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One
It's not immediately after. The moon waxes and wanes and it is long enough since the crow came and delivered the news that all the sake has been poured down the drains and Shinjurou is ill from its lack of presence in his body.
It is the first day he is able to take the trip to the family cemetery alone. And he is glad.
The walking stick is all he needs, and soon, hopefully, he'll be able to walk around with nothing but his own two feet and Senjurou won't have to act as a caretaker when he returns.
The boy's been through enough. He deserves to be unshackled from that role.
The moon weighs heavy and high, a sliver of a crescent that barely lights the way. Instead it is the lanterns that line the path through the cemetery that guides Shinjurou’s way. They breach the black of the night in small blooms of ethereal glowing.
It is silent. Deathly so.
No cry of cicada nor faint flap of bird’s wings breach the air. It is the sort of silence Shinjurou used to hear when a demon lurked nearby.
It gives him pause. But it does not stop him.
Maybe…
And when Shinjurou hobbles around the great height of the wisteria wreathed family mausoleum that stands at the beginning of the graveyard, a figure comes into view.
Their back is to him, tall and dark. Black hair held in a high ponytail cascades to their thighs and the hakama and purple kimono they wear obscures their musculature. And at their hip is a sword.
They have no presence.
They stand in front of Ruka’s grave.
And in their hand dangling by their side is a single spiderlily.
And Shinjurou knows, he knows it’s not her. They’re too tall, too broad, his brain tells him this. But his addled mind cannot keep her visage from overlapping with the figure before him. Cannot stop the fiction that he is staring at her spirit from pulling her name from his throat.
“...Ruka?”
In a slow, steady motion, their head turns until their profile comes into view, distinctly masculine.
Three eyes stare at him, glowing dim in the dark - one is where an eye should be, one is on its brow, and one is below on the rise of a cheekbone. Their skin is a gray pallor, marred with black flame patterns and imprinted with the orange glow of the lanterns.
A demon.
Shinjurou’s heart stops. His breath freezes. Animal fear clamps him shut and his free hand feels for a sword that isn’t there.
He grasps air and the reality of the situation dawns on him. As quickly as it came upon him, the fear fades.
His shoulders loosen and his breath puffs out in a laugh.
The demon doesn’t move, but Shinjurou catches a twitch of one of its many eyes.
“You’re in my spot.” Shinjurou says.
The demon stares at him, unblinking. There’s kanji on its middle eye. Shinjurou wonders if there’s kanji on its other middle eye as well.
Probably. There’s wisteria all over this place, a lower moon wouldn’t be so unbothered by that.
And after seconds of silence, the demon shifts. It steps to the side, moving out of Shinjurou’s way.
Shinjurou wonders if he’s hallucinating this. He thought he’d gone past that point of withdrawal, but Kocho-san did say that the symptoms aren’t always linear.
He shuffles forward with a gruff thanks and takes his normal place in front of Ruka’s grave. There’s a moment of hesitation, and then Shinjurou plops to sit on the ground like he normally does.
The demon’s gaze is weight on the back of his neck, unmoving.
Shinjurou doesn’t bother to look at it, he simply traces his eyes along the kanji on the gravestone and lays his walking stick across his lap.
“If I’m gonna die, it might as well be here with my Ruka.” Shinjurou says. “So if you don’t mind, can you get it over with? I’m impatient.”
Silence.
Not a single sound comes from the demon, not the steady breaths of something living nor the rustle of movement. And no noise from the world around them breaches Shinjurou’s ears.
And then the demon speaks in a deep, crisp voice, “Patience is a virtue.”
Shinjurou barks out a laugh, “I’m not a virtuous man.”
“No, I suppose not." The demon says, "A man… of virtue would fight."
"Uh huh," Shinjurou says. His hand slides along the length of the walking stick, feeling it like he would the metal of a blade, "My sons aren't here, so I have no reason to."
"Sons…" The demon echoes. A low, barely audible hum escapes it, and Shinjurou finally deigns to look.
The demon stands next to him, looking about the graveyard with a slow, scrutinous gaze. When its head turns towards Shinjurou's direction, he catches sight of the other half of its face.
It has six eyes total, the main pair holding the kanji for Upper Moon One.
Six eyes…
Shinjurou’s gaze flicks to the flower in the demon's hand.
The demon turns back to the tombstone before them. "This… is the most… recent grave?"
It takes too long before Shinjurou realizes that it's a question.
Weird.
"Yeah."
"Has the funeral… not yet occurred?"
The demon speaks in a slow, plodding way. The same way it moves in a languid stillness. As though time operates differently for it.
As though it's been alive too long.
How old would Upper Moon One be, anyways?
It makes its inflections hard to understand, and Shinjurou once again catches on a little too late that it is waiting for a response.
"Funeral?" Shinjurou raises a brow, "She died ten years ago, of course the funeral already happened."
The demon stares. There is as little inflection in its expression as there is in its voice.
Once again silence fills the air.
Shinjurou has half a mind to smack it upside the head, maybe that'll speed up its thoughts.
"The flame pillar," It finally says, "The one… who faced… Upper Moon Three."
Shinjurou’s brow furrows. Confusion winds through him.
"I wish to… pay my respects."
Six eyes…
It clicks.
Memories blurred by time and grief rise up. Stories his grandmother used to tell him as they sat by the fireplace of spirits and spiderlilies come forth. Ones he hadn't thought of for a long, long time.
His gaze goes back to the spiderlily.
"It's you," Eyes wide, Shinjurou takes in the demon anew, "You're the six eyed samurai."
The demon does not say anything. It merely watches him for a few still seconds before its head tilts fractionally.
The movement is the last straw.
Shinjurou throws his head back and laughs.
A demon.
All these years and generations and the mysterious spirit who left spiderlilies on the graves of fallen flames has always been the Upper Moon goddamned One.
"You're too early," Shinjurou says when he calms down. He wipes a stray tear from his eye and looks back to Ruka’s tombstone. "Kyoujurou's not dead yet."
"His wounds… were fatal."
"They are," Shinjurou nods, and the reminder is enough to bleed any mirth from him. An emptiness aches in his chest, horrible and black. "He'll succumb to them eventually. But the kakushi were able to extend his life."
And then Shinjurou glances back up to the demon, "But don't worry, he'll never be able to pick up a blade again. He's no threat to your kind."
"I see," The demon says. And then it moves for the first time since Shinjurou sat down. He watches as it steps forward and gently places the spiderlily on Ruka’s grave. "I will wait then."
And with that, it turns around and leaves.
Shinjurou stares at the flower.
When he looks back behind himself, it is gone.
The next morning, he is half certain that it had been a dream. Shinjurou travels back to the cemetery and stops in front of Ruka’s grave.
The spiderlily adorns it.
#
Two
It comes again a few weeks later.
Shinjurou barely needs the walking stick now. His balance is much improved and he walks where he once hobbled.
He comes upon Ruka’s grave just like he does every night and he sees the figure standing where it did the last time. Once again the demon holds a spiderlily.
"He's still not dead," Shinjurou says by way of greeting.
The demon's head turns fractionally towards him. "When will he die?"
"I don't know," Shinjurou answers honestly, "Come back in a month."
And the demon merely nods.
Once again, it lays the flower on Ruka’s grave, and then turns and leaves.
When Shinjurou is certain it is gone, he plops down in front of the grave and chuckles. "How do you feel about getting flowers from Upper Moon One, honey?"
#
Three
Just as he told it to, it comes back in exactly one month.
Shinjurou no longer needs the walking stick. He strides up to where the demon stands in front of Ruka’s grave.
Without a single acknowledgement, the demon steps to the side, letting Shinjurou take its spot.
The demon is tall, he realizes. He only comes up to its shoulders. It's silly to think that he once mistook such a large figure for his wife.
Shinjurou places his hands in his sleeves, his fingers fumble with the edges of the letter that pokes out from an inside pocket.
"You'll have to wait a little longer," Shinjurou says. His voice is rough, "He's hanging in there, but it won't be long."
"... He is your son?"
Shinjurou blinks. He looks to the demon standing next to him. It's not staring at him, unblinking gaze trailing instead to the grave before them.
"Yeah," Shinjurou admits.
The demon is quiet. It does not move or speak or breathe.
Somehow, though, its presence is a comfort.
And then it speaks, low voice splitting the silence like a scream, "I had two sons. Twins."
Had.
That pulls a scoff from Shinjurou’s throat, bitter and tasting like the phantom pains in his chest. "Did you eat them?"
"No," The demon says, unaffected by the jab, "I was… not there when they… died."
That gives Shinjurou pause. He touches the letter.
"Do you regret it?"
And the demon finally looks at him. Its many eyes are piercing, seeing straight into him as though it can break open his ribs and watch the hollow thing of his heart beat weakly in defiance. The hairs on the back of Shinjurou’s neck rise.
"I regret many things."
"Me too," Shinjurou says before he knows what words even leave his mouth. He breaks eye contact and looks back down to Ruka. His hand itches for a sake bottle he will never grab. "Me too."
#
Four
When the demon comes again, it is not in the graveyard.
A week since its last visit, Shinjurou wakes from his fitful slumber in the middle of the night. He doesn't know why until he looks up.
Six eyes stare down at him through the dark.
"What the fuck?"
Upper Moon One, he reads on the main pair of eyes.
And as awareness further creeps up on him, Shinjurou can feel the faint press of a knee against his thigh and the dip of air that whispers of a body hovering above him.
Hair tickles his cheek.
"I visited your sons."
Alarms blare through him. Shinjurou’s heart tumbles on itself and heat blazes in his body as adrenaline comes to life.
He shoots up. His head slams into the demon's.
" Fuck!" Pain sears through him and Shinjurou falls back, gripping his forehead. His teeth grit and his free hand clenches to a fist, "Get off of me!"
The air shifts, and the faintest sound of movement graces Shinjurou’s ears. He pushes himself up and this time the demon is not blocking him.
So he shuffles to his feet and hobbles blindly over to the wall, feeling for the light switch. It takes a few belated moments of fumbling before he finds it. And then he flicks it on and squints through the sudden brightness and looks around his room.
Upper Moon One kneels in seiza position by his bed, watching him with the same disaffected expression.
"You found the butterfly estate?" Shinjurou grits.
Fuck. This is bad. The butterfly estate is compromised, he needs to report this as soon as possible.
"Upper Moon Three… Has been visiting it… in secret."
Shinjurou’s eyes blow wide. Upper Moon Three. The demon that did that to Kyoujurou. That demon has been visiting the place Kyoujurou is resting at.
Kyoujurou.
This demon visited Kyoujurou and Senjurou.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
"Calm down." The demon says in a flat voice.
"Calm down?!" Shinjurou barks, his feet begin to pace, "Upper Moons have been around my goddamned defenseless sons and you want me to calm down?!"
And the demon blinks all six of its eyes. "We mean… no harm."
"No harm, my ass!" Shinjurou stops at the foot of his rumpled futon, and he gestures wildly to all of the demon before him, "You eat people!"
The demon's head cocks to the side, and hints of confusion graces its face, "You were not… bothered by… that before."
"Because I was the only one in danger of being eaten!"
"I did not eat… anyone."
"And I'm just supposed to believe you?!"
"Yes."
Shinjurou stares.
The demon stares back.
What the fuck. What the fuck is wrong with this creature?
Upper Moon One can't be that fucking stupid.
The demon opens and closes its mouth like it's trying to think of something to say. Until finally it speaks. "They… miss you."
"Well now I know you're lying," Shinjurou huffs. He crosses his arms and tries not to think about what this must mean.
He looks down, chest hollow and empty like a termite infested tree.
And then the world upends. Strong hands whisk Shinjurou off his feet from his upper back and behind his knees. Before he knows what's going on, he is pressed against a warm, solid body and being held like a maiden on her wedding night.
Shinjurou’s heart stutters and his body stiffens as he looks up into the face of the demon that carries him.
Upper Moon One, the kanji is so close.
Six eyes stare down at him, stern and unamused. And the demon begins to walk out of the room. "If you will… not listen, I will… Simply show you."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Shinjurou snaps. But the demon ignores him and looks forward. He can make out so close the curve of muscle peering through the purple kimono, the thick cords of its neck, and the sharp line of a jaw.
Warmth blooms in his face.
Fuck. This isn't happening.
Shinjurou tries to squirm out of the demon’s grasp, but the hands holding him tighten to bruising claws. And all his wriggling manages to do is muss up his sleeping yukata.
Then the demon steps out through one of the many shoji opened to let in the summer breeze.
The only warning Shinjurou gets is the tightening of the grip on him. And the next thing he knows, they are flying.
A shout escapes Shinjurou’s lungs as the wind assaults him. His hands fly to grip the demon's shoulders and he looks around wildly as trees pass by in a blur.
It takes a few shocked seconds for Shinjurou to realize that they aren't actually flying. The demon is leaping from branch to branch at a breakneck, inhuman speed.
He can't even say anything because the howling of the wind swallows his voice. The chill of it beats down on him and he finds himself turning into the warmth of the demon before he knows what he's doing. Dammit, he's not dressed for this.
And just as suddenly as it started, the demon stops.
Shinjurou remains stiff and still where he clings to the demon. The abrupt change is dizzying and he takes his time riding through the disorientation. And the demon lets him.
When at last he pulls away, the demon gently helps him stand on its own. It handles him like he's something fragile, like he might break at a hint of roughness.
He scoffs.
Frazzled, Shinjurou rights himself and rearranges his yukata so it's not falling off of him. When he finishes, he finally deigns to look up.
And doesn't know whether to be shocked or not that he stands before the butterfly estate.
Well then.
Shinjurou glances at the demon.
And blinks.
Its extra eyes are gone. That's the first thing he notices.
It looks… human.
It feels human. Its lack of a presence has been replaced by something very normal and everyday. As though he were standing next to a random civilian and not Upper Moon One.
Red, normal human eyes stare down at him with the same placidity Shinjurou has grown used to seeing from this creature.
Where once it seemed ageless, the demon now looks young. Only a little older than Kyoujurou himself. With a handsome face that perhaps, once, won the hearts of some poor, unlucky girls.
"Come," The demon says, and Shinjurou is in some strange way, relieved that its voice remains unchanged.
It walks past him and down the path to the estate.
Heart beating frantically, Shinjurou trudges after it, the reality of the situation bearing down on him. There are countless noncombatants and injured people in there. And Upper Moon One is entering it.
Shinjurou has half a mind to fight back, to try to keep the beast away. But logic stays his hand.
It would be wiser to play along and let one of the girls know the estate has been compromised when they slip inside.
And something else. Some stupid, insidious part of Shinjurou hopes that this demon will truly do no harm.
Tendons and bones wound tight, he follows.
Lights and muffled sounds escape from within the butterfly estate. It is as lively as always and Shinjurou hopes.
Until they reach the entrance and Shinjurou steps forward and opens the front doors.
It is all normal.
Just like how he remembered it years ago.
The estate bustles with activity and no one pays any heed to the demon at Shinjurou’s side. There's no sign of carnage or bloodshed.
A kakushi stops and asks if they need any help. And then she does a double take, eyes darting to Shinjurou’s hair and then face and then brightly asks if he is here to see Rengoku-Sama.
Kyoujurou.
Shinjurou hesitates.
"Yes," The demon by his side speaks up for him.
Shinjurou has half a mind to hit it.
But the kakushi motions for them to follow and begins to walk away. Before Shinjurou knows what he is doing, his feet carry him after her.
The journey to his son is a blur. They wind through the maze of the mansion and one moment they are mid-walk, and the next, Shinjurou is standing in front of a room door and the kakushi is wishing them luck and leaving.
The demon slides the door open before Shinjurou can even think of running away.
And then he sees them.
Senjurou is sitting next to the only bed in the room with a book in his hands. There are bags under the boy's eyes and he is looking up, startled.
And Kyoujurou.
Kyoujurou lays in the bed, hooked up to what seems like a million medical devices. A blanket is pulled up to his underarms and he looks more frail than he ever has.
He looks so close to death.
His eyes are sunken and half lidded and they slowly gaze over to them and fuck he looks so much worse than when Shinjurou visited months ago when he was still comatose.
Shinjurou’s heart breaks all over again.
"Father!" Senjurou darts up from his seat, and his tired expression pulls up in a smile. He sets his book down on the bed next to Kyoujurou's hand and trots forward. "I didn't know you were coming."
"I…" Shinjurou stutters over a few incoherent words as he steps through the threshold of the doorway, pulled to his sons by an invisible string, "I didn't know either."
And Senjurou hesitates in front of him. He makes to reach out a hand, pulls it away, and then reaches out again. His grasp is strong on Shinjurou’s forearm as he pulls him forward. "Aniue, Father came! Isn't that great!"
Faintly, Shinjurou registers the shutting of the room door. He glances behind himself and sees the demon standing in front of it like a guard dog.
He looks back towards his sons.
Meets Kyoujurou's tired gaze.
Kyoujurou's mouth tugs upwards. He smiles.
And oh. Oh, his heart hurts so much. Shinjurou aches.
He lets himself be led to Kyoujurou's bedside and takes in his state.
Kyoujurou is skeletal. The letter stating his condition said that he is unable to eat due to the hole in his stomach. That he is now dying of starvation.
Shinjurou’s eyes sting.
"Kyoujurou," He manages to rasp out. Unwittingly, his hand finds Kyoujurou's.
"Father," Kyoujurou wheezes out in a voice that is nothing more than a shadow of his boisterous tone. "Please take care of yourself."
And he cannot stop it. The tears finally fall. The pain finally sears in such a horrible way. A familiar, dreadful, terrible way.
Shinjurou did not know there was enough of himself left to break. But it's breaking now.
"What did I do to deserve you?" He says past the blurring of his eyes and the wet taste of salt.
"Nothing," Kyoujurou says, "We were just here."
"I'm sorry," It's spilling from his lips before he knows what he's saying, "I'm so sorry Kyoujurou. I'm sorry."
"It's okay," His perfect, amazing son says.
And Shinjurou falls to his knees, hands clenching Kyoujurou's, "No it's not," He forces out weakly, "It'll never be okay, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
Shinjurou drags in a breath and steadies his gaze at Kyoujurou, he forces his wobbling lips to firm and states as forcefully as he can, "I'm proud of you, son."
And Kyoujurou's smile widens to something true and happy. He squeezes Shinjurou’s hand as best he can, "I'm glad."
#
When the boys finally drift off to sleep, Shinjurou wills himself to disentangle from their small, impromptu cuddle pile on Kyoujurou's bed.
He slides away slowly and gently, and it feels like when they were little and he was leaving them to their naps.
There is a demon in the room and he must address it.
He walks as quietly as he can to where the demon still stands by the door, still human looking, and there is a stiffness to it that is awkward.
Shinjurou fiddles with his sleeve and looks off to the far wall. "Thanks," He grumbles.
It is silent.
"Why… did you not… wish to visit them?"
Well that's personal.
Shinjurou huffs and crosses his arms. There's a horribly done flower painting hanging up on the wall. He wonders who made it, "Didn't think they wanted to see my face."
"You are a strange flame."
"Yeah, well you're a strange demon."
"I suppose… that makes us… alike."
And there is a tint of something in its voice that makes Shinjurou glance at it.
There is a faint, barely there pull on the demon's lips. But it is unmistakable.
The demon is smiling.
Warmth thunders through his veins and Shinjurou’s broken heart stumbles.
Fuck.
#
Five
There is a spiderlily on the windowsill.
Shinjurou stares at it as Senjurou eats his breakfast and Kyoujurou is propped up on pillows and smiling to himself like he's the king of the world.
"Did anyone else visit you guys before I came last night?" Shinjurou finally asks.
The boys pause.
Shinjurou tears his gaze away and looks at them.
They both stare with wide eyes.
"A few people did," Kyoujurou catches himself quickly.
Shinjurou raises a brow, "Did any demons visit you?"
Senjurou begins to cough.
"The demon girl, Nezuko, did," Kyoujurou says, the sly brat, "She gave me a painting."
Shinjurou stares at him with an unimpressed look, "Did any Upper Moons visit you?"
Kyoujurou's smile freezes.
But it's Sen that breaks, "Um, which one?" He asks meekly.
Which one?!
Shinjurou groans and pinches his brow. Right Upper Moon Three.
Christ. There is so much he needs to catch up on.