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A refreshing breeze coaxes you awake, soft and tranquil as if the breeze has caressed your cheek.
The sun has just begun to rise, its pink light gleaming through the windows of the Butterfly mansion.
Your eyes have barely been open when your heart starts to race.
He should be returning today.
You practically leap awake, knowing that you’ll be unable to fall back to sleep now that it’s the day of his return. You purposefully made sure, too, that you’d be stationed at the mansion today. Not that Shinobu would reject the help– and, not that she didn’t know you wanted to be the one to personally treat his wounds.
You complete your morning chores quickly. You want to have enough time to make Kyojuro’s favorite tea for when he’s returned, after all. Maybe you’ll even put on a second pot for those boys who went with him on the mission. Tanjiro, Inoske, and… what was that boy in yellow’s name again?
You’re so busy preparing the tea –making sure to get it just right, exactly how he likes it– that you startle when the shoji slides open.
“Oh! Ms. Shinobu!” You turn to her and smile sweetly. “Good morning. Is there something you need from me, milady?”
Shinobu’s back is to you, and she closes the shoji behind her. “A… a crow came,” she says quietly.
Your heart drops and you clutch the teapot in your hands. “Is it about Kyojuro’s mission? Will he be coming home late again?”
You try to stay positive. It's okay. The tea won't go to waste-- I can give it to the patients.
Shinobu turns to you– and your blood runs cold when you see her expression.
“Shinobu?” You swallow thickly. “What happened? Is Kyojuro injured?”
Shinobu bites her lip. Suddenly the silence between you is drowning you. You feel your heart race in your chest, panic creeping up your throat.
“Shinobu, please . What happened? Is Kyo okay?”
And it’s when you use his nickname that the tears spill from Shinobu’s eyes.
Your teapot shatters on the floor.
—
It’s been a week, now.
The funeral was beautiful. Held on a gorgeous day, with the sun illuminating the spaces through the tree leaves. He would have loved seeing the sunlight like that.
Now, you bunch the hem of your kimono in your fists and you inhale before knocking on the shoji.
A pause. And then Shinjuro’s muffled voice: “What?”
You carefully open the shoji and peek in. “Mr. Rengoku sir? Is now a good time?”
You have come to learn, in all the time you’ve lived at the Rengoku estate, that his silence is as much of an affirmation as you may possibly get. So when he doesn’t respond, you enter and close the shoji behind you.
You sit in seiza before him and bow. The stench of alcohol in the room has seeped beyond just his clothes, now, and into the tatami mat. Although, it probably doesn’t help that he hasn’t changed clothes since the funeral.
You wait patiently for him to say something. He sighs, his eyes closed, and takes another swig of sake.
Finally, just when you are wondering if he isn’t in the mood today, considering leaving, he speaks.”
“So. What did you want to talk about?”
You take a deep breath, and bow your head. “Mr. Rengoku sir. I would like to ask you… to stay at your estate.”
You pause, giving him a chance to react. Hearing, nothing, with your head still bowed, you continue.
“I know it may not be… formal for me to do so, now that Kyojuro is…” your voice hitches. It’s still hard to say. “... now that Kyojuro is gone. But in the time I have lived here, I’ve come to think of this place as home.”
Again, you pause, waiting for something, anything. You dare to raise your head ever so slightly to peek at him. His eyes are still closed, the sake skill clenched in his hand.
You feel your stomach plummet. You’ve been rehearsing this for days, thinking of a way to convince him, terrified at the possibility of leaving.
“I—” you try and swallow your panic. “Ms. Shinobu has already said that I would be able to continue my current arrangements and work at the Butterfly Mansion when there is enough demand for help. I’ll keep contributing my income to the estate.”
In the silence you can hear your heart pound faster in your ears. You lean forward and press your head into the floor mat, speaking faster and faster as your desperation chokes you.
“I will continue caring for the residence as I have been. The cooking, and the cleaning, and anything else you would like me to do. And then there’s Senjuro-kun— I’ll take care of him, I promise to you. I just– I can’t– leaving here would be like losing him again—”
“You can stay.”
You stop in your tracks, whipping your head up.
“I– sir?”
Shinjuro opens his eyes and furrows his brow. “I said. You can stay.”
You blink, and then collapse to the floor again, bowing deeply. “Thank you so much, Mr. Rengoku, I–”
“ Don’t call me that,” he snaps. You flinch, pressing your head further into the tatami to the point where it starts to hurt.
“I’m sorry, sir–
“ No.” He taps the floor, signaling you to sit up. You straighten as much as possible. To your surprise, the frustration in his brow has unraveled– and has left behind an expression you can only describe as exhausted.
“No. If you’re staying, don’t call me that.”
You release a nervous breath from deep in your chest.
“What… should I call you?” You say, quietly, hesitantly.
Shinjuro sighs and you notice that his knuckles are white around his drink. You know that he’s grieving– just like Senjuro, just like you.
“Just…” he takes a swig of sake. “Call me gifu.”
—
The small girl in the vibrant kimono guides you into a large open room, where a small table has been prepared with tea. Master sits in lotus, sipping a cup between both hands.
“Oyakata-sama,” the girl says in her sing-song voice. “Your guest has arrived.”
Master nods. “Thank you,” he says, placing his cup down. He motions his hand forward to you. “Come, my child. Sit.”
You do as you are told, bowing before you sit on the mat opposite the table to him.
“Tea?” He offers.
“Thank you,” you nod, accepting the cup.
But yo know by the smell before you even take a sip that it's Kyo's favorite.You pause, the cup hovering below your chin, not able to drink.
Master must sense your hesitation, for he smiles sweetly. “How are you holding up, my child?”
You don’t take a sip, instead placing the tea down on the table. You haven't been able to have his favorite tea. It feels wrong, not sharing it with him.
But maybe Master knows that.
“I…” you hesitate.
“You can be honest with me.” Again, that same sweet smile, laced with sadness around the edges.
“It’s hard,” you admit, staring into the tea.
There’s a silence as the Master sips his own tea. You listen to the sound of the breeze outside, the gentle whisper of wind through the night. The soft crackle of the fire warming the house.
“You know,” he says softly, “Kyojuro truly loved you.”
Your heart cracks. “Thank you, Oyakata-sama. I know.”
“I wanted to bring you here today to share something with you.” He sets his tea cup down and waves. One of the girls, standing in the doorway to the room behind him, moves forward. She hands him a scroll, and you recognize the seal to be that of the Rengoku family.
“He gave this to me prior to his last mission,” Master explains, unraveling the scroll with careful hands. Then, he looks up to the girl, still standing next to him. “Could you read it for us, please?”
She nods, and takes the scroll. Although she reads it in her sing-songy voice, you instantly recognize the prose, the phrasing, as that of Kyojuro.
“Oyakata-sama:
It is my great honor to serve the Demon Slayer Corps, and so, to begin this letter, I wish to clarify that I will always honor my duty as a swordsman and protector of precious life, first and foremost.
I must specify this, because the request I make to you may seem contradictory to the vows I have made as a defender of the defenseless.
I am sure you know that I have welcomed a mistress into my home. She is my flame and my sun. With her, I am stronger than I would be without her.
I love her.
This is why, Oyakata-sama, I would like to request to marry her.”
“Oh,” you gasp, and bring your palm up to your mouth. The hot tears on your cheeks spill over your fingers.
The girl continues reading.
“As my wife, I will protect her, cherish her, and keep her by my side, always. I vow that my love for her will not interfere with my duty. In fact, I am a better hashira with her by my side!
My father has already accepted my request. I seek your blessing, Oyakata-sama.
I swear on my life to never let her go if you grant me this happiness.
Respectfully,
Rengoku Kyojuro.”
“Oh,” is all you can say again, the noise choked in your throat from the sobs you’re trying to contain.
Master reaches across the table and gently takes your hand. “I gave him my blessing, you know.”
You bow your head, tears falling into the tea. “Thank you,” you whimper. “For telling me. I– I–”
You don’t know what to say. You can only bring the hem of your sleeve up to your face to try and wipe away the tears that won’t stop.
Master rubs his thumbs across your palm, then releases it. He then produces something from under the table– a package wrapped in rice paper.
“He was going to give this to you, Mrs. Rengoku .”
A sob escapes you and you cover your mouth, swallowing down the tears.
He wanted to marry you.
You take the package. You unwrap the rice paper carefully.
When you see what you have been gifted, a noise between a laugh and sob is all you can express. You recognize it instantly from the painting in Shinjuro’s room.
It’s Kyo’s mother’s wedding kimono.
–
You pick at your cuticles in agitation as you wait on the stiff bed.
You’ve spent only one morning as a patient at the Butterfly mansion rather than a caretaker, but even one morning is too much. You peer at the injured demon slayers in the beds next to yours and feel selfish for being treated for headaches and nausea. You should have never mentioned it to Shinobu– but she insisted you get looked at when you slipped.
Finally, one of Shinobu’s assistants enters the room.
“I told you, I’m fine,” you insist before the assistant can even speak. You swing your legs off the bed, ready to be discharged. “I must have caught a bug. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Rengoku, but that is not what our tests inform us.”
You scrunch your brow. “What do you mean? What did they say?”
The assistant kneels before you so that you have to peer down at her. She bites her lip, hesitant.
“Mrs. Rengoku,” she starts, “I ask this with all possible respect, but… when was the last time you and Rengoku…”
She trails off and you tilt your head. “I beg your pardon?”
The assistant exhales, trying to contain her nervous exasperation. “Um. Did you and Mr. Rengoku ever… ah…”
You lift an eyebrow.
“Have intercourse.” Shinobu enters, finishing the sentence for her nervous assistant.
Your eyes grow wide as you put the pieces together.
“Um,” you start. “Yes. We did, right before his last mission.”
The assistant looks to Shinobu. “The timing matches up, then,” she says to the hashira.
“Ms. Shinobu? Do you mean…” You are too shocked to find any words. Instead, your hand finds its way to your belly.
“I do,” Shinobu says, smiling sweetly. “It seems that you are with child, Mrs. Rengoku. Congratulations.”
And for once, it's happy tears you cry that day.