Chapter Text
Kamado Tanjirou had always been a strange child. Oh, not in a bad way, but the boy with hair set alight by the sun and eyes to match could see what others cannot, in both the figurative and literal sense. But even so (or perhaps because of this), he was loved and admired. By the old farmer who’d lost his entire family but nowadays anticipated weekly visits from this kind child who always returned his gifted crops in the form of cooked meals and desserts. By the young couple whose relationship may have ended in furious tears over a misunderstanding that was instead resolved by a sharp nose refuting the possibility of cheating. By the little girl who’d spent an afternoon in tears trying to find the bunny carved for her by her father, who looked up to see a boy with the kindest eyes she’d ever seen completely covered in mud offering her lost carving that somehow remained pristine.
Kamado Tanjirou? What a truly wonderful child, he helped me out with the broken roof the other day! So very hard-working, you’d do well to learn a little from him, Kota!
Grandmother! But anyway, Kamado’s a pretty nice guy, I guess. Got a weird habit of talking to himself though…
Oh! Big brother always finds time to play with me, I’m always suuuper happy when he comes down! He’s really, really, really nice and never gets annoyed like big sis and always has the funnest games to play!
Little Tanjirou’s sooooo cute! Honestly, I could pinch those cheeks every day if I could and when he brings little Nezuko…eek! They’re both so cute I could die! And his reactions whenever I do a little bit of teasing are absolutely hilarious hahahahaha it’s like he has no idea how to react, it’s priceless!
Kamado? Hard-working lad if I ever saw one. Really needs to learn how to take a break though, I’d say. Now if I could say the same about my sons…
But beyond kindness, beyond his ability to bring out the good both in himself and in others, Tanjirou was…different. It was in the little things—the maturity in spite of innocence, the moments he paused, tilting his head as if listening to something, the way he could sometimes hold a one-sided conversation with air. It took Kamado Tanjurou three years (one second) to notice his son’s ‘uniqueness.’
“Yoriichi!”
Damaged lungs seized up in a series of violent hacks as his eyes widened in surprise. Yoriichi. His legs crumpled under him, hands slammed against the floor, blank stare directed down. Yoriichi. He couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in his ears, couldn’t think past the blankness in his mind. Yoriichi. A name that should have been lost to time, lost with his decision to shield his family, his son, from the burden of their family’s legacy. A name that had just cheerfully left his son’s mouth as he turned around to see his father standing in the doorway.
Breath. In. Out.
Focus.
“What did you just call me, Tanjirou?” he said gently, after gratefully taking the water frantically offered by his (kind, so kind) son.
Vibrant eyes widened in apology. “Dad! I’m really, really sorry, I was just so surprised to see you outside that I thought you were a friend I know. Ah! Not that it’s a bad thing that you’re feeling better that’s amazing it’s just—”
Tanjurou fondly patted his son’s head, cutting off his rambling before he started taking unnecessary responsibility yet again. He could already feel his eyes crinkling in a familiar way in response to the swelling feelings in his chest. What had he done to be blessed with such a wonderful family?
“Now you’ve got me quite curious. Who is this friend of yours? Do they live nearby?”
“Are you sure you’re feeling alright Dad? You were just coughing really badly…”
“Dear, Tanjirou,” a soft voice interjected, “what are you two doing sitting out here in the cold?”
Tanjurou looked up to see his wife paused next to them, an expression of bemusement on her face. His gaze lingered for a moment on the various stitches and patches littering her yukata, seeing through Kie’s skillful needlework concealing the repairs. A pang of guilt pulsed through him, old and familiar.
He smiled, returning the kiss she offered as she bent over to pick up Tanjirou.
“My, my, soon our little son will have grown too large to carry like this! My dear Tanjirou, are you sure you don’t want to remain this small forever? Mama can carry both you and your little sister like this then!”
Of course, Tanjirou whined despite accepting Kie’s hold with plenty giggles.
“Mama, I’m already three! Soon I’ll be aaaaaall grown up and be able to protect Nezuko just like you told me to!”
“Mhmm, yes, yes, but you’ll always be my sweet, adorable baby boy no matter how big you get,” she laughed, swaying him in her arms as if he truly were a baby. “Now, what was I interrupting?”
“Dad was just coughing again!”
She immediately shot him a concerned look. “Have you taken your medicine today?”
“Of course, but there’s really no need for medi—” he attempted, shrinking a little at her unimpressed glare. He could take care of himself, honest! And the money would be better spent on other things, anyway. Coughing nervously, he continued, “—but I’d like to learn more about Tanjirou’s friend that he was just talking about.”
His son narrowed his eyes at him. Brows furrowed, lower lip involuntarily jutting out, cheeks puffing, he painted an absolutely adorable picture while trying to emulate his mother. Finally satisfied that his father wouldn’t keel over anytime soon, he asked, “You want to know about Yoriichi?”
“Yes,” Kie continued for Tanjurou, “how did you meet him?”
“Mmmm…” he hummed, eyes squeezing shut in thought, “I don’t know!”
“…”
He didn’t know?
Shrugging it off as a toddler’s bad memory, she tried another route.
“Well, then can you tell me about him? Mama would like to hear all about your new friend!”
Tanjirou pouted. “Mama, Yoriichi’s not a new friend, he’s been around forever and ever! He always has the best stories about demons and slayers and gods, like Grandma, and he’s got this cool sword that’s sometimes black and sometimes red and he’s super, super cool!”
Kie’s eyes narrowed. How could they have missed a stranger that seemed to have had such a large influence on Tanjirou? Living on a mountain meant that there were rarely any visitors, and no one lived nearby either. Tanjirou himself had rarely ever left their home, for Tanjurou’s increasingly frail constitution prevented him from bringing their son with him to sell coal in town. And whenever Tanjirou or Nezuko went outside, they were always watched over by either herself or her husband.
She glanced at Tanjurou, eyebrow raised, but he shook his head before holding her gaze meaningfully. Interesting. So, he’d never met this person before, but there was something he needed to tell her later without the children around.
Pushing down her curiosity for now, she exhaled, returning her attention to her son. Nezuko was also beginning to shift around on her back. Perfect!
“It’s wonderful that you have such an amazing friend, Tanjirou! I hope that your father and I can meet him someday soon, for I’d also love to hear some if his stories if they’re as good as you say. Your sister seems to be waking up now, so would you like to play with her for a little while?”
“Un!” he chirped while obligingly hopping out of her arms once she’d lowered him far enough. “Mama, can we use the suzu?” (*AN: a suzu is a Japanese instrument used in kagura dances)
Kie carefully loosened the cloth wrapped around Nezuko, shifting her daughter forward to set her on her feet in front of Tanjirou. He immediately reached out to steady his sister when she nearly toppled over.
“Tanjirou,” she said gently, “the suzu is for your father to use during the Hinokami Kagura Dance, not for you to play with. But,” she paused, noting how his head was already starting to fall in disappointment, “your father can show you how to make your very own suzu.”
He immediately perked up. “Really?”
His enthusiasm was shared by Nezuko. Eager to imitate her brother and swept up in his sunny cheer, she clapped along to Tanjirou’s exclamations as he danced around in circles. Kie couldn’t help but laugh. Oh, her beautiful, precious children, words couldn’t express how much she loved them. She felt her husband’s arm settle around her shoulders and leant into his familiar warmth. He was holding a leafy branch.
“Have I told you that I love you, Kamado Tanjurou?”
He pressed a kiss to her head. “Only as many times as I’ve told you that I love you.”
“Well, then I suppose that I’ll just have to tell you one more time, won’t I?”
After pressing a brief kiss to her husband’s lips, Kie reluctantly slipped out of his arms. She gave both of her children a head pat before ushering them towards their father. She paused for a little while just to observe the scene before her, innocent giggles bubbling through the air as the sun shone down on the most important people in her life like a blessing from the Hinokami himself. It wasn’t an easy life, and even now she had tasks to complete before the sun sets. But it was moments like this that she lived and worked for, being able to see her children run around carefree and happy, and her husband strong enough to step outside.
It was worth it.
Later that night after singing the children to sleep, Kie returned to her husband but left the candle lit. She sat beside him, waiting patiently.
Tanjurou looked exhausted, flickering shadows from the candle’s light highlighting premature lines in his face. All the vitality he’d gained in the sun had disappeared. He drew in a deep breath, then let it out in a controlled sigh.
He talked of events long forgotten. He talked of brothers, of demons, of a family that could trace its roots to a man who lived centuries ago, of demon slayers and the Breath of the Sun. He talked of a man named Tsugikuni Yoriichi, who had flames for hair, hanafuda earrings, and fire patterning his forehead.
Through it all, Kie listened. And when her husband finished, she hugged him and blew out the candle. But instead of slipping under the covers beside her husband, she stood up and quietly slid open the door to her children’s room. As she gazed at her son’s face, relaxed from sleep, a tear slid down her cheek. Because, although she didn’t quite understand everything yet (how could this be possible, why now, why Tanjirou?) and wasn’t quite sure if she ever would, Kie knew that this blessing/curse meant one thing for sure. Tanjirou would never have an easy life. And that was the most heartbreaking thing for her, as his mother.
The next day, Tanjirou nearly tripped over himself in his haste to greet his parents. Beaming, he skidded to a halt just before them, chirping out a good morning before wildly gesturing to the air beside him. It was expected but nonetheless still chilling to Tanjurou and Kie to have their conjectures confirmed by their son’s excited introductions and conversations with what seemed to their eyes to be absolutely nothing. Tanjirou was young yet, however. At the very least, their family was isolated, and what little the townspeople might notice could be explained away by a child’s imagination. Let him live in childish ignorance for a little while, without the burden of being different, of fearing those who might try to use him for his connection to the dead.
And they would try.
Tanjurou mourned, for he had hoped to spare his children from their family’s legacy. But Tanjirou was born with the burn scar on his forehead, just as he was, and now it seemed as if destiny had other plans for his son. And knowing little Nezuko, where her older brother went, she wouldn’t be far behind.
Not for the first time, Tanjurou cursed his weakness. If only he wasn’t bed-ridden and useless, he might be able to protect his family rather than being forced to train his children and hope that it would be enough. But he held no illusions about how much longer he had left to live.
First, though, there was something that Tanjirou had to be told now. Something that would be more dangerous in the long run to conceal now. Scooping his son up, (how much longer would he be able to do this?) Tanjurou pat his head, drawing out a sunny laugh.
“Dad! Isn’t Yoriichi so cool? I’m so glad you and Mama finally got to meet him, maybe we can have him over for dinner sometime!”
“Tanjirou,” gods, how does one even tell a three-year-old that they can see ghosts? “Tanjirou, there’s something very important I need to tell you about Yoriichi.”
The toddler scrunched his nose in confusion. He glanced over Tanjurou’s shoulder. Seemingly having received some sort of affirmation, he looked up again, head tilted in an unspoken question.
“Tanjirou…your Mama and I can’t see Yoriichi.”
“What?” a note of hurt entered his son’s voice, “but he’s standing right there!”
Tanjurou’s heart tightened in his chest, weak lungs stuttering on his choked breathes. If only Yoriichi was alive, if only Tanjirou could live at least his childhood in complete ignorance, if only, if only…but he couldn’t. In this world of demons, demon slayers, humans, it would only take his son talking to one wrong person, and any semblance of a happy life could be violently removed from all possibility. For his son had a gift (a curse), and Tanjurou wouldn’t be the only one to see its possible applications.
Right now, though, it only made sense that his son didn’t understand.
“I know this is very confusing for you Tanjirou, but could you listen to what I have to say before you ask anything?”
“Ok…”
Breath. In. Out.
“Tsugikuni Yoriichi was a powerful demon slayer who lived over 500 years ago. He is our ancestor. He carried a black sword and, similarly to you and me, had red hair and eyes. Our family heirlooms, the hanafuda earrings I’m wearing today, were originally passed down by him, along with our Hinokami Kagura Dance. Tanjirou, do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
“I…” his son trailed off, uncertain, “but that’s not, I mean that doesn’t make sense! Yoriichi’s standing right here, right now, and I can touch him a-and—” he broke off in confused, hiccupping sobs. “I don’t understand, Dad, w-what are you trying to say?”
And oh, Tanjurou wanted to be able to do anything but tell his son that his beloved friend had been dead for centuries. Wanted to wrap his son up and hide him from the world, wanted to see and hear and welcome the friend that his son had already grown so attached to. But even as he let the words fall from his lips and saw the understanding darken the innocence in his son’s eyes, watched as he stumbled out of his arms toward his mother, he knew that he could never choose to lie to his son. Not now, when it would do nothing but harm him in the future.
“Tsugikuni Yoriichi…although I cannot see or hear you, I hope you will listen if you are still here.” His tone was mild, physical frame unintimidating in its frailness. But there was steel in his eyes, in the rigid posture he took despite the exhaustion draining his strength every minute of the day.
“Tanjirou is my eldest son. Train him, for he needs to be strong not just in spirit to survive the journey ahead of him. Watch over him, for I will not always be there for him no matter how hard I may try. But if you attempt to weaponize my son to be used for your own goals and take advantage of his kindness,” a wry smile slashed across his face. “well…the living may not be able to touch the dead, but we both know that I do not have much longer left to live, don’t we?”
The room remained silent, not even a whisper of wind to indicate another’s presence. But just for a moment, a hazy shadow flickered in the empty space in front of him. A blink, and it was gone. Tanjurou let out a controlled breath, releasing the tension lining his frail frame. His head dropped into his hands.
What do I do now?