Work Text:
❄️
It’s just another day of waking up with her cheeks wet and her breathing out of order.
She had that dream again--rainbow eyes, purple hair, a sword that won’t cut. It’s been three out of five nights this week. She’s doing a little better, she thinks. Maybe.
The first rays of the morning through the windows chase the dredges of the dream away, cutting through the shadows of a bare room. There isn’t much in it: a futon, a box of clothes, an empty flower vase. The nichirin blade in its sheath, leaning against the darkest corner. A butterfly hairpiece, glimmering on top of a modest dresser.
An empty room used by a ghost. Kanao thinks it’s just right for her.
Wiping the uncomfortable dampness off her eyes with the back of her yukata’s sleeve, she gets up and dresses for the day.
🦋☀️
Kanao knew she was going to be the Flower Hashira sooner or later. That’s what being a tsuguko means after all--an acceptance of the weight of your hashira’s mortality looming in the distance, pressing on your shoulders.
It didn’t make any of it easier though. She lost an eye, and she lost Shinobu. She had nothing to show for it. But all that is over now, and there’s no demons for them to cut down—just in her nightmares, where she also cuts down Shinobu’s head even if she doesn’t want to.
It’s hard to keep her thoughts empty while Aoi-san teaches her the basics of how to run an estate: managing the lands, keeping their stocks of food and medicines full, budgeting the money that Kiriya-sama gives them for the rest of them. She also had to manage the apothecary and the clinic too, even though it’s clear from the start that all she has is precision in making salves and ointments but none of the talents of healing people.
Yet, Kanao tries. Tries hard everyday, keeping the smile on her closed mouth no matter how overwhelmed she is. Even though she isn’t doing the best job of helping people heal, at least she’s smiling.
She learned that the hardest part of healing was that it was always different between people. All of them lost precious things and precious people in the war. It’s just something they all had to deal with, but figuring out how, and what you need, isn’t easy.
That said: Tanjirou still hasn’t woken up.
She’s done everything she can think of to help him, but he still isn’t moving in his bed. As much as Kanao wants to say by his side, she can’t. It’s fine since Nezuko’s there, encouraging him with stuttered words to wake up. Zenitsu and Inosuke also visit him frequently, talking to him as if he were awake to tell them off as he always does. When he doesn’t--when his eyes remain closed and his mouth uncharacteristically quiet--everyone feels a little worse.
Kanao does what she can. Gives medicines, cleans his wounds, puts fresh flowers and castella cakes at his bedside. Nice things he can smell, even in his dreams. She hopes it’s enough to reach him.
She tells herself to calm down. He’s slept for two whole weeks before and he turned out okay. His injuries are worse now--Murata-san said that his heart stopped beating for a while back there--but his heart’s beating now, and that’s the only thing that matters. He’s going to be fine, isn’t he?
Heads, he will--tails--
Her hand shakes over the coin as it lands, afraid of the answer it shows her. She puts it back in her pocket without looking at it.
Tanjirou sleeps on.
💨
One of the other survivors is Shinazugawa Sanemi, although Kanao isn’t sure if survivor is the correct term. Aoi tells her that she’s treated him lots of times before, but has never seen him look this bad before.
It’s not that he’s disfigured, although the battle has left his already scarred body with more scars and a few missing fingers. But his eyes are hollow, and when he moves he doesn’t seem like he’s really moving. He sits up when she tells him to, eats when there’s food in front of him, lets her apply all the salves and ointments on every wound on his body without a single sound exchanged between them.
It feels like she’s treating a mannequin.
One day, after she and Aoi replaces all his bandages and leaves him in his silent room, the other girl suddenly starts weeping.
Kanao stops, the practiced smile on her mouth falling.
“I’m sorry, Tsuyuri-sama,” she sniffles, wiping the tears with the sleeve of her infirmary uniform. “It’s just that… I’ve never seen him like this. This isn’t the Shinazugawa-san we know. It’s heartbreaking.”
She knew what Aoi meant. He visited the butterfly estate often in the past. Despite being the way he is, he’s kind to the girls who worked here.
Plus, he and Kanae were close friends. She had seen them together, walking in the gardens whenever they had time to waste. One time, Kanae even asked Kanao to drink tea with them, making her sit right next to the wind pillar. Kanao was scared, but she was so frozen he didn’t notice. In the end Shinazugawa-san had laughed at her for being the first girl who didn’t cry upon seeing his face on first sight.
When they lost Kanae and paid their respects, Kanao wasn’t the only one whose eyes were dry. But at least something was in Shinazugawa-san’s eyes. Rage is better than nothing.
“Do you think we can do something for him?”
Aoi stares at her, wide-eyed with shock.
Kanao blinks, curious, until she realizes that she spoke out of turn. Her coin is hidden deep within her pocket, nowhere to be found.
She looks down in shame before she can stop herself. “Sorry, I just thought--”
“No, Kanao--I mean, Tsuyuri-sama,” Aoi stammers, picking up the linens she’d dropped by accident. “Talking is good! As the head of the Butterfly Eastate, you should keep speaking your mind, okay?”
She nods, but talking’s the hardest part of the job. Even now, she feels her face is hotter than it should be.
It’s probably good though, since Aoi is smiling at her. Still, she doesn’t look completely happy. “I think we should do something for Shinazugawa-san, too. But I don’t know where to start. He isn’t very...”
She makes a vague gesture with her hands that Kanao can’t understand. At the curious tilt of Kanao’s head, she sighs in resignation.
“Anyway, I’m saying that he’s in a complicated place now. When we decide to do something for him, we have to be kind and sincere about it.”
Kanao isn’t sure if she is a kind person. She doesn’t think she has characteristics to speak of, apart from being thoughtless and quiet. But she knows kindness, in the form of dark hair, purple eyes, pretty hands that untie the bindings from hers as money flies everywhere in their mad dash to get away.
She doesn’t think Shinazugawa-san needs that sort of kindness, but it gives her an idea.
💮
The kindest people Kanao knew in her life were Kanae and Shinobu. So if she wants to learn how to be kind, it should be from them.
Shinobu had shown her where they kept all of the demon slayers’ health records in the clinic. There’s an overwhelming amount of it, kept in overflowing drawers, arranged by name. Kanao rolls up her sleeves and gets right to it.
After almost getting buried waist-deep under falling stacks of papers, Kanao finally comes across Shinazugawa-san’s folder. It’s easy to spot because it’s one of the thickest ones in the pile. She sees Shinobu’s notes about him--his birthday, measurements, vital signs, all the injuries he’s ever had, all the medications he’s ever taken. There’s a diagram of his body, updated with all the new wounds he gets every consult. The word Marechi is scrawled at the top and encircled with urgency.
Now this is all well and good--Shinobu-sama was nothing if not meticulous--but this doesn’t help Kanao in the treatment she has in mind. So she digs deeper, until the pages turn yellow and the handwriting changes.
Kanae’s notes are strikingly different from her sisters’. She also charted the same things as Shinobu, but with less clinical precision. She has a habit, though, of adding personal notes underneath the medical ones. Shinobu said her true talent as a physician is in those little details.
Sept 5th: Reason for consult -- left arm injury with numbness during encounter with owl demon west of Hakone
- Patient had minimal pain over wound site.
- Partner (Kumeno Masachika-kun) mentioned he had a hard time fighting the demon due to poor color vision at night. We suggested glasses, but patient refused (in his words, he’d look like a ‘fucking nerd,’ although I think he’d look nice in them!)
- Masachika-kun also thinks he’d look awful in them, which is why he is strongly agrees with my prescription.
- Outcome: Patient’s left arm injuries healed well, but eyesight still terrible. Will follow-up with custom glasses.
There’s something warm about seeing the messy scrawl, as if she can hear Kanae’s voice as she reads these notes. Kanao allows herself to smile before getting back to the matter at hand.
So, Shinazugawa-san needed glasses? She wondered if crafting glasses for him now will make him feel any better, but… no, maybe next time.
November 29th: Reason for consult -- shoulder dislocation during encounter with multiple demons outside Edo
- Patient refused treatment. Loudly.
- Partner (Kumeno Masachika-kun) secretly told us that today is the patient’s birthday, and he wanted to leave to pay his respects to his deceased family.
- We decided on releasing him from the infirmary early, but also took Masachika-kun’s suggestion of making him ohagi (Patient’s favorite food! Take note) before sending him home.
- Outcome: Patient is still in pain, but the ohagi the girls made for him seemed to make him feel better.
Ohagi. That’s something she can do. Kanao doesn’t know how to cook, but if there are instructions she’s sure she can manage it. And if she couldn’t, she can ask Aoi-san to buy some downtown.
Oh, but Aoi-san told her she has to be kind and sincere about it. If she bought it from a store, she doubts that Shinazugawa-san would see the sincerity in it. She scraps the idea immediately.
It’s okay. Kanao squeezes the coin in her palm. You can do this much, Kanao. He’s going to understand--
December 13th: Reason for consult -- Multiple injuries after encounter with Lower Moon Demon (#x)
- Patient recovered from immediate injuries after 2 weeks of confinement.
- Getting cooperation for rehabilitation is difficult. I believe this is due to casualty during battle (Partner, Kumeno Masachika-kun)--
Kanao closes the chart with a heavy heart. She didn’t mean to read the page all the way to the end, and now that she knows more about the people he’s lost, she’s beginning to doubt herself.
Can she really do this? Shinazugawa-san was in pain before, but back then he had Genya. Now that Genya is gone...
Kanao squeezes the coin again. Losing Genya-kun hurt her too. They got along when he had to stay in the Butterfly Estate for his check-ups with Shinobu. Talking was hard for either of them, but Tanjirou wanted them to try, so they did. She liked to think they were good friends. She’s sure he was a good brother, too.
A measly bit of ohagi won’t take away the pain of all those losses. But maybe just a little bit is fine. A little bit is better than nothing. A little bit will change his day.
She has to take the first step to change things, and hope for the best.
🌸
As it turns out, cooking was a lot harder than she thought.
Gathering the ingredients was the easiest part. After that, it was all out chaos. In her first three attempts, she successfully burned the rice, used the wrong type of flour, spilled the beans (literally), and made a big mess everywhere. Tasting her creations was a terrible experience--she’s sure ohagi isn’t supposed to be crunchy or hard or this dark in color, so how did hers end up like this?
She considered asking for help from Aoi-san, but she’s in town buying supplies. Sumi, Naho, and Kiyo are doing their duties in the wards. There are kakushi nearby whom she could ask, but asking the irate Goto-san for help isn’t the best idea considering the mess she made.
What is she going to do? Shinazugawa-san’s still in a bad place, and she can’t do anything to help. She isn’t the healer that the head of the Butterfly Estate is supposed to be. She isn’t--
“Kanao?”
She rubs her good eye before turning to the source of the voice. “Tomioka-san?”
Tomioka Giyuu, the water pillar. He’s got a severe nerve injury over his right arm, broken ribs, and internal hemorrhaging, but he’s doing a lot better now. At least, definitely better than Shinazugawa-san, whose wounds are mostly spiritual.
“Are you alright?” he asks, carefully hobbling over to where she stood.
She schools her features in the same, quiet smile she shows everyone. “Yes. How may I help you?”
He tilts his head curiously, blue eyes glinting like skylight. Despite his injuries, the other girls still say he’s still unnervingly handsome. Kanao isn’t sure since she doesn’t know what handsome is supposed to look like, but she does agree that he looks different with his hair down and without a sword at his side. He doesn’t look like he’s capable of killing anyone, or cutting down demons without blinking.
She thinks that it’s a better look for him, truer to who he is on the inside. Tomioka-san is a gentle person, after all.
His voice is too quiet for the look of mild surprise at the mess on the counter, on the floor, and on Kanao herself. “I came here for water.”
She smiles like everything is fine, unintentionally falling into the stiff way of speaking she used with people she isn’t used to. “I will get you water. Please don’t move.”
He steps closer though, sniffing as he stares at the crushed red beans she’d been working on before he came in. “You’re making ohagi,” he says matter-of-factly.
Kanao makes an affirmative noise, despite the mess. “I will manage. Please don’t worry about me.”
“Is it for Shinazugawa?”
“I--yes,” she replies, stunned. “How did you know?”
His expression is as flat as ever, but there’s a strange shine in his eyes that takes Kanao aback. “I know he likes ohagi,” he says, after a thoughtful silence. “I was going to give him some, before everything happened.”
Were they friends? Shinobu often spoke about how the two of them and Iguro-san tended to clash during pillar meetings before, and how he severely lacked friends.
“We get along well.” Tomioka insists, as if reading her thoughts. He looks at her work carefully and says, “Let me help you.”
Kanao shakes her head a little too frantically. “Oh--it’s alright, Tomioka-san, I should do this by myself…”
“It looks like you’re having a hard time, though.”
He looks at her meaningfully, as if daring her to be honest. She swallows and looks down with a droop of her ponytail. “I… am,” she finally admits. “I’ve never done anything like this before, but… I really want to help Shinazugawa-san, even just a little.”
She doesn’t think she’s good at asking for help. But Tanjirou told her that there’s nothing wrong with feeling overwhelmed and being honest about her feelings. He said that as long as she asks, people are going to help her. So far it’s true, but with Tomioka-san--
“Okay.” There’s a small smile on his face, one that she’s never seen before in the few years she’s stayed in this estate. “Let’s make Shinazugawa some ohagi, then.”
He hobbles towards the counter, putting the upended bowls upright with his bandaged fingers, confident even if he’s a little shaky. Kanao trails behind him with wide eyes as he starts pouring water for the rice.
“Do you know how to make ohagi, Tomioka-san?”
“No,” he answers, to her surprise.
It doesn’t stop him from trying though. With a strange sort of relief in her heart, she follows his lead into the fourth attempt at ohagi.
🌸 🌊
They stop at seven attempts because they run out of ingredients, and also because Tomioka-san has been standing for so long he’s getting dizzy. He really shouldn’t be pushing himself when he’s this deconditioned, but he’s surprisingly stubborn about seeing through this until the end.
The ohagi doesn’t look nice, nor does it taste like the ones that Kanae or Shinobu made with this recipe. But at least it’s red, soft, and didn’t taste like salt (like their fifth attempt, when they accidentally mistook salt for sugar). They look passable when plated nicely, served with tea on a tray.
“You did well,” Tomioka tells her as she stands uneasily at the threshold of the door to Shinazugawa’s room.
Despite his words, she’s still uneasy. “What if he doesn’t like it?”
She’s scared that it’ll be so bad that Shinazugawa-san ends up screaming in rage. She’d seen it happen with Maeda-san before, when the kakushi gave her a uniform that didn’t... fit her well. She was thankful, but it was definitely scary to see his face contort like that...
“Then Shinazugawa will say so,” Tomioka answers plainly. “And we’ll know what to do next time. So don’t worry.”
She nods, with a nervous swallow. He’s right--the worst thing to happen is for nothing to happen. “Thank you, Tomioka-san.”
“Just Giyuu is fine,” he says, before opening the door. She trails behind him nervously, tray in hand.
Shinazugawa-san’s room is dark, with traces of moonlight flowing through the window. He flinches when they switch the electric light on. There’s a little irritated furrow of his eyebrows when he sees Giyuu-san, a clench of his jaw that tells them that he’s ready to close them off, but that’s the only sign of movement he makes when they enter his room without permission.
“Hello, Shinazugawa,” Giyuu-san says.
Shinazugawa clicks his tongue and turns away.
There’s a moment where nobody says anything, where they just stare at Shinazugawa who does not move a single millimeter, nor make a single sound. She wonders if time stood still.
She’s so anxious, so sure that this is a stupid idea after all that her mind flips between fight or flight. She wished she could reach into her pocket for Kanae’s coin, but her hands are full with the ohagi set.
She pushes forward though, simply because there isn’t anything left to do. “Tomi—I mean, Giyuu-san and I made this for you. It’s ohagi.”
Kanao scans his face carefully with her good eye for any minuscule twitch of muscle—anything to tell her that he cares. There’s none.
She inhales shakily. “I heard it’s your favorite. So… I hope you like it.”
Again, there’s nothing. No sound other than the cup of tea trembling on the tray. With nothing else to do, Kanao awkwardly leaves this on the table and just about runs out the door, not looking at anyone in the eye.
This is hopeless , she thinks with trembling hands. Kanao was right to doubt herself. She isn’t half healer that either Kanae or Shinobu were. She’s terrible at this.
The door opens and shuts behind her, followed by the sound of quiet footsteps. “I think that went well,” Giyuu says, interrupting her thoughts.
She looks up at the man with incredulous, watery eyes. “But… he didn’t do anything. He didn’t even say anything. I think we just caused him trouble.”
“I don’t know about that. He didn’t say we can’t try again.”
His face is blank and his tone flat, but there’s a weird flash of determination in Giyuu-san’s eyes when he says it. He is odd, isn’t he? Kanao is beginning to understand why Shinobu is particular about telling him that he tends to rub people off the wrong way.
As it is, all Kanao can manage is an awkward smile. “Okay. We will try again.”
Giyuu nods, returning a small smile that’s just as awkward. After that, he wobbles more precariously in his step, the efforts of the day finally catching up to his deconditioned state.
While she lets the taller man lean on her on the way to his hospital bed, Kanao promises to meet him in the kitchen after his exercises are done.
🌊
Kanao is fretting over a fresh set of ingredients for ohagi when as promised, Giyuu-san appears in the kitchen after his rehabilitation session with the girls.
His affect is as flat as ever, but Kanao doesn’t miss the unsteadiness in his step, the tremor in his right hand, the quiet ragged breaths. “If you’re too tired, you don’t have to help me,” she says.
He shakes his head. “Doing something with my hands will be good for my recovery too,” is all he says before trudging his way to the counter. “Shall we?”
She nods. He gets to work on the rice, while she gets to work on the beans. The work is slow and quiet, with his injuries and her lack of confidence in handling food getting in the way, but the experience of cooking is a little easier than it was yesterday.
Just a little. Three attempts at ohagi later and they’re met with something that tastes kind of decent, but definitely isn’t shaped nicely.
“This should be fine,” Giyuu says.
Is this really fine?
“I’m sure Shinazugawa would like it.”
He really is strange, isn’t he? At least, his dedication to do this much for Shinazugawa-san is definitely strange. He even goes ahead with plating the ohagi. Kanao has to stop him from pouring the tea before he accidentally scalds himself.
And so they go to Shinazugawa-san. Sumi has just redressed his wounds. She almost drops all the things in her hands when Kanao and Giyuu enter the room quietly and unannounced.
“Tsuyuri-sama? Tomioka-sama?!” she squeaks tremulously. “Is--is there anything wrong?”
She can’t blame her panic. It’s probably strange seeing Giyuu-san with Kanao. Simply put they’re two awkward people who never really had a reason to interact before. An emergency is probably the first thing that comes to the little girl’s mind.
“There’s nothing wrong,” she says. “We just wanted to visit Shinazugawa-san, and…”
She looks down on the tray in her hands. Across from her, Sumi is carrying yesterday’s tray. Nothing on it is touched.
Sumi seems to understand a little. “Okay… then, I’ll leave you to it! Please excuse me!”
The girl leaves, leaving the three of them in the same exact awkward situation as before. Despite her best attempts not to tremble, Kanao does anyway. But her voice is clear when she says, “We made you ohagi for today too, Shinazugawa-san. I hope you try it.”
The wind pillar stares at her blankly. There’s a very small movement on his shoulder that could have been a shrug. That’s something… new.
She smiles for the first time. It’s subtle, but she thinks they’re getting to him, finally. She doesn’t know if he’ll eat the ohagi tday, but at least they’re making progress. “Okay. We will leave it here for you. Then--”
But for some reason, Giyuu-san decides that they aren’t done yet. “You should try our ohagi, Shinazugawa.”
The man regards him silently, with plenty of annoyance. But again, doesn’t say anything. Kanao senses that the dark-haired man’s about to do something rash at this point, so she tugs at his sleeve, stepping into the direction of the door.
Giyuu ignores her. “Try it,” he insists, stepping forward with the plate of ohagi in hand.
“Giyuu-san--”
There’s a dangerous aura building up around Shinazugawa the closer Giyuu-san gets into his space, but he isn’t moving away. Nor does he say anything when the other man holds the plate up to his face, essentially dangling the ohagi under his nose.
“Try it,” Giyuu repeats, without a smidgen of fear in his aura. Kanao would be impressed, were she not afraid.
Shinazugawa glares at him, but to her surprise, he moves his hand, picks up the ohagi, looks at Giyuu meaningfully…
… before smashing the ohagi right in the other man’s face.
Giyuu almost falls to the floor from the force of it. Kanao thinks she should be screaming, but she doesn’t exactly know what to scream. (You think she’d learn after Goto-san screamed at her that one time, but no). Luckily, no-one gets any more injured, and Shinazugawa-san’s deadly aura significantly dies as soon as the ohagi’s out of his grasp.
“Get out,” he grits out, before turning in his bed and hiding under the covers.
Giyuu blinks through the crumbled rice and red beans around his face, picks himself up, and hobbles out the door. Kanao trails behind him in shock, bowing once to Shinazugawa-san out of shame.
Needless to say, Kanao is at a loss once they’re out the door. All she can do is hand Giyuu-san her handkerchief so he can wipe away the ohagi they worked so hard on.
Despite that, Giyuu-san doesn’t seem to be fazed. “I think we’re getting through to him.”
Kanao can’t help the flabbergasted look on her face. “Giyuu-san…”
“He looked at us this time,” he points out evenly. “And he talked. He didn’t do that yesterday.”
“I guess so.” But it’s because you made him so angry, Kanao thinks in disdain.
But Giyuu-san moves about like nothing has happened, only picking out the last bits of rice clinging on his yukata. She wonders just how optimistic he was, or dense, but also considers that Shinazugawa-san has probably done worse things to him in the past.
Which makes it so strange that he still has the will to say, “We will try again tomorrow,” with that determined shine in his eyes.
Kanao… is legitimately worried about him, but all she can do is agree with him. “Okay.”
🌸 🌊 🦋🦋🦋🦋
So, they try again for the next three days.
She doesn’t even have to look for Giyuu-san in the mornings. He’s always stepping into the kitchen by the time she has the ingredients out, ready to try making ohagi again. Their attempts get less clumsy and they waste less ingredients, but they were never able to produce ones that look like the nice ones from the store.
Kanao begins to lose her nerve when they go into Shinazugawa-san’s room with ohagi and tea. He reacts the same each time--a quiet annoyance at the two of them for having the nerve to attempt this day in and day out, not moving or saying anything until Giyuu-san inevitably crosses over the boundaries. After which Shinazugawa-san pushes him away, more roughly and passionately than the last. Kanao always worries that today is the day that Giyuu-san gets seriously injured, but he’s always able to brace himself at the last second.
All of Shinazugawa’s efforts to keep them away is not enough. “We’ll try again tomorrow” is always the last thing Giyuu-san tells her, right before retiring to his bed for the night.
Giyuu-san is nothing if not persistent, that’s for sure. It’s only a matter of time before somebody intervenes.
On the fourth day, Kanao is surprised to see Aoi-san waiting for her in the kitchen, hands on her hips. “Tsuyuri-sama. A word?”
Despite being the head of this estate, Kanao breaks out into a nervous sweat.
Aoi asks her to explain why their stocks of red beans, glutinous rice and mochi flower are at an all-time low, why the kakushi always finds a big mess in the kitchen in the afternoons, and why Giyuu-san’s linens always smells like he rolled around in sugar. Kanao stammers through bits and pieces of an explanation that admittedly sounds ridiculous, now that she has to say it out loud.
Aoi stares at her incredulously. “And Tomioka-san always wants to try again the next day, even if Shinazugawa-san does all those things to him?”
Kanao nods quietly. Aoi rubs her palm on her forehead with a sigh.
“Well… even so, I think things are… changing,” the other woman relents, voice still unsure. “Shinazugawa-san looks a little different today, so you might be onto something. Is this something you want to continue, Tsuyuri-sama?”
Kanao nods.
“Do you want me to help?” Aoi offers. “I’m definitely better in the kitchen than you. And--”
She stops as four steps of quiet footsteps come in. Giyuu-san, as well as Sumi, Naho, and Kiyo, stare at them oddly.
“We’re here,” Giyuu announces, gesturing to the little girls crowding around him. At the questioning glance from both Aoi and Kanao, he haphazardly adds, “They said they wanted to help.”
“Yes we do!” Naho squeaks from behind him. “Tomioka-san is beginning to turn red from having red beans on his face every night, so…”
A strange sound fills the air, loud and strange and impolite. All eyes turn to her in plain shock.
Oh. Kanao’s laughing.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” she stammers in a hurry, but she’s cut off by the girls joining in with her. Before she knows it, she’s joining them. It’s a strange feeling, laughing like this, but it isn’t… bad, nor does it feel mean. Giyuu doesn’t laugh, but the glint of amusement in his eyes tells them that this isn’t the first time it has happened in his house.
And, that he doesn’t mind.
🌸 🌊 💨
Things in the kitchen get easier when Aoi and the girls help them. They’re finally able to make ohagi and other nice things that they thought Shinazugawa-san might like too: ichigo daifuku, kuzumochi, dorayaki, even the Western-style honey pancakes that Kanroji-san had them try ages ago. It’s a lot of work, but Kanao feels less and less anxious when the time came to plate their creations and to present it to the wind pillar.
The next few times that they visit Shinazugawa-san also end up with Giyuu-san covered in some sort of sweet, but Kanao can see some changes. His eyes are bulging out less, for example, and the clench of his jaw seems less angry as the days pass. When he smashes the food onto Giyuu-san’s face, Kanao’s sure that his touch lingers a tad longer against the other man’s face. It’s… strange.
In any case, it spurs them further to try again. Giyuu-san doesn’t even have to tell her so. Aoi-san is also surprised that she’s in the kitchen everyday despite all the things she has to do.
“Is this bad?” Kanao asks her honestly as she mixes the batter for… something called cake. She isn’t sure what it’s supposed to look like after it’s put over fire.
Aoi shakes her head. “Not at all. I’m glad you’re finally taking the initiative for something, Flower Hashira,” she says with a teasing lilt to her voice. “Besides… I think Shinazugawa-san’s not the only one getting some good out of this.”
They look over at Giyuu-san in unison. The girls are helping him mold balls of mochi. His hands are trembling less and less as the days go by. Apart from that, Kanao can also tell that something’s different with him, something bright behind his eyes, but she can’t put her finger on what it is.
“It’s good to do something else, apart from… what he used to do,” Aoi mumbles at the end, clearing her throat nervously. “But I’m not just talking about him, you know. I think this is good for you too.”
“Because of initiative?”
The other girl shakes her head, eyes downcast. She’s quiet for a bit before saying, “It’s four out of seven nights last week.”
Kanao blinks in surprise.
“And before that, five out of seven. Seven out of seven.” A sad glint in her blue eyes. “The few times that you didn’t have them is because you stayed the night at Tanjirou-kun’s room. I don’t think you sleep when you’re there.”
Kanao bites her lower lip, suddenly ashamed. “... sorry,” she mumbles softly.
“Don’t be sorry for having nightmares! You of all people--” Aoi says shakily. “I feel guilty for not sharing your burden with you, Kanao… for making you do all these things for the Butterfly Estate, even when you’re having nightmares. I’m not sure if you’ve mourned properly for Shinobu-sama yet--”
Kanao isn’t sure either, but it doesn’t matter. There’s too much to do, too many sick people to treat. “No, it’s okay…”
“It really isn’t,” Aoi sniffs, rubbing her eyes. “But… this is the first time I’m seeing you enjoy yourself, you know? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before Tomioka-san--”
Just as Aoi mentions Giyuu-san’s name, the door to the kitchen slams open rather violently, making the three little girls cry out in unison. There’s a moment where Kanao wonders if she made Goto-san angry again for any reason, but the thought is blown away as soon as they hear the distinct growl and the strong aura of someone dangerous.
“ Tomioka. ”
Everyone in the kitchen stares, stunned, at the sight of wild white hair, scars, and bared, animal-like teeth. Aoi and the three girls scream in terror, hiding behind their respective hashiras . Kanao has to keep herself from trembling in fear herself.
However, Giyuu only stares placidly at the person growling his name. “Shinazugawa, you’re out of bed.”
The other man’s eyes bulge out impossibly further as he stomps his way into the kitchen. “You-fucking-bastard. Are you gonna force your shit on me again?! And dragging these kids along to treat me like a sick piece of shit--haven’t you had enough?!”
Shinazugawa-san’s fist is at Giyuu-san’s collar. He isn’t looking at any of the girls, and they all know that he won’t be this angry at any of them, but all the same Kanao is terrified. From the start, this is her terrible idea, after all, and everyone else in the kitchen just got pulled in because of her. She should have known that being this persistent won’t be good for anyone--she just made Shinazugawa-san so much worse than before--
“Not really,” Giyuu-san answers quietly. “Because you haven’t tried anything we made. Not even a little bit.”
And Giyuu-san is making things worse!
Kanao isn’t alone when she looks at Giyuu-san like he has a death wish. Aoi-san and the three girls’ eyes are the size of dinner plates by this time, and to her surprise even Shinazugawa-san is stunned.
“Y-you stupid--” the wind pillar spits at his face. “Why would I eat anything your stupid pretty hands--”
Pretty?
Giyuu blinks in surprise. After a beat, where he seems to be digesting the same strange words that flew out of Shinazugawa-san’s mouth, he replies, “Because we made it for you.”
A nervous silence passes. Shinazugawa’s face is red. Giyuu-san quietly presents to him the misshapen mochi he’s been working on, cupped in his hands like a baby bird underneath the other man’s nostrils.
Shinazugawa’s face turns even redder than before.
“Try it,” Giyuu-san repeats for the hundredth time.
Kanao looks at the two men, more anxious than she’s ever been. She’s sure that the clenched fist at Shinazugawa-san’s side is going to fly towards Giyuu-san’s face. The only question is when.
But when Shinazugawa moves, it isn’t to punch Giyuu in the face. Surprisingly, the fist at his collar loosens to pluck out the mochi in the other man’s palms, to be tossed in his mouth.
“Ah--”
The girls’ jaws drop collectively in shock as Shinazugawa Sanemi chews, and finally swallows the mochi that Tomioka Giyuu has gifted him.
“... so?”
A shine in Giyuu’s eyes, as he waits for Shinazugawa’s answer.
Nobody really knows what to expect at this point. Someone could realistically die, and most likely it’s going to be Giyuu-san. Even as the new Flower Hashira, Kanao wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it.
“... Tomioka,”
Even so, when Shinazugawa’s hand reaches for Giyuu-san’s hair, everyone else in the room freeze like icicles.
And then, he tugs down. Painfully.
“Sh-shinazugawa-san?!”
Ignoring the clamor from the shocked girls behind them, Shinazugawa glances at them all and raises his other hand. “Hair tie. Now. ”
No-one can even question what he wants to do with it--for all any of them knew, he plans to strangle Giyuu-san with it--but as soon as Naho tearfully hands over a tie with a butterfly ornament with it, Shinazugawa’s fingers are working on Giyuu-san’s hair in an instant.
It isn’t long before Giyuu-san emerges from a whirlwind of movements with his hair in a neat ponytail, higher and neater than it normally is, and a slightly stunned look in his normally blank features. The butterfly ornament makes him look like he belongs in the estate.
As an explanation for his strange actions, Shinazugawa stomps his way to the sink to wash his hands. “There’s a lot of things wrong with you, Tomioka, but you don’t even have the damn sense to tie your stupid hair when you’re in the kitchen!”
“Oh,” is all Giyuu has to say, before Shinazugawa directs his glare to the other girls, who squeal in unison.
“You guys… aren’t bad,” he grumbles as he dries his hands off with a towel. “You don’t crush the red beans enough, though, and you really scrimp on the sugar. Don’t. ”
“... okay,” Aoi stammers, on behalf of the girls who are blinking themselves back to their senses. Shinazugawa’s opening cupboards, fishing out all sorts of ingredients from them. Is he--
Finally, with a bowl in hand, he turns to Kanao. “And you. Flower Hashira,” he says, voice stronger than it has been since he got back from the war.
Kanao steps forward, carefully holding the smile on her face, which feels more fragile as the seconds pass.
In the deathly quiet room, Shinazugawa gestures for her to come closer. She nods, stepping over carefully, one hand sneaking into her pocket to fish out Kanae’s coin, until--
“ Don’t, ” he snaps, stopping her hand at the border of her skirt. “I need your hands clean. You wanna learn how to make this damn ohagi right, you listen to me and not Tomioka fucking Giyuu. Got that, Kochou?”
Kanao’s breath stops in her throat.
With how easily the name slips from Shinazugawa’s mouth, and how he goes on about how to wash the rice properly, he probably isn’t even aware of his mistake. It’s not a big mistake, certainly not a grave one. Kochou Kanae was his friend. Kochou Shinobu was his comrade. They were good people, kind people who did a lot of good while they were alive. They’re far away from where Kanao is right now, even though they’re her sisters…
“... and don’t just take your eyes off when it begins to boil,” Shinazugawa says, looking over to her. “Oi, are you listening?”
All the feelings she kept inside her suddenly break like a dam. She… she really missed them, didn’t she?
“Y-yes, Shinazugawa-san,” Kanao says through an ugly sob. She wipes her eyes behind her sleeve, cursing herself for letting the dam break so easily.
“Are you?” Shinazugawa turns to her, an oddly fond and brotherly look in his eyes as she continues to cry like a baby. “C’mon, a smart kid like you can do this. If you keep crying, the ohagi’s gonna end up salty again, yeah?”
“Okay, Sh-shinazu--”
“And for fuck’s sake--just Sanemi is okay.”
“... okay, S… ‘Nemi,” Kanao stammers, in between hiccups. “I’ll--I’ll do m-my best.”
There’s a strange flash in Sanemi’s eyes at her words, but he doesn’t say anything and goes on with his own recipe for ohagi. Through the watery vision in her good eye, Kanao tries to catch up to everything. It’s a little hard though, because in the periphery she sees the girls smiling through their tears. Giyuu pats her on the head twice, an unexpected gesture of comfort before he stares with keen interest at Sanemi’s instructions.
It’s far from a family. It’s far from forgetting all the pain of losing the people that mattered to her. But just a little is okay. A little bit is fine.
🌸☀️
Things become different after that.
Don’t get her wrong--Sanemi-san still spent hours in quiet stupor in his room, while Giyuu-san also had quiet moments staring in the gardens, an obvious look of sorrow in their eyes. As much as Kanao lost Kanae and Shinobu, they have too. And others too--Genya-kun, Tokito-san, Rengoku-san, Kagaya-sama, all the other demon slayers who lost their lives in the war, all the families they lost outside of the corps. It’ll be a long time before those wounds heal, and she knows the scars will never go away.
Nevertheless, somehow Sanemi-san and Giyuu-san got along better after that.
They still fought--rather, Sanemi-san still pushed Giyuu-san away when the attention got too much. But there are quiet, calm moments between them--moments where they probably thought they were alone, where Giyuu’s head is on Sanemi’s shoulder and Sanemi’s hand is in Giyuu’s hair, playing with the butterfly ornament’s wings at the back of his head. Next to them are empty plates of the sweets that Kanao made for them, with only crumbs remaining.
It makes Kanao’s heart warm, but at the same time she knows when to look away. She leaves them be.
As for her, well… the nightmares still happen, and mornings in her empty room are still unbearable. But she thinks she’s getting better. The nightmares don’t last as long, and there are people around her who can help her.
“It’s all thanks to you,” she tells him. “Things changed because I talked. Because you thought I should.”
Tanjirou, eyes closed and skin pale, does not move. Still the same for the past thirteen days. As a person who isn’t good at talking, it was strangely easy talking to someone who’s fast asleep. In fact, it was strangely cathartic. She wonders if this is why Zenitsu and Inosuke made so much noise when they visited.
“So… that’s how my week went. I wish you were there.” She exhales, squeezes his hand underneath the covers. “I made a lot of sweets, which is why my hands are shaky. Sorry. I know you would have liked them.”
Again, silence. She can’t help the sigh that escapes her. She shakes her head, loosening her grip on his hand--
Another sigh. “... mochi flour. Nice smell.”
She bolts up from her seat upright and stares at the bed with wide eyes.
Red eyes flutter open as he turns his head to the sound of her shaky breath. When his eyes focus on her, he smiles. “Hey… Kanao. Good evening.”
“Hey… Tanjirou.” He’s here. His eyes are open. “Y… you’re back--”
He’s here.
He opens his mouth, but all he can do is gasp when she throws herself at him. She should really be listening to him speak--it’s been so long since he spoke, since he had any decent answers. But as it is all she can do is bury her face on the blankets on top of him and keep the gush of tears under control. Which is hard.
Luckily, Tanjirou doesn’t mind. She hears the wonderful sound of his breathing, feels the comforting stroke of his hand against her back, feels the warmth of his presence. “I’m back, Kanao,” he says gently. “I’d like to try some of your sweets, if you don’t mind.”
Through the relieved onslaught of tears, she nods.