Chapter Text
"Makomo-nee! You really came back!"
She barely had time to brace herself when the young boy ran to her encounter and nearly tackled her, she winced in pain when she accidentally leaned against her hurt ankle, causing Sabito to fuss over her battered state.
"Ow! I'm sorry! But it was starting to get dark, so I was trying to convince the old man we should go to your encounter but then-"
"Sabito."
Her father's stern voice was enough for the peach-haired boy to stop his ramblings. She wanted to laugh but then she felt herself being wrapped in a tight embrace, and she melted in the retired Hashira's arms. One roughened hand gently caressed her head, not minding that her hair was all knotted and caked in dust and dry blood (she desperately needed to clean herself, even if exhaustion threatened to overtake her at any moment).
It wasn't until she heard Sabito's loud sniffles and saw her fellow trainee's face all red from the tears he was holding back that the girl pulled him into the hug, even if they had only known each other for a couple of years, Makomo already saw Sabito as a little brother. It made her feel guilty to see how worried the child had been over her.
"I'm so glad you returned alive…"
The way Urokodaki's voice cracked as he spoke was enough for the dam inside of her to break, and tears began to fall from her eyes as she clung tighter to her father. There was so much she wanted to say, there must had been a better way to announce her return from the place that she knew haunted her beloved mentor so much, but her head felt too stuffy to even articulate something beyond a couple of mumbled words.
"I'm back."
The lavender sea of wisteria flowers coating the outskirts of Mount Fujikasane greets the small group of slayers led by the short-haired woman. Its tranquil atmosphere almost feels like a silent mockery to those who know the horrors that it keeps locked inside its domain.
The kakushi who are currently stationed to tend the forest surrounding the mountain scramble to bow profusely at the petite Hashira and her companions.
"Greetings, Water Hashira-sama!"
Makomo acknowledges them with a soft hum. She reaches out to gently pluck some petals off one of the wisteria flowers hanging nearby.
"The sea of wisteria circling this mountain is usually received like the rain after the drought by the survivors during the selection, like one's being embraced by the safety of its scent after seven days and nights of endless terror." The older slayer muses.
"It's only thanks to the efforts of the first Flower Hashira to create such a variant that could flourish all year round." One of them says.
"Hn, it could be." Makomo's cyan eyes crinkle slightly. "Nonetheless, even the toughest steel requires proper care to unleash its full potential, you've done a wonderful job at keeping it thriving all-year around."
She notices how both kakushi visibly relax at her words, their masks barely concealing their flustered expressions upon being complimented by one of their superiors.
"We'll take you to the entrance gates, Hashira-sama!" The other one stammers.
As they are guided by the kakushi, Makomo glances back at the small group assigned to this mission. It briefly crosses her mind how they may seem like ducklings walking behind her even if one of them is nearly over a head taller.
She chuckles when Sanemi's younger brother's face turns a faint shade of pink as he walks beside Kanao. She remembers how, after returning from the Swordsmith Village, Nezuko wrote to her about how Genya seemed like a tough guy at first when I'm reality he was rather sweet. Seeing him getting flustered near a girl somehow makes those words a little more believable.
When Makomo asked Himejima if he knew of capable slayers who could join her on this mission, she never expected the Stone Hashira to send his apprentice. Days later, Shinobu offered to send Kanao under the condition that the girl should be allowed to take notes on the demons roaming around ("It never hurts to double check those demons are not developing any sort of special resistance!").
Having such a prominent group might be counterproductive for their prime goal which is to only get rid of those demons who may be a possible bigger death threat for future participants, but that's why Makomo requested capable slayers who could adhere to any orders given.
Soon the red gates are visible. It feels like an eternity since the last time Makomo stood in front of those gates circled in purple.
She remembers hugging Urokodaki-san before setting off to Mount Fujikasane. He gave her a blue haori with a similar cloud pattern as his jinbei and a white kitsune mask with blue flowers painted on one cheek. The haori got torn to shreds when she saved another participant from bleeding out, the remaining cloth was used to secure her ankle after she sprained it when the terrain got too slippery after it rained during the third day.
Without the Ubuyashiki family's presence at the entrance, the place gives an eerie vibe. Like they're not supposed to be there. Makomo actually knows the feeling a little too well.
It happened during her first year as a Hashira. She remembers sneaking her way towards the entrance of the mountain just to be stopped by Himejima, the large man scooped her off her feet by the back of the uniform before taking her back to the Ubuyashiki Estate. When she begged for an explanation as to why she wasn't allowed to finish off the damned monster who brought so much pain to her beloved teacher, the Master's eyes were filled with so much sadness that she felt guilty for even considering fulfilling her vengeance in the first place. Looking in hindsight, there must have been so many tough decisions he had to take for the sake of their ultimate goal.
It doesn't mean she can't feel hurt that it happened.
"Makomo-sama?"
Kanao's voice pulls her out of her thoughts. The younger female looks at her with a soft frown etched into her features, lips down turned the slightest.
Makomo takes a deep sigh.
"Today's mission may be one of a kind, I'm sure neither of you expected to return to this place at all." The female pillar begins as she clasps her hands. "As you may be aware of, the survival rate in the Final Selection has been constantly decreasing, so after an… enthusiastic discussion between the Hashira and with Oyakata-sama's approval we've come to the agreement that we shall be implementing new measures to, hopefully, guarantee that more aspiring slayers survive the process.
"The Final Selection is a centuries old tradition in the demon slayers corps, a rite of passage to prove that a slayer is capable of surviving and facing demons, however," Makomo's cyan eyes harden, "it is also certain that in recent decades it has become a death sentence to most of its participants, whether it is the result of many factors such as less experienced cultivators, reckless participants or overall carelessness regarding the demons lurking inside, we may never know for sure."
She looks at the faces of the young slayers in front of her, Shinazugawa's brother being the only one who seems mildly annoyed, but Makomo assumes that must be the default Shinazugawa face.
"We will be looking for demons who may be a potential threat to the participants, that means mutated demons, demons who may be showing signs of developing Blood Demon Art techniques or those who seem to have devoured plenty of humans." She lifts one hand to point upwards with one finger. "Even if your time in the corps is still short, I trust your experience so far can let you know when a demon can show any of those signs, if not, this is a good opportunity to learn."
"What use is there in doing it at this point?" She hears Genya blurt out, the tall boy looks genuinely confused. "I mean… why didn't they do it before? The corps could've saved a lot of untrained kids earlier if that seriously was your biggest concern."
"Change comes with time, and sometimes you need to give it a little push to spring it into action." Makomo answers with a soft smile. "I'd say it's better to dare to try it instead of not doing anything and dwell on the what ifs."
Though she must admit Genya has a point. Why wouldn't the Ubuyashiki family make changes in the Final Selection process earlier if they already knew the survival rate kept declining? Call her self-centered, but she has the distinctive gut feeling that Master Ubuyashiki probably agreed to this mission only to help bring some sort of closure to the gaping wound that the Final Selection left to some of them.
The dark haired boy grunts a half-hearted agreement as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, Kanao remains passively watching the wisteria flowers gently swaying in the background. Makomo takes another look at the red gates standing tall in front of them.
There's no need to further delay what's to come.
"Stay close, and don't be reckless."
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"The old man said that Hashira can take another slayer as a successor, a tsuguko. You think the current Water Hashira already has one? Maybe you could become their tsuguko!"
"What has Urokodaki-san told you about manners?" She scolded the red haired child.
"M'sorry..." Sabito mumbled, but his eyes kept that spark of curiosity as he glanced at her.
She gave a light-hearted chuckle.
"I haven't heard much about the current Water Hashira, Urokodaki-san is one of the very few who has managed to retire, their line of duty makes them constantly put their lives at risk." She spoke matter-of-factly. "Besides, training a successor sounds like a lot of work, it might be more common among slayers who stem from the same background."
She knew of cases such as the Rengoku clan, which had passed the title of Flame Hashira for generations, it should be common for them to take younger relatives as tsugukos.
"In that case," Sabito puffed out his chest, proudly, "Makomo-nee will get super strong and become a Hashira, and then we will be your tsugukos!"
The redhead threw an arm around the shoulders of the raven haired boy sitting next to him, causing him to yelp in surprise.
"But we're not demon slayers yet…" Giyuu mumbled, big blue eyes giving his fellow trainee a meek look.
"That's the key word, Giyuu, we're not slayers yet!" Sabito echoed, hopping off the log to a standing position. "So we've gotta keep training hard until Urokodaki lets us go to the Final Selection, you'll see! We're gonna get rid of all and every one of the demons lurking inside!"
A pang of dread spread through Makomo's chest. She knew the boys were still inexperienced in the battlefield, maybe thinking they could eradicate all the demons helped in some way to cope with the trauma of facing one when they were at their most vulnerable in the past. But she also saw in the mountain how many of other kids with similar mindset ended up torn to shreds after getting too cocky.
"Now, you should remember the objective to pass the Final Selection is to survive first and foremost." She pointed out. "It's important to know to choose your fights, sometimes it's wiser to retreat."
Giyuu stared at her with silent awe, as if he were trying to soak his brain with whatever knowledge she could provide, while Sabito complained about how unmanly it would be to stay hidden instead of facing any danger ahead.
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THUD
"Oh fuck!"
The demon's body falls limp after the petite woman lands a sharp blow with her saya against the creature's pressure point.
Makomo knew the moment they stepped into the mountain they would be exposing themselves to countless threats ahead. This time, unlike their first time going into the mountain circled in wisteria, none of them are as inexperienced as they once were. However, this also means they have to be more careful to not kill every demon they spot. Given the limited time and resources, it'd be counterproductive if they forced the corps to refill the place in a hurry.
Next to the demon's limp body Genya stares baffled at the thing that tried to ambush him, while Kanao merely tilts her head before stepping over the creature to hover closer to the older woman.
"We should take advantage of the circumstances to learn something new."
The black haired woman places one hand under her chin.
"Do you have experience in hand to hand combat?"
"What?"
"Hn."
Genya can't help but gawk at the pillar in front of him and then at the other girl. Heat creeps up his cheeks as he realizes they're looking at him expectantly.
"I… not much, not really."
Because sure, he knows how to move in the middle of a physical altercation, he knows how to weave himself out of the grasp of someone bigger, how to protect vital parts of his body from kicks and punches, and he knows how to throw jabs to push someone afar. But he never learned to properly throw punches. And as much as Himejima's training has helped him strengthen his body, he doesn't know how to use his fist in the heat of a battle.
Tamura stares at him with that sleepy look she seems to naturally have. Then, a soft sigh escapes her lips as she rolls up the sleeves of her flowery haori.
"You need to hit your opponent here, either with this part of your hand or with another blunt object," she explains as she points at her hand and then at the zone between the neck and shoulder.
"Isn't that useless? Demons don't die unless you're using nichirin steel, knocking them out would be a waste of time."
"This is a rare instance where it may be useful, however, there may also come instances in which you may not be able to have your weapon at hand, in cases like those it might be useful as a way to earn precious time." The pillar explains. "Though it will only work with newly turned, starved or severely weakened demons… it can also come as a last resource if you need to neutralize a distressed civilian."
He hates how those last words make him flinch. Of course he knows how badly people can react when someone kills the demon who was once their family —his strained voice accusing his older brother of being a murderer as he cradles their mother's corpse rings fresh in his ears—. He pushes those thoughts aside for the time being, the scowl in his face resurfacing.
Thud
"Ack! What the-?!"
"Like this?"
Kanao's voice sounds flat as she lowers the hand she just used to mimic Tamura's demonstration. When he glares at her she only blinks with that signature blank look.
"Hn, just remember to imprint more force when you're dealing with a real opponent."
Genya feels the tips of his ears burning red, and he face briefly turns beet red when Tamura places a hand against his arm.
"You're specialized in long-range weaponry, right, Genya-kun?"
"Yeah… what about it?"
"Why don't you take this mission as a way to put your aim into test?"
"Hah?!"
THUD
Before he can further argue, Kanao's white cape flows gracefully as a second demon falls limp over the first one.
"…"
"…"
"I spotted it trying to ambush Genya."
"…"
"…"
"… Thanks."
"Hn"
He resists the urge to groan when the female pillar giggles softly.
"You're a fast learner, Kanao-chan." She muses, causing the younger female to slightly blush, her attention shifts towards him and Genya is already bracing himself to receive some sort of reprimanding. "We can deal with close-range attacks, you could try to take down possible threats at a wider reach. We all have a role to fulfill in this battle against demons, it's only fair to have every resource we may have at hand, even if it may be unconventional."
She pats his arm gently before starting to walk deeper into the forest, Kanao already in tow.
"Let's keep moving, shall we?"
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"Uhm… Makomo-san?"
"Hm?"
It was one of the rare instances when the boys didn't seem to be attached by the hip, as Sabito had gone down to the village with Urokodaki to do some errands. Meaning it was one of the rare instances when Makomo got to spend some time with Giyuu alone.
The boy fidgeted with the flower crown he was weaving, his blue eyes wandering around nervously as he tried to gather his thoughts.
"How did you manage to split your boulder?" He tightened the grip on the crown. "Sabito just managed to split his this morning, but I… I don't know if I'll be able to do it on time so…"
"There's still time, there's no need to hurry."
The older teen ruffled her junior's hair, causing his cheeks to turn a faint pink.
"I wouldn't doubt Sabito would rather wait until you split it to agree on partaking in the Selection."
She knew that, as much as the redhead wanted to finally pass that test and become a slayer, he also cared too much about Giyuu to leave him behind. It was rather endearing, and she was glad both boys could rely on each other.
"But regarding your question…" she stretched her legs, swaying them lazily. "I'm not entirely sure there's a singular right option, Urokodaki-san's final test may appear solely as a matter of strength, but there's more behind it.
"Most water breathing users get stuck in the very basics because they believe water is something that has to be tamed, Urokodaki-san's teachings are meant for us to understand the breathing technique at it's core and then make it ours."
Giyuu gave her a halfhearted grumble, lips pressed in a rather adorable pout.
"Sabito makes it look so easy, I don't know if I can do it… I'm not even…" he bit his lip before he could finish his sentence, muttering a small apology as he left the crown aside and hugged his knees.
She had heard from Sabito about the argument they had a few weeks ago, how the redhead had slapped the raven-haired boy when he wished he would've died instead of his older sister. As much as it hurt her to realize he was still not over those thoughts, it was at the very least reassuring to know he was making an effort.
"You're not Sabito, you're Giyuu, try to think how Giyuu would split the boulder, not how Sabito did it, not how Makomo did it."
Giyuu gave her a doubtful look, but ultimately seemed to comply as his shoulders sagged and his posture relaxed.
"I'll try… thank you, Mako… Makomo nee-san"
This time it was Makomo's turn to feel her face heating up as she held back a squeal. She knew how much Tsutako, Giyuu's sister meant for him as her only family, and the least she wanted was for the boy to feel forced to see her as a replacement. But to be addressed as such… it felt nice, she already cared about him like a little sibling.
"Makomo! Mission for Makomo!" Kanzaburo's voice was heard as the old crow clumsily landed on top of Giyuu's head, causing the young boy to giggle. "Head south west… or is it south east?"
"Thank you, Kanzaburo, we'll go as soon as Urokodaki-san returns."
"Okay! Hurry up, then."
She smiled fondly as Giyuu held her kazugai crow in his hands, caressing the old bird's feathers. She was glad her junior student seemed in higher spirits already.
And if she hugged him for a little longer once she had to leave for her next mission, that's something only she'd know.
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"Flower Breathing, Sixth Form: Whirling Peach."
Kanao spins around as she evades an incoming attack just to deliver a finishing blow on the demon that tried to ambush her. The demon's body disintegrates before its head can reach the ground. It was faster than the previous ones, and Kanao's instincts tell her this one had eaten more humans.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three gunshots. None of them lethal as the demons slowly regenerate while they scream in pain. Genya's aim is impressive, Kanao must admit. She doesn't recall seeing the taller boy wielding a gun in their Final Selection, so that means he probably got a hold on the skill once he already was an active slayer. It's useful. She recalls noticing how he doesn't seem able to use Total Concentration Breathing nor a breathing technique.
"Good job." Makomo muses as she sheathes her katana.
"How much do we've got left?"
Genya sounds a little annoyed. He shifts his weight from one foot to another as he checks the barrel of his gun, his other hand idly hovering over the pocket where she assumes he keeps the ammo.
"Just a little longer, I hope." The Hashira looks up at the sky where the moon shines gently. "We may encounter stronger ones the deeper we delve into the mountain."
That makes sense. Stronger demons may be sane enough to be willing to wait a little longer, so by the time participants reach their territory they may already be injured and tired enough to be easy prey.
Fighting while knocking out demons instead of killing them sure feels… different from the usual line of work.
As the small group keeps walking, Kanao feels something itchy in the back of her head. Something weird, between anticipation and amusement. To be taking a stroll across this mountain so casually feels like such a stark contrast to her first time here. One look at Genya makes her realize she is not the only one feeling the same, since the dark-haired teenager keeps casting wary glances around, and although he seems to be on high alert, the way his muscles tense and react seems poised and well-trained.
Kanao's enhanced eyesight not only allows her to read her opponents to better anticipate their next moves, but it also lets her spot tiny details in others' body language. She might not be the best at understanding how some emotions work, but she isn't oblivious, either. For example, she can notice how Makomo's body language has been off from the moment they stepped into the mountain. It's as if the older female is on constant high alert. Kanao can also perceive how Makomo's cyan eyes are constantly wandering around. Like she's actively looking for someone or something that could be hidden amidst the foliage.
One part of her itches to ask what it could be, but she feels uncertain about it. At times like this she wishes she could use her coin to make a decision, but then Tanjiro's words echo in her mind like a gentle reminder of the decision the coin made.
"It fell on heads! That means from now onwards you shall try to listen more often to your heart!"
Tanjiro's bright smile and warmth made something shift inside of her from that moment onwards. The mere memory manages to stir that same warmth that she felt back then.
To follow her heart in this moment would mean she should ask Makomo what is keeping her mind so occupied. But her more logical side reasons it might not be something the older female may be so willing to openly share, so she dreads she might end up upsetting her if she asks. However, she feels uneasy watching someone she cares about being unwell. She can already feel her hands getting sweaty and she subtly rubs them against the fabric of her uniform.
"Water Breathing, Seventh Form: Drop Ripple Thrust."
Makomo's voice is heard as a demon's head falls to the ground. From the way its disintegrating body takes a couple of last steps forward before falling, Kanao can tell it has eaten at least a handful of human beings. Kanao can also tell something has bothered Makomo, as the Hashira grips her tsuka a little tighter than necessary and her shoulders are stiff.
…
She shall talk with her once the mission is over. Yes. That's the better option.
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"Makomo-nee! You came!"
"I couldn't not come, you know?"
She might have had to detour after her latest mission, but it was worth it if she could see her junior students one last time before they left for Mount Fujikasane.
Both boys were wearing matching blue cloud-patterned haoris and had borrowed nichirin katanas. Giyuu had his kitsune mask safely secured on one side of his head while Sabito was already proudly wearing his. When she hugged them, Makomo noticed with an aching heart how both boys were already slightly taller than her. When had they grown so much?
Makomo watched from the sidelines as Urokodaki patted both boys heads before holding them by the shoulders. If she noticed the way the older man seemed afraid to release the hold on those young shoulders, she didn't comment anything about it.
"Make sure to survive, we will be waiting for your return."
"Hn." she nodded as she took a spot next to her paternal figure, hands politely clasped in front of her. "I'll make sure to be free of duties by the time of your return."
"Hn!"
Both teenagers answered in unison. Sabito held Giyuu's hand, and Makomo watched as their youthful figures shrunk until she lost sight of them in the horizon. The young woman held her breath when she felt one of Urokodaki's arms circling her shoulders in silent reassurance.
She should trust in their capabilities of surviving.
They could do it. They were promising swordsmen, after all.
She was told the student before her was a promising swordsman as well, yet he never returned.
She personally helped them to polish their skills the best she could. But she's nowhere as experienced as their cultivator, what made her believe she could make a difference?
They'd be fine. They'd survive and return to the safety of Mount Sagiri. Of Urokodaki's stern but gentle presence.
…
How naive
They never returned.
They never would.
The moment she received the letter, Makomo felt like the world crumbled around her.
She didn't register her feet dragging her back to Mount Sagiri until she was held by Urokodaki after she nearly collapsed in front of his hut. Nor did she register how long she slept until she woke up in her childhood room tucked in a soft futon while wearing a clean yukata, her uniform neatly folded on one side and the pleasant smell of broth invading her nostrils.
Makomo only recalls how she sobbed inconsolably in her father's embrace. She knew the old man was crying as well underneath the tengu mask, it only made her feel worse for collapsing in front of him when he too had just lost two children who were precious to him.
What had her beloved father made for all of them to deserve so much cruelty? What had he done to be cursed with such a tragic fate?
What did she make to deserve being spared from the grudge of whatever lurked in that forsaken mountain? What had made her worthy of surviving while two talented kids died in certainly painful deaths?
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"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash"
The demon's head falls in front of her with a dull thud, its ugly buggy eyes stare at her with a mixture of hatred and shock.
"HOW DARE YOU?! WHAT IS EVEN A HASHIRA DOING HERE TO BEGIN WITH?!" It shrieks as it keeps cursing at her until there's nothing but ashes left.
That demon was probably the currently strongest one in the mountain. It was an ugly thing with strong, bulbous limbs and it seemed to hunt from above as its extra arms seemed to allow it to move across the trees like a monkey, ambushing unsuspecting slayers from above and toying with them before gorging on the corpses —it boasted about the details of its methods until Genya blew its jaw off with a gunshot—.
It claimed to have eaten at least twenty aspiring slayers.
Twenty.
It might not be the nearly over fifty victims that that cursed demon consumed during its reign of terror, but it's still a considerable amount of victims to have been a remarkable threat. And now it's gone for good.
They have explored nearly every corner in Mount Fujikasane in search of stronger demons to get rid of. Her instincts tell Makomo that there's no bigger threat left. Everything should be in order now. The only thing left is to return to the entrance and pray that the incoming participants will have the skills to survive. They have done their best to make the test's environment a little safer.
Still, somehow, something deep in Makomo's heart keeps telling her it might not be enough.
Why, though?
They've purged the biggest threats. It should mean no currently active demon inside should be able to replicate what that mutated demon did for nearly half a century.
Besides, that mutated demon is already dead. Tanjiro made sure to kill it here, just like Nezuko did on her timeline and Takeo did on Sabito's. Makomo should be relieved that such a monster is no longer there.
So why does she feel so hollow?
Perhaps it's that she had expected to find some evidence that the creature that tormented Urokodaki is gone for good. Track marks of its grotesque body sliding around the dirt. Scratches in the trees. Maybe a hole in the ground. Anything.
But there's nothing. Just like every other demon, the mutated hand demon vanished into nothingness as its head got detached from the rest of its body. And with it, traces of its victims faded as well.
Had she expected to find something from the demon's victims? But what? Torn kimono pieces, mask shards, anything. It was naive on her behalf. So naive.
Makomo takes a deep breath as soon as she notices her breathing is starting to become erratic and her eyesight getting blurry. How immature. She's a Hashira, for goodness sake! She should know better to get a hold on her emotions, especially in front of her juniors.
She forces herself to give one of her dreamy smiles at the young slayers accompanying her, even if she knows they can't be so easily fooled. Kanao has a slight frown etched into her features, and Genya looks at her with something that Makomo feels like pity. How shameful. She's supposed to be the pillar who holds the corps members. They don't need to watch her wavering.
Makomo takes another deep breath, allowing her senses to be lulled. A less poised, more genuine smile forms in her lips.
"Let's return to the entrance, shall we?"
Kanao exchanges confused looks with Genya. The taller boy's features look surprisingly gentle when he's not scowling, but as if he'd heard her thoughts, his expression hardens once again as he shrugs, looking away. How odd, Kanao thinks. Emotions are always so complicated. She discreetly swipes a faint layer of sweat covering her forehead.
As the small group makes their way back they barely encounter demons who may be foolish enough to try to ambush them. The few ones get swiftly knocked out by Makomo.
Soon enough, the red gates can be spotted and the three of them are greeted by the sea of wisteria offering much-deserves safety. As they make their way downstairs, Kanao hovers a little closer to the female Hashira. Makomo still seems deeply troubled by something, as her posture is stiff, and her muscles are tensed in a way that isn't her usual. Doubt creeps back up in Kanao's gut. Should she approach her? What could she even do?
"Sometimes the best comfort can be the company you can offer. Words are nice, but they're not the only way your heart may reach out to others, Kanao-chan."
Kanae's voice echoes in her memory. Her teacher's sister was always so gentle, so patient with her. She feels as if her heart was squeezed for a moment.
Hesitant, the younger female reaches out to grab one of Makomo's sleeves. The female pillar's hand twitches as her footsteps come to a halt, her attention shifting towards the flower breathing user in a puzzled look.
"Uhm… Makomo-san?" Kanao's throat suddenly feels dry, but it's too late to back down. "You… can you tell me more about Kanae-san?"
She doesn't find the courage to look at the older woman, her pink eyes darting around, trying to look everywhere but at Makomo's face. And still she can notice the way her cyan eyes widen before her expression softens in a kinder but tired smile, shoulders sagged.
"Of course, the trip to the Butterfly Estate isn't that long, we can talk as we keep walking." The Water Hashira gently pats Kanao's shoulder, and a soft giggle escapes her lips when she does the same to a suddenly flustered Genya. "I can also tell you some stuff about Himejima-san as well, Genya-kun, it might not look like it but the both of us are actually rather close in age."
It might be true at first sight. Makomo looks tiny in comparison to Himejima's imposing frame and the lack of makeup makes her look significantly younger. But there's something in the way she moves around that carries a wisdom that only age can grant.
"It… I'd love to hear some stories about Kanae-san and Himejima-san, then." She stutters, blush dusting her cheeks.
"Hn, very well, then." Makomo clears her throat. "I met Kanae-san before either of us became Hashira, she used to train under the previous Flower Hashira's tutelage, so I often saw her when I visited the Butterfly Estate…"
As the black haired woman keeps talking, Kanao notices with relief how her body language slowly loosens up. The haunting tension in her muscles fade away as she returns to her usual calmness.
Genya gives her an inquisitive look, but doesn't comment any further. Kanao may have severely misjudged him. It seems the taller teenager is more perceptive than what she has thought him to be.
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The young woman stared longingly at the newly made graves as she shakily held her hands together in a praying gesture. Those graves would remain forever empty. Nothing could be retrieved from Mount Fujikasane. The monster swallowed them whole.
"Your crow brought you a new mission."
"Hn…"
She barely acknowledged her mentor's voice as the old man approached from behind. She didn't know what strings the old man pull to give her plenty of time to recover, but it made her feel equal parts grateful and ashamed. Grateful because she knew she wouldn't have been able to do her job under the ginormous grief that threatened to consume her. Ashamed because she shouldn't have needed to take that break from her duties, she didn't deserve to grieve for so long while there were more pending matters.
And still, the thought of picking up her sword and return to the battlefield made her stomach churn. There wouldn't be more exciting letters delivered to her telling her about endless training and childish mischief. There wouldn't be any more bright laughter and skinny arms circling her as they asked her about her latest missions. She felt horribly selfish for feeling all her efforts were worthless if those she held dear were no longer there.
THUD!
"Eek!"
She yelped in pain when she felt the hit against her head. When she looked up she was met with Urokodaki's tengu mask looking more intimidating than usual.
"You can't let yourself succumb to despair, Makomo!" Her father's stern voice caught her by surprise, he hadn't talked to her with such sternness in a long time. "I know it hurts, I know the pain can be unbearable, but we'd be tarnishing their memory if we stop moving forward.
"So use that pain in your favor. Let it become the catalyst to renew your determination, let the anger fuel your motivation to reach our final goal. Do it for them, so their souls may find peace sooner."
She nodded meekly as the old man knelt next to her, his hands clasped together in a brief praying before he circled her in a small hug.
Urokodaki was always so patient with her. It made her feel even more guilty when she discreetly stopped visiting, only sending letters talking about her missions and wishing bed beloved father good health and high spirits.
How did Urokodaki take it when she asked him to train that young girl carrying her demon brother? Did he get angry at her? (Somehow she knows he wouldn't, he could never resent his children).
After that pitiful low end she could only do one thing. Devote herself to her work. And so she did, until she reached the highest ranks and earned a spot she didn't fully feel worthy of.
.
.
.
After leaving the two younger slayers in the Butterfly Estate for Shinobu to check on them and after paying Tanjiro a short visit, Makomo heads straight back to the Water Estate.
"Isn't that move too risky?"
"It should work as long as we don't mess with the main details…. I hope."
"Sure…"
"Oi!"
She slides the shoji door open to be greeted with what looks like a war zone. There are papers scattered everywhere around her fellow Hashira, and a poorly scribbled map lays between both men with messily written notes jotted down in the corners. The petite woman sighs dejectedly when she spots the freshly used ink brush laying somewhere near Sabito, leaving behind a dark trail.
"Makomo." Giyuu greets her with a small head gesture, ignoring the redhead.
Sabito makes an offended sound before his attention shifts towards her, as well.
"Hope the big mission went well." Even if he tries to sound nonchalant, Makomo knows the mission to Mount Fujikasane was something that had kept the three of them with an uneasy feeling deep in their guts.
She takes a little longer to take a proper look at both men in front of her. They're not the same children she saw leave to the forsaken mountain to never return, but that doesn't mean they sometimes feel like a second chance for her to reunite with them. Maybe they feel the same about her, and about each other. Even if the three of them have learned to embrace this second chance, the whole weirdness around the circumstances never fully vanishes.
Instead of answering, the older Hashira unceremoniously plops between both young men. She uses her arms to drag them in a hug the best she can. Both of them stiffen before Giyuu hesitantly answers the hug, awkwardly rubbing circles on her back, Sabito joins shortly after, the three becoming an awkward knot of tangled limbs.
It's oddly comfortable, Makomo must admit.
"We can talk about that tomorrow." She mumbles, burying her face in Sabito's white haori when the peach-haired male awkwardly ruffles her hair.
She doesn't pay much attention when both men exchange confused looks. Good. Neither of them needs to be worried about her inner turmoils.
Tomorrow she'll tell them about the overall success of the mission and she'll write her report to the Master. She shall also write to Urokodaki to ask him about Senjuro's progress. And if the young boy manages to pass his final test on time, she hopes her efforts will be helpful in keeping the youngest Rengoku alive during the Selection.
Only time will tell...