuro sees me like this, he might go into a panic…”

As much as you wanted to scold him for neglecting his own wellbeing for the sake of others yet again, he had a point. Senjuro had just been in a state of shock wondering if he would ever see his brother again. The last thing he needed was to see Kyojuro hurt yet again.

“Yes! I-I’ll get some first aid!”

You moved briskly back to the house to retrieve some standard medical supplies. Coming out to sit on his left side in the grass, mimicking his seated position with his back to the home. From the way you angled yourself, legs folding to your side, if Senjuro happened to walk by, perhaps he would just figure you both were basking in the sun on a nice day and nothing more.

You slowly shake your head as you begin to wet the clean cloth with rubbing alcohol. “You are an exceptionally lucky man, you know that?”

He chuckled lightly, a glowing smile spreading across his face. “I suppose I am if a beautiful lady is willing to take care of me.”

You sigh, glancing down for a moment fighting back a grin that will no doubt spread to you like a contagion. “Look up please.” As you asked, his irises shifted upwards as you moved the cloth in your hand toward him, the laceration across his left eye freshly reopened on full display, stretching clear across his eyelid and nearly severing his eyebrow.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Kyojuro Rengoku. You know what I mean.” You can’t help but smile through the scoff you force out, your attempts to remain stern and impress upon him seriousness foiled.

Holding the damp cloth with a steady grip, you approach his eye with utmost caution, ensuring you don’t accidentally brush against his ink-black lashes. You carefully touch the rag to his face, disinfecting the length of the wound, your movements deliberate and gentle.

“No! I am merely speaking the truth you are-” His proclamation was halted by a wince at the sting from the antiseptic’s contact with the raw wound.

“I’m sorry if that hurts.” Your brow furrows as you pull the cloth away, necessary as it was to do, it pained you to be the cause of any further bodily discomfort for him.

You take a minute to find the most appropriate way to say what you mean, for both of your sakes. “First they weren’t sure you would…”

You meet his gaze tacitly before continuing. “Then Shinobu-san tells you the chances of retaining sight in your left eye was nonexistent, and here you are breathing and seeing and yet you still keep pushing yourself to the point of coming apart at the seams.” You try to mask your unease, seeing him continue working himself beyond his limits, when he is already so fragile at the moment.

“At least wear the eyepatch the Butterfly Mansion issued you!” You implore with something of a half smile. The sheer stubbornness with which he dismissed every injury, no matter how serious, would be humorous if it wasn’t so deeply concerning.

“Oh please, I need no such thing! I’m doing nothing I cannot handle, I assure you.” That authoritative voice, brimming with optimism. It was so easy to hear it, and blindly take each word as fact. But you know better by now, you could’ve told him every bone in his body was broken beyond repair and he would probably still respond that way. Even so, you want to trust him to stay within his means.

“Ok, ok you’re ‘fine.’ I understand.” You reply resignedly speaking on your exhale. “Just please just take care of your eye. You’ve always had the most lovely eyes…” You say looking deeply into the golden rimmed eyes of the man before you.

Usually, when those spoke of the Rengoku family, they used the word "powerful" to describe their distinctive features—sharp cheekbones, avian-esque orbs, blazing hair, and the aura of intensity that seemed to radiate from them. They served as yet another irrefutable motif that connected each Flame Pillar to the long legacy of unrivaled swordsmen bearing the Rengoku name.

“Powerful” was no doubt a compliment. He had always taken pride in the honor of possessing the iconic visage of his courageous ancestors. “Lovely” was different though. It felt intimate, a word that captured a softness. One rarely used when likening the fierce warriors of the Rengoku lineage with description, or him by that association.

“If you like them, then I am only more excited by the prospect of passing them onto our children one day!” He exclaimed, the ever present ember burning behind his gaze billowing into a roaring inferno with joyous fervor.

Your cheeks flushed like a watercolor canvas, rosy hues blooming across your complexion. He could only surmise in that moment the evident dilation of your pupils to be a product of shock, at worse maybe even discomfort.

He had gotten overzealous again, it was all too easy for him to put his foot in his mouth and take someone aback when he felt impassioned enthusiasm overflowing from him. However, you didn’t seem jarred or off put by his sudden pronouncement. You gaze warmed, softly smiling back at him.

“Yes, me too.” Your voice on the gentle breeze was as steady and sincere.

But for a moment, it all fell away. The corps, his family legacy, the pillars, all of it. Holding her knees gently on the grassy Earth beside him, looking back at him. Rays of light catching against her skin, wrapping around her like a golden embrace, illuminating her form with a radiance that seemed almost otherworldly. Her hair danced in the breeze, tousling it to frame her face with an effervescent allure.

He felt warmth creeping up his cheeks, just as it had for her moments ago. He desperately tried to suppress the flush as he turned his gaze downward, focusing intently on the ground.

Death or disablement. Kyojuro knew these to be the only two circumstances in which a pillar could honorably resign from their post. Here he was, neither dead nor maimed. The verdict ought to be clear as day. He was more than aware of the inevitable weakness that all humans must experience in time.

But to face that inevitability when he could still do so much? If he could swing a katana, he had a duty to serve. Right? His father should have continued serving as the Flame Hashira until he lost his sharpness to age.

But the day Mother passed, something died in Father, or maybe something already dead within him had begun to fester. Kyojuro always told himself that he would not succumb to the same fate, despair would not be the death of him, certainly not if even an Upper Rank wasn’t.

“I have… a friend… who is thinking about their future as a Hashira.” Kyojuro spoke with an uncharacteristic softness, fingers fidgeting with the hilt of his sword.

You looked at him inquisitively before having what you believe to be a revelation. “You mean the Sound Pillar?”

“Oh… right, yes. Uzui, of course.” Kyojuro's words stumbled out, a nervous smile flickering on his lips, eyes darting away, as if relieved to hear you identify the former Hashira, already settled on retirement.

“If he decides to retire, does it mean he has lost his passion? Or maybe he is running away?” His voice raised closer to its usual vivacity, but the typical enthusiasm felt infected with an air of apprehension. His fingers tightened around the sword’s hilt, outlining the flame insignia swordguard with a deliberate motion of his thumb.

Before you could even think to answer, he pressed on with another question, his urgency palpable.

“What if…” He paused, lightly clearing his throat adding the aforementioned yet again, his cadence returning to its equilibrium. “My friend…”

He looked deeply into your eyes, the bright vermillion honeycomb pools poured into yours like a gentle ray of sunlight at dawn, adorning everything within with its warmth. His words regained their normal directness in earnest. “Is worried the person he loves might not want him anymore, if he isn’t strong?”

You tilt your head, your gaze previously riddled with intrigue tempered tacitly at his probing, you understood now. “I’m certain the people in his life value him for more than something as superficial as his strength.”

You put your palms flat behind you on the tufts of grass leaning back to feel the sun warm your face.

“I don’t think of ‘strong’ as a person, I think of it as a state of being. We are all allowed to be weak and rely on the strength of others, and when others are weak we can give them our strength. No one person has to be strong all the time.”

More importantly, you saw through the electric personality of the natural born leader to all and the brave exterior of the warrior. You saw the man beneath it all. The kind of soul that was as tender as it was resiliently fortuitous.

Hanging on every word you notice the intertwine of his arms, crossed against his chest as he clung on your every word with rapt attentiveness. You straighten your posture leaning toward him, interlocking your fingers to the corded sinews of his forearms, pulling them from their interwoven tensed state as you had done before.

You took his worn hands in your own. “Well I hope you tell ‘your friend’ as much. Although, I would like to ask you something now if you would allow me.”

“Of course my flame, anything.” he replied, his voice filled with earnestness, a bright smile spreading across his face.

“Did you remember what I told you in the Butterfly Mansion? The last thing I said to you before you lost consciousness?”

His eyes narrowed as they trailed off into thought. He racked his brain for the last moment of light before his eyelids fell heavily as the sounds around him dissipated into silence. Before the oblivion of the serum he was injected with took effect, only muffled words cut by sobs come to mind.

“Please forgive me, I cannot recall.” He bowed his head remorsefully before meeting you again with a hopeful countenance. “Would you tell me again, my flame?”

A rosy hue rouges your cheeks as you fidget from side to side where you sat, part of you didn’t want to tear your gaze from the safety of the trodden Earth . But you couldn’t stand the idea of missing a moment basking in the bright eyes of the man you nearly lost.

“I told you that I loved you...” Your voice was a murmur, barely above a whisper, and as your heart skipped a beat in your chest. “I love you. I meant it, I love who you are. That will not be changed by what you are.”

“I have never found many things in life that I could not bring myself to love, or so I thought.” “What a fool I was. I did not even know what that word meant back then. What a truly lucky man I am.”

You would’ve liked to sappily argue that it was, in fact, you who was the lucky one. However, you knew the endless back-and-forth that would’ve followed if you did.

So instead, you let both your body and heart bask in warmth from two separate suns—one worlds away, and one right beside you. You let the moment linger between you, content in the quiet truth that you didn’t need to say it aloud for him to know you felt the same.

To be continued...

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ghost-1-y · 1 year ago

Text

Sacrifice

Surtr!Kyojuro x AFAB!Worshipper!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, masturbation (Kyo), getting caught masturbating (Kyo), knotting, Kyojuro is in heat, Kyo has a massive breeding kink, lactation kink (Kyo loves your titties), size kink, pregnancy kink, pregnancy (at the end), using horns as handles, implied belly bulging, mommy kink (reader referred to as both “mommy” and “mother”), love confessions at the very end, douma being an asshole, incorrect interpretation of norse mythology, reader is given as a human sacrifice to Kyo, mentions of animal sacrifice, reader referred to as “pretty girl” sometimes, please lmk if I missed anything!

Summary: The legends stated that the mighty fire giant would one day bring about the beginnings of Ragnarok and engulf the world in flames. You had been told of these prophecies since childhood and were a firm believer in appeasing the proclaimed Ruler of Fire through worship and sacrifice – just as you had been taught by the village elders since you were a mere child. What you didn’t expect, however, was for the village to turn their back on you and suggest that what would be needed would be a human sacrifice to appease the giant once and for all.

Word Count: ~6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

A/N: So sorry this took so long!! I've had a mess of a week so far. I hope the fic is worth the wait! Apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors (I tried my best).

A fire blazed in the heart of the village, crackling with embers floating gracefully and smoke ebbing above the tallest of houses – its heat a sharp contrast to the bitter cold of the autumn night. Members of the village surrounded the bonfire, sitting with their families as they feasted, bellies full with the meat stew that was provided for them. A single bowl was left untouched amongst each family – a welcoming invitation for the dead to engage in the festivities that were part of Vetrnætr.

As chieftain, you engaged with the families, wishing them good health and happiness as they did the same for you, before engaging in sumbel with them as you poured wine onto the grass below.

“Freyr will be most pleased by your worship.”

In a way of parting from families, you’d praise their good faith before moving on to the next family. The smiles were abundant amongst the villagers, and, once you’d made your way fully around the bonfire, you removed your sword from your scabbard and raised it high into the air.

“Today we celebrate, and are thankful to the god Freyr for a wonderful harvest. Please join me in this sacrifice, in order to show our thanks to the deities of all the Nine Realms.”

However, before you could commit to the sacrifice – the poor lamb that was before you – a cold hand gripped at your shoulder, which made you turn in confusion.

“Perhaps I should tell you, before you engage in such an act, that the priest has some… concerns,” the man – Enmu you believed his name was – whispered. You sighed and sheathed your sword once more, your blood beginning to boil as you’d wondered what he could possibly want in the middle of the village’s celebration.

You trudged your way through the temple that resided on the outskirts of the village. The door creaked open as you walked through, and before you sat the village priest, who sat on a cushion made of feathers and animal skin. He upturned his lips upon seeing you, yet it wasn’t a true smile.

You knew he didn’t know how to, after all.

“Ah! My lovely Chieftain,” Douma drawled, “such a beautiful night to celebrate Vetrnætr, isn’t it? Although, I doubt that Freyr will grant you the beauty or fertility needed to continue your lineage this upcoming year, truly a shame,” he said, faking a pout.

You fought the urge to ball your fists. The village elders, and, apparently now the village priest as well, had been pressing you for a child – particularly a son – however, despite many suitors attempting to lay their claim to the throne, and therefore you, none had been successful.

Despite this jab, you maintained composure, “what do you need from me, Douma? You’ve interrupted the sacrifice.” You stared him down, and he forced a small laugh.

“Oh my, a harsh tongue doesn’t suit you, dear Chief” he sneered, “You see, I have become aware of some rather concerning events – ones surrounding Ragnarök in particular,” he paused, observing you for any kind of reaction, “unfortunately, it seems Surtr has traveled from Muspelheim to Midgard.”

Your eyes widened, “how would he be able to do such a thing? He isn’t a deity–”

“–ah, but he is a jötunn, and therefore would have the ability to travel between the realms,” Douma countered, “did you never pay attention to my lessons during your youth?”

You rolled your eyes, “you speak as though we do not dedicate sacrifices to him with each solstice. You know appeasing his anger is one of my most steadfast beliefs.”

Douma hummed, “well, it appears that you did not follow through with this past solstice, my dear Chieftain – rather dedicating it to Freyr than to Surtr – and, to be completely honest, I am quite disappointed in that fact.”

The door shut behind you, and two warriors stood on either side of you. You grabbed the hilt of your sword, sensing distrust in the air.

“Do you know, Chieftain, what would be required to adequately appease the Ruler of Fire?”

You pulled out your sword and swung at the warrior on your right, an attack which was quickly blocked by his own weapon. You landed a kick to the left one’s stomach, only for it to be trapped in an unwavering grip by the warrior’s arms. You attempted to swing your sword at him in retaliation, only for your arm to also be grabbed by the one on your right.

Douma stood up and walked towards you, gripping your chin – the cold of his skin causing you to wince.

“A proper, human sacrifice.”

A blow landed to the back of your neck, and your vision faded to black.

—

You awoke to a chill that laid upon your skin, feeling as though you were made of ice rather than of flesh. You were completely bare, lying on a wooden floor of what you presumed to be the priest’s sacred temple, as your vision was fully obstructed by a cloth which wrapped around your eyes. Upon moving your arms – which were thankfully in front of you and not behind, you noticed that your wrists were also bound by rope to prevent you from making any potential escape from Douma’s clutches.

Outside, you heard footsteps approaching, and the door swung open – causing you to flinch at the loud creak that sounded from it. A rough hand grabbed at your arm and pulled you up to your feet, forcing you outside where you heard murmurs of villagers on either side of you. Your cheeks flushed deep with embarrassment, the idea of your beloved villagers seeing you in such a state bringing tears to your eyes in pure shame.

“All of you, please say your final goodbyes to our beloved Chieftain – for she has volunteered to become the sacrifice that will appease Surtr and end his threats of Ragnarök!”

You couldn’t hear the cheers of your people over your pulse pounding in your ears, completely helpless as you were all but dragged along the dirt and gravel pathway before being placed on a horse. A faint rustling could be heard before you felt a rope tied around your neck.

“Be careful not to fall off, my dear Chieftain, lest your neck snap as you’re dragged along the rugged terrain by your horse,” Douma whispered to you before saddling himself onto a separate horse, and you could only assume that this rope was also tied to the horse in some way, thus forcing you to go wherever Douma led you.

You begrudgingly held tight against the horse’s mane as it went into a trot, the wind blowing harshly against your naked skin as the voices of the villagers slowly faded away, replaced by the clopping of hooves as you traversed to a place unfamiliar.

The horses did not stop, and you could only tell the passage of time as the cool of night gave way to the blazing heat of the sun that seared itself into your back. Hours must have passed, and your muscles grew sore the longer you traveled.

At some point, the horses slowed, and the sun’s heat was obstructed by a shadow which loomed above you. Again, a faint rustling could be heard before you were taking off of the horse’s back – yet the rope stayed wrapped around your neck, yet it was no longer taut if you tried pulling away from the horse’s body. You were dragged into the cool shadow, before a hand gripped at your hair.

“Such a shame you never produced a son,” Douma muttered into your ear, “you wouldn’t have to die if you were nice and fertile, my dear Chieftain.”

You could only imagine the nasty grin on his face as he pushed you forward, causing you to lose your footing and fall what could’ve been roughly two meters before hitting solid rock. You heard laughter above you before it started to fade away.

Luckily, the fall seemed to loosen the cloth which covered your eyes, allowing you to see out of one of them, yet you doubted it would be of much help as you got your bearings and realized that you were indeed alone in a dark cave, being left to starve and rot as a form of sacrifice to Surtr.

You decided, that if you were going to die anyway, that you’d at least explore the cave you were pushed into.

It was dark, yet not damp, the stone beneath you as dry as the walls that surrounded you, and you wondered if the sun somehow reached its way into the depths of this cave to evaporate the moisture. There was no life, not a single lizard or insect to be seen – although a few animal bones would be strewn about here and there as you continued your descent further into the cave.

You traversed further, being careful to not trip over any rocks or pitfalls. After what seemed to be an hour of exploration, you saw the tiniest spark of light in the distance.

Perhaps a way out? You thought, and walked closer to this flickering light, and the rather narrow tunnel you were in gave way to a large cavern – with a large bonfire in the middle, one much larger than the one in your village during the celebration of Vetrnætr.

Unlike the blazing heat of the sun from earlier, the warmth of the bonfire was comforting, with its orange hue flickering along the walls of the cavern.

As you got closer, you heard the slightest shifting from the other side of the cavern, followed by what could only be described as a low growl. You froze, unsure of how to proceed in front of a potential predator with nothing to defend yourself with. You slowly crouched and walked towards the bonfire, and, despite your hands being tied, managed to pick up one of the smaller logs on the outer ring of the fire before dousing the tip of it in flames – a weapon, should you need to use it.

As you slowly walked around the bonfire, you found a rather peculiar sight – realizing that the growl did not come from the likes of an animal.

But who– or what was before you was certainly not human.

The being before you was huge, possibly even a jötunn. You were never one to doubt your beliefs, but the idea that a creature from another realm was before your very eyes was difficult to swallow. However, from what you could remember from your religious texts, a jötunn is the only creature you could bring yourself to categorize it as.

The creature had large, curved horns that were sizable in their girth, and its tusks – not fangs – emerged up from its lower jaw. What’s more, it had pointed ears on either side of its head which emerged through hair resembling that of fire, locks that matched the finest gold and ruby gemstones that would cost a fortune in your village.

Unlike the face, its body looked quite human – although its very naked form boasted large, dense muscles throughout its entire body, and a cock that made you swallow absentmindedly from just how threatening its size was.

The creature was stroking its girth, thumbing itself over the leaking slit – a slight shudder escaping from its throat. It started to fuck itself into its grip, thrusting quickly as though chasing its release. Its other hand was fondling its balls – which looked heavy and full of seed, before having its hand move slightly upward towards the slightly swollen base of its cock, softly massaging it to seemingly ease the tension it caused.

Fully flushed with embarrassment, you backed away from the creature before you, each step seemingly calculated in order to escape this situation.

Is the creature sentient? It seems to be humanoid– does that mean it can think like a human? What if it’s a predator and kills me?

Thoughts rushed through your mind, seemingly going into a frenzy as you worried about potential outcomes of this situation.

Crack!

In your panic, you managed to step on a stray twig that managed to stray from the center of the bonfire.

The creature stopped its movements, and immediately turned its head to the source of the sound.

Its amber and crimson eyes opened and glared into yours.

“F-Fuck—!”

With one glance over your naked form, the creature before you released its seed, spilling it all over its fist and shaft, with the remaining drops dribbling onto its lower abdomen. It continued to slowly rub its fist up and down its length, closing its eyes as it played with its tip up until the last of its cum dribbled out from the slit, before tensing and looking back at you, eyes widening in shock – as though it couldn’t believe you were actually there.

“I’m sorry!” the creature exclaimed, a blush so red blooming across its cheeks that it seemingly felt the same amount of embarrassment as you. It hastily wiped itself clean on the furred animal skin it was laying upon. “I– I can explain, really– just– who are you? Why are you here?”

You were in shock, so much so that you couldn’t even eke out a full sentence. Your eyes drifted down to its cock once more, which – much to your surprise – was still standing incredibly tall and proud as it curved up towards the creature’s stomach. Heat prickled across your cheeks and down your chest as the fiery-haired being used its hands to cover itself up in front of you – sensing that you might be uncomfortable from bearing witness to such an event.

This is ridiculous, you thought, you are the Chieftain of your village – compose yourself!

“I am Y/N, leader of my village and child of a family of famed warriors,” you introduced yourself.

The creature raised an eyebrow to you in response.

“And what exactly brings a village leader into my cave?”

You hesitated, humiliation flooding your veins even more so than before.

“I– I was overthrown by the village priest and have been made a sacrifice to Surtr, the Ruler of Fire.”

You expected laughter from the jötunn before you, closing your eyes to hide whatever dignity you had left from what Douma stripped from you. However, instead of hearing a cacophony of hearty noises from the creature’s throat, you instead heard the thud of footsteps approaching you.

Slowly, the jötunn reached forward and removed the bandages which obstructed your vision, loosening and pulling them away with his large fingers, careful to not touch you unnecessarily in the process.

Your eyes widened as you looked up at the giant, his eyes surprisingly kind as he looked down at you. He bunched the bandages in his hands before tossing them to the side, then continued untie the ropes that were digging into your wrists and cast them aside as well.

“If what you say is true, please inform your village that I do not take human sacrifices.”

Your heart seemed to have traveled up to your throat, its beats both fast and fluttery.

“That would imply that I could go back– wait, what are you talking about?”

Then, the creature did finally let out a laugh – a small chuckle that rose from his chest and was deep and bassy as it rose through his throat.

“My dear human, I am the one you people refer to as Surtr.”

You stopped, instinctively stepping back – away from the creature that just claimed to be the harbinger of destruction – the one to bring flames that will engulf all nine realms and Yggdrasil itself.

You did what you believed best, and forced your body to the rocky floor of the cave, bowing in absolute submission and respect for such a being – nearly cowering in the presence of such raw power presented before you.

“Stand up, please, there’s no need for that here.”

You looked up at the being before you, rather confused by his words.

He sighed, “you humans have beliefs of me that are so far from the truth, it’s saddening.”

A pause, the only sound in the cavern being the crackling of the wood against flames.

“My real name is Kyojuro, the name ‘Surtr’ is a title bestowed upon me that I did not wish to receive. I am not going to harm you or your village, I do not wish for such evil. Whatever “priest” thought that a human sacrifice would appease this nonexistent will of mine is, to put simply, a fool.”

You let out a shaky breath, and he reached out his hand – one that dwarfed your own – toward you.

“Stand up.”

He was smiling as you took his hand, with a gaze that was comforting and kind as he sent sparks through your skin with his touch.

The prickling heat returned to your cheeks.

“I’ll help you get back to your village,” he promised.

You froze, your heartbeat quickening once more as you registered his words.

“I can’t– please, I can’t go back, not after what they did to me,” you started, preparing yourself to beg and plead this god-like creature for mercy.

Kyojuro frowned, “I understand, but I can’t keep you here. You need to leave, I– I can’t have you stay.”

You knew it was selfish, to leave your people in the hands of Douma, but after what he did to you– after how he humiliated you.

Where the fire in your village was scalding, his was warm. Where those treated you with indifference or malice, he had been nothing but kind.

Was it really worth going back?

“I’d like to stay,” you decided.

Kyojuro stopped, each and every second becoming more and more difficult for the jötunn. Every passing moment he ignored his very obvious problem, he became this much closer to just bending you over and taking you like a wild animal. His blood was hot in his veins, and fire licked at his lower abdomen, pleasure bubbling once more to the surface as he continued to endure his heat.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me, human,” he warned. He was using every ounce of his willpower in order to maintain his composure. His heat was going to near its peak soon, and he needed you away from him before that happened. He came to Midgard to weather it alone in his cave, and you were only making it all the more difficult.

“Kyojuro,” you uttered softly, and the creature before you let out a low growl, “will you let me stay if I…help?”

His cock twitched, precum dribbling slowly out of the tip, with the base of it swelling up once more.

“I don’t want you to try and sell yourself to me as though you’re a piece of meat. I–” he swallowed, “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Kyojuro, I want to help you. I want this,” you assured, and he balled his hands into fists, as though the rope holding him together was about to snap.

“Y/N–” he warned, and you rolled your eyes.

“Please, fuck me, Kyojuro.”

The jötunn grabbed your arm, “if– if we are to do this, you must know that I am in heat, and I–” he swallowed, “I may not be able to control myself should we continue.”

You took your hand and brushed your fingers across his tightened grip, causing slight shivers to flow down his spine.

“Lose control, Kyojuro, I can take it.”

He groaned, and with his strength, picked you up and collided his lips with yours. Your hands sought either side of his face, kissing back with fervor as he moaned into your mouth. His tusks surprisingly didn’t obstruct your access to his mouth, and every once in a while he’d nip at your bottom lip, before laving his tongue over the swollen skin and pushing it into your mouth. You let out a small moan at the intrusion, and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers finding purchase in his wild, fiery hair.

His grip on your body moved from your hips back towards your ass, cupping and massaging the muscle with his hands. His cock was stiff against your inner thigh, the precum spreading along your skin with each small movement. You wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning as his cock slipped between your legs and along your slit – the sheer girth of it a little worrisome as it pressed against your heat.

“Shit– so big, Kyojuro, hah–” you panted, and he growled.

“Never had cock this big before, have you? Don’t worry, dear, I’ll get you nice and ready to take me.”

He shifted your weight onto one of his arms, the muscles flexing as he shifted his other hand beneath you. Two of his fingers started rubbing along your clit, making small circular motions as his other hand groped at the fat of your ass. He lifted you up a little more so his mouth was in line with your breasts and pursed his lips around one of your perked up tits, sucking at it and licking broad stripes with his tongue. He groaned around your tit as he played with your pussy, reveling in how wet you were for him already. The mini vibrations sent electricity down your spine, and you moved your head to rest on his broad shoulder, giving small kisses to his neck as you whined from his ministrations.

“Lips feel so good, dear, love it when you kiss me like that,” he sighed, giving kisses to each of your breasts, “want to apologize for my earlier…release, you were just so beautiful…seeing you all naked ‘n presenting for me like that…made me want to breed you, pretty girl,” Kyojuro confessed, causing you to shiver as he softly whispered such filthy thoughts into your ear.

“Mmh– don’t apologize, Kyo– liked watchin’ you,” you admitted, and he let out a light chuckle, which made you lightly slap his rocky chest. He responded by giving a small bite to your breast, before licking it better with his skilled tongue.

“Yeah? You like the idea of me wanting to breed you? Getting you pregnant with my young?” he asked, his fingers moving from your clit down towards your entrance, where he inserted a single thick digit into your heat. You whined as your pussy clenched around the intrusion, and nodded in response, licking a stripe up his neck before kissing back down it again.

His finger thrust into you, curling against that one sensitive area inside of you as his thumb reached for and played with your clit. The moans that you let out echoed throughout the cavern, with the only other sounds being the shlick of Kyojuro’s finger deep in your cunt and the crackling of flames. After a while, he added a second digit, and slowly but surely worked you towards your peak, the tension slowly building up in your gut.

With one last swipe against your clit with his thumb, you came undone, your orgasm causing you to shudder and whine in his hold as he worked you through it, curling his fingers and rubbing your clit as you rode out each wave.

“Kyo–” you moaned, trying to grind your hips down on his fingers, and he smiled before meeting your lips in a heated kiss. He continued thrusting his fingers up into your now weeping cunt, prepping you nice and good to take his much thicker cock.

He walked back toward his makeshift bed – a pile of furs and animal skins which he must’ve collected prior to his heat – and gently placed you down on top of them. His large hands moved down your thighs, rubbing softly up and down your plush skin as he stared at the slick between your legs. He lowered himself between your thighs and inhaled deeply as he tried desperately to memorize your scent. He licked a stripe up your slit, causing you to jolt at the sensation, and moaned as your taste spread over his tongue like honey.

You squirmed underneath his touch, which made him hold your hips in place as he started to devour you. His tongue flicked over your clit before collecting more of your juices on his tongue. Your hands found his horns and gripped them tightly, pushing his head further between your thighs, earning a groan from Kyojuro. He pursed his lips and sucked at your clit before licking at it in circular motions, moving his hand between your legs again and pushing two digits inside your cunt once more, thrusting in and out of your hole with his fingers. After adding a third finger, he started curling his fingers into that one spot again, his movements quick and deft as he brought you to your second orgasm.

You moaned loudly as you came undone, legs shaking as your grip on his horns tightened, trying your best to buck your hips up into his face as he lapped up all of the juices that seeped out of your pussy. Only when you were able to open your eyes once more did you look down to see Kyojuro humping himself onto the fur pelts as he messily gathered the rest of your release onto his tongue.

“Kyo– please, I need you,” you whined, and he looked up at you with a fire ignited in his eyes. He got up, stroking his thick cock as he looked down upon your much smaller form.

“Get on all fours for me.”

Without hesitation, you rolled over and got on your hands and knees. Kyojuro kneeled behind you and placed his cock in between your wet folds, rubbing the tip up and down as his precum mixed with your juices. He shuddered before slowly pushing the head inside, causing you to tense slightly from how big the intrusion was.

“Relax for me, won’t you?” he asked softly.

You tried your best to relax, and he started to push more of his length inside of you, filling you up more than you ever thought possible. For a moment, he stayed like that, relishing in the feeling of your cunt tightly wrapped around his throbbing cock, his hips flush against your ass as you whined for him to move, please.

“Let me have this moment, dear, I– I haven’t felt something this wonderful in centuries,” he confessed, and you let out a soft mewl before complying with what he wanted.

After a few more moments, his cock dragged out of you slowly before thrusting back in. He rocked into you, slowly at first, which was most likely for the better considering how huge he was. He growled as he thrust into you, his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he reached underneath you to hold your stomach, pressing up slightly as he fully fucked his cock into you.

“Shit– you feel that, pretty girl? Feel my cock deep inside you?” he groaned, and you nodded helplessly, letting out a whine as he continued his movements. “Feel so good wrapped around me, so fuckin’ tight f’ me.”

You choked out another moan as he started increasing his speed, his groans becoming more frequent with each thrust. Kyojuro took his hand and gently tilted your chin up so you could look at him.

“Won’t last much longer, pretty girl,” he leaned down and kissed you, “gonna pull out, promise.”

You whined, “no– please, need your cum, Kyo– need it inside.”

He moaned loudly, “you have no idea what you’re asking of me, pretty. You’d end up taking my knot–”

“I want your knot, Kyo! Please give it to me–!”

Kyojuro thrust even harder into your sopping cunt upon hearing that, “fuck, you want my knot? I’ll get you fucking pregnant, fill you up with my young ‘n get your belly all swollen, you sure you want that?”

“Yes! Please Kyo–! Please–”

With a couple last thrusts, Kyojuro shot his seed inside of you, thick ropes painting your insides white and filling you up to the brim. You moaned as you felt the warmth spread deep inside of your cunt, and, before his release could begin to seep out of your pussy, a burning stretch began inside your abused hole. Realizing this is what Kyojuro meant by his knot, you tried to look behind you to catch sight of his cock seemingly expanding inside of your pussy, keeping his cum nicely plugged inside of you.

Kyojuro was panting, his voice rough as he pulled you up onto his lap.

“Good fuckin’ girl, taking my knot so well.” He looked down at your chest as you sat in his lap, his cock still rock hard and throbbing inside your wet cunt.

“Can’t wait to see these breasts filled with milk, gonna be such a good mommy, aren’t you?” he said before taking one of your tits in his mouth and sucking at it, as though he were trying to get you to produce milk already for him, and eventually his young, to feed on.

“Kyo, I– I’m sorry, but I’m not fertile, I– I’ve never been able to produce an heir with another man,” you sighed, and his eyes looked up to meet yours. “I’m really sorry, it’s why I was thrown down here in the first place” you continued, hoping your words wouldn’t anger him.

Instead of becoming angry, he simply placed you back down on the fur pelts and brought your legs up towards your shoulders so that you were folded completely in half. He then crouched over you, keeping you locked in a mating press with him.

“I’m no simple man, my dear human,” he kissed your lips, “if I say I will breed you and fill you with my young–” he paused, thrusting deeply into your cunt.

“–I mean every single word.”

Kyojuro started fucking into you with renewed fervor, his stamina seemingly having increased despite already releasing inside of you once. His cock reached deeper inside of you, and you could swear you felt him all the way in your throat. Every single thrust of his hips had you a whining mess, taking his knot until your pussy molded into the shape of his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it, take it all,” he groaned before pressing his mouth to yours once more. His tongue plunged past your lips – prompting you to suck on it, causing him to fall over the edge again, his hips stilling as he pumped a second load of cum into your needy cunt. You whined as he didn’t stop – continuing to fuck into your abused cunt despite cumming twice, his cock still stiff and leaking with every thrust. You felt his seed sloshing around in your womb, feeling so incredibly full by both his cum and his fat cock.

“Mine,” he growled while pumping himself into you, “you’re fucking mine.”

You could only nod and whine in response, having been completely fucked dumb by his cock.

“Pregnant.” He pummeled his cock deep into your cunt, “getting you pregnant. Fuck. Gonna have a round belly filled with my young, tits swelling with milk, I’ll keep you here – gonna be the mother to my children, gonna treat mommy so well, hunt for you, protect you, everything you could ever want.”

You moaned, your cunt clenching around his cock upon listening to his promises.

“Wan’ it,” you managed, “wan’ to be a good mommy so– fuck– so bad.”

Kyojuro groaned, his cock twitching inside of you as it swelled even more. “Can’t stop thinking of my young suckling on your breasts, tits producing so much milk that all of them have their fill– shit, gonna cum again, gonna fill you up– fuck!”

He spilled into you once more, filling your cunt up completely with his seed, ensuring that it takes, making good on his promise. His fingers flicked at your clit and your own orgasm came crashing down around you, pure euphoria flowing through your veins as you let out a silent scream from the seemingly endless waves of pleasure addling your mind.

Kyojuro rolled over and had you collapse on top of him, his arms reaching around your torso and holding you close.

“Did you mean what you said? About wanting to stay?” he whispered, slight insecurity being carried through his tone.

You gave him a quick peck to his lips, “yes, Kyojuro, you– you’ve been so kind to me, much more than anyone else in that damned village. I’d love to stay with you.”

He smiled softly at you, his eyes glowing with warmth as he cradled your head into his neck, petting at your hair as the two of you fell asleep next to the flickering bonfire.

—

A few months had passed, and you were waiting for your lover to return from his hunt. He had promised a large meal today, and you were excited to see what he had planned for the two of you.

You rubbed your baby bump as you cozied up next to the fire, resting in a heap of animal furs which acted as bedding for the two of you. You were surprised to find out that you were pregnant, but Kyojuro had sensed it about a month after you two had first met, and proceeded to treat you as though every step you took turned the rocks beneath your feet into gold.

The bump was rather large for only being a few months in, and your breasts were already swelling and leaking with milk, but Kyojuro had told you that it was normal – considering that his young would be half-jötunn. He quelled your fears of labor, saying that he would help you in every way that he possibly could when it came time to have the baby.

After a few hours, Kyojuro came back to the cavern, carrying your meal over his shoulder.

“How is my love doing?” he asked with the biggest smile on his face, causing you to giggle as you attempted to get up to greet him. Kyojuro rushed over to you, ensuring that you don’t so much as lift a finger while carrying his young. He leaned down and gave you a soft kiss before dragging your meal to the bonfire and beginning to cook it.

“Mmh– Kyo? Could you help me a little bit, my tits feel so swollen,” you pouted, and his ears damn near perked up at your words.

“Oh? Does mommy need some relief?” he asked teasingly, and you nodded. Kyojuro walked over to you and knelt down, his hands reaching to massage your breasts slowly. He kneaded them and licked at the milk which dribbled out, letting it coat over his tongue. His lips wrapped around one of your tits, and he sucked slowly, moaning as he drank from you. You whined when he moved to the other tit and performed the same actions, relief sinking in the more he suckled the milk out of you.

“Taste so good, pretty girl,” he whispered before getting up again to cook the meat he brought in.

You pouted again, “need you, Kyo, please,” and he laughed.

“You can have me after we eat, does that sound okay?” he compromised, and you sighed but nodded in agreement.

You laid back and rested upon the pile of furs, smiling in contentment as you looked at the two meals that were set out before you.

“I love you, Kyo,” you admitted, unashamed by your feelings as they echoed throughout the cavern.

Kyojuro froze, glancing back at you briefly before continuing to prepare the food, trying his best to hide the blush that traveled across his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“I love you, too, my little flame.”

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