I miss you

by Vitrealisce

Summary:

Yuichiro led his brother by the hand into the corridor, and he felt it again, that strange contradiction that had come to define his life.

The feeling of having lost someone he still saw every day.

Notes:

So… how do I explain that this story was meant to be posted yesterday, yet I somehow ran out of time? Yes, quite.
In truth, I only came up with the idea for this one-shot earlier this week, so my time was rather limited. Still, this one-shot was meant to be a little special for the twins’ birthday. (So let’s all pretend it was posted on the 8th, shall we?) It might just be the longest piece I’ve ever written, and I can’t exactly promise it’s anything remarkable, given the short amount of time I had to write it. But here we are! I had to trim down quite a lot just to manage to post it anywhere near the 8th.

Oh, and one small note: I did change a few details, such as the twins’ ages and Shinobu’s age.

Now, enough rambling, happy reading!

10th August 1913, Taishō jidai

 

Get out...

 

What was that? It didn’t sound like anyone’s voice.

 

RUN, NOW!

 

Perhaps it was nothing more than his own instinct trying to make him act.

 

But he couldn’t. No matter how much he tried, his body trembled so much that it wouldn’t obey his commands.

 

Was it like this?

 

Was this how he was going to die? No... he didn’t want to. He couldn’t! And... wait, where was his brother?

 

‘Muichiro—!’

 

He looked from one side to the other, but what stood before him was one of the worst things he had ever witnessed in his life.

 

A terribly wrong face, with red eyes glowing like burning embers, stared at him with such hunger... Clawed hands stretched out towards him as it drew closer and closer; its mouth was wide open. The sound of laughter... or crying? He couldn’t tell, but he knew it was making some kind of sound.

 

Suddenly, he felt something in his arms, as though his body had regained its sense of touch.

 

Something small, and that seemed to be... wet?

 

Why was there something wet in his arms?!

 

He regretted looking.

 

He couldn’t find Muichiro, because the younger boy was curled up unconsciously, with his head bleeding in his arms.

 

‘N-no... please, Mui...’

 

Whether you existed or not, it makes no difference... truly worthless lives...

 

Upon hearing those words, he felt something so strong rise within him. He saw red. The sound in his ears became distorted. The walls twisted, and he remembered nothing more.

 

He only remembered the feeling of a burning rage inside him, a rage he had never seen in anyone, much less in himself.

 

So much, so much rage...

 

Then, he felt nothing anymore. His body seemed numb as he came to. The day had already broken, but he hadn’t seen the hours pass... how strange. When he looked down, he saw... he saw...

 

He didn’t remember. Everything was just distorted blurs.

 

A low buzzing echoed in his ears, like bees trapped beneath his skin. He felt his throat ache, his chest burn, his head throb in such a way that it was surely the reason he couldn’t remember anything else. His hands, trembling, but whole, just like the rest of his battered body.

 

He only knew that he was still breathing.

 

He wasn’t dead.

.

.

.

He half-closed his eyes, trying to adjust to the light as he stared at the ceiling.

His heart was still pounding so hard it felt as though it might burst from his chest, the result of the recent nightmare.

Where…?

He groaned as he tried to move.

His body was still extremely fragile, and the slightest movement sent sharp, painful stabs through him, while the bandages seemed to press against every cell of his being.

His breathing was heavy. He tried to move at least his eyes, though they burned from the lingering pain in his head.

His gaze caught the silhouette of a small figure in the same room as him, on the bed beside his own.

Muichiro.

His little brother remained strangely still, his face pale, his breathing so faint and uneven that Yuichiro found himself watching his chest just to make sure it was still rising and falling.

For one dreadful moment, even that seemed uncertain.

Yuichiro’s fingers curled into the thin blanket beneath him.

His throat felt raw from all the screaming. He must have screamed. He couldn’t remember. Everything felt as though it were under water.

But he was alive.

And Muichiro too.

Slowly and with difficulty, he finally pushed himself up, sitting with effort, though his muscles protested sharply with every movement. His head throbbed with pain; he grimaced, grinding his teeth.

His hair fell over his face. He brushed it aside, then ran both hands over his eyes, over his forehead, as though that might clear the fog in his mind.

He got out of bed, moving until he found his brother’s hand, though he nearly fell in the process.

The people in that place had told him not to exert himself, but he couldn’t just lie there doing nothing. Not when this was what he saw every day.

He took his brother’s hand in his own.

‘Good... morning...’ he murmured, his voice hoarse and unsteady, regretting it almost immediately as he broke into a fit of coughing.

And, of course, there was no response from the other side.

But he had not expected one.

When his coughing fit subsided, he leaned forward, ignoring the way his ribs protested at the movement, and reached out with his other hand, gently brushing a few strands of hair away from Muichiro’s forehead.

‘You… missed all your... meals… you know…?’ He gave a hollow smile. ‘I bet you’d… be sulking… about that…’

He cleared his throat, coughing again. He was pushing his throat too much. Perhaps he should stop talking.

The sound of birds singing somewhere beyond the paper walls of the Butterfly Mansion reached his ears in response.

The Butterfly Estate… that was the name of the place they were in now, wasn’t it? A place on the outskirts, where the injured came to recover. A place filled with strange smells.

He had woken there two days ago, someone had said. Rescued by Amane-san, the woman with white hair and eyes like still water, the same one Muichiro had mistaken for the spirit of a birch tree that used to visit them in the mountains. The wife of Oyakata-sama — that was what the Kakushi had said.

The Master of the Demon Slayers.

But Yuichiro didn’t care about any of that.

The only thing that mattered in his mind was his brother. Only him, and always him.

He leaned back slightly, letting the upper part of his body rest gently against the bed.

I thought I’d lost you… he thought, but said nothing.

After all, what more was there to say?

He was still breathing, but it was as though he weren’t truly there. Did that make sense? His brother was as close as ever, and yet, at the same time, so far away.

It shouldn’t be like this.

There were a thousand things he wanted to say, but all of them were trapped somewhere inside him, where his voice could not reach.

So instead, he chose to remain silent — not that his throat would have disagreed, in any case. Until the moment was broken by a soft knock at the door.

He stiffened at once, straightening his posture. His eyes returned to the sliding paper door, while his head protested at the sudden movement.

The door slid open partway with a soft creak.

‘Ah… forgive me,’ said a gentle female voice. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you were asleep.’

The woman stepped inside, cautious, her movements fluid. Yuichiro found himself observing her features: her long hair fell down her back, soft and well cared for, and she wore a butterfly-patterned haori. In her right hand was a small case which he assumed contained medicines, tonics, and bandages. She was certainly not one of the others who had appeared before.

‘I’m Kanae Kocho, it’s a pleasure to meet you,’ she said softly, stopping a few steps away from the twins. ‘I work here, at the estate.’

He half-closed his eyes at her, somewhat wary of her presence.

It wasn’t that he felt threatened by her, that wasn’t it. She didn’t seem like an intimidating presence, but that was simply how he behaved around strangers. Even around those he knew, at times.

And he wasn’t wrong, was he? Humans could be just as cruel as any supernatural being.

His gaze shifted from her to where Muichiro remained resting.

‘You must be Yuichiro,’ she said, seemingly unbothered by the boy’s lack of response. ‘We’ve been keeping an eye on the two of you.’

He didn’t respond again. He merely gave a slight nod, still not looking at her.

‘I hope you don’t mind if I check how you are,’ she added, offering him a gentle smile, though he wouldn’t see it. ‘I won’t take long, don’t worry. I just want to see if your injuries are healing properly.’

Still no response.

But he did nothing to stop her.

She stepped closer and gently guided him back towards the bed, leaving him seated in front of her. Her hands were light and practised as she reached for the bandages at his side.

‘May I?’ she asked, meeting his eyes.

He grimaced, returning the look before glancing away, nodding again, reluctant.

She began to unwrap the linen carefully, so as not to pull at his skin.

‘You’re very brave,’ Kanae said, trying to make conversation. ‘Most children your age wouldn’t have endured what you’ve been through.’

Yuichiro flinched.

He didn’t feel brave. He felt weak, felt as though he were a failure.

As though he were nothing.

And before he realised it, lost in his own inner world, she had already cleaned his wounds and was now redoing the dressings.

As though she could hear his thoughts, she hummed softly:

‘Hm… everything is healing nicely. In a few days you’ll be free of the bandages, don’t worry. I know it’s uncomfortable to move with them.’ She gave him a gentle smile.

Yuichiro simply nodded again.

Her smile softened for a moment, until her eyes narrowed slightly, as though recalling something else.

And indeed, she now realised that the boy’s lack of response must be due to what a Kakushi had told her before she came in, something she had nearly forgotten.

‘Hm…’ she tilted her head slightly, observing him more carefully. ‘Yuichiro-kun…’

He lifted his gaze to her, somewhat confused.

Kanae gently brought her hand to his chin, guiding his face with care.

‘Open your mouth a little, please.’

Yuichiro pulled a face.

He didn’t want to. Just the thought of complying made the discomfort rise again. He hadn’t even realised how much he had been avoiding it until now.

But he knew he had to do it if he wanted to get better.

Kanae leaned in a little closer, examining him carefully, her experienced eyes taking in every detail.

‘Hm… just as I thought…’ she murmured, more to herself than to him.

She drew back slightly, her brow furrowing faintly. ‘Your throat is quite inflamed,’ she explained, looking at him again. ‘You’ve likely strained it too much.’

Yuichiro looked away, fiddling with his own fingers.

Kanae folded her arms for a moment, thoughtful, before smiling again. ‘But don’t worry, it’s something we can treat easily.’

She picked up the small medicine pouch she had brought with her once more.

‘I’ll prepare a syrup for you,’ she continued, as she sorted through a few small bottles. ‘It’s a simple mixture of calming and anti-inflammatory herbs. It will help ease the pain and restore your voice more quickly.’

Yuichiro wasn’t looking at her, but he seemed to be listening.

‘You’ll take it twice a day,’ she explained, turning slightly to face him again. ‘One dose as soon as you wake up…’

She raised a small bottle, as if to demonstrate.

‘And another before going to bed.’

She paused briefly, organising the rest of the instructions in her mind.

‘And, if possible…’ she took out a small sachet containing thirty tablets, ‘take one of these a few minutes before your meals for a week. It helps protect your throat and prevents it from worsening when you eat.’

She placed the sachet in his hand.

‘And most importantly…’ she added, her tone a little firmer, though still gentle. ‘Avoid speaking for the time being. Give your throat a rest.’

The younger boy’s fingers tightened further against one another; his anxiety was eating away at him. And his brother? He wanted to know about him as well. Would he wake up? Was he truly all right?

His eyes returned to Muichiro.

A sheen of moisture began to gather in them before he looked back at Kanae, silently hoping she would understand what he meant.

Kanae followed his gaze.

Ah.

She looked at the younger twin, then back at the elder.

‘He’s all right,’ she assured him quickly. ‘His injuries are healing as well. His body simply needs time, just like yours.’

She noticed the boy’s brow crease; his lashes trembling ever so slightly in the process.

As though it wasn’t enough.

And truly, it wasn’t, not for his already broken little heart.

Kanae let out a quiet sigh. She knew what that boy was going through; she had already walked that same path. So she leaned down slightly to meet him at eye level, without intruding too much into his personal space, just enough to be noticed.

‘I know it feels as though he’s… far away,’ she continued, choosing her words with great care. Yuichiro was already fragile; she had to be careful with what she said. ‘But he isn’t. He’s simply resting, all right? His body is doing exactly what it needs in order to recover. He’ll come back to you soon, don’t worry.’

The movement of his fingers grew more agitated; he could end up hurting himself like that.

His eyes, now clearly brimming with tears, finally blinked once, twice, trying to hold back the sob lodged in his throat.

Kanae gently took his hands, stopping him from hurting himself. ‘He will wake up, Yuichiro-kun.’

She was so gentle, and that gentleness only made him want to give in to his tears even more. She reminded him of how much he missed his mother’s warmth…

A broken sob escaped him, tears finally spilling from his eyes. And he was immediately pulled into an embrace.

She was so warm…

His arms tightened around her waist as he cried into her shoulder.

‘It’s all right… breathe, yes? Take a deep breath… in…’

At first, he didn’t quite understand what she was saying. His ears were muffled, filled only with the sound of his own heartbeat. But as the minutes passed, as she gently rocked him and repeated the instruction, he began to follow her rhythm, slowly regaining control of his breathing.

They remained like that for quite some time, long enough for him to eventually pull away on his own. Even then, she stayed beside him for a few more moments, softly stroking his long hair until he finally gave a small nod, indicating he was better—though a little embarrassed for having cried in the arms of a stranger.

He judged himself for having cried, he shouldn’t be like that, letting himself be carried away by his emotions. But what Yuichiro had yet to learn was that he could cry, he could be sad, he had every right to be. After all, look at what had happened in his life. One moment, he was just a happy child, untouched by cruelty; the next, he had forced himself to grow up so they wouldn’t die. And now he was there, watching his world fall apart all over again, utterly powerless.

Don’t be so hard on yourself, Yuichiro…

‘Are you feeling better now, dear?’ she asked gently, her eyes searching for honesty.

He nodded in confirmation, sniffing lightly as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

‘Well… then I’ll leave you to rest now.’ She smoothed his hair one last time. ‘I’ll come back later to see how you both are and bring your syrup, all right?’

Another nod. Yes.

She took a few steps towards the door, smoothing the front of her haori.

‘We’ll prepare something light for you to eat shortly. You must be hungry, mustn’t you? Seeing as you haven’t had any breakfast.’

In truth, no. He wasn’t hungry at all, nor did he have the energy to think about it.

But he wasn’t meant to say that out loud, apparently. He had already taken up enough of her time for the day, so he simply nodded once more.

 

It was early afternoon when he was told to eat.

He didn’t want to.

His stomach hadn’t so much as rumbled since he woke. But one of the Kakushi, a quiet young man with tired eyes, came in with the syrup Kanae hadn’t been able to bring herself for lack of time (though she had still promised she would come and see him by late afternoon/early evening), and said softly, ‘You ought to try something, Tokito-san. The others are already in the dining hall. You don’t have to stay here all day.’

He handed him the small bottle, then left.

The dining hall was a long, airy space, with cushions laid out on the floor and low wooden tables. The paper windows stood open, letting the air drift through and keeping the smell of food from lingering.

There were already people seated. Not many – five, perhaps six. Some wore uniform, others had their arms bandaged or their faces drawn with fatigue.

He kept his head down and walked to the farthest corner. He sat with his back to the wall, a tray of rice and pickled vegetables set before him. The food was simple, pleasant enough, but he wasn’t hungry. He merely forced himself to swallow, mouthful after mouthful.

At least the tablets Kanae had given him seemed to be working; his throat no longer hurt as much when he swallowed.

The voices around him were low, made up mostly of idle conversation, murmured thanks, the occasional laugh. None of it reached him…

‘I said you’re chewing far too loudly, you idiot!’

A distinctly irritated female voice cut through the room.

Yuichiro’s eyes lifted, cautious, searching until he found the source.

It was a girl seated a few tables away, her arms folded, brows arched in disdain. Her dark hair was tied up in a neat bun. She couldn’t have been much older than him, fourteen, perhaps. She wore much the same as the others in the room, though no weapon was visible. Still, there was weight in her tone. Authority, even.

She was glaring at a boy twice her size, who immediately shrank under her gaze.

‘Honestly…’ she muttered, picking up her own bowl and moving elsewhere. ‘I can’t stand people who eat like pigs.’

Yuichiro blinked.

There was something about her that caught his attention.

Perhaps it was the way everyone looked away when she spoke, as though trying not to become her next target. Perhaps it was her expression, that constant look of irritation. The sort of face people mistook for rudeness, when in truth it was simply… exhaustion.

He knew that look.

He wore it too.

 

 

 

17th August 1913, Taishō jidai

 

It had been a week.

Seven days since he had woken up in this place.

Seven days of fresh bandages and soft-spoken carers.

Seven days of watching his brother sleep.

And Muichiro had not moved.

Not once.

Not even when the wind changed. Not when the rain came.

Not even when Yuichiro woke from nightmares, crying out hysterically.

It was late afternoon now, around twenty past five. A breeze stirred the curtains, and Yuichiro sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, perched on the mattress where Muichiro lay sleeping, his eyes fixed on the boy’s face.

And he was much better than before, it had to be said. Now he wore no more than two bandages, one around his head and another about his ribs. His throat, too, had improved considerably, just as Kanae had said it would. He could speak normally again.

As for Muichiro… well, his skin no longer held that sickly pallor. Colour had returned to his cheeks, and several of the bandages had been removed.

But his eyes had not opened. Not once.

And though his body was healing well enough, Yuichiro’s mind was another matter entirely. It turned against him, dragging him into a bleak sort of limbo, feeding him thoughts of self-blame, making him feel like the lowest sort of person alive.

He reached out and took his brother’s hand. The warmth of it reminded him that he was still alive…

He held it gently between both of his own, his thumb brushing softly over it.

For a while, he simply stayed like that.

He hadn’t meant to speak, but the words slipped out all the same. His voice was better now, and he had so much to say, especially to the boy before him.

‘…why won’t you wake up?’

His thumb now traced lightly over Muichiro’s knuckles.

‘You’re just sleeping, aren’t you?’ he said, his voice quieter now. ‘Just… resting, like Kanae said. That’s all, isn’t it?’

Yuichiro looked down, tightening his hold slightly, clearly hurt by the lack of response.

‘You’re not going to leave as well, are you…?’

His voice faltered. He bit down on his lower lip, trying and failing to steady it.

‘You’re not… you’re not going to leave me too, are you?’

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes growing distant.

‘I know I wasn’t always like this… I mean, after mum and dad… I was awful to you. I said terrible things I didn’t mean–but I said them anyway. I pushed you away out of anger, when all you ever wanted was to help.’

His lips trembled.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I’m so sorry…’

The tears he had tried so hard to hold back finally spilled down his pale cheeks.

‘I was afraid… that if I let you do the same as our parents, I’d lose you as well… just like we lost them…’

His shoulders shook. He lowered his head, his forehead brushing against Muichiro’s hand.

‘I didn’t want to love you this much,’ he said. ‘Because I didn’t think I could survive losing you. And now… now I think I might lose you anyway.’

He squeezed his eyes shut.

‘I don’t want to be alone.’

I can’t be alone.

‘I promise I’ll do better. I promise I’ll talk to you more, that I won’t shout, that I won’t ignore you when you ask if I’m all right.’

He sniffed, quickly wiping his nose on his sleeve.

‘I’ll tell you I love you every day. I promise, Mui. Just… just wake up, please…’

Tears and snot streaked his now flushed face, but he stopped caring. All he wanted was to keep his forehead resting against the hand of the only person he had left in the world.

He had never been one to cry, not like his little brother, who would cry over the smallest things and cling to him.

But now… none of that mattered, did it? His harshness, his rigidity, none of it mattered anymore. Not when the most important person in his life was like this.

At last, he sat back up, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his kimono. His head throbbed. Though he was much better, it was still one of his weak points after being split open during the fight. It would take a while yet before the bandage could come off.

He looked at Muichiro once more, then carefully let go of his hand and stood.

His back ached from sitting so long. He stretched, his spine giving a quiet crack, then rubbed his eyes again, breathing in slowly, unsteadily.

‘I’ll be back…’ he said softly. ‘I’m just stepping out for a bit. I promise.’

He walked over to the sliding panel and opened it. The corridor that greeted him was dim, with the golden light of dusk casting dancing shadows along the walls. The scent of flowers drifted towards him from the open passage beyond.

It was a beautiful sight, truth be told. Yuichiro would sometimes find himself watching the sunset, but it hadn’t been his intention this time.

He stepped outside, closing the door behind him, and turned towards the small garden path that led to the basin near the courtyard. His feet moved slowly, heavily, his body still far too fragile. On top of that, some of the medicine he was still taking left him sluggish, a little drowsy.

He splashed cold water onto his face.

The sudden chill stole the warmth from his skin, made his eyes sting and his lips go numb.

He cupped his hands and threw another handful over his cheeks, then wiped his face with his sleeves.

Resting both hands on the edge of the basin, head bowed, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

The sky was beginning to change colour. Apricot fading into deep blue.

He opened his eyes again and turned to head back.

thock
thock-thock—
crack—thock.

A sound. Wood striking wood. Again, and again, and again…

He paused, lifting his head slightly at the noise that reached him. He had heard something like it before, somewhere near the side of the main building. Beyond the walkway.

Close enough to hear, but not close enough to see.

He glanced ahead again, towards his room.

Then, with hesitant steps, he turned towards the sound.

It wasn’t far. Just beyond the small line of trees marking the western courtyard. A gap between two thick cherry trees led him onto a narrower path, moss-covered and lined with carefully placed stones.

As he moved forward quietly, the sound grew louder. He pressed his lips together, uneasy.

And then he saw her.

The same girl who had snapped at that large boy days ago stood alone in the open space behind the main house. The courtyard there was wide and enclosed, framed by wooden beams and training dummies.

She stood at its centre, sleeves rolled up. Her hair, once neatly tied, had come loose with the effort he assumed she had been putting in, and her sandals lay discarded to the side.

And she was moving.

Yuichiro stopped at the edge of the path, watching in quiet admiration.

This was new to him. He had never seen anyone move like that before.

She held a wooden sword, striking one of the training dummies with precision. Each movement was swift, yet graceful. Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground, yet her wrists trembled slightly from the force she put into each strike.

Thock–
Thock-thock
Crack.

Again, and again, and again.

Yuichiro didn’t even realise he had forgotten to blink.

Of course, he knew people like her existed—but he had never seen one up close. Not like this.

She didn’t resemble the fearsome warriors he had imagined. She was small, yet undeniably strong.

Unaware, he found himself taking another step forward, and a branch snapped beneath his foot.

She stopped at once, catching the sound, noticing his presence for what seemed to be the first time.

He stiffened under the intensity of her gaze, and her brow drew together in response.

‘What are you doing here?’ she called, irritation lacing her voice.

Yuichiro straightened instinctively, frowning in return. Sharp replies sat at the tip of his tongue, but he held them back. As much as it was his way of dealing with things, he had to change.

He had promised his brother, after all. And he intended to keep it.

So instead, he went for something simpler.

‘I’m just walking,’ he replied, plainly.

The girl raised an eyebrow. ‘This area isn’t for wandering about.’

‘I wasn’t wandering,’ he shot back, folding his arms. ‘I heard something and came to see what it was.’

‘That is wandering.’

‘No, it isn’t.’

They faced one another across the training yard, each holding the other’s gaze without flinching.

The tension ought to have broken.

But instead, her eyes narrowed slightly as she picked up on something–something off about the boy’s face. She tilted her head.

‘Have you been crying?’

Damn. He hadn’t stopped to think that someone might comment on how dreadful he looked after leaving that room.

He stiffened, irritation flaring at his own carelessness, slipping straight back into his usual defensive stance.

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Your eyes are red.’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘…fine,’ she said, giving him an odd look before turning back to her training dummy.

Yuichiro felt a flicker of remorse at the way he’d snapped. He puffed his cheeks slightly, brows knitting as he tried to think of a way to fix it.

It’s what his brother would’ve told him to do, if he were here.

She raised the sword again.

Thock—thock—thock.
Thock.
Thock—thock—

‘You’re good at that…’ he said suddenly, attempting to keep the conversation going.

She didn’t seem like a bad person; in fact, she felt oddly familiar… Yuichiro had noticed that the last time he saw her.

This time, though, she didn’t stop to look at him.

‘Of course I am,’ she replied, striking between each word.

‘Are you a Demon Slayer?’

‘Not yet.’

He tilted his head, confused. ‘But you’re training like one.’

‘I’m not one yet because I will be. Soon.’

Yuichiro gave a small nod, as if accepting that, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. So far, his attempt wasn’t going too badly. ‘And… how old are you?’

‘Fourteen.’

‘…you’re rather small.’

That made her stop. She turned to him at once, pointing accusingly.

‘So are you!’

Yuichiro blinked, and, to his own surprise, let out a quiet, muffled laugh.

She didn’t smile, but she didn’t seem quite as irritated anymore either, despite the remark about her height.

A little more curious now, he stepped closer, though not enough to invade her space.

‘What sort of sword is that?’

‘Wooden.’

‘No, I mean…’ he cleared his throat, adjusting the question. ‘What are you training for? What sort of movements?’

She clicked her tongue. ‘Well… I train the forms of Insect Breathing. They derive from Flower Breathing.’

Yuichiro frowned. He hadn’t a clue what any of that meant. His ignorance showed as he asked, ‘Breathing style…?’

She shifted her grip on the sword, easing the strain on her wrists.

‘Slayers use what we call “Breathings” to fight, and most styles rely on strength. Mine relies on precision. I haven’t the strength to take a demon’s head clean off.’ She turned and tapped the wooden blade lightly against the training dummy, as if to make her point.

‘But I can inject poison directly into their bloodstream and kill them that way.’ She looked back at him. ‘So it works in my favour.’

Yuichiro brought a hand to his chin, mulling it over.

Truth be told, he hadn’t fully understood, despite her explanation. But what little he had grasped was enough to see that she was hardworking, in spite of the limitations set before her.

‘Yeah… makes sense.’

‘Mm.’ She tossed the sword aside, apparently done with training, and changed the subject just as quickly. ‘You’re not like the other children here.’

He shrugged.

‘I don’t know any of the children here.’

She murmured, walking over to a bottle resting atop a tree stump. She took a long drink, cool water, by the look of it, then let out a quiet breath and folded her arms, leaning back against one of the wooden posts used for training.

‘I’m Shinobu,’ she introduced herself.

He looked away, fiddling with his fingers. ‘Hm... Yuichiro.’

Not that he was embarrassed or anything of the sort, he was simply a boy who had spent most of his life in isolation and was now learning, slowly, how to exist around others.

She gave a small nod, taking another generous sip of water.

‘Are you going to become a Slayer as well?’ she asked.

He pulled a face, uncertain. ‘My brother… might not wake up.’

It wasn’t really an answer, but she didn’t press him.

‘I know what that’s like,’ she said simply.

He looked at her.

‘You do?’

‘I heard a bit about you and your brother when you arrived. I lost my parents too.’ She clicked her tongue softly. ‘My sister and I took in a girl who’d lost hers as well.’ She capped the bottle and set it back on the stump. ‘Most of the people you see here have been through something similar.’

At that, Yuichiro lowered his gaze, his nails scraping absently at the skin along his fingers.

Those people… they were far more like him than he’d first thought. Different circumstances, perhaps, but the same pain.

That was what made them human, wasn’t it? Life didn’t care whether you were rich or poor, what colour you were, what you did or where you came from. It only cared about how much it could take.

Not quite knowing what to do with that–he’d never been good at comforting others, and his own pain usually came out as anger, hurting people who had nothing to do with it–he settled for a simple reply.

‘I… suppose so.’

 

 

19th August 1913, Taishō jidai

 

Two days had passed since Yuichiro had last seen Shinobu in the courtyard. And they hadn’t spoken again since.

Not because he didn’t want to. But because… well, he didn’t quite know what to say. Or how to begin. And, above all, he still felt far too heavy inside to try anything new.

He spent his days in that room, sitting beside his unconscious brother, waiting. Waiting for time to do something. Waiting for anything—anything at all—to change.

That morning, Kanae came to visit.

And speaking of her… whenever she had the time, she would stop by his room, not just to examine him, but to talk. Her presence was gentle, comforting. She seemed to understand exactly how he felt without him having to say much at all. Sometimes, when she noticed he hadn’t eaten, she didn’t scold him, instead, she would softly invite him to eat with her.

Her voice never rose when they spoke. She held him when he was overwhelmed, and she had even given him new clothes, since the ones he’d had were left behind in his old home.

It was still early, and she was already there, stepping in without hurry, carrying a tray with tea and a small medical case. Her smile, as always, was warm.

Yuichiro was already awake, though still lying.

She set the tray down beside him and sat on the edge of the older boy’s bed.

‘Good morning, Yuichiro-kun. How are you both today?’ she asked.

‘Same as ever…’ Yuichiro replied, finally sitting up. ‘And he hasn’t moved at all.’

Kanae gave a small nod.

She reached for her tools. Checked his temperature, his pulse, his eyes; placed two fingers lightly against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his breathing. She examined his throat again, only to confirm that he could finally stop taking the medication. After that, she moved over to the other twin to examine him as well.

Yuichiro watched her every movement closely, anxious for any sign, any proof, that his brother was still there.

At last, Kanae withdrew her hands, closed the case, and set it aside.

‘Physically, he’s doing very well,’ she assured him gently. ‘He’s no longer in danger. His body is responding beautifully to the treatment, and he should wake at any moment.’

Yuichiro frowned at that.

‘Then… why hasn’t he woken up?’

He watched her smile falter slightly, not disappear, just soften, as though she were choosing her words carefully.

‘Sometimes…’ she began calmly, ‘the body needs time. And sometimes, the mind needs even more.’

Yuichiro lowered his gaze.

‘But if he’s really that well… why doesn’t he respond? Why won’t he open his eyes? Can he hear me? Is he still—?’

He couldn’t finish.

‘He… he’s not going to leave me as well, is he?’ The words slipped out, barely above a whisper.

Kanae stepped closer and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder.

‘No,’ she said, with quiet certainty. ‘He’s still here, Yuichiro-kun. He’s strong. You’re not alone.’

He didn’t reply. He bit his lower lip and turned his face slightly away, blinking hard. His feet had already begun to fidget restlessly.

Kanae let out a soft sigh and sat beside him.

‘You know… why don’t you try talking to Shinobu?’

His feet stilled, his brows lifting as he looked back at her.

‘What?’

‘My sister,’ she said with a light laugh. ‘I saw you two talking in the courtyard. I was rather surprised, actually. She doesn’t usually speak much to people she doesn’t know.’

Yuichiro’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

He wouldn’t have imagined Kanae having a sister so… prickly as Shinobu. But then again, wasn’t it the same with him and Muichiro?

‘She’s your sister?’

‘She is.’

He turned his face away again, thinking it over.

‘She’s a bit… harsh.’

Kanae gave a quiet laugh, not denying it.

‘She can be. A little blunt at times, but she has a good heart underneath it all. I think she simply protects it a bit too fiercely. Much like you.’

Yuichiro shot her a sideways glance.

‘I’m nothing like her.’

‘No?’ she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. ‘Then why did you answer her in exactly the same tone when she provoked you?’

His lack of an answer said quite enough, even if he refused to accept the comparison.

Kanae smiled, but it wasn’t a teasing sort of smile.

‘I think the two of you might get on rather well. You need someone to talk to, Yuichiro-kun. Someone your own age. Someone who doesn’t need everything spelled out to understand what hurts.’

He frowned slightly.

‘Don’t you think it’s… wrong? Acting like that… while my brother is like this?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with living,’ she said, gently smoothing his fringe back behind his ear. ‘And taking care of yourself doesn’t mean abandoning the people you love.’

Yuichiro bit his lip again.

Kanae went on:

‘I do wish I could spend more time with you… even with these little chats, it’s only a small part of the day. Unfortunately, my work keeps me rather busy, so I’d suggest trying to speak with others as well, so you’re not quite so alone.’

She stood, adjusting her sleeves with a graceful motion.

‘Shinobu may not seem it, but she’s a good listener. And even if the two of you argue or get on each other’s nerves, it’s still better than being on your own. At the very least, it gives you something to occupy yourself with. What do you think?’

Yuichiro glanced back at his brother for a moment.

…Yeah. She was right. Deep down, he knew it. And besides, if his twin were awake, he’d want him to make friends.

So he looked back at Kanae.

‘Do you really think… he’ll wake up soon?’

‘I think he’s trying his very best.’

She picked up her case, offering him one last smile.

‘And I think you should try as well.’

The idea had already taken root in his mind.

Because he knew, staying stuck in that same self-deprecating rut wouldn’t make time pass any faster. It wouldn’t make his brother wake up just because he wished it. And talking to someone—even if it was that sharp-tongued, rather irksome girl, might… just might… not be the worst idea in the world.

 

 

 

31th August 1913, Taishō jidai

 

Two weeks had passed since the last time Kanae had examined Muichiro.

Two long, dragging weeks without a single response from his little brother.

But something had changed in that time. Yuichiro no longer spent every hour of the day shut away in that room.

Not because he had stopped caring. Not at all. But because, little by little, someone had been pulling him out of that pain.

And that someone was Shinobu.

Kanae was right when she said it would do him good…

It had all started with brief, sharp exchanges, an insult here, a sarcastic retort there, but it soon turned into conversations, then shared meals, and eventually mornings spent talking on the veranda, watching the sun rise over the quiet gardens of the Butterfly Estate.

And, at times, Shinobu would even drag him outside to train.

Like today.

The air was warm, summer in full swing, and the cicadas droned loudly in the trees beyond the wall.

Yuichiro sat on the edge of the wooden veranda, his arms resting over his knees, sweat clinging to the nape of his neck.

Meanwhile, Shinobu stood before him, a wooden bokken resting against her shoulder.

She was practising her stances again. Her posture, steady and precise as ever, but her wrists trembled with the strain of holding it, just as he’d noticed before. Even so, she never gave up on improving.

Yuichiro didn’t say it, but he admired that about her.

It wasn’t just the effort—it was the way she showed she meant it. Every step, every strike, even her small, cutting remarks… she meant every bit of it.

‘Oi,’ Shinobu said, giving his foot a light nudge. ‘You’re staring again. If you’re that interested, why don’t you train as well?’

‘I am training,’ Yuichiro replied flatly. ‘I’m watching you.’

‘Watching isn’t training.’

‘Says you.’

She huffed and sat down beside him, stretching her legs out with a sigh.

‘…you’re getting less irritating.’

Yuichiro rolled his eyes. ‘You’re not.’

‘There we are, then!’

They sat there in the heat, letting the moment settle between them. It was the sort of companionship that came stitched together by time and mutual understanding.

But it didn’t take long before Yuichiro began shifting slightly, restless. He wanted to tell her what he’d decided over the past few days—but he wasn’t sure how she’d react.

So, drawing in a breath, without turning to look at her, he murmured:

‘I want to become a Demon Slayer.’

Shinobu frowned, snapping her head towards him, looking at him with a mix of disbelief and disdain, as though she hadn’t heard him properly.

‘What?’

‘I want to join the Demon Slayer Corps,’ he repeated, a little louder this time.

‘You…? You’re still a child.’

‘So are you.’

She clicked her tongue, narrowing her eyes at him.

‘Why?’

Yuichiro’s fingers curled into the fabric of his trousers.

He took a breath. His voice wasn’t angry this time. Not sharp or defensive as it usually was. Just… calm.

‘Because I need to protect him. My brother.’

Shinobu didn’t speak at first, but he carried on, eyes fixed on the ground.

‘Before all of this… before the attack, a woman came to our house. She said her name was Amane. Said she was the wife of the Corps’ leader.’

‘Ubuyashiki-sama’s wife?’ Shinobu said, surprised.

Yuichiro nodded.

‘She told us about demons, about what the Corps does, about joining them… said the Master wanted to recruit us, that we had potential or something like that.’ He let out a dry laugh, running a hand over the bandage on his head. ‘I thought she was mad and sent her away. I honestly thought she was making it all up. That she just wanted to take advantage of us because we were orphans.’

Shinobu looked down at her hands, already knowing where this was going.

‘And then that… thing showed up at our house.’

The sound of the cicadas seemed to fall away.

He looked up at the sky, squinting slightly against the sun.

‘If I’d taken her seriously, maybe I could’ve done something to stop it. Or better yet, it wouldn’t have happened at all, would it? Maybe Muichiro wouldn’t be like this now…’

He turned to face her, his eyes older than they ought to be.

‘I know I’m young… I know people will say I’m not ready, but I can’t wait, Shinobu. I won’t. If something like that happens again, if anything comes to take him, I want to be strong enough to stop it.’

The wind passed between them, stirring their hair.

‘…you’re not the only one who feels like that.’

Yuichiro looked at her.

‘You know, Kanae… she’s already a Hashira. She’s always been good at whatever she sets her mind to. Always strong, unlike me.’ She let out a small sigh. ‘I don’t want to feel useless. I don’t want to be left behind. I want to catch up to her… somehow.’

Yuichiro watched her for a long moment, recognising the shared feeling between them. And, for once, he didn’t say anything sharp.

He simply nodded in understanding, turning his gaze back to the sky.

They didn’t speak again after that, not until they eventually went back inside. But in that moment, there were no more words to say.

They simply felt it. And they both knew.

They shared the same resolve.

And they would see it through, no matter the cost.

 

 

 

3th September 1913, Taishō jidai

 

It was another day that Lady Amane came to the Butterfly Mansion.

She arrived with her usual grace, dressed in soft fabrics and a serene expression, her steps so light upon the wooden floor that he did not notice her arrival until she was already in the room. Her voice never rose, always carrying a steady air of understanding.

She visited the twins as she always did, first stopping outside their room to pray, then entering to see how they were. Even though Muichiro had not woken once, she still came to see him, patiently. Every few days, without fail.

Yuichiro simply watched her in silence, exchanging a few words here and there... her assuring him that he was being well cared for and asking whether he needed anything.

This time, however, he waited for her outside, fidgeting nervously with the sleeves of his yukata.

As soon as he saw her turning to leave, he interrupted her, stepping into her path.

‘Can we... talk?’ he asked.

Amane looked down at him, somewhat surprised by the suggestion from the introverted boy before her. ‘Of course, Yuichiro-kun.’

He gestured with his hand, leading her to the garden just beyond the engawa, where a shaded area stretched beneath the large cherry tree that stood there.

When they arrived, he sat on the wooden step, knees drawn up and arms crossed over them.

Amane mirrored his gesture, sitting beside him without saying a word at first; she would wait for him to speak.

Yuichiro shifted slightly, clasping his hands in his lap as he tried to steady himself. He took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out.

Right, he needed to do this.

‘I want to join the Demon Slayer Corps.’

The reaction did not come immediately. He found himself wondering if she had heard him, until he noticed her eyes turn to him, calm and unreadable.

‘Do you truly want that?’ she asked softly.

He nodded, looking at her firmly, feeling more confident now.

‘I want to protect my brother.’

Her posture softened, but she said nothing at first, allowing him to continue.

‘I know I’m young...’ Yuichiro went on. ‘People will probably say that. That I’m not ready. That it’s too dangerous.’

‘I was going to say that,’ she said, with a faint smile.

Yuichiro shrugged. ‘That doesn’t change anything.’

Amane looked out towards the garden.

‘You are indeed very young. You have lost your parents. Your brother is still unconscious, with no certainty of when he will wake. And yet, here you are, speaking of war.’

Yuichiro’s jaw tightened, and he shot her a sharp look, feeling a flicker of irritation now.

What was she implying, after all? Weren’t they the ones who came to them first?

‘You came to our house, didn’t you?’ He clicked his tongue, pointing at her. ‘You were the one who knocked on our door first. You told us we had potential!’

Amane nodded slowly, seemingly unbothered by the younger boy’s reaction. ‘That is true.’

‘Well then,’ he crossed his arms. ‘You knew we were children back then too. So why come at all, if you were going to say we were too young?’

Her eyes closed for a moment, as she felt the cool evening breeze pass between them. When they opened again, they were filled with something akin to sadness and even... guilt.

‘Because, sometimes, we have no choice.’

Yuichiro raised an eyebrow, but did not interrupt her.

‘I never wished to see children in this fight. I never wished to ask boys like you to take up a sword.’ She folded her hands in her lap. ‘But this world... does not give us what we want.’

Another breeze passed through the garden.

Yuichiro frowned, now looking down at his own hands.

‘Muichiro almost died,’ he said. ‘He still might... and I... I couldn’t do anything. I just watched.’

His voice trembled slightly now as the truth settled in, the earlier irritation giving way to guilt and frustration with himself.

‘I can’t be that useless again... I won’t accept losing someone else. Muichiro is all I have in this world.’ His voice began to quicken. ‘I don’t know what would happen to me if I lost him, I can’t see my life without my brother.’ His body began to tremble as he spoke. ‘I wouldn’t be able to bear it, I... I—’

His thoughts began to spiral, dragging him back into that same feeling of helplessness.

Until he felt Amane’s hand suddenly take his, stopping him in the middle of his downward spiral.

‘I believe in you.’

Her touch was so light and warm against his skin.

Yuichiro’s eyes widened in surprise.

‘You... do? You really do?’

‘I believe that you are willing. And I believe that you will try.’

He frowned, knowing that wasn’t all. ‘But...?’

‘But, if you truly wish to join us, you must be prepared.’ She turned to face him. ‘The training will break your body. You will bleed, you will cry, you will want to give up. So the part that must be strengthened the most is your mind.’

‘I won’t.’

‘You will,’ she said, to his displeasure, though without cruelty. ‘We all do. But if you continue even when it hurts, even when you are afraid... then you may survive long enough to protect yourself and others.’

He looked at her with intensity.

‘I’ll do whatever it takes.’

They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds. Then Amane was the first to look away, the tension easing as a smile formed on her lips.

But it was not the distant, ceremonial smile she gave most people; there was something warmer. More human.

‘We will arrange training for you. Something suited to your age, your strength, and your... temperament.’

Yuichiro huffed. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon.’

 

 

 

10th September 1913, Taishō jidai

 

He was on the ground again.

The mud clung to his knees. The palms of his hands stung from yet another failed rolling attempt. His wooden sword had slipped from his grasp and fallen somewhere behind him, half-buried in the grass.

Above him, the sky was wide and cloudless, which only made the sweat on his body feel more intense.

‘You’re not breathing properly,’ came Shinobu’s voice, completely devoid of sympathy at the pitiful sight before her.

He gritted his teeth and looked up.

She was standing over him, arms crossed, the bokken resting lightly on one shoulder. Her face was unreadable, as always, but her eyes were sharp.

‘I am breathing properly,’ he snapped, pushing himself up.

‘No, you’re panting,’ she corrected. ‘That’s not the same thing.’

Yuichiro picked up his training sword from the ground and forced himself to stand.

His legs trembled as he tried to support his own weight.

Everything hurt—his wrists, his ribs, even the muscles beneath his eyes. The wooden sword felt heavier than it had that morning, and he could already feel a bruise forming on his left arm, since the force of the impact had landed entirely there.

And Shinobu didn’t offer help, of course she didn’t.

‘You’re rushing your steps,’ she said, shooting him a sharp look. ‘Again.’

He turned to her sharply.

‘I know I’m rushing!’

‘Then stop doing it.’

‘It’s not that simple!’

Shinobu raised an eyebrow.

‘And why not?’

Yuichiro flushed—anger, embarrassment, frustration.

‘Because—! I can’t keep up!’ he shouted. ‘I can’t move fast enough, or strong enough—! Every time I try to swing the sword, it slips, or it’s too slow, or I fall, or—’

He dropped the bokken again, letting it hit the ground with a dull thud.

‘I’m not strong enough…’ His voice, once loud, was now nothing more than a self-deprecating whisper.

He covered his face with his hands, collapsing onto the ground once more.

‘I’ll never be strong enough…’

Shinobu watched his pathetically childish behaviour with a look of absurd judgement, one Yuichiro could feel in every fibre of his being even without looking.

Because of that, the silence that stretched between them was physically painful to endure.

Then she stepped forward.

He flinched slightly as he felt her presence draw nearer, as if expecting another scolding, or for her to shout at him to stop being stupid.

But she didn’t.

She crouched in front of him, bringing herself to his eye level, prompting him to uncover his own so they were face to face.

‘You’ve been training for three days,’ she countered, in response to his complaints. ‘What did you expect? That you’d already be cutting through boulders?’

Yuichiro frowned, dissatisfied.

‘No. But I thought I’d at least be… decent.’

‘Why?’

His frown deepened into a full grimace. Was she truly not understanding him? Was he really being that ridiculous? He hoped not.

‘What do you mean, “why”?’

‘I mean exactly that,’ she pointed out, plainly. ‘You’ve never fought. Never trained. You spent your life looking after your brother, carrying water from the stream, chopping wood, and shouting at anyone who tried to help you. Which part of that made you think you’d already be good at this?’

Her words were painfully honest.

He looked away, embarrassed.

‘I just thought…,’ he muttered quietly, ‘…that if I wanted it badly enough, it might be easier.’

Shinobu sighed. But that sigh had shifted from impatience to understanding. She knew exactly how the boy felt.

‘You’re not weak, Yuichiro. You’re a beginner. That’s all.’

Yuichiro shot her a doubtful look. He wasn’t entirely convinced about the first part.

‘But wanting to protect someone doesn’t make you strong overnight. That’s not how it works. You can’t skip the pain, the exhaustion, or the failure just because you love someone. You want to protect your brother. That’s good. It’s noble. But don’t confuse love with strength. They’re not the same thing.’

He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but closed it again.

There was nothing to say, was there?

She was right, in the end.

‘You can fall.’ Shinobu’s usually sharp voice softened into something more understanding. ‘But you have to get back up. Every time. Even when it hurts. Even when no one’s watching. Even when you hate yourself for not being better.’

It almost felt like she was reading his thoughts…

Yuichiro sniffed, wiping away a stray tear, and shook his head.

‘I hate myself…’ he whispered.

Funny how he’d become so prone to tears lately, when he used to criticise his brother for it so much. He wouldn’t be forgetting that anytime soon.

Shinobu clicked her tongue in exasperation, her sharper tone returning as she spoke of herself.

‘Yeah, well, I’ve hated myself before too.’

He wrinkled his nose, confused by the revelation dropped into his lap.

She gave him a sardonic smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

‘I wanted to fight alongside my sister. She’s so strong. So graceful. People followed her like bees to flowers. And I was… small, irritable, clumsy.’

Hearing her speak so openly about those tangled feelings, he realised they were more alike than he’d thought. Frustration gave way to something closer to empathy.

‘She never made me feel inferior. But I did that to myself. I convinced myself I didn’t belong there. That I wasn’t worthy of standing beside her.’

She leaned down and picked up his bokken, brushing the dirt off.

‘But then I realised the only way to be worthy was to work. Every single day. Even when I couldn’t see any progress. Even when I was exhausted—physically and mentally. Even when I just wanted to disappear.’

She held the bokken out to him.

He glanced between her and the object, hesitant.

Then, finally, he took it.

‘Do you think I’ll really manage it?’

Shinobu stood, dusting off her knees.

‘Not if you keep asking that every five minutes.’

He huffed at her blunt answer.

‘That’s your answer?’

‘That’s reality.’ She shrugged, walking back to the centre of the training ground. ‘Now get up. We’ve still got an hour before supper. You’re going to practise your footing until you stop tripping over yourself.’

He gritted his teeth, but followed her.

His lungs felt like they might burst if he pushed any further, but he tried his best to ignore everything dragging him down, even if the process was painfully difficult.

And as he steadied his stance and took position once more, bokken raised, knees bent, muscles tense, he thought that maybe he could do it.

Not today.

Not tomorrow.

But someday.

And he would do it not because he was fearless, strong, or talented…

But because he refused to stay on the ground.

 

His steps dragged as he moved along the corridor that seemed to never end, his hair still damp from his bath, his stomach heavy from supper, his limbs aching under the weight of the day’s training. The oil lamps along the walls flickered softly, their light dancing across the paper walls and wooden floor.

He could already feel blisters forming on the palms of his hands.

He was utterly exhausted; anyone who saw him might be startled, thinking some corpse had crawled out of a grave, given how frighteningly lifeless he looked.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached the sliding door to his room. At last, rest.

The lamp in the corner had been left on, dim enough only to outline the room and help him find his bearings upon entering. His own bed was neat and untouched. But the other one, on the other hand…

His eyes went straight to him, as always.

Yuichiro sighed, stepping inside and closing the door behind him with a soft click.

He walked over to his brother’s side, watching the way his lashes cast soft shadows over his naturally pale cheeks. Looking further down, he noticed the blanket had slipped from one of his shoulders.

Yuichiro leaned in and pulled it back up carefully.

Then he sat beside him.

He reached out with his right hand and gently took Muichiro’s left, letting out a long breath as he began his usual ritual.

‘Hey… Mui…’ he gave him a small smile. ‘I’ve got a lot to tell you. You’ve missed quite a bit, you know?’

He let out a tired laugh.

‘I’ve started training. Proper training, you know? With swords, stances, rolls… and falling flat on my face more times than I can count. I… I…’

He bit his lip, hesitant, casting an uneasy glance at his brother.

‘I’m going to join the Demon Slayer Corps, Mui…’

‘I know,’ he added quickly, ‘you’ll probably be angry. Really angry. But I’m not doing this because I don’t trust you to do it. It’s not because I don’t believe in you.’

He brushed his thumb gently over the back of his hand.

‘It’s because I love you. And because I can’t lose you. You’re the most important thing in my life, Mui. You always have been.’ His voice faltered, his thumb still moving absent-mindedly. ‘I just… I can’t go through another night like that. I can’t. I know it was your idea, that it’s what you wanted and not me… but I can’t let that happen. I’m your older brother.’

He let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head.

‘Funny, isn’t it? When that woman came to our house… Lady Amane… you listened to her and believed her.’

His fingers curled a little tighter as he went on:

‘And I didn’t. I was awful to her, sent her away, but it wasn’t out of cruelty. I truly thought she was trying to take advantage of us somehow, because we were orphans and “easy targets”. And now look, you nearly died. That’s my fault. If I’d done things differently, you wouldn’t be in this state.’

‘You wanted to protect me too, to help people with that kind heart of yours… but I won’t allow it. I can’t. You’re only twelve. You should be chasing frogs, grumbling about chores, nicking plums from the neighbour’s garden, not running towards death.’

His voice softened, as if stating a simple truth.

‘And me? I’m your nii-san. Your older brother, even if only by a few minutes. That means I protect you. Even if you hate me for this decision.’

He rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his yukata before looking at him again.

‘I miss you. I really do. I miss the way you talk, the way you frown when you’re thinking, the way you pout when I eat the last dumpling, even when you say you didn’t want it.’

A small smile appeared at the brief memories, before fading again.

‘I just want you back. Please…’

Even knowing there would be no answer, he still looked at his brother as though expecting one.

‘I’ll tell you everything when you wake up. About the training, about the people I’ve met. About Kanae, Shinobu… and no, she’s not as scary as she seems, I promise.’

His gaze dropped to their hands, squeezing slightly before relaxing.

‘I’ll tell you everything. But only if you wake up.’

He stayed there a while longer, simply taking comfort in his brother’s warmth. Feeling that proof that he was alive, that the warmth hadn’t gone cold, that he hadn’t vanished.

His eyes briefly flickered to his own bed before returning to his brother, already decided.

‘…just for today,’ he murmured, as if afraid someone might hear, but it wasn’t as though anyone was there to stop him anyway.

Lying down carefully, he slipped an arm around his brother’s small body, pulling him close with a tenderness meant only for him.

He buried his face in his hair.

‘I miss you…’ he murmured. ‘I miss you so much.’

His eyelids grew heavy, weighed down by the exhaustion of the day, the week, the entire year, he would be out in seconds, without a doubt.

He let out a long, slow breath.

‘I love you, Mui…’

 

 

 

27th September 1913, Taishō jidai

 

The muffled sound of bamboo striking bamboo echoed through the training yard, followed by a brief cloud of dust as Yuichiro’s foot slid across the compacted earth.

He adjusted his stance automatically.

Again.

He breathed in once.

Breathed out straight after.

Their practice swords clashed once more; Shinobu’s strike was sharp and precise, but he was quicker this time. He caught her angle, dropped low, and countered in a clean arc, aiming for her ribs.

She dodged effortlessly, of course.

When they pulled apart, breathless, she lowered the shinai and tilted her head in his direction.

‘Well, Yui…,’ she said, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction, ‘I think this is the first time this week you haven’t tripped over your own feet.’

He clicked his tongue, shooting her a mock look of reproach, sweat running down from his fringe. ‘Oi! I only tripped twice this week.’

‘Hm. And last week you were averaging four per session,’ she added dryly, tapping the shinai against her shoulder. ‘At this rate, you might even manage to stay upright in a proper fight.’

‘Your encouragement is astounding.’

She laughed, a short, breathless sound, somewhat rare for her. It wasn’t something she did easily. But today she was in a good mood. Their sparring sessions had become smoother, almost second nature. His movements, once clumsy and unsteady, now carried a rhythm. Not perfect, far from it, but promising.

She wiped her forehead with her sleeve. ‘But seriously, you’ve improved. I didn’t expect it to be this quick.’

He blinked, slightly unsure in the face of the compliment. Coming from her, it was sometimes hard to tell whether she was being sarcastic or not.

‘Seriously?’

‘Hm.’ She nodded and shrugged. ‘You’re still a bit stiff. But you’ve got good instincts. And when you stop overthinking, you move like someone who’s done this before.’

He looked down at his hands, blistered and calloused. Still trembling, but steadier than before.

‘…thanks.’

She glanced at him. ‘Don’t get sentimental now.’

He huffed and moved to grab a gourd of water from the nearby bench. He took a long drink and dropped onto the grass, letting out a sigh like a knackered old man.

Shinobu followed suit, stretching her arms overhead before sitting beside him with her legs crossed.

The cicadas droned lazily above them.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, just breathing, letting the wind pass through the trees.

Then Yuichiro spoke.

‘I was reading yesterday. About breathing techniques.’

She glanced sideways. ‘Oh?’

He nodded. ‘Some of the old manuals I found in the library. One of them had diagrams of breathing forms and a few scribbled notes about their effects.’

‘Let me guess,’ she said, her bored expression propped on her palm, ‘you skipped straight to the flashy bits.’

‘I read all of it,’ he insisted, then admitted: ‘But yeah. There was one that caught my attention.’

He looked at her, his eyes lit with that familiar spark, the kind that appeared when his mind latched onto something too big to keep to himself.

‘Wind Breathing.’

Her brows lifted slightly. ‘Wind?’

‘Yeah. It’s fast, puts a lot of emphasis on footwork and mobility, evasion, dodging, quick strikes…’ he pointed out, trying to recall exactly what he had read. ‘“It’s based on fast, chaotic offensive attacks that mimic tornadoes and slicing gusts of air, using rotational movements to extend reach and generate blades of wind.” That’s what it said, along with examples and instructions, obviously.’

He sighed, twirling a strand of hair around his finger.

‘It just… I don’t know. It felt right, you know? Like something I could do, not now, obviously, but eventually.’

She studied him thoughtfully. ‘That’s Shinazugawa-san’s breathing style. He’s one of the Hashira.’

‘I read that!’ Yuichiro said quickly, growing more animated the deeper they got into the topic. ‘He’s got a technique called “Clean Storm Wind Tree” or something like that? Sounds ridiculously cool!’

Shinobu rolled her eyes. ‘Of course it does.’

‘But there’s also one called “Rising Dust Storm”. That one made even more sense to me. It’s not just about strength, it’s about disrupting your opponent’s vision so they don’t get the chance to react. And then—’ he acted it out slightly ‘—BAM! You counter.’

He leaned back onto his elbows, looking pleased.

‘I like that.’

Shinobu shrugged. ‘Well… I think it depends more on how the user chooses to apply it. Shinazugawa-san uses it in a rather brutal way, but you might prefer something more fluid. Or a mix of both, who knows?’

‘Sounds like you,’ he teased, poking at her rather unpredictable temperament.

‘Cheeky.’ She flicked the back of his neck, which earned an exaggerated ‘Ow!’; she hadn’t even used any strength.

‘But seriously,’ he added, rubbing the spot, ‘I’ve still got a long way to go. But that one really stuck with me.’

Shinobu tilted her head.

‘…you know, I used to think I’d end up using Flower Breathing.’

‘Because of Kanae?’

She nodded. ‘I thought I’d be like her. But…’

She looked down at her hands.

‘That’s not how I move.’

‘How do you move?’

She gave him a crooked, almost wicked smile.

‘By injecting substances to kill them slowly and painfully. Slowing their cognitive functions so they cannot defend themselves and, like that, die in a harsh and cruel way.’

He blinked.

‘Right… that was unsettling.’

‘Cheers.’

He laughed, shaking his head lightly in disbelief. The conversation could have ended there, but something still lingered in his mind. It might have been a bit childish, but he needed to say it, needed the reassurance, even if things like that couldn’t truly be predicted. And so he found himself speaking again.

‘Oi... Shinobu.’

‘Hm?’

‘Do you think…,’ he began, savouring the words before saying them, ‘that one day we’ll be strong enough to actually make a difference?’

She wrinkled her nose, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her expression. But she didn’t want to show it, she knew Yuichiro was already anxious enough, so she quickly composed herself.

‘…we’re not strong yet. But we’re stronger than we were. And that’s what matters, isn’t it?’

Yuichiro lay back on the ground, his gaze now fixed on the clouds.

‘…yeah.’

 

 

 

8th October 1913, Taishō jidai

 

Yuichiro was already sweating when Shinobu delivered her fifth consecutive strike without him managing to counter even once.

He grunted and stepped back, readjusting his stance.

‘Your balance is compromised,’ she said, without malice. ‘You’re shifting your centre of gravity forwards.’

‘I know,’ he replied curtly, immediately regretting it. ‘Sorry.’

She tilted her head slightly, watching him.

‘Did you sleep?’

‘…a bit.’

Her brow furrowed. ‘Yuichiro—’

‘I’m fine,’ he cut in quickly, not wanting to become the focus of the conversation. ‘I just want to get better faster.’

She didn’t reply, but he caught the concern flickering in her eyes.

Before she could say anything else, a soft voice called from the other side of the courtyard.

‘Kocho-san!’

They both turned. A young attendant stood by the gate, bowing.

‘Lady Kanae asked if the two apprentices might come and observe the Hashira demonstration this afternoon.’

Shinobu’s expression changed instantly. She shot Yuichiro a look.

He returned it, eyes widening.

A Hashira demonstration?

‘Go and get changed,’ she urged, already turning away. ‘We’re not refusing that invitation.’

The garden arena was smaller than Yuichiro had expected. A circle of stones bordered by neatly trimmed hedges and polished gravel. He vaguely wondered whether that would protect them from receiving any misplaced strike, but dismissed the thought. It wasn’t as if the Hashira were inexperienced boys who would make such a mistake.

When the two combatants stepped into the ring, an apprentice of the Flame Pillar and a Hashira of the Water Style, the very air seemed to shift. The atmosphere changed completely. Their presence was intense, as though every cell in his body reacted just by looking at them.

Then they moved.

Yuichiro’s body tensed involuntarily as he felt everything at once; it was almost as if he were there, in the middle of it all, feeling every movement, every breath against the back of his neck… they were like yin and yang.

It was beautiful to watch. Nothing like what he, young and inexperienced, could do. This was on an entirely different level.

A level he hoped to reach as well.

The clash of their swords wasn’t just about applying physical strength; it was about fluidity, spacing, and control over one’s wrists. Without one of those, the other two meant nothing. Every strike echoed with a level of control he could barely comprehend himself.

By the end, his hands were clenched so tightly around his knees that his knuckles had turned white.

He only realised Kanae was behind them when she spoke.

‘What did you notice?’

Yuichiro jumped.

Shinobu, on the other hand, answered naturally: ‘Their footwork was impeccable. Neither of them lost their rhythm despite the other’s intensity.’

‘And the spacing,’ Yuichiro added, almost breathless. ‘They… they always knew exactly how far apart they were, even when they weren’t looking.’

Kanae smiled softly. ‘Exactly.’

She looked at the two of them.

‘You’ve both grown stronger.’

Yuichiro blinked at her, startled.

‘You’re not the same children anymore,’ she continued. ‘Shinobu, your technique has improved. You’re finally beginning to trust yourself.’

Shinobu lowered her head, hiding a flicker of pride.

‘And you,’ Kanae turned to Yuichiro, ‘have more tenacity than I ever imagined.’

Yuichiro flushed, unsure whether that was praise or a warning.

Kanae crouched in front of him.

‘But strength isn’t just about pushing harder. It’s about knowing when to persist and when to stop.’

She held his gaze.

‘You’re allowed to rest, Yuichiro.’

 

 

 

3th November 1913, Taishō jidai

 

A little over seven weeks had passed since Yuichiro first held a sword.

Seven weeks of bruises, blisters, breathless mornings, and nights half-asleep beside his brother.

And now, somehow, this.

He coughed harshly, tasting something sharp and metallic at the back of his throat. His lungs burned.

‘That…!’ he blurted, breathless. ‘That didn’t feel like Wind!’

Across from him, Shinobu covered her mouth.

With a very poorly concealed laugh.

‘Oh no,’ she said, trying—and failing—to keep her voice serious. ‘Whatever shall we do? Yuichiro Tokito hasn’t mastered the art of a windstorm on his very first proper attempt.’

He shot her an irritated look.

‘I read the forms. I watched the posture.’

‘You copied the posture,’ she corrected, stepping closer with her arms crossed. ‘But you’re fighting your own lungs.’

‘Breathing is breathing,’ he muttered.

‘It really isn’t.’

She turned, drew her own sword, and took a steady breath, something in the air around her shifting.

Her whole body seemed to lift, and then she moved, a swift flash passing right by his cheek.

He blinked, bringing a hand to his face.

‘…ow.’

She sheathed the blade.

‘See?’

‘Yeah,’ Yuichiro grumbled, wiping the sweat from his forehead. ‘Great. Good for you.’

He drew in another breath.

Focusing.

The air around him cooled slightly. The edges of his vision sharpened.

He stepped forward, turned; his blade cut low, then high, then swept across in a motion he hadn’t properly studied.

And—

Shinobu stepped back abruptly, eyes widening.

He stopped.

‘…what?’

Looking around, he realised the space felt different somehow. But it wasn’t wind, if anything, the air between them had grown dense, almost hazy, unfocused.

Shinobu blinked, her expression tightening as she tried to make sense of it.

‘That wasn’t Wind.’

He looked at her, brow lifting in confusion.

‘…it wasn’t?’

‘No,’ she said again, folding her arms, now intrigued. ‘That was something… else.’

‘I…’ he hesitated. ‘I don’t know what that was.’

She tilted her head.

‘It reminded me of something one of the more experienced slayers mentioned. Mist. Mist Breathing.’

‘…mist?’

He stared at his blade, puffing his cheeks slightly.

‘That’s not what I was going for.’

‘But it’s what you did,’ she said, smiling. ‘Apparently, you were born to be taciturn and hide away.’

He gave her a thoroughly unimpressed look.

‘Hilarious.’

‘Oh, come off it,’ she said, nudging his shoulder with her elbow. ‘It suits you. Mysterious… introverted, grumpy. Makes people lose their way.’

‘Keep talking and I’ll show you just how lost you can get.’

She huffed.

‘See? That’s the Mist spirit.’

Yuichiro looked down at his hands, flexing them slowly.

‘…but I really did that?’

She nodded. ‘You really did.’

He took a moment to process it; his expression shifted as it sank in, and then a smile spread across his face.

A genuine, crooked, boyish smile. A smile that didn’t belong to a traumatised boy or a warrior, but simply to a child, excited for having managed to make something work.

‘I did it!’

Shinobu smiled as well, feeling herself caught up in her friend’s joy.

‘You did.’

He glanced back at his blade, then at the path his feet had taken without him realising, soft, grounded steps, movements he hadn’t planned, yet somehow executed anyway.

‘Guess the sword chose for me.’

‘Well…’ she shrugged. ‘Who knows? Sometimes it’s in the blood.’

He raised a brow. ‘Now you’re going to start philosophising at me?’

‘I’m full of surprises, you know.’

He let out a small laugh, then pulled a face.

‘Still stings.’

She tossed him a water flask.

‘Give it a rest, Mist Boy.’

He took a long drink, still smiling.

And as they sat there on the grass, the sun warming their backs and their breathing finally evening out, he said quietly, idly swinging his legs:

‘Cheers. For not laughing too much.’

Shinobu didn’t look at him, her teasing tone returning as ever.

‘Please. I’m saving it all for later.’

‘…you’re the worst.’

 

 

 

16th November 1913, Taishō jidai 

 

The warmth of the bath still clung to Yuichiro’s skin, and his body ached in that dull, satisfying way that only came after a full day of training, the kind that made every muscle sore but reminded him how far he'd come.

He stretched his shoulders, rolling his neck as he stepped through the engawa. The last rays of the sun filtered through the paper doors, painting the wooden floor amber.

He had managed to execute three of the Mist Breathing forms today. Three. In a single session. Shinobu had clapped. Actually clapped.

He smiled to himself as he reached the sliding door to their room.

Muichiro would be asleep. Yuichiro caught himself thinking he had to tell him later, that this was something he’d want to hear, something he’d probably like. The thought came so naturally it almost felt normal.

Even so, Yuichiro had learnt to live with it in his own way. Every night, without fail, he would sit by his side and talk, telling him about everything, about what had happened, what he’d thought, anything that came to mind, holding onto the hope that, somehow, the words would still reach him.

 

He slid the door open, already preparing himself for the same familiar sight.

 

 

Muichiro was sitting upright on the bed.

 

 

Muichiro was awake.

 

 

Yuichiro stopped without meaning to. His thoughts didn’t line up, slipping past each other before he could hold onto any of them. He had imagined this moment so many times, had waited for it, held onto it, and now that it was here, right in front of him, he didn’t know what to do with it.

 

Something in him felt unsteady, like he couldn’t quite feel the ground beneath his feet anymore, like it might give way at any moment and he wouldn’t be able to stop it.

 

'M-Mui…?'

 

His voice came out uneven. He stepped forward quickly, almost stumbling, eyes fixed on him like looking away might undo it. 'You’re… you’re awake… you really… you—' The words tangled, slipping out of reach before he could finish them. He let out a breath that shook on the way out. 'Mui…'

He dropped to his knees beside him and pulled him into a tight, unsteady hug, hands gripping at his clothes because he couldn’t just look, he had to feel it, had to know he wasn’t dreaming. His chest ached with it, with the relief, with the disbelief, with everything crashing together at once. 'You woke up… you actually woke up! I thought I’d lost you… I thought you weren’t coming back…'

The words came faster now, uneven, and he couldn’t stop them.

But Muichiro didn’t react.

Yuichiro felt it straight away, the absence of anything in return. He pulled back just enough to look at him, his hands still resting on him, unwilling to let go.

'Can you hear me? It’s me… Yuichiro. Your brother. I’m right here…'

Muichiro’s eyes were open, but they didn’t settle on him. They passed over him, unfocused, as if he were looking through him instead of at him.

Muichiro’s lips parted.

'…who are you?'

The words didn’t make sense at first.

Yuichiro blinked, his breath catching, that strange, unnamed feeling in his chest tightening all at once, like everything he had been holding together was starting to give way.

'What?'

Muichiro just blinked at him, like he hadn’t spoken nonsense at all.

'Who… are you?' he asked again.

Like it was a genuine question.

Like he had no idea.

'No. No, no, Mui, it’s me— it’s— you’re joking... right?' Yuichiro’s voice rose. 'It’s me! Yuichiro! I’m— I’m your brother, dammit, don’t— don’t say that—'

He stood, stumbling back a step, hands trembling. His throat was closing in.

He turned toward the door.

'HELP' he shouted. 'Somebody— SOMEBODY HELP!'

He didn’t even know who he was calling. Kanae, Shinobu, anyone, he didn’t care.

Footsteps echoed quickly down the corridor - it was Aoi and Naho, faces alarmed.

'What happened?!'

'He’s— he— he woke up,' Yuichiro said, pointing, voice barely holding together. 'He’s awake— but— but he doesn’t— he doesn’t remember me— he just— he just asked— he said—'

His chest was heaving. He couldn’t finish the sentence.

The girls looked past him at the bed.

Muichiro sat there, eyes wide, something off in them, like he didn’t understand what he was looking at.

Yuichiro couldn’t hold his gaze for long. Not like that. Not when those eyes looked at him like he was a stranger.

He shook his head, once, then again, as if that alone could push it away, his eyes starting to burn.

 

He didn’t understand.

 

"Who are you?"

 

His breath caught.

 

Who am I?

.

.

.

Yuichiro didn’t think he had ever felt this miserable. Not even when he lost his mother, not even when he lost his father soon after, or after that night when he almost lost the only thing he had left. None of it compared to the emptiness he felt now.

 

He sat on the floor, his fists clenched tightly in his lap, Shinobu at his side, arms loosely crossed, her expression unreadable, but not cold.

Across the room, Muichiro sat on the edge of the bed, his legs shifting slightly, his hands resting awkwardly at his sides. Yuichiro couldn’t help but think how small he looked. So small and alone.

Kanae stood between them, her voice gentle as she knelt to Yuichiro’s level.

'There’s something I need to tell you, Yuichiro-kun,' she said. 'We’ve examined him thoroughly. There are no physical injuries. His body is healthy, and there’s no sign of lasting harm. But…'

She looked at him, something soft and pained in her expression, her lips pressing together as if she didn’t know how to say it.

Yuichiro looked up at her, his eyes already wide, searching her face, still trying to hold on to something, still wanting to believe that everything would be alright.

'But...?' he whispered.

'…it seems he’s lost his memories.'

The words didn’t make sense.

They reached him, but they didn’t stay, like they slipped past before he could hold onto them. Then something inside him twisted sharply, like someone had reached in and torn his heart out.

He couldn’t believe it.

He had already lost so much, and now… now this?

Everything. Yuichiro had finally lost everything.

A sound left him before he could stop it.

He laughed.

This had to be a joke. It had to be.

There was no way the world could be this cruel.

 

Why was this happening to them?

Why was this happening to him?

What had he done wrong?

What did he have to give in return just to have a happy life?

 

'…what?'

 

He looked between them, Kanae, Shinobu, Muichiro, trying to make sense of it, but the words wouldn’t settle. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

 

'What do you mean he lost his memories? That’s— that’s not— he’s just confused, right? He’s just tired— maybe he hit his head or something—'

 

But each time he looked at them, at their faces, the realisation hit him harder. 

 

It was really happening.

 

He stood abruptly, panic rising in his throat.

 

'No, no, no— he can’t have lost his memory, he... he looked at me and— and he didn’t know me, he— he didn’t know me!'

 

His voice cracked. His hands trembled. He took a staggering step back, like the air had been knocked from his lungs.

'This isn’t... this can’t...'

His head was spinning.

 

Why? Why him?

 

Why is this happening?!

 

The questions bounced through his mind, until he couldn’t hold himself any longer.

His knees gave in and he sank to the floor, trembling.

The tears followed, hot and sudden. At first they were quiet, slipping down his cheeks without a sound, then breaking into gasps, loud and raw, unrestrained.

Shinobu was the first to move. She crossed the space between them and knelt beside him, her arms wrapping gently around his shoulders, steady and calm against his shaking.

He didn’t resist.

He collapsed into her, sobbing into the crook of her neck, fists curling into the sleeves of her haori. She held him with a softness that belied her usual sharpness.

Kanae moved to his other side, resting a careful hand on his back.

'I’m so sorry...' she said, voice low. 'I know this isn’t what you expected. But… he is awake. That means there’s hope. He’s alive, and he’s here. We can work with that, Yui.'

But Yuichiro couldn’t hear her through the sound of his grief.

Across the room, Muichiro watched the scene unfold with wide, confused eyes.

His lips trembled.

He didn’t understand.

He didn’t know who these people were. He didn’t know where he was. The strange boy sobbing across the room, he didn’t know him.

But seeing him cry hurt.

Something in Muichiro’s chest squeezed.

He didn’t have the words for it, but the sight made his own eyes fill with tears.

And then he was crying too.

The kind of crying that comes from a place you don’t know how to name.

Yuichiro lifted his head just enough to look at him.

And what he saw shattered him all over again.

His baby brother, sitting alone on that bed, confused and scared, eyes wet with tears he didn’t understand.

Yuichiro choked on a breath.

'I’m right here,' he whispered, broken. 'I never left. I never left. I waited for you. I... I trained for you. I became strong for you. I... I talked to you every single day and... and now you don’t even—'

His voice caught in a sob. He couldn’t get the words out, didn’t trust himself to finish the sentence.

Shinobu tightened her grip on him.

And Muichiro just sat there, quiet, tears glistening in his eyes.

Like a ghost watching his own funeral.

 

 

 

 

 

 

20th March 1914, Taishō jidai

 

'Muichiro...' Yuichiro’s voice was soft as he combed through his hair, still damp from the recent bath, the towel still draped over his shoulder. The room now carried a faint scent of soap and herbs thanks to his presence, mixed with the delicate floral aroma brought in by the spring breeze through the open shōji windows. 'Did you eat your mochi?'

Muichiro did not reply immediately. His head was slightly tilted, his gaze fixed on his own fingers, idly playing with them. Normally, he would be staring at something silly in the sky, but that day there was not a single cloud; the sky was completely clear, which meant there was nothing to hold his attention, much to his displeasure. It took a few seconds before he blinked and finally turned to look at Yuichiro.

'I think so,' he murmured, his voice muffled. 'Did I do that?'

Yuichiro gave a restrained smile. 'Yes. You did.'

He did not mention that he himself had handed him the rice cake less than an hour before going to bathe. Nor that Muichiro had praised its sweetness and then forgotten about it minutes later.

He sighed, knackered. He set the comb down on a nearby chest of drawers close by before going over to him, crouching beside the futon where Muichiro sat, his back slightly hunched and his hands resting loosely on his knees.

In the months since his brother finally woke up, Yuichiro had changed. His body was stronger now, his muscles built through training, his posture more disciplined. His hair had grown longer since he had cut it in the winter, a little after the New Year; what had once sat above his chin now brushed his shoulders in fine strands, untouched by training or combat. His uniform marked him out as a Hashira. He carried the title with grace, though few saw the exhaustion he bore with him every day, especially on days like this.

And not that his brother was a burden, far from it, he never had been, and never would be, but it was simply the exhaustion of carrying so much at just twelve.

Muichiro, on the other hand, seemed so small by comparison, small and frail, just as he had always been. His long hair, once identical to Yuichiro’s, had also grown. Now it fell below his waist, reaching down to his thighs.

Yuichiro chose not to cut his twin’s hair as he had done with his own. There was no need, and he knew Muichiro had always been attached to it, both because he liked it and because it reminded him of their mother. Besides, Yuichiro himself was not particularly fond of having cut his hair; he had even found the sight strange at first, never having seen himself with short hair before, let alone as short as it had been then. Even Muichiro had looked at him oddly in those first days. But it was better this way. It did not get in the way in combat.

'Are you feeling well?' he asked gently, placing a hand on his head.

Muichiro blinked again, nodding once before frowning.

'Yui... have we met before?' he asked, and although the question was somewhat tactless, there was no malice, only genuine curiosity for an answer that had yet to come.

Yuichiro’s expression changed before he could stop it. He looked away, pulling a face.

He could not bring himself to look at him straight away when such a painful subject arose.

But he did not show it as much as before. It still hurt, of course it hurt; he could not count how many times he had broken down over it, but at some point, he had learnt to live with it.

After all, there was nothing he could do about it. His brother would never remember him as his older brother, nor their past or their parents.

He closed his eyes for a brief second before opening them again to look at him once more.

'Yes,' he said at last, gently tucking Muichiro’s hair behind his ear. 'We met before.'

Muichiro looked at his older brother and tried to smile, in that odd, crooked way he had now.

'You’re nice.'

Yuichiro was not so sure about that.

'You... used to call me “nii-san”,' he said, more to himself than to the other, as he smoothed his twin’s hair with his hands. 'But I suppose “Yui” will do as well.'

Muichiro tilted his head slightly, placing a hand under his chin, analysing what he had been told.

'Nii-san...?'

Yuichiro did not reply; his brother would forget it in a few hours anyway.

Instead, he continued tending to his long hair, now arranging it into a simple plait so that it would not tangle too much.

It was a nuisance to untangle, and Yuichiro had only realised that upon noticing how remarkably easy it was to take care of his short hair in comparison.

They sat together like that for a while, until Yuichiro finally finished the long plait he had made, tying it with a red ribbon soon after, and they remained in a comfortable silence, broken only by the rustling of the trees outside and the faint laughter of the Ubuyashiki children playing somewhere further in the gardens. From time to time, Muichiro’s eyes followed the sound, curious. Then he forgot why.

'Amane-san said you played with Hinaki and Nichika today,' Yuichiro said after a moment. 'Did you like it?'

Muichiro pulled a slight face, as if weighing the truth of it, his expression softening again when he seemed to remember. When he turned to look at his brother, a small smile formed on his lips.

'I think so.'

Yuichiro smiled as well, pleased to see his twin trying.

'She said you were very kind to the children.'

Muichiro tilted his head. 'Were they mine?'

'No, you silly thing,' Yuichiro said, letting out a soft chuckle, one hand raised lightly in front of his mouth. 'They belong to Kaga... to Oyakata-sama.'

Muichiro frowned again. 'Do I have any?'

'Well... you have me,' he said softly, tempted to lean closer and stroke his hair, but holding himself back; he did not want to ruin his own work of art. 'You always have.'

Muichiro hummed softly, then reached out, lightly fiddling with the sleeve of Yuichiro’s clothing.

'I like you,' he said simply. 'You always come back.'

Yuichiro softened at that, the smile on his lips growing warmer as he took his brother’s hand, holding it gently between his own before meeting his gaze.

'I always will, Mui,' he said, firm and certain. 'No matter where I go. No matter what I have to do.'

'Even when butterflies die?' Muichiro asked suddenly, lifting his gaze from their joined hands to look directly at his brother.

...he had not expected that.

Kanae’s death had been sudden, a tragedy no one had foreseen. Shinobu had not cried in front of anyone, but when they were alone, she had completely broken down, and Yuichiro had been there, supporting her in the same way she had supported him when he cried over his own brother.

Even Yuichiro himself cried quite a lot—not as much as Shinobu, of course. But Kanae helped him a great deal; she saw him cry, saw him at his worst, and was one of the first to truly understand him and help him.

He misses her terribly.

Ans he had not expected Muichiro to remember something like that.

It might have sounded like something careless he had said, but it was not quite like that. Muichiro was absent-minded now, but he had never been foolish and knew very well how to use his words when he wanted to.

Yuichiro lowered his gaze.

'Yes... Even then... even if every butterfly in the world were to disappear, I would still come back to you.'

Muichiro smiled faintly again. 'Alright...'

 

 

 

2th April 1914, Taishō jidai

 

We all have days when we are not at our best, don’t we?

There are days when patience runs thin and small frustrations seem like an unbearable burden. For Yuichiro, these are the days he faces within himself more often than he would like to admit.

He was cleaning his katana with a cloth, with careful movements. And, in the meantime, he noticed his brother by the window, his arms resting on the sill and his chin on top of them, gazing at the night sky. From time to time, his gaze would drift towards him before returning to the blade.

But Muichiro had been like that for several minutes.

Yuichiro frowned slightly, trying to focus on what he was doing, but he could not. His attention kept drifting, his eyes returning to his younger brother again and again, until, finally, he looked at him properly.

'Muichiro,' he called softly.

Nothing.

Yuichiro looked at him, waiting for a response. When none came, he huffed and rolled his eyes.

'Muichiro,' he called again, this time louder.

Still nothing.

Muichiro did not even seem to be there.

With a sigh, Yuichiro stood up, letting the cloth he had been using to clean the blade fall from his hand.

'You’ve been staring at that same damned spot for far too long.'

Why doesn’t he react?

A knot formed in Yuichiro’s throat, he clicked his tongue sharply.

What the hell goes on in his head to leave him like this?

He went over to his brother with heavy steps and abruptly reached out to take the other’s inert hand in his.

'That’s enough!'

The sudden contact made Muichiro flinch, his shoulders tensing slightly. He looked at Yuichiro, confused, his glazed eyes struggling to focus on him.

The sight made Yuichiro falter.

The irritation that had been building in his chest vanished almost immediately, leaving only a faint discomfort. He could never stay angry with his little brother, only disappointed in himself for letting things get to this point.

But that disappointment often became worse than anger, and this was one of those cases.

Yuichiro tightened his grip on his hand.

'Come on, let’s go outside.'

Muichiro did not move. His brow furrowed and his lips parted slightly. 'Why?'

'Because I said so,' Yuichiro replied curtly, immediately regretting the harshness. He always reacted like that, even when he did not want to; unfortunately, that was just the way he was. He looked away, somewhat ashamed of it. '...because I can’t keep watching you like this.'

Muichiro tilted his head slightly. 'Like what?'

The question only made Yuichiro more frustrated.

'Like...' he began, his voice rising with agitation. 'Like you’re not even here.'

He started walking, pulling Muichiro along with him as he went. The younger boy followed without resistance, not that he had the strength to refuse in the first place, simply letting himself be led, still watching him with that same faint confusion.

Yuichiro placed a hand over his furrowed brow; if he kept this up, he would age faster than he should, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

'You’re still breathing. You’re still here, but you’re not really here, Mui. You don’t laugh, you barely speak...'

His voice faltered slightly, a trace of exasperation showing as he murmured more to himself than to his brother:

'...you barely react when someone calls your name.'

He let go of Muichiro’s hand, only to grasp both his shoulders, leaning forward slightly to look at his mirror.

'I feel as if I’ve lost you,' he bit his lip. 'Every single day. Over and over again. I see you, I feed you, I put you to bed, I answer your questions, I hold your hand when you’re scared... but you’re not here, are you?'

He did not know whether his brother was understanding him, because his expression did not change. He knew he should not push this, but, despite everything, he had his limits too.

He was a child just as much as Muichiro.

Yuichiro stepped back, running a hand over his face and letting out a heavy sigh.

Right, Yuichiro. Calm down. Muichiro is not to blame for any of this. None of this was his fault.

Don’t snap at him... Don’t do that.

He turned and began pacing back and forth in the corridor they were now in, his thoughts still spinning. After a moment, he stopped, sighing once more as he rubbed his face again.

Then he lowered his hand, opened his eyes and looked at Muichiro.

'Let’s go outside. I don’t care whether you want to or not. You’re not going to rot in this damned room—'

Yuichiro stopped when he realised Muichiro’s expression faltered. The boy’s gaze dropped slightly as he shrank into himself at the sight of his brother so angry with him.

Well, congratulations, Yuichiro. Look what you’ve done.

A sudden urge to cry rose in his throat, but he held the tears back.

Why does he get everything wrong?

'Look…' He glanced at the ceiling for a moment, trying to calm his thoughts and steady himself, before meeting his brother’s gaze again. 'Let’s go out for a bit, alright?'

Muichiro lifted his gaze slightly towards him and gave a small nod.

Yuichiro extended his hand to his brother and guided him gently through the corridor.

They crossed paths with Amane along the way. She stopped and silently nodded to Yuichiro, showing understanding. Her eyes softened when they met Muichiro, and, without saying a word, she briefly ran her hand through the boy’s hair before continuing on.

Outside, Yuichiro led Muichiro to a bench beneath the large plum tree.

'Sit down,' he said, and Muichiro obeyed.

He stopped in front of him, his arms crossed. 'Now... stay here, and let’s talk, alright? About whatever you want, just don’t go back to being like that again.'

Hearing him, Muichiro shifted his gaze between the leaves in the garden and his brother.

'...I like the yellow ones,' he said after a moment.

Yuichiro raised an eyebrow.

'What?'

Muichiro stretched out his hand and pointed. 'Those. The yellow ones. They remind me of something.'

Yuichiro’s voice softened as he realised he was talking about the small ginkgo leaves.

'Do you know what they remind you of?'

Muichiro stared at them.

'No... but I think... I liked them.'

Yuichiro sat down beside him on the bench and looked at them as well.

They reminded him of many things too.

'You did like them,' he said quietly. 'You liked them very much.'

Muichiro leaned his head lightly against Yuichiro’s shoulder, and, after a moment, he rested his own head gently against his in return.

They remained like that, watching the pale leaves and blossoms drift through the silent night. At times they said something here and there, with Muichiro pointing out other things that caught his attention, and Yuichiro giving him somewhat exaggerated answers to keep him talking.

This was much better than leaving him in that numb state, he convinced himself.

At last, Muichiro lowered his gaze, staring at his lap and the hands resting there. He seemed thoughtful, almost sad.

'I’m sorry...' he said softly, a note of guilt in his voice. 'For being like this... I didn’t want to make you angry.'

Yuichiro turned to look at him.

He deserved something better. He should have lived his childhood like any other child: laughing, playing, and carefree about the cruelty of the world.

Instead, he was there beside him, looking smaller and more fragile than Yuichiro had ever seen him before.

'You don’t need to apologise,' Yuichiro assured him gently. 'Alright?'

Anyway, it’s my fault, he thought, but did not say it out loud. He needed to show confidence to his little brother, and so he would.

Muichiro nodded, still with traces of hurt written across his gentle features.

He would not let his little brother carry so much on his own. After all, he was the elder. It was his duty to make sure Muichiro was safe, no matter what happened…

Wasn’t it?

 

 

 

26th April 1914, Taishō jidai

 

The sky before him was as clouded as his thoughts, despite it being a spring day. It was not uncommon. At this time of year, some days turned greyer, even with summer approaching.

Muichiro was on the terrace of the Ubuyashiki estate, absent-mindedly watching the birds flying across the garden and the breeze moving the wisteria branches above him.

He felt strange, somewhat empty. Something was missing that day, of that he was certain, although he still could not say what.

He only knew he wanted it back.

 

'Muichiro-kun.'

 

He did not respond.

Until that gentle voice called him again, closer this time.

 

'Muichiro-kun... would you like to come inside?'

 

Muichiro finally blinked, as though waking from his daze. When he looked to the side, he found Amane crouched beside him, offering one of the gentlest smiles.

He shook his head slightly, turning his gaze back to the grey sky.

'No.'

'You have been sitting here for quite some time,' she said, kneeling beside him. 'May I stay here with you?'

He murmured softly in agreement.

One of her older daughters, Hinaki or Nichika, he never remembered which, brought a small bowl of plums and a cup of tea for them both. But he was not hungry. He did not want to eat alone.

He remembered what was missing.

He wanted that boy to be here.

His mind seemed to live in a constant emptiness; he did not know who he was or what he was doing. He remembered nothing.

But in his only memories, there was always the same boy beside him. The same boy who stayed with him, who ate with him, smoothed his hair and even woke him from his nightmares, holding him until he fell asleep again.

'Where is Yui?'

The question was asked in the same monotone as always. To anyone watching from the outside, it would seem as though he were asking without interest, but Amane knew otherwise. Whenever Yuichiro left, Muichiro showed a slight state of anxiety, on some days even worse than others.

She gave a gentle smile, softly running a hand along his back. 'He is at the Hashira meeting today, Muichiro-kun.'

He nodded in understanding, now anxiously playing with a strand of his own hair.

It was not the first time he had asked, and it was not the first time he had forgotten that he had asked. He always missed Yuichiro when he went on a mission or to a meeting, sometimes even just to take a bath.

At times, he would ask up to six times in a row on the same morning.

And it was not like forgetting what he had eaten for breakfast or someone’s name, as was often common.

This was different.

Because his twin brother never left his mind. He might forget the way back to his own room or what he had done that day, but he never forgot the boy who always called him Muichiro, sometimes Mui, the one who used to ruffle his hair far too much.

Amane asked gently, 'Do you know what he is to you, Muichiro-kun?'

He looked at her, tilting his head, pulling a slight face as he seemed to try to recall some remaining piece of information in his mind.

'Yui...' he began. 'He is my…'

He stopped, frowning. Amane watched him with a certain expectation.

'I do not know.'

He seemed somewhat saddened by the conclusion, appearing disappointed in himself, even though none of it was his fault.

Poor boy...

'He will be back soon,' she assured gently. As different as the twins were in personality, they shared the same tendency to torment themselves in their own thoughts. 'He always comes back to you.'

Muichiro did not respond. He did not seem convinced. In truth, he seemed almost lifeless.

'Now...' she took his small hands in hers, trying to soothe his anxiety, something else they shared. 'Would you like to come inside with me? We can eat these plums that Hinaki brought. Do you not like them?'

He looked at her, uneasy at first. She was not bad company, far from it. Her presence was comforting; she quieted his thoughts without effort.

But he missed Yui.

In any case, he accepted the offer without much thought. She stood, helping him up and then picking up the tray, and together they went inside.

The fruit was sweet, just the way he liked it. Amane was very generous; she even gave him her portions in return for nothing. She simply smoothed his hair gently with an affectionate smile.

The image of an unfamiliar woman overlapped hers at times. But his head hurt when he tried to think too much about it.

 

When Yuichiro returned, it must have been around eight in the evening; everyone was already preparing to rest.

He was exhausted, more than he would have liked to admit, and all he wanted was to go to his room and lie down, to let the day end without thinking too much about anything.

He walked along the corridor with that in mind, barely paying attention to his surroundings, until he reached the inner room and slowed his pace as he realised it was already occupied before his arrival.

Lady Amane was there, seated on one of the cushions, gently holding Muichiro in her lap. He nestled against her comfortably, his arms crossed beneath his chin, his legs drawn up to his chest and his head tucked into the folds of her kimono, while her pale hand slowly moved through his dark, tangled hair.

He slept deeply and peacefully, his breathing calm, his whole body relaxed in a way Yuichiro had not seen in a long time.

His eyes widened slightly, several emotions rushing through him before he could process them, and, for a moment, he felt as though he were back home, where he and his brother slept in their parents’ laps, safe from all the cruelty of the world.

Amane sensed his presence at the doorway, lifting her gaze to meet his with a knowing tenderness. She smiled and gently pressed a finger to her lips, signalling for him to remain silent.

He inclined his head, finally coming out of his initial state of shock, and approached, kneeling in front of them.

'He called for you the whole afternoon...' she said softly. 'He kept watching the gate anxiously all the while.'

Yuichiro blinked, caught off guard once more. He already had some idea that Muichiro behaved strangely when he was away, but it never failed to surprise him, especially when that realisation came from others.

'For me?'

'Several times,' she said, a faint smile on her lips, reaching out to briefly straighten the older twin’s dishevelled hair. 'Whenever he heard a noise outside, he would go to check if it was you returning, until he finally settled like this and fell asleep in my lap.'

'Oh…'

Yuichiro lowered his gaze to look at the sleeping angel, taking in the delicate lines of his face. Like this, it was almost possible to forget the hazy confusion that clouded his eyes. As though he had him back.

But, as he had said, almost.

He reached out, brushing a few strands of hair away from his brother’s forehead. The touch was as light as a feather, careful not to wake him.

'I do not know how he manages it.'

Amane tilted her head slightly, still looking at him with the same tenderness. 'Manages what?'

'He remains stubborn despite everything,' Yuichiro replied, with a faint, sad smile. 'Even after losing his memory, he still behaves like the old Muichiro...'

 

Yuichiro had just finished his routine: thanking Amane-san for staying with Muichiro all day, taking a quick bath to ease the aches in his body, and having a hot meal, eaten almost in silence.

He returned to the room after washing his plate and brushing his teeth, sliding the shōji door as gently as possible so as not to wake the child inside.

The futons were laid side by side, as always, and, in one of them, Muichiro slept deeply.

He was slightly turned on his side, his arms drawn in close to his body like a small child, the blankets gathered around his shoulders. His breathing was calm. His hair spread freely across the pillow, his fringe falling over his eyes, as it always did, no matter how many times Yuichiro adjusted it.

After carrying him from Lady Amane’s lap to their room earlier, he had not moved once. He had simply curled instinctively into the blankets and gently clung to the edge of Yuichiro’s sleeve, as he used to do.

Yuichiro dropped onto his own futon with a long sigh, lying on his back at first, his arms at his sides and his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

His body was exhausted, that kind of exhaustion that had not left him for a long time. Months of swordsmanship, of blood, bruises and effort had settled into him like grooves in old wood. And yet, the moment he lay down, any trace of sleep that might have existed vanished.

He shifted, restless, turned onto his side, changed the position of the pillow, pulled the blankets up before pushing them aside.

Whenever he closed his eyes, his mind kept turning over and over, even if no thought passed through it.

Meanwhile, Muichiro let out a small indistinct sound in his sleep, something that was not quite a word nor quite a sigh, but something in between.

Another thing that had changed: his brother, who used to be a terrible sleeper, not because of insomnia or anything of the sort, but because he moved far too much. It was so much that Yuichiro would end up giving up on sleeping with him, because of the painful kicks he would take in the middle of the night; now, he simply did not move at all. He slept so still that Yuichiro had caught himself more than once checking whether he was actually alive.

Yuichiro turned over again.

And the seconds passed. From seconds to minutes, from minutes to almost an entire hour in that repetition. It was beginning to irritate him deeply.

With an impatient sigh, he sat on the edge of the futon, running a hand over his face and then through his hair, dragging his fingers across his scalp as if trying to push away the anxiety that was causing that stupid insomnia.

As he looked to the side, his gaze fell upon his brother, who continued to sleep deeply, as if he were not suffering from a persistent insomnia. Yuichiro could not help but envy how easily he managed to sleep in any situation.

Silently, he stood up and crossed the narrow space between them. He sat carefully beside Muichiro, not wanting to wake him. Then he drew his knees up and rested his head on them, his arms wrapped around his legs, watching the slow rise and fall of his brother’s chest.

His hand reached out before he could stop it, his fingers brushing Muichiro’s fringe away from his closed eyes. The strands were soft, like silk between his fingers, and tangled from sleep.

He began to comb through them gently with his fingertips, undoing one small knot after another, smoothing them in the same way Amane-san had done earlier.

'You always hated it when your hair fell into your face,' he murmured softly. 'You used to push it back with both hands and grumble like an old man.'

Not that he expected any response from his sleeping brother, but he wanted to distract himself with something. It was a comforting gesture, one he found himself repeating often.

'You used to speak more back then. You said so many things it was often hard to process.' He laughed softly at the memory. 'You complained about the cold, about having to share the chores with me. And now…'

He stopped laughing, a sad smile now taking over his lips.

'Now you barely speak. Most of the time, you act as if I am not even here.'

His thumb brushed lightly against Muichiro’s temple.

'And even so, you never forget me, despite not knowing who I am most of the time.'

He drew his hand back, letting it rest in his own lap.

He looked at the futon, then at his brother, watching him for a while, lost in thought, until he finally moved.

He lay down carefully beside Muichiro, facing him. He kept a small distance at first, not wanting to disturb him, but the futon was narrow enough that their knees and arms almost touched. He placed one arm beneath his head, the other resting loosely between them.

Lying there, he could feel the warmth coming from his brother. It was steady and familiar, and, slowly, it began to envelop him, like a lullaby.

Yuichiro’s eyes began to close slowly, already taken by sleep.

'...nii-san...'

Yuichiro opened his eyes, confused. He did not understand at first. 'Muichiro?'

He heard that murmur again. His twin’s fingers began to fumble over the blankets; his body started to tremble beneath the thin cotton of his yukata. His pleas began to grow more desperate as his body thrashed more violently.

'Nii-san… nii-san…'

Yuichiro frowned, startled by the sight, and drew back slightly.

His little brother had nightmares almost every day, sometimes more than once a night, in which he cried and struggled, just like now.

But that word had not left Muichiro’s lips for almost a year. And now it came out differently, not out of habit like before, but as a desperate plea. Each time it slipped out, it sounded more distressed.

'Nii-san! Nii-san—!'

Yuichiro did not think any further and finally sprang into action; he knelt quickly and shook him in a futile attempt to wake him. 'Muichiro! Hey—wake up! It’s alright.'

But Muichiro seemed far away. He writhed beneath the covers, his arms moving as if he were fighting something, often even striking himself. His eyes were tightly shut, his face twisted with fear and sorrow.

Seeing that he could not wake him, he decided to try another method. He lifted him gently and cradled him against himself.

He knew exactly what he should do, he had been through this many times since Muichiro had woken up in the Butterfly Mansion.

But why was it so difficult every time?

Muichiro struggled violently, his arms moving in a disordered way, hitting him a few times, on his shoulder, on his chest, even on his chin, clumsy blows, with no intention whatsoever of hurting him.

He simply held him more firmly, enduring the blows.

One of his hands moved to the back of Muichiro’s head, protecting it against his own chest, while the other wrapped around his waist, holding him there carefully, trying to contain those movements without hurting him.

'Shh… it’s alright, Mui, it’s alright…', he said in a low voice, close to his ear, so that wherever he was, he could hear his voice, even as he felt the impact of another sudden movement against his arm. 'It’s over… it’s over…'

His little brother kept trembling against him, his fingers gripping tightly into the fabric of his yukata, pulling at it, creasing it hard.

He seemed to be in so much pain...

That realisation only made his own eyes fill with tears.

'Nii-san…'

Muichiro sobbed loudly.

And in response, a warm tear fell from his own eyes.

'I’m here…', he replied, tilting his head to rest his face against his hair. 'Your nii-san is here, alright? I didn’t go away… I won’t go away.'

Another sudden movement. Muichiro’s elbow struck his chest this time, but he did not even react.

'You can go back to sleep… you’re safe with me… no one will hurt you…' He closed his eyes, still resting his cheek against the boy’s head in his arms, allowing his tears to fall freely, without resistance.

He began to rock him gently, a slow and repetitive motion, trying to guide him back to the peaceful sleep from before.

'It’s alright… it’s over… it’s passed…'

It took a good few minutes before his erratic movements finally began to lose intensity, turning into small spasms, until his arms, once rigid, gradually began to give in. And Yuichiro waited patiently for him.

Even so, his breathing still came in uneven bursts; sometimes he would sob so much that he choked on his own saliva, but that desperate urgency from before was no longer there.

Yuichiro hoped no one would ask about the noises the next day. Unfortunately, his twin made very loud sounds, and even screamed at times, which would easily be heard through those thin walls. He did not want to have to explain again about his brother’s nightmares, even knowing that everyone only worried about them.

At first, Amane-san and sometimes some of the children would come to see them, frightened by the noise. But they stopped after a while, they knew there was nothing they could do and did not want to interfere negatively. So they chose to leave the twins alone, and Yuichiro could not have been more grateful for that.

His fingers slid through the younger’s hair, undoing the tangled strands that had formed from the intense movements moments ago, repeating the gesture his mother used to make when she rocked them to sleep, when they were younger.

'Do you remember? I promised I would always protect you. You’re safe here...' He placed a gentle kiss on his head.

The pressure in his chest was suffocating to bear, to say the least. He felt like shouting, crying louder, breaking down... letting all his frustration out.

But he could not, as much as he wanted to.

He was the elder, he should act as such, with maturity and responsibility, especially when faced with situations like this.

But it hurt him just as much as it hurt Muichiro.

He wished so much that their parents were there...

So, in response to his own sorrow, he simply held him a little tighter against himself, hiding his face in his long hair, taking a deep breath, trying to keep his own body steady as his brother’s finally began to relax.

'Sleep, Muichiro...' even if he was not certain about himself.

 

 

 

9th June 1914, Taishō jidai

 

It was already mid-afternoon when Yuichiro found himself sitting with a book in hand, a cup of warm tea resting beside him. His eyes followed the lines of text, though his mind was only half there. It wasn’t that the book was dull – he had already read it twice.

Muichiro was sitting beside him. Yuichiro barely spared him more than a glance. For all he knew, the boy was probably watching an ant crawl across the floor, or staring at some other tiny thing that had caught his attention.

Distractedly, Yuichiro turned a page and took a sip of his tea, until he felt a strange, light tug at his hair that made the back of his head tickle. It was so faint he almost thought he had imagined it, only to turn his head and find his twin behind him, small fingers delicately tangled in his short hair.

Muichiro frowned slightly in concentration, the tip of his tongue just peeking from the corner of his mouth as he twisted the small lock of hair between his fingers. He didn’t even seem to notice he had been caught.

'…hey, what are you doing?' the confused Yuichiro said eventually, not turning fully around.

Muichiro blinked once. Then looked up, startled, as though pulled from a trance. His fingers paused in Yuichiro’s hair. He tilted his head slightly to the side.

'I… don’t know,' he answered simply.

Yuichiro blinked at him, bemused. 'You’re plaiting my hair.'

Muichiro looked at the strands of Yuichiro’s hair between his fingers, as if noticing the tiny plait there for the first time. It was barely a few centimetres long, uneven and loose.

'…am I?' the younger twin mumbled.

Yuichiro snorted. 'You are. Not that I mind, but it’s strange coming from you.'

Muichiro didn’t reply. Instead, he simply reached out again, his fingers lightly brushing Yuichiro’s head as he began making another little plait.

Yuichiro, on the other hand, didn’t move. He simply let his brother continue playing with his hair freely.

‘Did someone teach you how to do this?’ he asked quietly.

Muichiro shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Then why are you doing it?’

Muichiro hummed softly, as though thinking.

‘I don’t know.’

Yuichiro only sighed in resignation. He knew that would always be the answer. When there was one.

Muichiro’s face was serene, his eyes half-lidded in concentration, like a child discovering a new toy. He wasn’t smiling, but there was no anxiety in his features.

'We used to play at the beauty salon when we were children,' said Yuichiro, his voice now softer.

Muichiro hummed again. 'I think I remember,' though he didn’t sound certain.

Yuichiro murmured, rolling his eyes. 'I imagine…' He didn’t press the matter further.

After a few minutes, Yuichiro now had three tiny plaits lined up behind his ear. He could feel each one shift when he tilted his head.

'Does it look ridiculous?' he asked, a small grin tugging at his lips.

Muichiro blinked. '…a little,' he said without hesitation.

Yuichiro chuckled. 'At least you’re honest.'

'Can I keep going?' Muichiro asked.

He nodded. 'Yes. You can.'

Muichiro then returned to what he had been doing.

This time it seemed he wouldn’t make only little plaits – something more like a small plaited ponytail was beginning to take shape, with half of Yuichiro’s hair left loose.

Muichiro didn’t laugh. He didn’t talk much. He didn’t play the way other children his age did. But Yuichiro knew moments like this were his way of being close.

Yuichiro closed his eyes.

He didn’t want it to end.

Until small footsteps echoed along the corridor outside, and a light knock followed on the shōji panel, almost imperceptible, but like a polite tap.

The screen slid open just enough to admit a small boy, one of the Ubuyashiki children, though not the eldest and not one Yuichiro saw often.

He carried in both hands a shallow lacquered tray containing a small bowl of sliced persimmons and a pot of steaming tea with two clean cups.

‘Good morning,’ said the boy, his voice light and a little breathless.

Two pairs of blue eyes turned towards him. Yuichiro greeted him first, however. ‘Good morning…’

'I brought this for you,' the child went on, stepping gingerly across the tatami and setting the tray down between them. 'Okaa-sama said you hadn’t eaten yet.'

Yuichiro gave a quiet chuckle. 'She always knows.'

Muichiro stared at the boy, curious as ever, his eyes wide. To Yuichiro’s surprise, he pointed.

‘You have the same hair.’

The boy blinked, surprised, then touched his own plait with his little fingers. ‘I suppose I do,’ he said with a small giggle for Mui.

Muichiro tilted his head. ‘But yours is prettier.’

The boy flushed with pride. ‘It’s because my mother brushes my hair every night. She says it keeps the nightmares away.’

Yuichiro glanced at his brother. ‘Maybe I should do the same for you.’

Muichiro nodded solemnly. ‘Alright.’

The boy smiled and knelt beside them without hesitation, serving the tea with both hands, a little clumsily, spilling a bit onto the tray. But it wasn’t something either of the twins would point out.

Then he offered the first cup to Yuichiro and the second to Muichiro, who looked to his brother as if asking permission before taking it with both hands, studying it.

'Thank you,' Yuichiro said.

'You’re welcome.' The boy sat back on his heels. 'Okaa-sama says we should always take care of each other. Even the Hashira need someone to look after them.'

Yuichiro smiled again, this time smaller. 'Your mother is very wise.'

Meanwhile, Muichiro continued staring at the tea. He hadn’t taken a sip yet, only watching the faint trail of steam rising from it, until he looked back at the boy in front of him.

'Do you have any siblings?' he asked suddenly.

The boy nodded. 'Four.'

Muichiro blinked. 'That’s a lot.'

The boy grinned. 'It is. Sometimes I wish I had just one, though. One’s enough, don’t you think?'

Muichiro turned to glance at Yuichiro, who met his gaze.

'Mm...' he hummed.

While the boy looked at the twins with a warm smile, he seemed to remember something. He slipped a hand into his sleeve and pulled out something small, a folded strip of paper. 'Here,' he said, handing it to Muichiro. 'It’s a lucky charm. I made it yesterday.'

Muichiro accepted the object with both hands, staring at the small paper talisman shaped like stars. He didn’t say anything at first, but the glimmer in his eyes as he looked at it already said plenty.

'Thank you,' he said finally.

The boy stood up, dusting the dirt from his knees. 'I’ll come back later with the sweets, but don’t tell anyone, alright? It’s a secret.'

Muichiro nodded seriously. 'Secret...'

Yuichiro shook his head with a little laugh. 'We won’t say a word.'

The boy waved and slipped out through the shoji, careful to close it without a sound.

Muichiro placed the paper charm on his lap, then leaned against Yuichiro without a word. His head rested softly on his brother’s shoulder, and his fingers resumed their slow play in his hair, less purposeful now, more a comfort than an action.

Yuichiro almost let himself sink into the moment. Almost. Then he remembered something important.

‘Muichiro?’ he said, gently poking his brother’s cheek. ‘Time for a bath, don’t you think?’

Muichiro let out a long, grumbly "hmph," giving Yuichiro a sideways glance with a little pout.

'Hey, none of that. Remember what we said about you being a clean boy? No grumbling.' Yuichiro said, trying not to laugh.

Muichiro flopped onto his back, puffing his cheeks as if still muttering, resigned.

'Okay…'

 

 

 

5th August 1914, Taishō jidai

 

The forest settled back into its natural density, as though nothing had disturbed it. Yuichiro lowered his katana at his side, the blade slick with black ichor staining the undergrowth. His movements came to a stop as the last demon fell apart before even touching the ground, already crumbling into ash. It was anticlimactic, to be honest. He had not needed to try.

It was not that he was being petty, that was not it, but he had expected more adrenaline, perhaps?

At least the mission had ended quickly. The sooner it was done, the sooner he would be home, the sooner he would be back with his brother.

'I was wondering how long you’d be sulking out here.'

He would recognise that voice anywhere.

'Should've known you were stalking me.'

Shinobu came into view, agile as ever, her uniform impeccable despite all the effort she had put into the mission, while her haori fluttered lightly in the breeze. Her arms were crossed loosely behind her back, a mischievous smile on her lips.

'Stalking?' she echoed with mock offence. 'Please. I was on patrol. Some of us still do our job with elegance.'

Yuichiro glanced at her over his shoulder. 'Is that what you call watching from the trees for half an hour?'

'I was giving you a chance to impress me,' she said, her tone laced with irony. 'You did not.'

He rolled his eyes, then turned back to the corpses-that-weren’t, not even proper bodies, just heaps of disintegrating flesh already sinking into nothing.

'Only four or five low-level demons,' he grumbled. 'They hardly posed a challenge.'

'Mm... I figured. You took too long to draw your blade for it to be anything exciting.' She took a few steps forward, her gaze flickering to the blood on his shoulder. 'You’re bleeding.'

'It's not mine.'

'Sloppy.'

Yuichiro did not take the bait.

Instead, he wiped his blade clean against the damp moss and slid it back into its sheath with a sharp click, and, without saying anything further, she sat on a rock, stretching her legs and rolling her shoulders, leaning back against the tree behind her.

'Why do you even bother coming out here?' he asked, knackered. 'You already patrol enough territory.'

'I like the night air,' she replied simply. 'And I like irritating you.'

'Well, mission accomplished, then.'

Shinobu hummed in acknowledgement.

The cicadas droned somewhere deeper in the woods, a low buzz that made any attempt at silence impossible.

'Was Muichiro all right when you left?' Shinobu asked at last.

Yuichiro frowned upon hearing the question, unsure where this conversation was heading. ‘He was calm.’

'"Calm" is the word you use for when he has not cried yet today?'

He shot her an irritated look.

She raised her hands to placate him. 'I am not mocking, only clarifying.'

'...he has been quieter lately, but not in a good way.' The irritation had left his blue eyes, replaced now by hurt and so many other things far too difficult to put into words. 'Some days he barely speaks. He just stares at something, as if he has…'

'Gone?' Shinobu finished softly.

He nodded. The breeze shifted, brushing a few loose strands of his ponytail across his face. He pushed them away.

'Even so, you are doing more than most would in your place,' she said, looking at him with a sad tenderness.

'That is not enough.'

'You never think it is,' she murmured.

Yuichiro sighed, finally giving in and sat beside her, resting his arms over his knees as he buried his face in them.

He looked exhausted. That is, he did not look exhausted, he was exhausted.

 

He was bloody exhausted.

 

'And do you know the worst part?' He must look pathetic now. What a sight. A Hashira, meant to be the highest of pillars, now giving in to his feelings like a child. Then again… is he not one? 'Sometimes I forget what he was like, and I hate myself for it, because even after everything, he never forgets me. Even forgetting everything else, he never forgets me. But it feels like I cannot do enough for him, that I am not enough for him.

At first, Shinobu seemed hesitant to respond and took a moment before saying anything. She had never considered herself good at comforting others in the first place. Though, if she truly had nothing to say, Yuichiro would not have minded settling for silence, but she finally spoke:

'That is not a small thing, Yui… You need to learn to value yourself more.'

Yuichiro did not respond. But she could still hear a faint sniffle from him.

'Even so...' she added, nudging him with her elbow in an attempt to lighten the mood, 'you could at least tie your hair properly. I almost mistook you for a wild animal when I saw you from behind.'

That drew a quiet laugh from him.

'Do you never take anything seriously?'

'Only when I am dissecting something,' Shinobu gave him a mischievous wink.

He lifted his head to look at her, letting out another small laugh, but it did not reach his eyes.

Shinobu stood first, brushing the dust from her knees. 'Come. The path back to the estate is clear. You can brood on the way, what do you say?'

'I do not brood!'

'Of course, of course...'

He got to his feet, groaning as his muscles protested. 'You are insufferable.'

‘Admit it, Yui, you’d miss me if I died.’

He turned his head, feeling irritated that she had even considered actually saying something that stupid. And for a few seconds, he simply stared at her, one eyebrow raised, in disbelief.

‘That’s not funny.’

She blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of his reaction. The smile on her lips faltered, losing its strength.

‘Sorry…’ She cleared her throat, trying to mask the awkwardness. ‘Well, but you do know you have every right to rest, don’t you?’

Yuichiro scoffed as though it didn’t even deserve a proper answer.

‘I’ll only rest when he is safe.’

Focused on their way back, they came across three more demons, yet none of them strong enough to pose any real danger.

And... well, the rest of it had every reason to be uneventful, but obviously that wasn’t what was going to happen. Shinobu being Shinobu, she began to grow restless at his side. Yuichiro found himself casting small, fleeting glances at her before truly paying it any mind.

AKA: before that behaviour began to gnaw at his own anxiety.

But before he could ask or say anything about it, she spoke up herself.

‘You know… I think this must be the most boring post-mission walk I’ve ever had in my life.’

Yui looked at her with sheer boredom (so that was what she meant). ‘Is that your way of saying I’m being dull?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, stepping over a tree root. ‘Although I imagine you’re always like this. Even so, is there something you don’t want to tell me, Yuichiro?’

He kept his eyes forward for a moment, not answering straight away. His expression distant, as though he were lost in his own thoughts. His reply took long enough for her to wonder whether he would answer at all.

‘Our birthday is coming up.’

Shinobu stopped, taking in the information she had just been given. ‘Yours and Muichiro’s?’

He nodded once. ‘The eighth. Of this month.’

She frowned, looking at him as he continued walking ahead of her. ‘But that’s in three days.’

‘Mm.’

And when she realised he wasn’t going to stop, she quickly matched his pace again. She cast him a slightly disappointed look, as though expecting more. ‘And why didn’t you say anything before?’

Yuichiro shrugged, appearing uninterested, though he disguised it rather poorly. ‘I don’t know… it didn’t seem important.’

‘How not?’ the indignation in her voice was unmistakable. ‘Birthdays are important milestones. They ought to be celebrated.’

 

Ah… now wasn’t a good time for this.

 

He wasn’t in the mood for it. He had no energy whatsoever for that conversation. He was tired, and all he wanted was to be by Muichiro’s side. He didn’t want to deal with it. Not with Shinobu, not with anyone.

 

But that thought only made him feel guilty.

 

His friend had nothing to do with his exhaustion. On the contrary, even through thick and thin, she was one of the first to be there. With a soft sigh, he tried to compose himself.

But “tried” was the right word.

 

‘I really don’t… see the point in it any more.’

Shinobu tilted her head slightly, watching him more closely as she noticed the change in his voice. ‘Why not?’

He stopped abruptly, making her stop as well, and turned to face her.

This was one of the few times when his expression wasn’t defensive.

‘I haven’t properly celebrated a birthday since our parents died,’ he already felt himself dissociating from the conversation. ‘The last time that happened, we were nine. And even then, it was just… our favourite dishes made by our parents. But it was comforting. I felt truly safe back then.’

His hand began to toy with the hilt of his sword – clear signs of his anxiety flaring up.

‘But now it’s just a date on the calendar. Just another reminder that we’re still breathing while they’re not. Another year in which I’ve had to watch my brother drift further and further away from himself.’

Shinobu’s expression softened in understanding. She understood what he meant, but she didn’t interrupt him. She knew he needed to let it out.

‘…I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels… wrong? As though celebrating were just another reminder of my failure. As though we were pretending at a happiness we don’t have.’

‘But you don’t have to pretend anything, Yui,’ she said gently. ‘That doesn’t mean you can’t celebrate the day. Even if it’s just the two of you.’

A clear sign of frustration passed across Yuichiro’s face.

He looked away, already feeling his eyes grow slightly red. Shinobu watched him with mutual understanding – the understanding of someone who had been through it and was still going through it.

‘Look…’ she began again. ‘As you may well remember, I lost Kanae at the end of last year. Just before the snow came. I remember because the camellias had only just begun to bloom in the garden.’

Even so, Yuichiro’s gaze still didn’t meet hers. He couldn’t look at her. Not when he felt on the verge of falling apart more than he already had.

‘After that, everything felt absurdly distant and heavy. To forget, I simply threw myself headlong into work and anything else that would keep me from remembering how empty I felt.’

She paused, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her cheek.

‘But then Tomioka-san began leaving a lotus flower at my door every day. He never explained anything to me. He didn’t even wait for thanks. He simply… remembered, when I was trying so hard not to remember. And little by little, I allowed myself to remember as well. Not because the pain had gone, but because pretending it didn’t hurt was worse than accepting the pain. Embracing it makes the process gentler than it seems.’

Yuichiro frowned, lightly biting his own lip, still fidgeting with the sword hilt.

Shinobu wasn’t foolish, she had already noticed those repetitive movements of his, so she took his hand in hers in an attempt to make him stop.

The gesture made him finally look at her.

‘You don’t have to celebrate with a grand party. But know that you–or rather, the two of you–have the right to celebrate your day. After all, if you don’t do it for yourselves… are you really going to wait for someone else to do it?’

Yuichiro found himself letting out a breath through his nose he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding, running his tongue along the corner of his mouth as though organising his thoughts before speaking.

‘…I’ll think about it.’

She smiled softly. ‘That’s all I ask.’

And they went on without saying anything more for a while.

At the very least, he didn’t seem quite as anxious as before.

As they neared the edge of the forest, she glanced sideways and added:

‘Even so, I might prepare something. Just in case, should you change your mind.’

He scoffed. ‘Of course you will.’

‘Well…’ they stood face to face, ‘consider it a precaution. Like an antidote for stubbornness.’

He shot her an indignant look. ‘Are you calling me stubborn?’

‘Oh, no,’ she said sweetly. ‘Simply persistently difficult.’

He stuck his tongue out at her, in a somewhat childish gesture.

But she didn’t mind in the slightest.

In fact, she rather liked seeing him like that, in those rare moments, acting like the child he had always been meant to be.

 

 

 

8th August 1914, Taishō jidai

 

Muichiro woke first.

His dark lashes fluttered once, then twice, before his eyes fully opened, trembling slightly as they tried to adjust to the morning light.

He did not move at first, his hazy mind trying to settle on the fact that he had woken from yet another of those dreams in which he never remembered what they were.

Until something beside him caught his attention, pulling him from his dazed state.

There was a small body beside him, beneath the covers.

Muichiro found himself looking at it with a certain glint in his eyes.

But simply looking was not exactly his interest.

He pressed his lips lightly between his teeth, distracted, as his fingers found a strand that was far too short, considering the length of his own hair.

The two twins had inherited their admiration for hair from their late mother, although only one of them remembered her, which is why, even if it appeared frizzy and messy at times, it was always soft and clean.

His fingers slid along the strand.

Again.

And again.

And, to be honest? He did not seem at all concerned about not waking him. Lately, “concern” was not exactly his priority.

Yuichiro stirred.

A murmur slipped from his lips as he shifted beneath the covers. His brows furrowed slightly, bothered by the sensation on his head. Then, with a low groan, he stretched. His eyes opened.

He yawned, needing a moment to collect himself.

First, he saw the ceiling, still somewhat blurred.

And then, his twin. He narrowed his eyes.

'Mui…?'

At the sound of his name, Muichiro cast him a brief glance, while continuing to stroke his hair softly.

Yuichiro blinked again to chase the sleep from his eyes and rubbed them with the palm of his hand.

'…what are you doing?'

Shrging—as though it were nothing at all—Muichiro withdrew his hand from his brother’s hair and stretched as well, as if copying the movement he had just seen, shaking off whatever traces of sleep still lingered.

Yuichiro puffed his cheeks at the lack of a response, not repeating the question. Instead, he sat up, letting the futon fall from his shoulders.

Yuichiro cast a glance towards the window.

The sky was light grey; it must have been just past six o’clock.

He turned to his brother. 'Come on,' he said gently. 'Let’s get up.'

Muichiro pushed the futon aside and looked at Yuichiro, who was now looking down at him.

'Where are we?'

Yuichiro sighed, frowning as he tried. 'We are at the Ubuyashiki estate. With Oyakata-sama and his family... do you remember?' He murmured the last part.

Muichiro frowned slightly, replying to his brother with a low murmur.

And Yuichiro did not press the matter.

Instead, he reached out, gently brushing Muichiro’s long hair away from his face.

It had grown even more over these past months. Perhaps he should cut it a little so that it would not bother him so much.

He gave a knackered smile.

‘Let’s get up and eat something. It’s morning already.’

Yuichiro held out his hands to his brother.

They moved together through the house, the sound of their footsteps almost inaudible against the wooden floor.

Outside the mansion, nature was already beginning to animate as the sun slowly emerged from behind the clouds, unlike Yuichiro, who felt the complete opposite.

Today is the eighth day of the month.

Today is their birthday.

And he hadn’t reminded Muichiro of it. In truth, Yuichiro didn’t even want to remember it himself, let alone remind his brother.

Because, after all, what was the point?

There would be no memories of the birthdays they had shared.

No memories of the food, the summer lanterns, the clumsy presents made with paper and thread.

Of their parents…

And as he led his brother by the hand towards the corridor, Yuichiro felt once more that strange contradiction that had come to define his life.

The sensation of having lost someone he still saw every day.

When they reached the dining room, the Ubuyashiki family were already gathered. With the exception of one particular person.

The sliding door creaked softly as Yuichiro opened it, and the two boys stepped inside.

‘Ohayou gozaimasu,’ said Yuichiro, bowing respectfully.

Muichiro looked at him with wide eyes before imitating him rather awkwardly. ‘Ohayou… gozaimasu.’

Around the low table sat all five of Oyakata-sama and Amane-sama’s children, each returning the greeting with warm smiles. They bowed back, quietly, gently.

The younger girl, a child of about seven, stood up and approached them with a radiant smile. ‘Muichiro-kun, I’m Kuina,’ she said gently. ‘Do you remember me?’

Muichiro tilted his head, resting his chin in his hands. ‘No.’

Kuina simply nodded, entirely unfazed by the older boy’s apathy. ‘That’s all right! I’m your friend. I’ll tell you again tomorrow if you forget.’

Yuichiro inclined his head slightly in gratitude.

Lady Amane then appeared from the corridor, carrying a lacquered wooden tray. Her expression was as serene as ever, though her eyes softened with tenderness as she approached.

‘Good morning, boys!’ she said, placing the tray at the head of the table. ‘You’ve come at just the right time.’

The table had already been set with impeccable precision: steaming ceramic bowls of misoshiru with wakame and tofu, tamagoyaki cut into perfect golden rolls, small dishes of tsukemono (pickled fish), grilled salmon fillets glistening with glaze. At the centre, a warm ohitsu (fried rice), ready to be served. A smaller, separate tray held pieces of wagashi (seasonal sweets) made with azuki bean paste and soft mochi, shaped like camellias.

Muichiro sat cross-legged beside his brother, observing the table with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. He reached out as though to touch the tamagoyaki, but stopped halfway, looking at his brother as if asking for permission.

‘You can eat,’ said Yuichiro, gently guiding his hand.

Amane knelt beside them once more with two new bowls, this time filled with something different: radish simmered and glazed with miso.

She placed one in front of Yuichiro. ‘Daikon with miso,’ she said. ‘Your favourite, isn’t it?’

Yuichiro looked at her in surprise that she remembered. ‘Yes…’

‘And for Muichiro,’ she added, placing the other bowl, ‘furofuki daikon.’

Muichiro let out a soft hum, his eyes immediately lighting up, clearly drawn to the food before him.

‘I wish you a happy birthday,’ said Amane, bowing deeply.

Right… Yuichiro had imagined this moment would come, what he hadn’t imagined was that he wouldn’t be able to handle it when it did. So he simply hid his face, which was beginning to flush, within his sleeves, allowing himself only the right to remain silent.

But one by one, the children around the table repeated the phrase.

‘Happy birthday, Yuichiro-kun, Muichiro-kun!’

Muichiro lifted his eyes, startled. ‘Birthday?’

‘…today is our birthday, Mui.’

‘Ah,’ murmured Muichiro, feeling like a deflated balloon as he realised he didn’t remember. ‘I didn’t know…’

Amane smiled, running a hand through his tousled hair. ‘It’s all right. Now you know. And we’re grateful to celebrate with you.’

He nodded, leaning slightly into the touch.

Yuichiro, on the other hand, remained with his head lowered. He wasn’t embarrassed, well, a little, of course, because of the attention he was receiving. But it was precisely that attention that spread warmly through his chest.

Yuichiro didn’t consider himself someone who sought attention. But, on the other hand, he was young and still only human. There were also moments when he wished to be recognised. Like now.

‘Yuichiro, Muichiro…’

Yuichiro raised his head slowly, his eyes widening at the sound of that voice, only to find none other than the master himself before them.

He entered silently, as he usually did, with a cane in one hand and one of his daughters supporting him with the other. His smile was serene, despite the pallor brought on by his illness.

‘Happy birthday, my children. You are blessings to this household,’ Kagaya continued, his voice never louder than a whisper, ‘and I feel honoured to witness your growth.’

Yuichiro didn’t trust himself to speak. He couldn’t. Though he wasn’t someone prone to tears, lately that urge had been making itself very present.

Even more so now. He hadn’t felt this way since he lost his parents. But what was the name given to that feeling again…?

The meal began.

There was hardly any talking, only the soft sound of chopsticks against ceramic, the delicate pouring of tea into clay cups, and the laughter of one of the children echoing here and there.

Yuichiro watched Muichiro take a bite of the furofuki daikon, chewing slowly, and smiling simply because it tasted good.

Yuichiro felt his own lips curve.

After the last bowls had been emptied and the steam from the kettle began to fade, the Ubuyashiki family slipped into their usual calm rhythm.

The dishes were stacked and carefully carried away by the older children. The warm aromas of miso, tamagoyaki, and freshly brewed tea still lingered in the air, mingling with the garden breeze that stirred the noren curtains. The low murmur of light conversation replaced the earlier formal greetings, and although the table had been cleared, no one truly seemed in any hurry to leave.

Yuichiro remained kneeling on the tatami, his posture respectful, yet noticeably more relaxed. Beside him, Muichiro sat in that same familiar state of torpor, his fingers now idly toying with the edge of his sleeve, as though unsure what to do without a bowl of rice in his hands. His head turned, his eyes drifting across the room with that distant gaze, until they settled on one of the children he had just met... again.

The girl, with delicate features, noticed and smiled.

‘My name is Hinaki,’ she said gently, inclining slightly forwards. ‘We’ve met before. But it’s all right if you don’t remember.’

Muichiro blinked once, confused, his lips slightly parted as though he were about to speak, but he said nothing. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before dropping to the floor.

Yuichiro placed a hand gently on his brother’s back, encouraging him to interact. ‘They are Oyakata-sama’s children,’ he reminded him softly. ‘You’ve seen them before.’

Muichiro looked at Yuichiro upon hearing the confirmation. Then he nodded. ‘Right,’ he murmured, his eyes still unfocused.

‘It’s not a problem at all,’ Hinaki added cheerfully, stepping closer. ‘We don’t mind reminding you. We’ll do it as many times as necessary, all right?’

Another of the children, a girl named Kanata, dressed in a simple blue kimono, joined them with a tray of still-warm wagashi. She knelt beside Muichiro and gently offered him one.

‘They’re azuki beans,’ she said. ‘We saved them for later, because they’re sweet. It’s your birthday, isn’t it?’

Muichiro didn’t respond straight away, but looked at the sweet with a vague interest before taking it in his delicate hands. ‘Birthday?’ he asked, tilting his head.

‘Yes. It’s the day we were born. We just talked about it,’ said Yui, giving his brother a light tap on the forehead.

‘Ah…’ Muichiro said simply, bringing a hand up to where his brother had tapped.

Kanata let out a soft giggle and offered one to Yuichiro as well. ‘For you too. Happy birthday.’

Yuichiro accepted it with both hands and inclined his head politely. ‘Thank you.’

There was movement near the engawa. Amane-san, who had remained quietly beside her husband throughout the meal, rose with a slight inclination of her head. Kagaya-sama followed, supported gently by her arm. Though he moved with the grace of someone untouched by pain, his breathing was slower than usual.

Yuichiro rose at once, bowing deeply. The children followed his example, and Muichiro imitated the gesture a moment later, still holding his wagashi.

Kagaya’s voice, though faint, was clear as he spoke:

‘Thank you for joining us this morning… It was a joy to share your birthday.’

Amane smiled gently. ‘We hope it brought you some comfort.’

Yuichiro looked into their eyes with deep reverence. ‘Yes, it was enough. Thank you… for everything.’

Kagaya nodded, his expression serene. ‘We shall leave you in good company now. Please, spend the rest of your day as you wish.’

With a final bow, the two withdrew, their presence lingering in the space even after they’d vanished behind the sliding doors. Yuichiro remained still until the noren settled again.

Once the excitement settled, Hinaki clapped her hands softly. 'Right! Who wants their hair plaited?'

'What?' Yuichiro blinked.

But Hinaki was already reaching delicately for Muichiro’s long, silky strands. 'I’ve always wanted to try. Your hair is like clouds.'

Muichiro didn’t resist. He remained still, as though he didn’t quite understand why someone was touching his hair, but seemed entirely indifferent to it.

'I used to plait Nichika’s hair,' Hinaki said cheerfully, beginning to separate the strands. 'She always complained that I pulled too hard.'

'You do pull too hard,' Nichika rolled his eyes, though without malice.

Hinaki stuck her tongue out at she. 'That’s part of the experience.'

Muichiro remained indifferent to the happenings around him, but when one of the younger girls handed him a small ribbon, he accepted it without question and passed it to Hinaki. Yuichiro watched the exchange with a warm smile on his face.

Amid genuine laughter and a sense of peace Yuichiro hadn’t felt in three years, he watched Muichiro. He wasn’t as reactive as the others, but he allowed them to touch his hair, to speak near him, to offer him things.

And for a boy like Muichiro, that meant a great deal.

Nichika began to hum a slow, familiar melody, one of the lullabies Amane used to sing to the younger children. Hinaki joined in, off-key and overly dramatic. Even Yuichiro allowed himself a discreet little laugh.

'You’re terrible at that,' he admitted.

'Excuse me,' Hinaki said, pretending to be offended. 'Just so you know, I’ve received compliments on my voice before.'

'You mean you snuck into a festival and sang so badly someone paid you to leave?'

'Details, details…'

They laughed again, and Muichiro’s eyes moved between them.

He had to admit that this day had been nothing like he expected. Of course, it wasn’t that he thought people would ignore his birthday, but he hadn’t expected to feel so comforted inside.

This would not be another day where he pretended nothing meant anything.

This meant something.

 

 

It was late, too late for anyone to be knocking on their door, let alone creeping up to the window.

Yuichiro sat cross-legged on his bed, flicking through an old, dog-eared book he wasn’t even reading. Muichiro was on his bed on the other side of the room, lying on his back and playing with his hair as if he were making little shapes with it on the ceiling – something Yuichiro honestly didn’t understand. The rest of the day had been quiet, exactly the way Yuichiro liked it, no fuss and none of that embarrassing “happy birthday” nonsense.

Until a shadow passed by the window.

On seeing that, immediately on alert, he set the book aside, narrowing his eyes as his hand slowly closed around the hilt of the katana beside him. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as his heart began to quicken. What could be behind his window? What if it was a demon? Not that he would have any difficulty dealing with it, but he didn’t want to face something like that while his brother was beside him. And wasn’t the Ubuyashiki estate supposed to be safe in the first place? What was going on? But before he could spiral into it — tap, tap, tap — fingers on the glass.

 

He nearly jumped out of his skin. ‘What the hell—?’ He sprang to his feet, striding furiously over and pulling the curtain aside.

 

Shinobu’s face stared at him from the darkness, wearing that irritatingly calm smile.

 

‘You—’ he hissed, opening the window just enough for her to climb in. ‘Are you trying to get yourself killed?’

‘Happy birthday, Yuichiro-kun! And hello to you too,’ she said lightly, stepping inside as though climbing through boys’ bedroom windows at night were the most normal thing in the world. In her hands, she carried two small, carefully wrapped boxes.

Yuichiro frowned at them. ‘…you actually did it?’

‘I told you I would,’ she replied, in that soft, teasing voice of hers. ‘Although I’m not surprised you didn’t believe me.’

‘I thought it was just another one of your empty threats,’ he muttered, folding his arms. ‘Didn’t imagine you’d show up like a bloody window burglar.'

‘Hm. And yet, here I am.’ She walked past him, her attention already turning to Muichiro.

He turned his head slightly to watch, his eyes dull but focused in that distant way that had become typical of him lately. Shinobu’s expression softened immediately. She knelt beside his bed, gently placing one of the presents on the blanket in front of him.

‘Happy birthday, Muichiro-kun,’ she said warmly. ‘This one is for you.’

He blinked, curious, looking at the object and then at her as though trying to understand the purpose of the exchange of words.

‘…why?’ he asked, his voice low and monotone.

‘Because it’s your birthday,’ she said, with the same patience one might have with a child. ‘And birthdays deserve a present, don’t they?’

He looked at the box again, his fingers already brushing the ribbon.

Yuichiro watched from the side, leaning against the table.

‘Don’t expect him to thank you,’ he said dryly. ‘He hasn’t been very talkative lately.’

Shinobu glanced over her shoulder gently. ‘That’s all right. Not everything needs words.’

She turned back to Muichiro and gently smoothed his hair with an affectionate smile. ‘Would you like me to open it for you?’

He looked at his brother and received a nod in return. Then he turned his gaze back to her and nodded faintly. She carefully untied the ribbon and folded the paper back, revealing a simple, elegant sketchbook bound in dark-green cloth.

‘I thought you might like a place to draw,’ she said softly. ‘You don’t have to use it straight away. Only when you feel like it, all right?’

Muichiro touched the cover, admiring the abstraction and colours present in it.

Shinobu straightened up and held out the second box to Yuichiro. ‘And this one is for you.’

He looked at it suspiciously.

‘What’s this?’

‘Open it and find out.’

With a muttered 'fine', he tore the paper, revealing a sturdy folding pocketknife with a polished wooden handle. His brows lifted despite himself.

'Not bad,' he admitted grudgingly.

‘You’re welcome.’ She smiled knowingly. ‘Now that you’ve stopped suspecting me, I’ll leave before anyone notices I slipped out.’

As she headed back towards the window, Yuichiro shook his head. ‘You’re mad, you know that?’

She paused with one leg outside the window and looked back.

‘Perhaps. But someone had to make sure you didn’t spend your birthday being miserable and pretending nothing was happening, don’t you think?’

Yuichiro scoffed, but he didn’t argue.

After all, that woman would disagree with everything he said.

 

 

 

23th August 1914, Taishō jidai

 

Yuichiro finally reached the main gate of the mansion with a yawn. The training had been somewhat exhausting, but nothing he wasn’t used to. Sliding open one of the paper doors that led into the corridor, he caught himself thinking how much he’d love to simply throw himself onto the bed and sleep. Sleep for days and days on end.

But he couldn’t. Unfortunately, the life he had been forced to live he has did not allow for such luxuries. He was fortunate that Oyakata-sama allowed him to stay at home for more hours than he should because of his brother. So he shouldn’t complain.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor, his brows knitting slightly.

He thought he had heard something.

Wait… no. He had definitely heard something. And the sound came again.

Paying closer attention, he realised it was coming from the main room just ahead. But it wasn’t the shuffling of someone walking, nor the soft tread of Amane-san tending to the hearth. It sounded like… paper?

Curious, Yuichiro walked silently across the tatami and turned the corner.

Peeking his head discreetly through the doorway, he was met with the sight of Muichiro lying on the floor, on his stomach with his legs bent up behind him, propped on his elbows beside the low table, completely absorbed in whatever he was doing.

A square of pale washi paper fluttered lightly between his fingers, already folded into precise angles. His lips were slightly parted in thought, his head tilted in a particular way, as though aligning the next fold with an invisible thread. Around him lay several other small shapes, some neat, others crumpled, and a few that could only be described as affectionately asymmetrical.

He was making origami.

Yuichiro’s eyes widened, a glimmer of light flickering within them as he noticed.

He hadn’t seen Muichiro fold paper since… well, since they had lost their parents. Since the days when they still lived in that little house nestled among the mountains.

Before the forgetting…

Muichiro didn’t notice his presence at first, or if he did, he said nothing.

Yuichiro cleared his throat at last. 'Hey...'

His eyes met Yuichiro’s immediately and, for a moment, they simply looked at one another.

Until Muichiro decided he wasn’t interested any more and returned to his original focus.

Yuichiro stepped forward, crouching beside the table. 'Where did you learn that?' he asked, unable to hide the admiration in his voice. 'You’re making origami cranes.'

Muichiro didn’t answer straight away. His fingers smoothed the edge of the paper, creasing the wing of the small crane. 'I don’t remember.'

Of course he didn’t remember. Yuichiro felt foolish for bringing it up sometimes, even though he couldn’t help clinging to that sliver of hope whenever he saw his brother do something from the past.

'That used to be one of your favourite pastimes,' Yuichiro murmured, resting his head on the table as he reached out to nudge a forgotten crane. 'Besides running around in the forest with me, of course… You’d sit for hours, just folding. You used to place them on the windowsills. You told me they brought good luck.'

Muichiro tilted his head, humming softly.

'Do you… remember that, Muichiro?'

Muichiro didn’t even look at him this time, merely shaking his head before replying, 'Mm… no.'

Yuichiro’s shoulders slumped slightly. Well… just as he’d said before: foolish Yuichiro.

But just as he was about to change the subject, Muichiro, in a sudden gesture, held something out to him.

He was offering him a fresh sheet of paper.

Yuichiro lifted his head, confused. 'For me?'

Muichiro nodded, the paper still held out towards him.

Yuichiro frowned, but took it at last, staring at the poor sheet as though it were the strangest thing he had ever seen in his life.

Then he looked back at his twin again, this time a little clearer about his intentions. 'You… you’re asking me to fold with you?'

He sat down cross-legged beside his brother, smoothing the paper over his lap. ‘Right, right,’ he said, ‘but I don’t remember how to do this.’

Muichiro handed him another origami crane, one already finished. Yuichiro turned it between his fingers, studying the folds.

‘Right. Like this?’

Yuichiro kept getting it wrong at first, quite badly in fact, and even tore the paper a few times. But fortunately for him, Muichiro was an excellent teacher. Every so often, he would adjust his hands or correct a fold. He didn’t speak most of the times he did so. But, honestly? He didn’t need to.

Muichiro was a special boy, and Yuichiro knew that caring for him and interacting with him now was different.

The pile between them kept growing. Some cranes stood tall and proud, others leaned to the side. But all of them were theirs.

At one point, Muichiro rested his cheek on the table, simply watching Yuichiro finish what seemed to be a butterfly. His fingers moved lazily over the next sheet of paper, smoothing it with slow strokes.

‘You always made the best ones. I see that hasn’t changed, despite everything…’ Yuichiro said, half to himself, as he noticed the butterfly’s left wing sitting lower than the right.

At last, Muichiro reached out again towards the unfinished origami crane in Yuichiro’s hand. He corrected the wing, folded it carefully, and gently pushed it back to him.

Then he looked at his older brother, and smiled with his eyes closed.

Yuichiro stared at him, blinking several times. His heart felt as though it might leap straight out of his chest. So this was what their parents had meant about feeling proud?

He smiled back, the widest smile he had, and leaned forward to nudge one of the cranes, watching it tilt slightly before returning upright.

Muichiro did the same, nudging another.

And then another.

And another.

Before long, they were swaying the cranes back and forth like two small children.

They laughed, truly laughed. That sound had not graced his ears for longer than he could remember.

Now, the two of them lay sprawled back on the tatami. Yuichiro with his arms stretched above his head and his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

‘We should hang them up,’ he said. ‘Like we used to, on the beams.’

Muichiro looked at the ceiling as well, mirroring his brother’s gesture.

‘Cranes everywhere,’ Yuichiro went on. ‘A hundred, at least. You always said that if we made a thousand, we’d be granted a wish. Doesn’t that sound nice, Mui?’

Muichiro looked at him before closing his eyes with a faint smile, (or at least that’s how it seemed to Yuichiro). ‘Yes… that would be wonderful, Yui.’

Yuichiro found himself drifting off more than he should have, barely noticing the breathing beside him growing softer with each passing minute.

‘I would wish for you to get your memory back…’ he whispered, more to the ceiling than to his brother. ‘Or perhaps… I’d wish for something better. Something that doesn’t need wishes.’

Muichiro shifted closer, pressing his body against Yuichiro’s.

Yuichiro turned his head to look at him.

Muichiro’s eyes were closed.

Fast asleep.

Yuichiro let out a soft sigh and lifted one of his arms, draping it gently over his brother’s side.

He didn’t care that they were already thirteen. That the world saw them first as something pitiful and only then as children.

They were just boys.

Yuichiro closed his eyes as well, feeling the warmth beside him.

Perhaps they didn’t need a wish just yet.

 

 

 

11th November 1914, Taishō jidai

 

The gravel crunched beneath his sandals as he walked, each step dragging more than the last. The horizon was pale with the first hints of dawn, though it was still the early hours.

Yuichiro’s breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. His uniform clung to his body, damp with sweat and blood that had dried and stiffened. The bitter taste of iron filled his mouth.

His left shoulder throbbed. The poison hadn’t spread far, he was certain of that, but it still burned beneath his skin, leaving his limb numb. Shinobu’s medicine would help later, he knew that, but for now, he just needed to get home. Just get home.

He could still see them when he blinked. The two demons, twins, ironically. He had fought them near the edge of a pine grove, just past a ruined temple. Both wore painted masks, one red, the other white. One carried himself more gently, while the other screamed as though he could tear the sky apart. They moved in sync, fought as one. Even their deaths had come almost simultaneously, one losing his head mere seconds before the other.

But not before the one in the white mask had driven his claws into his shoulder. The poison it injected was nothing like Shinobu’s – this one didn’t kill, only clouded the opponent’s mind, blurring vision and slowing the body just enough for the final blows to nearly miss.

Yuichiro pressed a hand to the wound, shuddering. His fingers were sticky, but at least he was no longer bleeding.

He stopped at the top of the hill. The house lay just below, wrapped in a kind of protective haze from the wisteria. Its roof still dark beneath the stars. And no lanterns were lit.

The Ubuyashiki estate was asleep, just like Muichiro, he hoped.

He hiccupped with a spasm, blinking hard to push away the dizziness, though it didn’t help much.

The wind tugged lightly at his hair. He hadn’t realised it had come loose from its tie, falling messily across his face. His legs threatened to give way. He took a deep breath, forcing himself onward.

Come on, Yui. Just a few more steps.

Reaching the front door, he hastily slipped off his sandals in an unsteady motion. His hands were trembling badly now, and his stomach began to churn with nausea.

What a terrible time to feel like being sick. Though then again, that might have been another side effect, he wasn’t entirely sure.

He slid open the shōji door and practically collapsed onto the floor inside.

Darkness greeted him.

The pain flared sharply along his side, worse now from the impact.

He pressed his palm against the floor, exhaling heavily.

At least his brother was here. At least he was safe, asleep in his warm bed. And Yui wanted so badly to share that little blanket with his twin.

Yuichiro closed his eyes for a moment, a stray tear slipping free as he did so, and rested his forehead against the wooden frame.

He wasn’t ready to move yet. He didn’t want to make any noise. In truth, he just wanted to disappear.

Taking a deep breath, he finally pushed himself up to reach his brother. Not far now, he just had to get to the room.

Yuichiro had always considered himself an extremely organised person, unlike his brother. And that was why he was somewhat surprised to see the slippers in place. The clothes folded on the chest of drawers. The tatami clean and swept. His side of the futon already prepared. Although he was always the one who kept everything in order, his younger brother had a tendency to be rather untidy at times, even if it was never intentional.

At another moment, he would have felt proud that Muichiro had left everything just as he had arranged it. However, today he felt completely indifferent to it.

His eyes only returned to his twin.

Muichiro’s long hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink, the moonlight catching the strands with silvery highlights. His face was peaceful, untouched by the night.

He didn’t know what had happened, and he wouldn’t remember even if someone told him.

He would wake in the morning and forget it all over again. Forget that Yuichiro had come home injured. Forget what day it was. Forget who he was… forget everything.

Everything…

The knot in Yuichiro’s chest tightened even further.

He pulled away quickly, as though the realisation of his brother’s condition had been the final straw.

He reached for his sword, unfastened it slowly, and set it beside the futon with trembling fingers.

Though his legs were heavy, that wasn’t what finally made him give in.

One moment he was standing, the next he was on his knees. Then sitting. Then bent forward, elbows on his thighs, hands clutching the fabric of his uniform.

He tried to breathe. Inhale. Exhale.

But it was all too much to bear. He was too full of it all.

His throat tightened.

Thirteen.

He was only thirteen years old.

At thirteen, he had already killed more than he could count. He had buried his parents. He had nearly lost his little brother.

And every single time, he had failed.

He says that about his brother so often… but he shouldn’t be in this situation either. He shouldn’t be doing these things. He’s a child too, just like his brother. He should be… well, playing, having fun, laughing. But no, he’s here, crying over things he cannot change.

People talk so much about gratitude, about being thankful for what you still have left. But no one talks about everything that was lost to get here.

A sob reached his ears.

He didn’t want to wake Muichiro. He didn’t want to make any noise.

Damn it–why couldn’t he control himself?

Even beside his brother, just as he had wanted since leaving earlier that day, his mind raced. And whenever he tried to suppress the thoughts, to force himself numb, the effort only left him more exhausted.

And that exhaustion was taking its toll.

His shoulders trembled with the effort to hold himself together, even as he failed miserably. His breathing was uneven, shallow, stifled. Tears slipped from his eyes, trailing down his cheeks and falling silently onto the tatami.

He was so tired.

So, so tired…

He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t know how much longer he could keep living like this–fighting every night, pretending every morning, protecting someone who didn’t even know what he was being protected from.

Yuichiro brought a hand to his mouth, covering it as he tried to muffle another broken sob that escaped him.

He leaned forward until his forehead touched the floor. His hair fell around his face, shadowing his tearful eyes.

Mum, Dad… what do I do?

Please… help me…

I need you.

 

 

Muichiro felt a dull ache in his head as he returned to consciousness, pulled back into reality.

His eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, dark lashes blinking in the bluish half-light of dawn. Judging by the position of the sun, it was still around 5:30 in the morning.

He blinked, rubbing his eyes. To say his mind was calm would have been an understatement; it was more muddled than anything else.

He had been dreaming, a very long dream, but he couldn’t remember what it was about.

That only made his headache worse.

Resigned, he turned his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as he looked around the room. He needed to make sure where he was.

His gaze landed on a dark figure on the opposite futon.

He rubbed his eyes again to focus.

Ah… Yui.

He was asleep, his blanket barely covering his shoulders. His hair was a little messy, unlike usual, and from that angle Muichiro could see part of his face between the dark strands.

He raised an eyebrow.

The light from outside was barely enough to reveal the redness around his brother’s eyes. His cheeks looked flushed and strangely tense. His brow was furrowed, even in sleep.

He didn’t understand why, but the sight unsettled him.

He found himself staring for a long time, wondering what he ought to do - though his thoughts were hardly coherent enough to call thinking.

Then, without saying a word, he pushed the blanket aside and got up.

The floor was cold beneath his feet.

His kimono hung loosely over his shoulders, the sleeves trailing a little past his hands. His hair, still tousled from the night, fell forward as he moved.

When he reached the other futon, he knelt down.

But Yuichiro didn’t move. Always so alert, he didn’t notice his little brother approaching at that moment. His face was still half-buried in the pillow, his breathing steady but slightly uneven.

Muichiro lifted the edge of the blanket and lay down beside him.

It was a gentle movement.

He shifted a little more until his head rested against Yuichiro’s chest, settling into his warmth. His hand lay loosely between them, open.

There was something comforting in it.

To some, he was so apathetic he didn’t even understand what affection was. But he hoped his brother didn’t see him that way either.

After all, Muichiro loved his twin brother. The strange way he could now? Yes. But that didn’t change his feelings.

His eyes closed again.

And within a few minutes, Muichiro was asleep once more.

 

 

 

3th December 1914, Taishō jidai

 

Yuichiro found himself in a dilemma. Either he forced himself to sit upright, back straight despite the bruises covering the sides of his body and the cut on his shoulder, or he took a step towards madness and bolted, just to avoid dealing with it. But unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately – Shinobu would kill him herself if she ever found out he had even considered the second option.

His white uwagi had been removed, revealing the marks of yet another day of self-inflicted strain. Pieces of linen lay scattered on the floor beside him, some already stained with blood and antiseptic.

In front of him, Shinobu prepared a fresh roll of bandages, her brows drawn together.

‘Keep still,’ she warned, kneeling behind him.

‘I am still…’ he muttered, though his clenched jaw and tense shoulders gave away the discomfort he refused to admit.

‘Yuichiro, you’re trembling.’

‘It’s the cold.’ Even though it truly was a rather chilly autumn day, it was such an obvious lie – he was sweating and overheated from training.

Shinobu’s fingers, light as feathers, pressed against his back to steady him. He flinched, a sharp hiss escaping before he could stop it. And, to his relief, she said nothing about it.

‘You’ve reopened the same wound three times this week. If I weren’t here, it would have become infected.’

He didn’t bother to respond. The bandages tightened around his ribs.

‘Do you think you’re immortal now, Yuichiro?’ she pulled the bandage tighter. ‘Or are you simply determined to see how close to death you can get?’

‘…I can handle it,’ he replied, his face tightening with discomfort. ‘It’s just training. I didn’t even draw my sword today.’

‘Well, you didn’t need to. The damage is already done. Look at yourself.’

‘I am looking, and that’s exactly why I’m continuing.’ His trembling hands curled into fists over his knees. ‘If I stop, I’ll fall behind.’

‘Behind who? No one is asking you to compete with anyone.’

At last, he had the decency to turn his head slightly, just enough for her to see the raw determination in his expression.

‘I can’t afford to be weak. I’m not going to lose anyone ever again.’

Shinobu stood, brushing her hands along her sleeves. Her eyes narrowed, now sharp and unyielding.

‘And if you destroy yourself at this pace, what then? You’re no use to anyone if you’re dead.’

He met her gaze with equal intensity. ‘If you want me to stop so badly, why don’t you tell me who’s going to take my place if that happens?’

For a moment, he could see her expression falter. Under normal circumstances, that would have made him feel guilty, but now he was far too consumed by his own pain to notice anyone else’s.

‘He is safe. At the Ubuyashiki Mansion. With people who care about him. People who are not chasing death in an attempt to become invincible.’

‘Are you saying I don’t care about him? Is that it?’

Shinobu ran a hand over her face, sighing in irritation. Honestly, dealing with people was exhausting, especially a stubborn teenager like Yuichiro. Still, pushing that aside, she knelt in front of him again, picking up a bowl of cold water to clean the scratches on his arm.

‘You’re carrying far too much for someone your age,’ she said at last, softening her tone. Matching his intensity would only make things worse, and she knew it. ‘Thirteen years old and already trying to carry heaven and hell on your shoulders.’

Yuichiro didn’t reply. His eyes were fixed on some distant point on the wall. He might seem indifferent to anyone else, but Shinobu knew better. He felt as much as anyone – more than he should, even. Moments like this only proved it.

He pressed a piece of gauze against an open cut on his forearm, watching the muscles beneath tense in resistance.

‘Yuichiro.’

‘…Mm?’

‘Do you really think Muichiro would be proud to see you like this?’

His eyes rolled, not at her, of course. He appreciated her attempt to help. All that frustration was directed at himself and no one else.

‘You think he doesn’t notice,’ she went on, ‘but he does. Perhaps not in the usual way we understand. Remember that his condition doesn’t make him foolish.’

‘That’s not the point, and you know it. He doesn’t remember.’

‘But he still cares about you. In his own way, but he does.’

Yuichiro’s lips trembled, though she couldn’t fully see it as he turned his face away, out of her line of sight.

‘I can’t stop, Shinobu… If I stop, I’ll become like those who lost everything… and I’ve already lost too much. You understand that, don’t you?’

Shinobu set the cloth aside and leaned forward, resting her hand briefly on his bowed head.

‘Then don’t stop,’ she said, despite everything. ‘But slow down.’

He remained in the same position, refusing to look at her, but at least he leaned into her touch. His eyes were beginning to sting with unshed tears.

‘It’s hard…’ he admitted at last, his voice thick. Even without seeing his face, she could understand how he felt. ‘It’s so hard to feel like it’s all on me.’

‘I know, I know.’ Her voice was softer now. ‘But you’re not alone, Yui. I’m here. The Ubuyashiki family is here. Your brother is here. And whether he remembers or not, he’s still walking beside you.’

He nodded once.

Shinobu drew back with a small smile. ‘Now, let’s finish cleaning you up. And I don’t want to see a single open wound tomorrow, or I swear I’ll tie you to your bed. Do you hear me, boy?’

He let out a quiet laugh, the first sound of relief he had made in days.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘And don’t call me “ma’am”. Honestly.’

 

He was still young, and above all, human. He could still make mistakes and be gently held up by people who refused to let him fall.

 

The soft sound of sandals tapping against the wooden engawa echoed faintly as Yuichiro returned from the Butterfly Mansion.

He stepped into the room he shared with Muichiro, intending only to give his brother a brief ruffle of the hair and grab his clothes for a long bath. He felt filthy to an extreme degree.

But what he found upon entering were merely the two futons he had left behind earlier, neatly folded, with no sign of his brother anywhere.

Yuichiro blinked in confusion. His supply bag slipped from his shoulder and fell to the floor with a dull thud. ‘…Muichiro?’

He crossed the tatami and checked behind the noren that led into the small corridor. Nothing. A sense of unease crept through his body.

His anxious mind raced through the worst possible scenarios, and he found himself on the verge of calling for help before a muffled laugh made him stop.

Or rather, two laughs. One more childlike, the other more mature in comparison. Followed by the unmistakable clatter of a wooden spoon hitting the floor.

Yuichiro quickly followed the sounds down the corridor, his bare feet striking the wooden floor, until he reached the kitchen. The paper door was slightly ajar.

And the scene that greeted him could only be described as… surprising.

Amane stood by the stove, her sleeves tied back with a white cloth, stirring something in a small pot. And beside her, perched on a wooden stool, sat Muichiro. His sleeves were tied up just as clumsily, his hair gathered into a rather messy bun, and there was a smear of miso paste on his cheek. He was nibbling awkwardly at a slice of daikon radish.

She noticed Yuichiro first, offering him a gentle smile. ‘Ah… welcome back, Yuichiro-kun.’

Muichiro lifted his eyes as well, surprised to realise his brother had entered and returned.

Yuichiro took a few more steps inside.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked, curious.

Muichiro’s lips parted, then closed again. He glanced down at the radish in his bowl, then turned, hopped off the stool, and crossed the floor to pick up a small ceramic plate resting nearby.

With deliberate, somewhat clumsy movements, he placed a glossy slice of radish onto the board, carefully drizzling it with warm miso, steam rising faintly from its surface. To anyone else, it might have looked imperfect, a little too soft, the cut uneven, but to Yuichiro, it was perfect.

He turned to Yuichiro. The plate was held in both hands, extended forward.

‘…look, Yui. It’s yours.’

Yuichiro stared, eyes wide.

The room seemed to fade around him, and for a moment he didn’t know what to say. His gaze flickered between the radish and his brother’s face, still stunned.

‘You… you made this?’

Muichiro nodded lightly.

‘He did,’ Amane said, turning off the stove and giving him a small wink. ‘With a little help.’

Yuichiro took the plate carefully, as though it might fall apart in his hands. His favourite dish. Something his mother used to make for him. Something that reminded him of winters long past and the warmth of a home that no longer existed. And now… it was there in his hands again. Prepared, clumsily but lovingly, by his younger twin.

‘I…’ he began, but his voice faltered.

Muichiro tilted his head, intrigued by the hesitation.

Yuichiro set the plate down on the counter behind him and, before he could think twice, reached out and pulled Muichiro into an embrace.

Muichiro let out a small breath of surprise, his body going still before relaxing, his hands pressing gently against Yuichiro’s back.

‘Thank you…’ Yuichiro whispered, his voice thick, meant only for him to hear. ‘Thank you, truly, Mui.’

Muichiro didn’t reply with words. Instead, he let out a soft sound, his own way of answering. Of saying “you’re welcome”, or perhaps "I don’t quite understand, but I want you to feel better."

Yuichiro smiled shakily, his face buried against his twin’s neck.

It took him a few long seconds before he finally let go. It wasn’t what he truly wanted, but he knew he had to. Besides, he realised far too late that all of this had happened right in front of Amane-san. How embarrassing…

Muichiro picked up a small cloth and began wiping away the miso he had spilled across the counter, humming a tune he had learnt from Lady Amane. Yuichiro watched him with his arms crossed, the corners of his lips trembling.

‘Did you make enough for two?’ he asked, half teasing.

‘…Three,’ Muichiro replied, smiling gently at him. ‘For you… for me… and for the sky.’

Yuichiro blinked.

He opened his mouth to ask what that meant, but stopped himself. It was Muichiro. He said strange things that were easier to nod along to than to question. You would never get an answer – he didn’t even understand them himself.

‘Right…’ Yuichiro said, running a hand through his hair and tucking a strand behind his ear as he sat down on the stool. ‘Then I’ll eat it properly. Even if it tastes awful.’

‘Mm… it won’t,’ Muichiro murmured, looking at his older brother with puffed cheeks in disapproval.

Yuichiro let out a soft laugh at the sight. His brother was truly adorable.

Amane stepped closer with a smile and gently ruffled both their hair in an affectionate gesture. ‘Well, it may be a little early to declare victory, but it is edible.’

He picked up the plate again and took a bite of the daikon. It was warm and soft, with perhaps a bit too much miso, but there was a wonderful effort in it.

‘You know…’ he began. ‘I’m quite certain this is the best one I’ve ever had in my life.’

 

 

 

4th January 1915, Taishō jidai

 

‘Yuichiro,’ the Master’s voice called after a Hashira meeting.

He turned at once upon hearing his name. ‘Yes, Master?’

‘If you would permit me, stay with me a moment longer. There is something I would like to discuss with you in private.’

A strange wave passed through Yuichiro’s chest. ‘Of course…’

 

What could the Master possibly want to discuss with him like this? Was it about his duties? Had that family finally grown tired of them and were going to suggest they find a place of their own? Was it about Muichiro? Dear God, had something happened to his brother that he didn’t know about?

 

The more he thought, the more nervous he became. He wanted to stop, but he couldn’t help imagining the worst possible outcomes.

The sliding door of one of the rooms closed softly behind them. Only then did he realise they had already reached their destination.

Kagaya settled himself and gestured for Yuichiro to sit as well.

He wasn’t sure whether the Master had noticed his unease. He hoped not. He was a Hashira, strong and fearless. He shouldn’t be shaken by something like this.

Come on, breathe, Yuichiro.

The boy did just that, sitting cross-legged, cautious.

‘I know you have already been through a great deal, Yuichiro,’ Kagaya began, his voice so calm and gentle it almost resembled a lullaby, easing Yuichiro’s worries. Well, not entirely, but almost. ‘Your strength is beyond question. But today, I do not ask for your strength. Instead, I ask for your heart.’

Yuichiro blinked in confusion. ‘Master?’

‘This concerns your brother.’

I knew it! Immediately, Yuichiro stiffened, straightening his back as he drew a quiet breath. ‘Muichiro?’

Kagaya inclined his head. ‘Yes.’

Yuichiro admired his Master deeply. But hearing him speak like this only heightened his anxiety. It gnawed at him so fiercely that being thrown from a cliff would not compare.

‘There may be a way…’ Kagaya said at last, cutting through his thoughts, ‘to restore your brother’s memory.’

Yuichiro’s heart pounded harder, if that were even possible. ‘What…?’ He cleared his throat. ‘You mean he could regain his memories?’

‘Perhaps,’ Kagaya replied gently. ‘I cannot promise you such a thing. But there is someone who may have the ability to help.’

Yuichiro leaned forward, barely restraining the urge to grab the Master by the sleeves and shake the answer out of him. ‘Who? Where is this person? What do they need?’

Kagaya raised a hand. ‘Calm yourself, my child. Breathe.’

Not that it was easy at a moment like this, but Yuichiro forced himself to steady himself. Or rather, “steady himself” would be an understatement, he simply took the anxiety that was spilling out of him and locked it away inside.

‘This is something I tell you in confidence,’ Kagaya said. ‘You must not speak of it to anyone, not to your fellow Hashira, not even to Muichiro himself.’

Yuichiro nodded quickly. ‘I won’t tell anyone. I swear it.’

Kagaya watched him for a moment longer, then said, ‘The person I speak of… is not human.’

‘Not… human…?’

This had to be some kind of joke. Though he knew full well the Master was not that sort of person. Still, who could blame him for thinking it? Yuichiro could hardly believe his own ears. What on earth did he mean by that? Ah… don’t tell me…

 

‘She is a demon.’

 

The room fell silent.

Yuichiro was certain his heart was beating loudly enough for anyone to hear. It rang in his ears now. ‘…what?’

‘Her name is Tamayo.’

His thoughts spun. He couldn’t believe this. For a moment, he almost felt the urge to slap himself, just to wake from such a senseless dream. Was the Master mocking his role as a Hashira? Mocking all the people who had died because of them? ‘A… demon?’

‘Yes.’

‘Master, with all due respect… are you suggesting that you want my brother–my brother–to be treated by a demon?’ His voice rose; he couldn’t hold it back.

Kagaya did not hesitate. ‘Yes.’

‘But… we are demon slayers. That’s why we are here, that’s why they—’ He frowned, anger clear in his expression. ‘It’s because of them that my brother is like this. Because of them so many others have died. How could you…?’

‘Because not all demons are bound to Muzan, my child.’

If looks could kill, Yuichiro would already have committed a crime. He wasn’t proud of harbouring such bitter thoughts towards someone who had given him so much when he had nothing, but he couldn’t help it. He felt betrayed by someone he had never imagined would do so.

He opened his mouth, ready to argue. He didn’t understand how things had come to this point. But before he could speak, Oyakata-sama spoke first.

‘Tamayo is… different from the others. She freed herself from Kibutsuji’s influence and lived in hiding for many years, never once harming anyone. Instead, she has sought to atone for her sins. She has studied the very curse that binds demons, and she is not alone. A young man named Yushiro assists her.’

‘Yushiro…’ Yuichiro repeated. The name felt unsettling. So similar to his own…

‘She has become an ally, my child,’ Kagaya said. ‘And although it required great caution and many months of dialogue, I believe she is sincere. She has offered to help.’

‘And you truly trust her?’ Yuichiro asked, his voice now unsteady.

He didn’t want false hope when it came to something as delicate as his brother.

‘I do.’

Yuichiro lowered his gaze to the floor. His hands curled loosely over his knees, his expression tightening more and more as he retreated into his own thoughts.

Could it really be… that he might have that back?

‘She believes the damage to Muichiro’s mind may not be irreversible,’ the Master continued, as though reading every one of his concerns. ‘His memory may be blocked away rather than completely erased. If she is able to examine him, she may find a way to bring it back. What do you think?’

Silence settled once more. Yuichiro heard everything, even as he was lost in thought, yet he couldn’t find the words to respond. After all… what was one supposed to say in a moment like this?

 

What would their parents have done in his place?

 

They had always cared for their children, had always done everything they could for them, even when they had so little. They had been good people, the best parents Yuichiro could have ever asked for. But would they have agreed to this, despite everything?

Kagaya watched the boy with a gentle, paternal gaze.

‘I understand if you hesitate, if you cannot trust her. You have every right, and every reason. I only ask that you consider what this could mean, not only for your brother, but for you as well.’

The wooden boards beneath his knees suddenly felt far too cold. Or perhaps it was simply his body reacting.

He remembered Muichiro laughing.

He remembered Muichiro crying.

He remembered that gentle boy who used to cling stubbornly to his sleeve and frown whenever he lost their games. The boy who learned to fold origami cranes, whose mind had been so full of imagination. The boy who would scold him when he spoke too harshly, who insisted they take off their shoes before entering the house, even when they were muddy, tired, and sore from getting hurt while playing in the forest.

 

He remembered the boy who had died before his eyes.

And the one who had returned.

 

He made his decision.

 

With his eyes alight with newfound resolve, he met his Master’s gaze. ‘If there is a chance to have him back… then I will take it.’

Kagaya smiled, holding his gaze. ‘Then we shall take the next steps.’

Yuichiro nodded. He had meant every word when he made that choice.

‘But promise me this,’ Kagaya said. ‘You will tell no one. Not until the time is right.’

‘I promise,’ Yuichiro said. ‘On my life.’

Kagaya reached out and gently placed his hand over Yuichiro’s.

‘You are a good child, Yuichiro… always remember that.’

Yuichiro looked down.

He didn’t feel like a good person, let alone a good child. Perhaps he had been, once. But he could no longer remember it.

‘…I try.’

 

 

Now, Yuichiro found himself taking unsteady steps, his mind as lost as it had been since the conversation he had just had.

He had just entrusted his brother’s fate, his memories, his mind, his very life and soul, into the hands of a demon.

He caught himself thinking about how he had once seen Oyakata-sama’s actions as a "betrayal" of the Corps. But hadn’t he done the very same by accepting that risk?

Despite everything, the idea that there might be a genuine hope among all the others was both unbearable and terrifying.

When he reached the sliding door of the room he shared with Muichiro, Yuichiro paused, let out a breath, and composed himself before entering.

The room was lit only by the faint amber glow of a small oil lamp. Inside, Muichiro sat cross-legged on the tatami, a sheet of parchment before him. In one hand, he held a brush dipped in diluted ink, soft shades of colour bleeding through. He looked completely absorbed.

Yuichiro stepped in, careful not to make too much noise and disturb him.

Muichiro’s brush stilled in his hand as he turned his head to look at him.

‘You’re back…’ he said softly.

Yuichiro offered a small smile as he knelt beside him. ‘Yes, I’m back.’

At first, they said nothing more. He settled beside him comfortably while Muichiro continued painting. He might have seemed distant, if not for the way his eyes occasionally drifted back towards his brother.

But Yuichiro didn’t notice; his thoughts were in turmoil.

 

Tamayo… A demon who had escaped Muzan’s control. A demon who healed, who studied, who helped.

 

Could she truly reach the fragments of Muichiro’s lost past? Could his memory be restored after so long? After so much damage?

 

Was it worth the risk?

 

Well, it wasn’t as though he could turn back now. He had already given his word to the Master. But the questions would not stop gnawing at his mind.

He was still lost in thought when he felt something light and soft brush against his hair. He blinked, startled at first, and turned his head slightly to see… fingers? Muichiro’s fingers, gently sliding through the strands at his temple.

‘Hm?’

‘Affection...’ Muichiro murmured simply.

Yuichiro held his breath.

Was this what Shinobu meant when she always pointed out that Muichiro could sense when he wasn’t well?

And to think he had doubted his brother’s ability to understand things. He should remember more often that Muichiro was very clever. Far too clever.

‘Affection, is it?’ he repeated, letting out a soft chuckle. ‘You’ve been spending too much time with the little ones here.’

Muichiro hummed in agreement, continuing to touch his brother’s hair, then his fringe.

Yuichiro reached out and pulled him into a firm embrace, his right arm around the boy’s shoulders as he rested his left hand and chin against that unruly mass of hair. ‘You little pest…’ he murmured. ‘Don’t make me cry now, alright?’

Muichiro nestled closer.

Yuichiro stayed like that for a while, his mind calmer now, simply for being beside the most important person in his life. The decision he had made… yes, it was risky. Yes, it frightened him. But if it was for the boy in his arms, then…

Then he would make that same choice a thousand times over if he had to.

‘Did you have a good day?’ he asked quietly, loosening the embrace just enough to look into his brother’s eyes.

Muichiro tilted his head, thoughtful.

‘…I ate rice,’ he said after a pause. ‘And soup… I think. Amane-san let me feed the carp. The little one bit my finger.’

Yuichiro huffed in amusement. ‘Serves you right, probably.’

‘I painted as well,’ Muichiro added, lifting the paper he had been working on and turning it towards his brother. ‘Look.’

Yuichiro leaned forward.

There, on the parchment, were blurred brushstrokes. Swirls of grey, blue, a bit of pink and… lilac? Well, in Yuichiro’s defence, it wasn’t very clear what it was meant to be - it looked more like a storm of colours blending together. But he was trying his best, at least.

‘Oh, wow,’ Yuichiro said with dramatic admiration. ‘That is– what is that? Mount Fuji? A storm? A dragon?’

Muichiro blinked. ‘It’s a cloud.’

‘A cloud!’ Yuichiro exclaimed, wide-eyed. ‘Of course. How foolish of me not to recognise such mastery.’

Muichiro looked at him with what anyone else might have called a blank expression. But Yui knew him well enough to know it wasn’t. It was simply the way he showed affection.

A small smile even appeared, just for him.

Yuichiro felt warmth flood his chest again. He couldn’t have felt more honoured.

‘You’re getting very good at this, you know,’ he said sincerely, ruffling his brother’s fringe. ‘Next time, you should paint one of us. I’d like to see how you’d draw me.’

Muichiro hummed.

‘I’d need more black ink.’

Yuichiro opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. ‘Fair enough.’

After that, they chose to lie down on the floor in silence for a while. Just the two of them, enjoying each other’s company.

Yuichiro looked once more at the small cloud on the parchment.

Yes, he thought.

For him, I would do anything.

 

 

 

17th March 1915, Taishō jidai

 

Yuichiro moved without haste, folding the clothes with care and organising the supplies, preparing for nothing more than a brief departure.

His haori had been carefully set aside. His sword had already been cleaned and put away earlier that day, though he doubted he would need it for what lay ahead; caution had long since become part of his nature.

Muichiro sat nearby on the tatami, legs crossed, idly playing with a piece of string. He twisted it into a loop and unravelled it again, over and over. He hadn’t yet asked what Yuichiro was doing, and Yuichiro hadn’t made any effort to explain. But he knew it was only a matter of time before his brother noticed.

And, as expected, from the corner of his eye, he saw Muichiro tilt his head slightly in his direction.

‘Why are you folding everything?’

Just as he had imagined, it didn’t take long for him to notice what was happening around him.

‘We’re going on a trip,’ he replied simply, without pausing in what he was doing.

Muichiro blinked, his expression tightening in confusion. ‘A trip?’

Well, one couldn’t blame him. He never went out, never left the mansion, not even to accompany his brother anywhere. So the confusion was perfectly understandable.

‘Mm.’ Yuichiro gave him a small smile. ‘We won’t be going far, and it’ll only be for a few days. We’ll be back soon, I promise.’

Muichiro returned to playing with the string, apparently satisfied with the answer.

Yuichiro fastened one of the travel bags and picked up another, meant for Muichiro. Inside, he placed some of the boy’s belongings: clean, comfortable clothes, his comb, toiletries, and hair ties.

‘You’ll need warm clothes…’ he murmured, more to himself. ‘The nights are cold.’

He looked at his brother again. ‘Muichiro, would you like to help me finish packing your things?’

Muichiro murmured something, showing little interest, but still rose and walked over barefoot to the bag. He crouched beside it, watching Yuichiro arrange the items.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked at last, without lifting his gaze.

Yuichiro’s hands paused for a brief moment before he offered a faint smile, trying to reassure him. ‘Somewhere safe.’

And it wasn’t a lie. Tamayo’s hideout ought to be safe, hidden somewhere within the city. And if what Kagaya believed was true, if Tamayo had truly severed her ties with Muzan, and if she genuinely wished to help, then perhaps… just perhaps…

He pushed the thought aside before it could turn into doubt again.

As he had already decided, he would not turn back. His fears would not be what stopped him.

Muichiro picked up his small bag of watercolours and brushes and placed it inside. He seemed to think for a moment before murmuring softly,

‘Will there be trees there?’

Yuichiro looked at him, as though question marks had appeared above his head. ‘Trees?’

‘Yes. Where we’re going… will there be trees?’

He smiled, still a little puzzled by the sudden question. ‘I think so. Why?’

Muichiro shrugged. ‘I like painting trees.’

Yuichiro let out a small ‘ah’, finally understanding. He nodded. ‘Then yes. There will be trees.’

They (or rather, Yuichiro) finished tying up the last of the bags. He hadn’t told anyone about the trip, not even Shinobu, who would undoubtedly demand answers the moment she noticed his absence. But a promise was a promise. Oyakata-sama had asked for secrecy, and Yuichiro intended to honour that trust.

He stood, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension gathered there, then turned to his brother.

‘We’ll leave in the morning, before the sun is high.’

Muichiro nodded. ‘Alright.’

Yuichiro waited for him to say something more, but when he didn’t, he stepped closer and adjusted the collar of his brother’s kimono, smoothing it carefully.

‘Are you alright with this, Mui?’ he asked softly, his eyes asking for honesty.

Muichiro held his gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He wasn’t used to going out or dealing with other people, always far too shy for that. And besides, Yuichiro had never taken him anywhere before - so why now?

He let out a quiet sigh.

‘You’ll be there,’ he said simply. ‘So it’s alright.’

‘Yes,’ Yuichiro murmured, offering a small smile as he ran a hand through his hair, smoothing the stubborn strands. ‘I will be there.’

And no matter what came next, no matter what awaited them beyond the mountains or within the home of a demon doctor… they would be alright. Even if it meant trusting someone he had once sworn to destroy.

 

 

 

18th March 1915, Taishō jidai

 

The sun had barely risen, casting soft amber tones over the stone paths and the immaculately kept gardens of the Ubuyashiki estate. The morning mist still lingered between the trees, light enough to let the scent of hinoki drift through the air. The tranquil silence was broken only by the soft rustle of fabric, the occasional creak of sandals against stone, and the gentle song of birds.

Yuichiro adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, careful not to move it too much. Muichiro stood beside him, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, wearing a comfortable jumper against the morning chill, courtesy of Yuichiro. His eyes, still heavy with sleep from waking earlier than usual, wandered idly along the gravel path before returning to his brother. He didn’t quite understand why they had to leave so early.

A few steps away, Lady Amane carefully tied a small bundle wrapped in furoshiki cloth. It was filled with food: rice balls with pickled plum, slices of rolled tamagoyaki, grilled fish, and a small sealed container of concentrated miso soup. She lifted her gaze as the twins approached.

‘Do you have everything you need?’ she asked gently, addressing the elder as she adjusted the knot before handing it over.

‘Yes,’ Yuichiro replied, taking it and bowing respectfully. ‘Thank you… truly.’

Amane’s expression softened with warmth, as it always did when it came to them. Her fingers briefly brushed through Yuichiro’s short hair in a maternal gesture. Then she turned to Muichiro, lowering herself slightly to meet his height.

‘You’ll look after your brother, won’t you?’ she asked kindly.

Muichiro blinked, trying to process the words directed at him. But, to be fair, he was still rather sleepy and would much rather have gone back to bed. He nodded.

‘Yui is strong,’ he said.

She smiled. ‘Of course he is.’

It was then that the Ubuyashiki children began to appear. Hinaki and Nichika were the first, running barefoot along the engawa to reach them before they left, their white hair fluttering with the movement.

‘Will it take long?’ Hinaki asked, looking straight at Yuichiro.

‘It’ll be a short journey,’ he replied with a small smile. ‘We’ll be back very soon.’

‘You promise?’ Nichika asked.

Yuichiro hesitated for a moment, unsure how to respond to the children, before crouching slightly to meet them at eye level.

‘I promise.’

Satisfied, the girls approached Muichiro, greeting him with their usual gentleness and patience, reintroducing themselves as they often did. He simply watched them, then turned his gaze back to Yuichiro, offering a greeting in his own way.

Kiriya was the last to approach. Despite being younger, he carried himself like a miniature leader, just like his father.

‘We’ll be waiting for your return,’ he said, smiling faintly with his eyes closed. ‘Father says everything has its proper time.’

Yuichiro nodded once, solemnly. ‘Tell him… thank you. Once again.’

‘I’m sure you’ll be able to tell him that yourself,’ Kiriya replied, stepping aside and gesturing for Yuichiro to look.

And there he was. Oyakata-sama stood beneath the shade of the veranda, his pale figure almost luminous against the wood. A light blanket rested over his shoulders as he leaned gently against Amane.

Yuichiro stepped forward and bowed. ‘Master,’ he murmured.

Kagaya’s lips curved slightly. ‘My child,’ he said, as he always did. ‘May the path ahead be gentle and the winds favourable. And remember, you do not walk it alone.’

Yuichiro simply nodded, lowering his gaze as those words settled more deeply within him than he cared to admit.

‘And you…’ Kagaya continued, now turning to the younger one. ‘Muichiro.’

Muichiro tilted his head at the sound of his name.

Kagaya’s voice remained soft. ‘Stay close to your brother at all times.’

Muichiro’s lips moved before he whispered, ‘Alright.’

Amane reached out once more and gently tucked a loose strand of Muichiro’s hair behind his ear before stepping back.

‘Come on, Mui,’ Yuichiro said, unintentionally breaking the moment. ‘The sooner we leave, the sooner we arrive.’

 

Walking along the trail was proving easier than Yuichiro had expected. It wasn’t that he was worried about running into bandits, his concern was whether Muichiro would tire too quickly from an effort he wasn’t used to. But, as always, the boy managed to surprise him. He was perfectly fine, quietly curious about everything around him.

Yuichiro did his best to follow the safest route. If he had been alone, he would have taken the fastest path regardless of the danger, he could handle it without difficulty. But with his brother by his side, his caution was entirely different.

With steady steps, adjusting the straps of his small travel bag over his shoulders, he moved deeper into the forest, where cool shadows stretched between the trees. Muichiro followed a little behind at first, though never leaving his sight, his arms swaying lazily at his sides, his head tilted back as he watched the sky.

They walked in silence for a while.

Every now and then, Yuichiro caught soft murmurs, that same quiet tone Muichiro always used when his mind drifted elsewhere.

The path began to widen, and they passed a cluster of tall Japanese cedars. Muichiro stopped and tilted his head.

'Yui,' he called suddenly, pointing upward. 'That cloud looks like a radish.'

Yuichiro turned to look in the same direction. It didn’t look like one at all. It was long and thin, more like a fish bone.

'Does it?' he asked, without much interest.

Muichiro nodded, serious. 'Like the ones you like. The brown ones with miso.'

'Daikon,' Yuichiro corrected with a faint smile.

'Yes. That one.'

It didn’t take long before they resumed walking, and Muichiro soon caught up, matching his pace at his side. His gaze still drifted upward from time to time, or toward the low vegetation, as if expecting a rabbit to suddenly appear and greet him.

Yuichiro kept his focus ahead.

'Will there be fish?' Muichiro asked, his eyes fixed on the stream they were crossing.

'Maybe,' Yuichiro replied. 'If we pass by a riverside village.'

'Good,' Muichiro said, nodding to himself. 'I like them.'

Yuichiro let out a quiet chuckle, glancing at him. 'It’s harder to find something you don’t like.'

Muichiro shrugged. He kept walking, humming softly, his arms swaying lightly.

The day went on. The sun climbed higher, and the air grew warmer. As midday approached, they stopped beneath a large tree, sharing the meal Lady Amane had prepared, rice balls wrapped in preserved leaves, a small portion of tamagoyaki, and thin slices of fruit kept cool by spring water. Muichiro offered his portion of sweet rice to Yuichiro with a simple 'I don’t like it when it’s too sticky,' and Yuichiro accepted without complaint, brushing his brother’s fringe away from his eyes before ruffling it gently.

'Then eat the rest,' he murmured, handing him a larger portion. 'You’ll need the energy. We’re not even halfway yet.'

Muichiro huffed but obeyed. It wasn’t exactly encouraging to hear they still had so far to go, but he couldn’t deny he was enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he had left the estate, and his mind seemed eager to wander freely again.

He blinked, chewing as drowsiness crept in, then rested his head on Yuichiro’s shoulder, still loosely holding half of his bentō.

They stayed like that for a while. Yuichiro had said it was better to let the food settle so they wouldn’t feel unwell on the road.

When he himself began to feel sleepy, and noticed his brother was even worse, he gently pressed a hand against Muichiro’s back and said,

'Come on, Mui. Let’s keep going.'

The day was already drifting into early afternoon as they made their way up the gentle hills. The path narrowed again, now lined with wildflowers. Muichiro stopped more often here, crouching to examine the petals, brushing pollen from his knees. At one point, he found a feather and offered it to Yuichiro.

'It’s soft,' he said.

Yuichiro took it. 'It is.'

'What kind of bird do you think it is?'

'I’d say… probably a heron.'

Muichiro nodded. 'I think herons are pretty. Like you.'

Yuichiro ruffled his hair in that slightly rough, affectionate way of his. 'Well… pretty like you too.'

They smiled at each other, sharing that quiet, familiar sense of companionship.

'Yui?'

'Hm?'

'…where are we going?'

Muichiro’s eyes were more alert now, curiosity shining in them. Yuichiro had honestly expected it to take longer before he asked again.

'Somewhere safe,' Yuichiro replied. 'Just for a little while. We’ll be back before you even notice, alright?'

Muichiro brought a hand to his chin as if thinking, then nodded.

'Alright.'

And he didn’t ask anything else.

 

The village where Yuichiro had chosen to stop and rest was small, little more than a cluster of houses nestled along the slopes, with narrow streets winding gently like streams of stone. Lanterns were already lit, casting a warm, golden glow over windows and doorways.

He paid for modest lodging, a simple inn run by an elderly couple whose hospitality was quiet and welcoming. The room they were given was small and plain, but very clean and orderly, with tatami flooring and a futon neatly arranged in one corner. A low table stood by the window, and the shōji doors allowed the night breeze to drift in softly.

He insisted on carrying both bags upstairs, not allowing Muichiro to lift so much as a finger. The younger brother did not protest, as he rarely did, and simply followed him up, his gaze wandering towards the paper lanterns swaying outside like jellyfish suspended in the air.

As soon as Yuichiro closed the door behind them, he let out a slow breath, resting his back against the wood for a moment. The journey had not been difficult, but his legs were beginning to ache after a full day of walking. And he was used to such exertion, so he could hardly imagine how his brother must be feeling – even if that same brother had already crossed the room and was now peering through the shōji, his nose nearly pressed to the paper.

Yuichiro removed his haori and folded it carefully, placing it atop his bag.

'I’m hungry,' Muichiro said at last, abandoning whatever had caught his attention as he turned to face his brother.

As if prompted by the words, Yuichiro’s own stomach gave a quiet growl. 'Yes… me too.'

They sat together at the low table, and Yuichiro took out the carefully wrapped food from his bag. It was simple, rice balls with umeboshi, some tsukemono, and a few portions of grilled fish, all neatly arranged. There was even a small parcel of sweetened daikon slices and a packet of roasted tea leaves, everything tied with a ribbon.

Muichiro leaned closer as soon as the food was unwrapped. 'It smells like the estate.'

'It does,' Yuichiro said, offering him a pair of chopsticks. 'Amane-san always makes too much.'

Before he could say anything further, he noticed Muichiro already nibbling on a piece of pickled radish.

They began eating in silence at first, the room filled only with the soft rustle of wrappings and the occasional light tap of chopsticks against ceramic. From time to time, Yuichiro glanced at his brother to make sure he was eating properly. He was.

'You’ve got rice on your cheek,' Yuichiro said with a quiet laugh, leaning in to wipe it away with his sleeve.

Muichiro leaned into the touch. 'I like this one,' he said, holding up a half-eaten onigiri. 'It’s a bit sour.'

'That’s the umeboshi. You used to hate it.'

'Did I?' Muichiro tilted his head, then gave a small shrug when no answer came.

They finished their meal unhurriedly, even lingering over the tea. Yuichiro prepared it using water heated on a small brazier in the corridor.

He began tidying up afterwards, rewrapping what remained and placing it back into the cloth, with Muichiro helping here and there in his usual absent-minded way.

'Right… time for a bath,' Yuichiro said, stretching his arms above his head. 'There’s a loo downstairs. I’ll go first, then you can go after, alright?'

Muichiro nodded vaguely, waving him off.

The loo itself was small and wooden, with space enough for a single person. The water had been heated with stones, and though the facilities were simple, it felt wonderful after a long day’s journey. When Yuichiro returned, refreshed and drying his hair with a towel, he found his brother lying on the floor near the wall, idly swinging his legs in the air.

'Your turn,' he said gently, tossing him a clean towel. 'Try not to fall asleep in there.'

Muichiro caught the towel as it landed on his face and stood without complaint. He couldn’t exactly promise that, but he would try.

When he returned, his hair damp and clinging to his cheeks, Yuichiro had already laid out the futon, fluffed the pillows, and set aside their sleeping clothes. Muichiro changed quickly, not even bothering to comb his hair, rubbing his eyes as sleep began to take hold after the meal and the bath, then dropped onto the futon with a soft sigh.

Yuichiro sat beside him, legs crossed, raising an eyebrow as if to say really?

'Teeth,' he said, firmly.

Muichiro looked at him, cheeks slightly puffed, clearly hoping his brother might take pity on him just this once. He was truly exhausted. But when it became clear Yuichiro would not give in, he sighed in resignation.

'…alright.'

Muichiro disappeared briefly, returning with a faint trace of mint, then slipped beneath the covers, turning onto his side with one hand tucked under his cheek.

Yuichiro, meanwhile, remained seated, looking up at the wooden beams above. He knew he wouldn’t fall asleep easily, despite having had little rest the night before. There was simply too much on his mind.

Muichiro’s voice came softly from the futon, pulling him from his thoughts.

'Yui?'

'Hm?'

'Do you remember that tree we passed? The one with the crooked branches I showed you. It looked like someone waving.'

Yuichiro blinked, then let out a soft breath of amusement. 'Did it? I didn’t notice.'

'It waved goodbye,' Muichiro added, lifting his hand slightly as if to demonstrate.

Yuichiro looked at him, one brow raised, only then realising his eyes were already half-closed, his breathing slowing. It wouldn’t be long now before he drifted off completely.

'You’re rather strange sometimes,' he said, brushing that same stray lock from Muichiro’s forehead. Then his tone softened. 'Mui… it’s time to sleep. We’ve got another long day tomorrow, so no long conversations, alright? We’ll be up early again.'

'Mm…' Muichiro murmured, reaching towards him and pulling the covers closer around himself. 'Yui… lie down here with me.'

'Alright…' Yuichiro took his hand, lying down beside him and drawing him close. He knew this sort of dependence between them wasn’t ideal, that even a short separation made things harder for both of them. But who could blame him for giving in when his brother looked at him like that?

'I’m right here,' he said softly.

Then, gently running his fingers through his hair, he added,

'Sleep well, Mui.'

 

 

 

20th March 1915, Taishō jidai

 

The sun had long since disappeared behind the hills, leaving only a deep indigo hue spread across the sky. One by one, the lights in the houses began to come on, casting a soft glow over the stone streets and wooden façades.

Yuichiro walked with his shoulders slightly hunched. Though it had already been two long days, he remained completely alert. The street was far too empty for that hour.

He took Muichiro’s hand firmly, drawing him a little closer to his side.

They had been guided to that place by a set of coded instructions, known only to a few within the Corps. No name or sign had been given, only a vague description of a forgotten district on the outskirts of the town.

Muichiro, unaware of what was happening, simply pointed out things he found interesting along the way, as he did now.

'That cloud… looks like a snail,' he said, pointing.

Yuichiro lifted his gaze for a moment, not paying it much attention. 'It’s already dark. That’s not a cloud, it’s smoke.'

'Ah,' Muichiro replied, not particularly concerned, but not bothered either. He kept looking, his lips slightly pursed in thought.

Yuichiro shook his head faintly and let out a quiet sigh as he turned the corner.

But there were no more houses.

Not even an inn. No sign, no door that seemed to hide anything. Only a narrow, unsettling street. And unsettling because… he couldn’t quite explain it. There was simply something wrong with the place, and he trusted his instincts.

'So this is it…,' he said under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else.

Suddenly, he stopped, alert, tightening his grip on Muichiro’s hand.

Something moved behind them.

It wasn’t exactly the sound of footsteps, it felt more as though the air itself had shifted, strange as that might be. The hairs at the nape of Yuichiro’s neck stood on end. In one swift motion, he pulled Muichiro behind him and stepped forward into a defensive stance, his fingers poised to strike.

In the next instant, the Nichirin blade slid cleanly from its sheath.

'Show yourself,' Yuichiro said coldly, his gaze sweeping the shadows of the alley. 'Take another step and I won’t warn you twice.'

'How sensitive…' said a sharp, somewhat high-pitched male voice, edged with disapproval. 'Is that how you greet everyone, brat?'

A figure emerged from the shadows - a boy, young, or at least appearing so, with striking lavender eyes and a thin, almost mocking smile fixed upon his face. Yuichiro did not recognise him at once.

Muichiro peeked over Yuichiro’s shoulder.

'You’re not human,' Yuichiro stated flatly.

'Ten points,' the boy clicked his tongue. 'And here I thought I’d have to drag you both by the ear. You must be the Tokito brothers, hm?'

Yuichiro did not loosen his grip, narrowing his eyes. 'And who are you?'

'Yushiro,' he said, giving a mocking bow. 'Satisfied, I suppose. Not that I care for introductions. I work with Lady Tamayo. And no, I don’t bite.'

Muichiro leaned slightly forward, curious both about the conversation and the unfamiliar boy.

'…his eyes look like a cat’s.'

Yushiro blinked once, raising a brow before letting out a faint scoff. 'I like this one. The quiet ones tend to be more intelligent.' His gaze flicked briefly towards Yuichiro.

Yuichiro finally lowered his blade, though he did not fully sheathe it. 'You could have warned us before startling us.'

'And miss that warm reception?' Yushiro replied dryly. 'It’s a miracle anyone calls Demon Slayers heroes. You’re just strange brats walking about with swords.'

He turned without waiting for a response. 'Come along. You’re late. And Lady Tamayo doesn’t care for tardy guests.'

Yuichiro exchanged a glance with Muichiro, who merely shrugged. Then, at last, the blade returned to its sheath, and they followed.

They walked for a while through the alley, the light fading with each step, their curious eyes taking in the strange details of the place. Yuichiro muttered that it felt like some sort of dumping ground, which wasn’t entirely wrong, earning a mocking remark from Yushiro. After a few turns, he stopped before a plain wooden wall and placed his hand against it. A soft click echoed, and the wall opened, not quite like a door, but more like an illusion.

Yushiro gestured for them to come closer.

'Welcome to a place no one knows,' he said. 'Don’t touch anything unless you want to hear a hiss.'

'…a hiss?' Yuichiro repeated.

But Yushiro didn’t bother answering. He simply led them inside, after all, that was the task he had been given. Nothing more was required.

The entrance was narrow, almost claustrophobic, but soon opened into a wider passage carved beneath the earth, dimly lit by lanterns. The air was cool and strangely gentle.

At the end of the corridor stood a paper screen.

Behind it, the soft silhouette of someone moving could be seen.

Muichiro tightened his hold on Yuichiro’s hand. He didn’t like it, or rather, he didn’t like the feeling, even though nothing had truly happened.

Yuichiro returned the grip just as firmly.

'I’m here, Mui… it’s alright,' he murmured, low enough for only his brother to hear.

Yushiro cast one last glance over his shoulder, his voice no longer quite as sharp.

'You may speak with her now. But mind what you say, Lady Tamayo hears more than she speaks.'

With that, he slipped behind another partition, leaving the twins on their own.

Yuichiro drew in a deep breath. Right. He wasn’t ready. But he had come this far for his brother, he knew what he had to do.

So he stepped forward.

As he opened the door, he was immediately enveloped by the scent of ink and herbs. And… warmth. Not the warmth of lanterns or fire, but something softer, more welcoming. Very strange, for a demon’s home, it had to be said.

Inside, he saw who he believed to be Tamayo, seated before a table filled with the same peculiar materials he had seen Shinobu use.

She wore a white apron over a violet floral kimono, her posture calm and composed. As soon as she noticed them, she lifted her gaze, her expression brightening as it settled first on the elder twin.

'Oh… you must be Yuichiro Tokito,' she said gently.

He inclined his head in confirmation. 'Yes, ma’am.'

'And this…' she rose to her feet, folding her hands neatly before her, her voice softening further as her gaze shifted to the other twin behind him, 'must be Muichiro.'

Yuichiro nodded again. 'My younger brother. Mui…' he turned slightly towards him, 'greet Lady Tamayo, please.'

Muichiro looked at him, a little shy at first. He rarely interacted with others, and never quite knew what to say or do in moments like this. But then something in his expression seemed to change.

He stepped forward, suddenly, looking at the unfamiliar woman with quiet curiosity. His eyes gleamed faintly, as though he recognised her – or rather, as though he remembered someone through her face.

But who…?

All he knew was that it was a woman with turquoise eyes, just like Yui’s – and, by extension, his own.

Perhaps I should ask Yui later…

He raised his left hand and… gently patted her hair?!

Yes. That was exactly what he did.

Tamayo blinked, startled. Even Yuichiro, who likely knew him better than anyone, would never have expected his usually timid brother to do something like that to a stranger. Yushiro let out a strangled sound somewhere between outrage and disbelief – when had he reappeared?

'Y-you—! What do you think you’re—?!'

Tamayo lifted a hand slightly, a calm gesture to silence him. 'Yushiro.'

'But Lady Tamayo—!'

'It’s quite alright.'

She bent slightly so she could meet Muichiro at eye level, her smile softening even more.

'Don’t worry, I’m not upset. It simply wasn’t what I expected. You surprised me, my dear,' she said kindly.

Yuichiro found himself wondering, not for the first time, how his brother managed to charm people so easily. Then again… perhaps he only needed to look at himself for the answer.

Meanwhile, Muichiro simply stared at her, tilting his head the other way, his brows faintly furrowed. Then, with a small sigh, he turned and walked back to his brother’s side, as though nothing had happened.

Tamayo, however, remained still for a moment longer. Her eyes softened, a faint glimmer of something older passing through them.

Memories.

For a brief moment, Muichiro reminded her of someone else, someone who had once held a very special place in her life. A child she had once held in her arms, long ago. She wondered, just for an instant, whether her son might have looked like the boy before her, had he lived to this age.

But there was no use dwelling on what-ifs now.

Her smile faltered for a second before she composed herself and turned her attention back to Yuichiro.

'He is very special,' she murmured at last.

Yuichiro gave a small, somewhat awkward nod. '…yes. I know.'

Yushiro, meanwhile, still looked deeply offended.

Tamayo let out a soft laugh, both to ease the tension and to steady herself. 'Come. You must be tired from your journey. Please, make yourselves at home.'

 

 

'Very well, then. What needs to be done?'

 

Yuichiro’s voice was steady. He sat upright on the tatami, his fingers resting lightly, slightly curved over his knees, carrying himself as a true Hashira ought to. Opposite him, Lady Tamayo sat in the same position, though unlike him, she wore a gentle smile as she spoke.

The room in which they spoke was modest, lit by the soft glow of a lamp filtered through thin paper doors. Somewhere beyond those walls, he could hear Muichiro’s footsteps as he wandered about, exploring with the same absent-minded curiosity that had followed him everywhere since they had left their home two days earlier.

Tamayo did not hesitate to answer, folding her hands neatly in her lap.

'I examined him carefully,' she began, 'and what I suspect is… rather promising.'

Yuichiro’s expression shifted at her words, if only slightly.

'You told the Master that you believe his memories were not erased, did you not?'

Tamayo nodded in confirmation.

'Yes. I believe they were not completely erased, but rather blocked by the trauma he experienced, as a defence mechanism to spare him further suffering.'

Yuichiro grimaced faintly at the last part.

'But can they be… hm… “unlocked”?' he asked, a little uncertain of his choice of words. 'All of them?'

'I cannot promise you everything,' Tamayo replied. 'But I have good reason to believe it is possible. I have worked with cases of memory loss before, though never one quite like this. His condition does not appear to be entirely natural.'

Yuichiro lowered his gaze, frowning slightly. That did make sense, didn’t it?

'Then… let us suppose we manage to restore all his memories,' he said, lifting his head again, looking ahead without quite meeting her eyes. 'What will happen to him afterwards?'

Tamayo paused briefly, choosing her words with care for the boy who was already clearly anxious, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

'It may be an overwhelming process, painful, even. After all, it would be a sudden clarity of things he does not yet know, an avalanche of sensations and emotions. It could destabilise him… or perhaps bring him a sense of reassurance in understanding himself better. There is no way to be certain.'

Well… at least she was honest.

'That is why I would prefer him to remain here for a time, so that I may supervise the treatment and be by his side should anything occur.'

Yuichiro felt his heart quicken at the flood of information about a condition he had, until now, believed to have no cure. His hands tightened together anxiously as he searched for something, anything, to say.

He thought of their home, so warm, holding all the memories they had left behind. Of the tatami room where Muichiro used to fold paper cranes. Of Amane’s voice, soft and endlessly patient, never asking more than he was willing to give. Of his brother’s laughter, of his now distant gaze, of the way he still clung to the instinct of taking his hand whenever he was afraid, just as he had when they were children...

'And you can make a medicine?' he asked at last. 'To reverse this?'

Tamayo nodded.

'Yes. Using samples from him, I believe I can develop something capable of stimulating certain areas of the brain responsible for storing our memories. It will not be a quick process, nor an easy one. But I have hope for the outcome.'

Yuichiro let out a slow breath. Only the gods could know what he felt in that moment, he doubted all the words in the world could express it. At last, he raised his gaze to meet hers directly.

'If this works… if there is even the slightest chance… then I agree. You have my full support. Do whatever is necessary.'

His eyes, though young and usually so restrained, gleamed – finally allowing himself to believe they might have another chance to return to what they once were.

'But I want to be informed about everything, even the smallest details,' he added. 'If anything happens, I want to know. If he improves, worsens, or even if there is any change in the way he sleeps or breathes. Everything. Understood?'

Tamayo’s smile returned at his concern, gentle and understanding.

'Of course. I would never leave you in the dark, Yuichiro-san. He is your brother.'

He nodded once, scratching lightly at his cheek, already preparing to ask more.

'Err… and how long do you think it will take?'

'Recovery may take several weeks, perhaps longer. The treatment itself, longer still. He will need rest and to remain in a stable environment prepared to support him, alongside a professional, either myself or Yushiro.'

Yuichiro did not like the idea of leaving his brother so far from him. He had barely grown accustomed to it when duty as a Hashira required it, let alone now. Still, he did not protest. He simply tried to accept it, steadying himself.

He hoped he was not making a mistake in trusting Tamayo and Yushiro. They had to be good people, even if that strange man with lavender eyes did not seem particularly fond of him.

'Very well…' he said at last, letting out a quiet sigh. 'He will remain here when the time comes.'

Yuichiro’s gaze drifted towards the paper door, where the muffled sound of Muichiro’s voice could be heard – no doubt directed at Chachamaru, Tamayo’s cat, to whom he had taken an immediate liking. If the cat had not already belonged to someone, there would be no force in the world capable of prising it from Muichiro’s arms.

He made a small mental note: avoid cats when with his brother.

And once more, he found himself speaking aloud:

'If he truly remembers… I wonder what sort of person he will become.'

Tamayo tilted her head slightly, a thoughtful sadness in her smile, understanding exactly what he meant.

'Sometimes… memory does not change us. It simply returns what was left behind, so that we may move forward. And even if he does change, it does not mean he will cease to be who he is now.'

Yuichiro nodded, his fingers fidgeting absently–anxiously–as he bit the inside of his cheek.

'He is all I have left…'

He looked at her again. And, for the first time in that conversation, his expression softened. He inclined his head respectfully, grateful for all she was doing.

'Thank you, Lady Tamayo.'

'It is I who should thank you,' she replied, inclining her head with elegance. 'For entrusting someone so important to me, despite everything.'

He knew what she meant, and felt a faint trace of guilt for having judged her at first. But who could blame him? The image he had always held of oni bore no resemblance to the gentleness and grace Tamayo possessed.

The lamplight flickered as a breeze passed through the paper doors.

In another room, Muichiro could be heard playing with Chachamaru once more.

 

 

 

3th April 1915, Taishō jidai

 

It was already well past two in the morning when Yuichiro found himself walking once more along the narrow mountain trail. But, unlike before, this time it was because of his duty as a demon slayer. His most recent mission had been quieter than most - an abandoned village, no sign of demonic activity, only bandits smuggling things he had no interest whatsoever in knowing about.

As he began to descend towards the nearby stream to fill his canteen, a faint rustle reached his ears. He stopped immediately, one hand going to his sword. Footsteps followed, almost inaudible beneath the wind. And then—

‘Well, well. That was terribly slow, Yuichiro-kun. Are your reflexes growing rusty?’

He sighed, sheathing the blade before turning.

‘Shinobu,’ he murmured, frowning slightly, though relieved it was her and not something about to attack him. ‘Do you always show up like this?’

‘Only with those who need improving,’ she replied, a hand raised to her mouth to hide the usual smile on her face. ‘I heard you were nearby. I decided to check whether the reports of your survival were exaggerated.’

‘Hilarious,’ Yuichiro said dryly, turning back towards the stream. ‘Are you on patrol?’

‘Mm, in part. But seeing your face already makes the journey worthwhile.’

‘Should I feel flattered or concerned?’

‘Oh, definitely concerned,’ she said lightly, stepping closer. ‘And speaking of concern… where exactly have you been these past two weeks?’

Yuichiro paused for a moment before crouching to fill his canteen, pretending not to understand.

‘What do you mean?’

She tilted her head, the breeze stirring the hem of her haori.

‘Don’t play dumb.’ Bingo. ‘You disappeared. No letters. No reports. Not even a sparring match with Sanemi to keep him from sulking. Where were you?’

He kept his gaze fixed on the water.

‘I wasn’t hiding.’

‘Well, that’s not exactly a denial,’ Shinobu sang sweetly. ‘Thinking of deserting? Joined a travelling theatre troupe? Fallen in love with a farmer’s daughter? Ah, wait - have you developed a conscience and decided to retire?’

‘I was… dealing with something important.’

One of her eyebrows rose. ‘Important enough to abandon your duties?’

He bit his lip. Damn it. Why was she always so perceptive? He had hoped she wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t even suspect anything, but honestly, it had been naïve to think she, of all people, wouldn’t realise.

Realising he had remained silent for too long, he cleared his throat.

‘It’s… something I can’t speak about freely. Not yet.’

Her teasing smile faltered slightly as she tried to read him. ‘Then it’s serious.’

Yuichiro turned to face her, his expression solemn beneath the night sky.

‘I promised the Master I wouldn’t speak of it openly. But…’ he looked away for a moment, tightening his grip on the canteen ‘there’s a chance… that something might change. For the better.’

Shinobu narrowed her eyes, watching him. ‘You’re being very vague.’

‘I know.’

She folded her arms, still suspicious. ‘Is it dangerous?’

‘No. I mean… not for me, at least.’ His voice wavered slightly. ‘But I can’t explain without breaking that promise. You understand that, don’t you?’

She looked at him so intently it made him uneasy. Was she irritated? Would she think he didn’t trust her? That their friendship meant less now? His thoughts began to tangle – until, at last, she spoke again.

‘I ought to be annoyed,’ she sighed, hands on her hips. ‘I don’t like it when people keep things from me.’

Yuichiro relaxed his shoulders.

‘I’m not doing this to hide something from you. I simply can’t take that risk.’

He expected her to argue, but to his surprise, she smiled again, softer this time, without the teasing edge.

‘Very well then. I won’t press. But if this puts you, or anyone else, in danger—’

‘It won’t,’ he assured quickly. ‘It’s not like that.’

‘Alright.’ She nodded, letting the matter drop. ‘Still, it’s good to see you in one piece.’

‘Likewise. You didn’t stab anyone in my absence, did you?’

She gave him an amused look. ‘Only those who deserved it.’

He let out a small, amused breath. As expected of her.

As Yuichiro closed his now full canteen, they soon began walking together among the trees, side by side. But, as always, she quickly grew restless.

‘Two weeks…’ she murmured thoughtfully. ‘That’s a long time for someone like you to disappear.’ The last part carried a hint of mockery.

‘Yes,’ he replied, making a slight face at that last remark. ‘It felt even longer.’

‘And did you find what you were looking for?’

Yuichiro frowned. ‘To be honest… I’m not sure yet. But perhaps. I hope so.’

They found themselves in a companionable silence now.

Yuichiro walked ahead, eyes alert, his blade resting lightly in his hand. Shinobu followed a few steps behind. The only sounds were their breathing and the occasional snap of branches beneath their feet.

Until a demon’s scream seemed to tear through the air between them.

By the time they reached it, Yuichiro was already in motion. Steel flashed, blood hissed against the bark of the trees, and the creature collapsed with a grotesque thud before it could even react.

And so it continued for much of the night.

After the twentieth demon fell, Shinobu remarked:

‘You’ve grown faster…’

Yuichiro shrugged. ‘They’re getting weaker.’

‘Mm.’ She stepped carefully over a decomposing body. ‘Or perhaps you’re simply growing stronger.’

Before he could respond, another demon lunged, stronger this time, but between the two of them, it didn’t last even a moment.

Blood crackled along his blade.

‘And how is Muichiro?’

The question came so suddenly he almost thought he had imagined it.

And… he didn’t know how to answer.

I mean, he knew exactly what to say, but if he said it, would she see him as a terrible brother? Would she judge him?

Or worse… would she see him the way he saw himself?

Unaware, or perhaps deliberately ignoring his hesitation, she continued walking, her eyes fixed ahead, giving him space. If he didn’t feel comfortable answering, she wouldn’t insist.

His grip on his sword tightened. His thoughts felt detached from himself. After a few steps, he exhaled slowly.

‘…tonight was difficult.’

She cast him a brief glance, gesturing for him to continue.

‘I left him crying.’

Alright… that definitely made her stop.

But Yuichiro didn’t look at her. His gaze lifted to the starry sky Muichiro loved so much.

‘He begged me not to go. He doesn’t always understand why I leave, but tonight… somehow, he did.’ He raised a hand, as if tracing shapes in the stars. ‘He asked me to stay. And when I said I couldn’t… he cried. He screamed… And I shut the door while he was still crying. I left. Again.’

At last, he turned to face her, and there it was. That look she had seen before. The same as when they first met.

Her expression softened.

‘I know it’s my duty,’ his thoughts slipped out aloud. ‘I know I have to fight. But…’ he looked at his own hands, ‘sometimes it feels as though every time I leave, I take something from him.’

Shinobu remained beside him in silence, thoughtful as she listened, arms crossed beneath her haori.

‘Do you regret becoming a Hashira?’ she asked at last, turning to face him.

He shook his head immediately. ‘Never.’

‘But you regret the price you’re paying.’

He clicked his tongue. ‘…yes.’

She nodded, understanding at once. ‘He’s still a child.’

‘I know.’

‘And so are you, Yuichiro.’

He frowned, about to argue, but her tone left no room for it. He fell silent.

She was right, wasn’t she?

‘You’re thirteen. Nearly fourteen. And yet you behave like a man carrying a lifetime of blood.’

‘…I don’t have the luxury of being a child.’

‘No.’ She looked away from him, almost melancholic. ‘But it isn’t a crime to wish you could be.’

In the distance, a crow cawed once and disappeared.

‘Muichiro cried for his brother tonight,’ she said, lifting her gaze to the same sky he had been watching moments before. ‘Not for a Hashira.’

Yuichiro shut his eyes tightly, holding back the stubborn tears threatening to fall. ‘When we were younger, he used to call me nii-san… even though we’re twins, I’m the older one, after all. But it’s been so long I’d almost forgotten what it sounded like.’

She turned to him. ‘And?’

He let out a small, awkward laugh. ‘He said it in his sleep… the night before.’

Ah.

‘He was having another nightmare. Calling me… calling for his nii-san.’ A sob escaped before he quickly covered his mouth to hold it in. ‘It’s not unusual, to be honest… but it never stops hurting. And when he wakes up, he doesn’t remember anything. He just says his head hurts a lot.’

Shinobu stepped a little closer, watching his hands tremble before he hid his face in them.

‘I want him to remember everything,’ he said, his fists pressing harder against his face. ‘But I’m so afraid of what that might do to him.’

‘To be honest, Yui, he’s already suffering,’ she replied, placing a hand on his shoulder in quiet comfort, despite the bluntness of her words. ‘It may not end the way you expect. But it may help him heal, by understanding himself again.’

Another demon’s scream echoed through the forest, closer this time.

At once, Yuichiro forced himself to steady. He needed to focus - this was neither the time nor the place for sentiment. This was his duty.

And he had to fulfil it.

‘…let’s finish this.’

Shinobu nodded, understanding that this was how he chose to end the conversation. ‘You go left. I’ll take the ridge.’

As they moved again, disappearing into the forest’s shadows, she cast him one last look.

He will return to you. One way or another.

 

 

 

4th April 1915, Taishō jidai

 

'Come on, Mui, you need to eat.'

Yuichiro’s voice filled the room once more as he sat in front of his twin brother, a small tray of food carefully balanced on his knees. The aroma of radish and warm miso spread through the air and would make anyone hungry, yet Muichiro remained curled in on himself, arms wrapped around his knees and his chin resting on them, as if he were lost somewhere far from the present. Which was rather strange, considering how much he loved food, to ignore something so appetising right in front of him.

'Mui,' Yuichiro tried again, reaching out to tuck a loose strand behind his brother’s ear. 'It’s not even that hot anymore, you know? I waited so you wouldn’t burn your tongue.'

Muichiro blinked, curling in even more, now hiding half of his face.

'Are you feeling unwell?' Yui asked gently, leaning in to observe his face, or rather, what little he could see. 'Does your stomach hurt? Is your head muddled again?'

A small shake of the head. No.

And he remained still in the same place without offering any further reaction. He didn’t look at the food. He didn’t look at Yui. He hadn’t even reacted much to seeing him return, as he always did.

Yuichiro frowned at that behaviour. It wasn’t like Muichiro to act that way. Despite everything, he had always been an obedient and well-behaved boy, and it was hard to understand what was happening when he wouldn’t even look at his own brother.

A part of him blamed himself for it.

He thought for a moment about what to do, but came to the conclusion that it would be better to simply be honest with his younger brother, instead of overthinking how to approach him. Muichiro understood better when things were said directly, so that was what he would do. Carefully, he placed the tray on the low table beside them and reached out again, this time holding Muichiro’s cold hands between his own, looking at him with all the affection he carried.

'It’s alright if you’re sad,' he said softly, making small circles on his hands with his thumb. 'I wasn’t here when you woke up, was I?'

Bullseye. Muichiro’s eyes narrowed slightly before he finally looked at him. Though distant, they were weighed down with something that looked like sadness.

Yuichiro wished he could take all that pain for himself.

'I’m sorry I left so suddenly. But I came back, see? I’m here now. I always come back to you. Didn’t I promise you that?'

Muichiro lowered his gaze again, his lips trembling slightly as they parted, though no sound came out. Even so, one of his hands gently tightened around Yuichiro’s fingers, returning the touch.

Yuichiro’s expression softened as he finally understood what was going on.

'You waited for me, didn’t you?'

Muichiro nodded faintly.

'And now you don’t want to eat because… because it didn’t feel right eating alone?'

Another nod. Now Muichiro had his face completely hidden against his knees.

Seeing this, Yui reacted at once, gently lifting his face so he would look at him again. He wouldn’t let Muichiro sink into his own thoughts. He might not understand everything, but he already had a good idea of what was going on. 'Hey, hey… you don’t need to hide. I understand, truly. But you can’t skip meals, Mui. Your body is small. You’ll fall ill again if you don’t eat properly.'

'I… forgot,' Muichiro murmured, making a small pout. Under other circumstances, Yuichiro would have already squeezed his cheeks, finding it adorable. But that would only make things worse now.

He cleared his throat, pushing the thought aside. 'You forgot to eat?'

A low murmur, almost embarrassed. Muichiro looked down.

'I forgot you weren’t here. Then I remembered. And I felt sad. And I didn’t want anything anymore.'

Yuichiro fell silent for a moment, absorbing his brother’s words, the simplicity of the pain behind them. He tightened his hold slightly on the small hands he still held.

'You can tell me when that happens,' he said.

'I don’t like it…' Muichiro whispered, his eyes now glistening. 'It hurts.'

Yuichiro brought a hand to his face, wiping away the stubborn tears that slipped free. 'I know, Mui. I know it hurts.'

Blue eyes met their mirror, one of them, however, showing more tenderness, while the other was tinged with sadness. They remained like that for a while, until Yui sighed and picked up the chopsticks from the tray.

'Right. But enough sadness for now, hm? I made your favourite, look.' He carefully lifted a piece of boiled daikon, blowing on it before offering it. 'Just one bite. Please?'

Muichiro shook his head, sniffling and rubbing his nose.

Yui softened his voice even more, trying to persuade him. 'Then… how about this? I’ll eat with you. We’ll eat together. One bite for me, one for you. Like when we were younger, alright?'

'But we are little,' Muichiro said, with a faint smile and a playful look.

Aha! At least it was working.

Yui let out a small laugh, sharing the same playful look.

'Yeah… I suppose we are,' he agreed, nudging his ribs just to earn a loud laugh in return. See? Adorable. 'You used to say that when we were even smaller. You’d always say "but we’re still little, Yui!" when I said we were already big boys.'

He offered the radish again, tilting his head slightly.

'Please?'

This time, Muichiro leaned forward and opened his mouth. Yuichiro fed him carefully so as not to rush him.

'Very good,' he said, relieved. 'It’s still warm, isn’t it?'

Muichiro nodded as he chewed slowly, his expression already calmer.

'I’ll eat with you,' Yuichiro repeated, picking up his own chopsticks. 'Let’s finish it together.'

And so they did, slowly, simply sharing each other’s company. For a while, only the soft sound of utensils could be heard. Yuichiro watched him the entire time, offering another bite now and then, letting Muichiro eat at his own pace, always attentive to see if he was already satisfied.

When the tray was nearly empty, Muichiro let out a small sigh of contentment and leaned gently against his brother.

'You’re warm,' he murmured.

Yuichiro smiled and wrapped his free arm around him, resting his head lightly against his.

'You too…'

 

 

 

8th August 1915, Taishō jidai

 

'Stay still, Yuichiro.'

'I am still!' he shot back. 'I’ve been still for ten minutes, Shinobu.'

'You’ve been complaining for nine and a half minutes.'

'Because I can’t see absolutely anything!'

'Have you only just realised that’s the point of the blindfold?' Shinobu asked sweetly, lightly tugging the knot at the back of his head. 'Now, quiet. You’re going to ruin the surprise.'

Beside him, Muichiro was the complete opposite. He remained perfectly still, obeying what he had been told, also blindfolded, his head slightly tilted as if he were listening to birdsong instead of a group of Hashira hiding nearby.

Yuichiro let out an impatient sigh, crossing his arms. 'I can walk across rooftops in the middle of the night, yet this is how I’m going to die. Tripping over a stone, blindfolded, cracking my skull open until my brains spill out, guided by a sadist in a butterfly haori.'

'I heard that,' she said in an overly cheerful tone, ignoring the: "I wasn’t trying to hide it" that she received immediately afterwards as a reply. 'Now, just a few more steps…'

They arrived at what seemed to be a clearing, somewhere near the gardens, he supposed from the scent of pine and the soft rustle of moss beneath their feet.

'Right then,' Shinobu clapped her hands. 'You may remove the blindfolds.'

Yuichiro did so with a frown, but didn’t even have time to take it off properly, as the sight before him made him stop mid-motion, eyes widening.

In front of him, a large low table had been set beneath the trees, laden with food. Lanterns hung from carefully strung lines, glowing gold in the twilight. Paper streamers danced in the breeze. And around the table, smiling, waiting, eyes shining…

All eight Hashira were there.

'HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YOUNG TOKITOS!' Rengoku exclaimed at once, with his usual booming voice, holding a fine tray of wagashi in each hand. 'Fourteen years old! A splendid age! I remember when I turned fourteen, I trained from dawn till dusk and ate an entire barrel of rice dumplings!'

Muichiro stood beside him, equally wide-eyed, trying to take in everything before him, his fingers lightly gripping Yuichiro’s sleeve. He wasn’t smiling, but his expression alone said enough.

His older brother, on the other hand, snapped out of his shock only to flush deeply as he tore off the blindfold completely. 'What the hell is this?'

'A party, obviously,' Tengen said, laughing loudly. 'For you two introverts. We spent weeks getting the timing right.'

'You… did all this?'

'Well, Mitsuri did most of the decorating,' said Shinobu, nudging her friend lightly with her elbow. 'And Tengen brought enough food for a battalion.'

'I thought Muichiro-kun would like the lights,' Mitsuri added cheerfully, raising her hands above her head. 'And the radish dishes! I made sure there were plenty!'

'Hi, Mui-chan!' She leaned forward slightly to wave. 'You look very handsome!'

Muichiro looked at her, momentarily tempted to play with her long pink-and-green hair, but restrained himself and simply returned the wave. 'Hello,' he murmured.

Sanemi stood nearby with his usual scowl, though he seemed slightly out of place at the edge of the group, and looked away when Yuichiro met his gaze. 'Tch. You’re late.'

'Well, we were blindfolded,' Yuichiro mocked.

'And you’re still late,' Sanemi said, though his tone was surprisingly milder than the boy’s. Yuichiro even wondered if it was because it was their birthday. When Muichiro looked at him, Sanemi gave a hesitant: 'Happy birthday, kid.'

Muichiro tilted his head in response.

'Don’t expect a hug,' Sanemi added quickly.

'Or do,' Uzui smirked, throwing an arm dramatically over both their shoulders. 'I can hug enough for all of us.'

'Get off me, you giant ape!' Yuichiro snapped, slipping out of his grip.

Muichiro, on the other hand, simply hummed contentedly, playing with the man’s jewellery.

Rengoku was already striding forward with the enthusiasm of a ray of sunshine.

'HA-HA! Tell me, young Tokitos, do you feel the fire of youth burning within you?!'

Yuichiro stared at him with the most uninterested expression possible.

'I… don’t know what that means,' Muichiro replied, to everyone’s surprise, now free from Tengen’s hold, his gaze drifting among the lights. Mitsuri had been right about him liking them.

Rengoku laughed heartily and gave him a light pat on the shoulder. 'Then it shall be our duty to show you!'

Yuichiro, still slightly flushed, muttered something that sounded very much like "I hate all of you…", to no one’s surprise.

'We know,' said Shinobu, unfazed by her friend’s bluntness, placing a rice cake in front of them with two lit candles, one for each twin. 'But we love you anyway.'

Obanai approached more hesitantly, arms crossed, keeping a step or two behind the others. But when his gaze fell on the younger twin, his expression softened almost imperceptibly.

'I hope you’re taking your responsibilities seriously,' he said to Yuichiro, then briefly turned to Muichiro. '…and I hope you’re eating properly, kid. You look like the wind could carry you off.'

Muichiro placed his hands on his hips, puffing out his cheek, looking just a little sulky at the Serpent Hashira’s comment, before letting out an 'I do eat…', strangely at ease, and being fussed over by Mitsuri, Tengen and Rengoku in response for what they found to be an adorable reaction, even though he hadn’t really done anything.

Even Tomioka, who barely seemed to be there, gave him a small pat on the head.

Now you understand what Yuichiro meant about Muichiro being charming in everyone’s eyes?

As the commotion settled, Yuichiro found himself surrounded by gazes. Everyone wondering what he would do next.

He looked at the cake, at Muichiro, at the strangely radiant faces of the people who had fought beside him, bled beside him, argued, shouted, protected and endured each other day after day.

And although his mouth curved downward and his brows remained furrowed, he and his brother leaned forward and blew out the candles.

A cheer erupted.

After that, the celebration carried on for hours, stretching deep into the night. There was even a rain of sake and chaos everywhere, with few surviving the arm-wrestling match started by a drunk Rengoku and a very drunk Tengen, with a sober Gyomei emerging as the winner to absolutely no one’s surprise. Or when Obanai nearly punched Tengen after catching him trying to persuade Muichiro to drink sake. Or even when Tomioka was seen playing with hairstyles with Muichiro and Mitsuri.

And no one said anything when a very sleepy Muichiro climbed into Yuichiro’s lap near one in the morning, simply resting his head against his chest with his eyes closed. Yuichiro even thought he had lasted quite well, considering he usually went to bed before eleven.

And those moments, with his brother safe in his arms, surrounded by warmth and the family he had found along the way, even if they were loud adults who had gone completely overboard for the birthday of two teenagers, were the only gift Yuichiro needed.

 

Even if he would never admit it out loud...

 

 

Yuichiro walked in silence beside his drowsy brother, holding his shoulders with one hand to keep him steady and clutching his own haori with the other to shield himself from the cold night breeze. He could still feel the warmth of the celebration lingering on his skin. It had been too much for him.

The paper door of their room slid open with a soft sound.

Inside, bathed in the gentle amber glow of a single lantern lit beside the futons, there were boxes. Several of them. Wrapped in patterned paper, tied with delicate cords and dyed ribbons, they rested carefully upon a folded cloth. Some had tags with names written in precise brushstrokes, others had no markings at all, wrapped in a simpler, more humble way. But all of them were clearly for them.

He stepped inside, his breath catching slightly.

'…Mui,' he called, his voice softer now. He turned, looking for his brother. 'Look.'

Muichiro paused at the doorway, rubbing his closed eyes.

Yuichiro crouched beside one of the boxes and turned, tapping lightly on the tatami next to him.

'Come on, Mui. Look,' he insisted again, with a softness in his voice reserved only for him. He knew his brother was exhausted from staying up so late, but they needed to share that moment. 'They’re presents. For us.'

Muichiro blinked, trying in vain to shake off the sleep and heaviness in his body. His curious eyes drifted towards the colourful boxes around them.

Yuichiro waited for him, even as he felt his own chest tremble. He knew that if the day had been intense for him, it had been even more so for his younger brother, so it was only natural he was slower than usual.

When Muichiro finally sat in front of him, knees folded awkwardly beneath him, Yuichiro picked up the first box, small and square, wrapped in plum-coloured paper with golden cords. From Mitsuri.

'Let’s see what’s inside,' he murmured, more to himself.

Carefully, he undid the knot.

Inside, wrapped in soft paper, was a small wooden comb. Hand-carved, painted with delicate cherry blossom flowers along the edge. It was very much like Mitsuri.

Yuichiro picked it up and gently ran it through Muichiro’s hair, brushing a dark strand away from his forehead.

'I think this one’s yours,' he said with a smile. 'Your hair is always a mess. Maybe now I can finally comb it properly.'

Muichiro tilted his head, admiring the painted details. He was becoming quite the artist. 'It’s very pretty…' his fingers moved slightly, wanting to touch it.

Yuichiro placed the comb in his hand.

Another box.

This one had a tag with unmistakable handwriting, precise and fluid: From Shinobu.

Yuichiro opened it with an amused sigh. That woman never seemed to tire of doing so much for him. One day, he would have to repay it.

Inside, wrapped in soft cloth, was a set of folded handkerchiefs, embroidered at the corners with small wisteria flowers. He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

'Subtle,' he commented, rolling his eyes, though without any real malice. 'Very subtle, Shinobu.'

Muichiro leaned forward slightly, curious, trying to see what amused his brother.

'They’ve got wisteria on them, see?' Yuichiro explained, showing him. Muichiro let out a small “oh” in response. 'She always finds a way to remind me to carry one. For safety, she says. As if I didn’t already.' He cast a brief glance towards the door. 'Well… anyway.'

He set the handkerchiefs aside and picked up another package.

This one was large. The wrapping was somewhat clumsy, as if it had been done in a hurry. But the label bore a name written in bold strokes.

Yuichiro read it. 'Rengoku.'

Tearing the paper, he revealed a thick, padded haori, clearly handmade and a little too large. The lining was turquoise, with several mist patterns, while the outer fabric had been dyed white.

Yuichiro ran his hand over the fabric, stunned.

That pattern was the same their mother used to sew onto their clothes…

'It’s so warm…' he said, holding it out for his brother to see and touch as well.

Muichiro reached out and poked the edge with his finger.

Yuichiro smiled gently at him. 'Want to try it on?'

Muichiro nodded, murmuring a small 'yes', his hand still resting on the fabric.

So Yuichiro unfolded it and carefully placed it over his brother’s shoulders, adjusting the collar with precision.

'There. It looks ridiculous on you,' he teased, receiving a tongue stuck out in return. 'But you’ll get used to it.'

Muichiro put his hands on his hips, looking at him with a pout, but Yui knew it was just playfulness.

Yuichiro smiled wider and ruffled his long hair.

They continued. Another present from Mitsuri, this time a box full of sweets and small packets of dried fruit tied with pink ribbons. Another, from Uzui, wrapped extravagantly in patterned silk, contained small glass bottles of scented oils, neatly arranged, along with a note: “For those sore muscles. Don’t say I never spoil you.” which he read, rolling his eyes so hard he nearly saw his own brain.

Even Giyuu had left something.

A small set of high-quality blank washi paper, along with a new ink set and brush, clearly for Muichiro. No tag at first glance. But Yuichiro knew it was his from the wrapping pattern resembling his haori.

Then came Sanemi, who gave them, or rather, gave Yuichiro a new and extremely sharp sword. Gyomei, who had given them a handmade protective amulet, and Obanai, who had gifted two identical turquoise bracelets with the same mist pattern, curiously matching Kyojuro’s haori.

'Blimey… that’s a lot,' he murmured quietly, his voice trembling, brows slightly furrowed - but not in irritation, far from it. He felt on the verge of tears. And from the corner of his eye, he saw Muichiro looking at him with concern, as if he thought he was about to cry from sadness. But that wasn’t quite it.

Yuichiro let out a soft, affectionate laugh, beginning to cry properly now, wiping one eye with his sleeve.

'It’s nothing, Mui,' he said, trying to reassure him. 'Just… a lot to take in, that’s all. But I’m not sad, alright?'

What he hadn’t expected was for Muichiro to move closer of his own accord and wipe his tears with such gentleness that it only made him cry more. And then he smiled at him, pressing their foreheads together in the same way Yuichiro did to calm him when he was anxious or when he woke from a nightmare.

Yuichiro couldn’t hold back any longer and let himself fall into the arms of the person he loved most.

He had lost so much… but those losses had also brought them so many other precious things. He felt so loved it almost hurt…

A feeling he didn’t think he deserved.

Muichiro, still holding his brother with one arm, reached out with the other and carefully placed the comb beside the box of sweets, the handkerchiefs next to the haori. Then the brush, the sword, the amulet, and the matching bracelets. And finally, the oils. Arranging everything neatly while gesturing with his chin for the elder to look.

Yuichiro felt lost amidst so many emotions that he couldn’t process them in any way other than crying.

'Are you happy, Yui?' Muichiro asked, looking at him with the same tenderness Yui always showed him.

Yuichiro didn’t answer. He couldn’t. All that came out was a broken sob as he hid his face in his brother’s neck.

He felt overwhelmed, but in a good way.

Yesterday had been their day, and he had felt so special… it was almost as if those summer days in the little house in the mountains with their family had returned.

He nestled further into the embrace, wanting to curl up there forever, if that were possible, holding him tighter.

Well, showing affection had never really been his thing, it had always been more Muichiro’s, until he lost his memory and that role had fallen to Yuichiro. And being there, feeling the warmth of his twin, made him feel so safe… even though he was the older and stronger of the two.

He missed that…

He missed them being equals, instead of just older brother and younger brother.

They had come into the world together, and they were meant to be one.

The presents lay scattered around them, and the room glowed softly with the remaining light of the lantern, creating the cosiest atmosphere possible.

Muichiro stroked his hair as if lulling him to sleep - and it was working. Yuichiro felt his eyes growing heavy, but before giving in to sleep, he whispered against his brother’s neck:

'Happy birthday, Mui…'

 

 

 

11th October 1915, Taishō jidai

 

Yuichiro had never been particularly fond of spectacles.

The flash of emotions, the warmth of raised voices, none of that stirred any interest in him. He far preferred reading in silence or spending time doing something alongside his brother. He was often labelled an introvert, and, in truth, he was.

He preferred clarity, cold facts and clean deaths. After all, that was the path of a Demon Slayer. And yet, he often found himself paying attention to the things left unsaid.

Today, however, was one of those days.

Everyone had been summoned for an emergency meeting. The Hashira. The most powerful swordsmen of the Corps. A meeting like this was rare, almost sacred. And at the centre of it all… a boy and his sister. A demon.

Yuichiro stood apart, near Giyuu Tomioka, though he made no effort to speak to him, not because the situation involved him as well, but simply because he had nothing to say to the older, deeply reserved swordsman. His arms were crossed, the wind lightly tugging at his haori. His gaze remained fixed ahead, impassive.

But as the scene unfolded, while Sanemi advanced with his usual fury, while Obanai hissed his distrust, while Mitsuri gasped and Kyojuro thundered about indignation and honour, things Yuichiro, to be honest, did not particularly care about, his attention was on the girl.

On her. Nezuko Kamado.

A demon girl who… simply did not attack.

It made no sense.

He did not trust it.

And yet…

'Tanjiro, please tell Tamayo-san that I offer my condolences.'

The youngest Hashira’s eyes widened.

Tamayo-san!

The woman who had been helping him, or rather, helping his younger brother.

His jaw tightened.

So… Nezuko is another from that rebellious group of demons.

Those who refuse to eat human flesh.

He looked at her again. The girl was barely breathing, her forehead pressed against the ground, as if she were ashamed of herself, even after Sanemi had provoked her to give in to her hunger. But there was no malice in her.

 

Could it be possible?

Could she truly be like Tamayo and Yushiro?

Were there more like them out there, beyond the three?

 

He did not like the implications. If demons could be trusted, even if only some of them… then what did all those deaths mean? And the countless bodies he had buried, the friends he had lost?

 

What did that mean for Mui?

 

He thought of his brother, as he always did. Of how Tamayo had looked at him with such tenderness. As if she had recognised something innocent in him. Even Yushiro had helped them, despite being rather spoilt.

Yuichiro closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, the scent of pine and fresh blood filling his nostrils.

Around him, the discussions went on. All those people voicing their objections and fears. And he could not blame them, he understood perfectly what ran through each of their minds.

And now, the same trust that Oyakata-sama had placed in those two demons, he was placing in this one as well.

Yuichiro did not feel prepared to argue in her defence. That was not his way.

But neither did he speak to condemn her.

He remained there, standing, arms still crossed, now looking up at the open sky above him. He had begun to understand why his brother had that habit. It helped to cloud one’s thoughts. And at that moment, he did not want to think.

Because the world was changing.

And Yuichiro did not know what that meant.

 

 

'That was a strange meeting, wasn’t it?'

 

Yuichiro did not startle. He turned his head slightly, just enough to recognise her.

Shinobu stood a step or two away from him, her arms loosely crossed behind her back.

He gave a low hum, which served as agreement.

'I didn’t expect the Master to support the Kamado siblings so openly.' She let out a light, easy laugh, trying to ease the mood after what had just happened. 'And you?'

'No,' Yuichiro replied.

He kept his gaze fixed ahead, watching a Kakushi carefully lift the box into which the demon girl had returned, after they had taken her older brother away once Oyakata-sama had dismissed him.

Shinobu looked in the same direction. 'I suppose I cannot blame him. He has always seen things others do not. But even so…' Her voice trailed off for a moment, searching for the right words before continuing. 'A demon who does not eat humans… and now we are to protect her.'

Noticing his lack of response, she glanced at him sideways. 'You are not saying anything.'

Yuichiro’s jaw shifted as if he were about to speak, but he was not sure what to say.

She was right, Oyakata-sama saw things differently. But that was because he concealed and withheld certain information. And that was something most would never suspect, not even Yuichiro himself, had he not known beforehand.

Instead, he offered something that was not a lie: 'It is not the first strange thing to happen this year.'

That drew a small, amused huff from her. 'Yes, fair enough.'

They remained side by side, a quiet sense of camaraderie between them, though each was lost in their own thoughts.

'…I still have not managed to process all of this,' she admitted at last, her posture growing more serious. 'I do not know what to believe. But I do know that I have been asked to take care of them, and that is what I will do.'

Then she looked back at him. 'That will not please everyone. I am quite sure Sanemi is already planning to sleep with one eye open.'

Yuichiro gave a slight nod. He could picture that perfectly.

'I will do whatever is necessary,' Shinobu continued. 'They are only children. Whatever she may be… that girl does not seem like an enemy to me, despite everything.'

He tilted his head, finally looking at her. 'To be honest, you seem rather uncertain.'

Shinobu gave a tired smile. 'Because I am. I am a scientist, Yui. I want answers.'

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. 'But the Master believes. And I have learned that it is unwise to ignore him.'

Yuichiro nodded again, his gaze dropping to his own hands, still loosely crossed, his fingers fidgeting restlessly. He wondered whether she had noticed.

And somehow, he found himself saying: 'They are fortunate to be under your care.'

Shinobu blinked in surprise. 'Ah?' Then, after a moment, her smile brightened slightly. 'That is the first compliment I have heard from you in months. I shall treasure it.'

He did not reply.

She, however, did not seem to mind, even knowing how unusual it was for him. She assumed it was simply too much for his already burdened mind to process. Her voice softened.

'Thank you for that.'

A gentle breeze passed through the garden, cooling the air that had once been tense. The sounds of the estate had quietened, leaving only distant footsteps and muffled voices beyond the walls, now just the two of them in that space.

Shinobu lifted her gaze to the sky, her brows faintly furrowed in thought. 'Do you think we will have to change as well? As a Corps?'

His thoughts drifted, inevitably, to Tamayo and Yushiro.

Then to the girl from today.

Three demons choosing something entirely different from what should be natural.

Yeah… perhaps, who know?

'Perhaps,' he said at last. 'If we wish to win.'

She nudged him with her elbow, amused. 'Well, that is more than I expected to hear from you.'

Yuichiro shifted slightly, frowning at the teasing. 'Do not get used to it.'

She laughed.

'Too late.'

 

 

 

 

 

The winter night of 1913–1914 wrapped the garden in a frozen stillness, an intense cold that nipped at their skin. Above them, the dark sky was already stained with colour, bursts of gold, silver and crimson spreading across the firmament, each one fading into pale smoke that drifted lazily on the wind.

Yui sat with his back straight, his haori neatly adjusted around him, the faint light of the fireworks tracing delicate shadows across his face. Beside him, Muichiro sat with his legs carefully folded, his posture relaxed, but his gaze fixed, unblinking, on the sky. His expression barely changed; the flashes of light seemed to envelop him, as if the spectacle belonged to some distant world he could only observe from afar.

The faint crackling of small firecrackers from neighbouring houses mingled with the deep, thunderous booms of the larger fireworks. Somewhere behind them, the old wind chimes of the engawa gave a soft, metallic sigh each time a breeze passed.

Yui cast a sideways glance at his brother. The faint glow in Mui’s eyes reflected the golden arcs above, but there was no sign of the boy he knew, the one who laughed at the smallest things, the one who dragged him into trouble with a smile. Now, Mui’s face was unreadable, like the surface of still water.

A flash of blue light tore across the sky, bathing both their faces in its glow. Yui found himself speaking before he had fully decided to.

'What would you like…' he asked softly, his voice almost drowned by the echo of the explosion, 'for this year?'

Mui’s eyes did not leave the sky. His lips parted slightly and then, in the same calm, distant tone he had used so many times since that day, he hummed.

The sound was so quiet it was nearly swallowed by the wind. Yui let out a faint sigh. He had known that would be the answer.

He looked away from Mui, tilting his head back towards the cascade of colours above, his shoulders rising slowly with another deep breath. The fireworks flared again, their shapes dissolving into the void.

'I wish…' His words lingered in the cold air. 'I wish everything could go back to how it was before.'

 

 

 

27th February 1916, Taishō jidai

 

Muichiro was crying.

His arms were tightly wrapped around his brother’s waist, his small body trembling in a way that had nothing to do with the morning cold. His face was pressed against Yui’s chest, and his tears soaked through the fabric of the uniform.

'It’s alright, Mui,' Yuichiro said softly, his voice steady despite the weight in his chest. One hand rested on his brother’s shoulder, the other gently smoothing his hair. 'We’ll only be apart for a while. I’ll come back to you. Don’t worry.'

Muichiro shook his head forcefully, his grip unyielding. His small fingers curled into the fabric, clinging as though letting go would mean losing him. Only God knew how hard Yuichiro was trying to remain calm and composed; if he faltered, even for a moment, it would only make things worse. For Muichiro and for himself.

But it was so difficult to see his little brother like that… he wanted to take him and go far away from there. He wanted to run away with him to anywhere beyond the mountains, to make sure they would be safe. He would take all the money he had earned as a demon slayer, buy a simple and comfortable house, maybe even put his brother in school. They would go out to eat, visit the sea for the first time, perhaps even adopt a cat - which Muichiro loved so much - even if he himself did not think it was such a good idea. They would live like that, happily, as it should always have been.

But that was not possible. Not in the reality he lived in.

'I promise, Mui. I’ll come back.'

He was not entirely certain of that, but he hoped he could keep that promise, like so many others.

Neither of them was in any state to deal with it at that moment. The soft rustling of the leaves in the garden, the distant voices of people working further away, it all faded into the background. For now, there were only the two of them, clinging to each other as if that alone could stop what was coming.

But it could not.

You must be wondering why this was happening. Why Yuichiro Tokito, who was almost never apart from his brother, was now preparing to go somewhere Muichiro could not follow. And why Muichiro, who so often forgot entire conversations, seemed to instinctively understand that this time was different, even though no one had told him the truth.

A great deal had happened over the past few months. Things had changed, and time as well.

First came Kyojuro’s death. Not just another fallen comrade; he was the Flame Hashira, killed in service by a member of the Upper Rank Three. The news did not merely spread; it instilled fear in everyone. And rightly so. If a Hashira–one of the strongest warriors in the Corps–could not win, then what chance did they have?

No, they did not. And so the Corps began losing members rapidly. No one wished to walk straight into death. That was what led the Master to begin implementing the idea of emergency recruitment.

They were at a disadvantage, and that could not continue.

And it goes without saying how immediate the impact on morale was. It was not as though the Corps had never suffered losses before, it had, and it would again, but this reminded everyone just how thin the line between life and death truly was.

Then came the next development: Uzui’s retirement.

He had survived the battle alongside Kamado Tanjiro and his friends against the Upper Rank Six. The man lost his left arm and an eye in that fight, and although he tried to mask it with his usual extravagant confidence, even joking about living a quieter life from then on, the truth was clear: he could no longer fight as he once had. And they lost yet another combatant. But at least this time, they had managed to defeat an Upper Rank.

They had killed an Upper Rank for the first time in a hundred years. It goes without saying that it was a remarkable feat. Despite the loss, hope began to rise again.

Which was a very good sign.

But in a way, his departure was almost as shocking as Kyojuro’s death. Uzui was loud, the sort of man Yuichiro would describe as rough, but kind-hearted. Another Hashira whose mere presence made people feel safer. Losing him meant losing another line of defence, another person capable of facing the Upper Ranks and surviving.

Two Hashira lost in such a short time. And everyone knew the enemy was not slowing down.

Then, something no one could have predicted: Kamado Nezuko survived the sun after the battle against Upper Rank Four in the Swordsmith Village. The first demon in history to withstand daylight without turning to ash. And after that, demons stopped appearing. They were not entirely sure why, but since it happened after Nezuko conquered the sun, they had a good idea.

For the Corps, it meant proof that victory was truly possible. For Muzan, it meant temptation and danger greater than ever. If he were to get his hands on the demon girl, nothing would be able to stop him.

The final battle was no longer a distant threat. It was approaching at any moment.

And then came Tamayo-san’s work. Months spent gathering ingredients, testing, failing, and trying again had led to this: two antidotes. One that could help Nezuko, and another that could help Muichiro.

It could restore his memories. It was not guaranteed, but it was a chance - and there would be no other.

And so, the plan was set. Nezuko would remain hidden until the final battle, and Muichiro would stay with her, in that quiet estate far from the front lines, where both would be under treatment, albeit for different reasons, and could rest.

Tanjiro and Yuichiro entrusted their younger siblings to the safety of Urokodaki’s deeply hidden home, where they would remain under his care, as ordered by Kiriya Ubuyashiki, to ensure they would not leave and that nothing would reach them.

That was why Yuichiro was there now, holding his brother beneath the pale light of dawn, telling him it would only be for a while, even though he knew that only the end of the battle would decide everything.

Muichiro’s voice came muffled against his chest, broken by sobs that made him choke. '…I don’t want to…' Another sob, then another, and another…

It was breaking his heart in such a painful way that he thought he might die before the battle even began.

'I know, Mui… I know,' Yui murmured, continuing to gently run his hand through the loose strands of his brother’s hair. 'But you’ll be safe here. They’ll take care of you. I’ll be back before you even notice.'

Muichiro shook his head stubbornly, clutching his clothes even tighter. The idea of prying those small hands away felt like tearing a piece of himself off.

Yui lifted his hands to his face, holding his cheeks, and pressed his forehead against his, as he always did to comfort him. 'Nothing will happen to you. I’ll make sure of that. And when I come back, we’ll have furofuki daikon, just the way you like it. Alright?'

There was no reply, only another broken sob. Yui lifted his brother’s face just enough to finally meet his tear-filled eyes.

'It’s alright to cry…' he said softly, wiping his cheeks with his thumb. 'It just means I’ll have to come back even faster, doesn’t it?'

Reluctantly, Muichiro began to loosen his grip. When there was enough space between them, Yui placed a slow kiss on his forehead.

'I’ll see you soon, Mui.'

And then, even though every part of him wanted to hold onto him again with all his strength, Yuichiro let him go.

 

 

 

1th May 1916, Taishō jidai

 

'Come on, Yuichiro! Concentrate!'

Sanemi’s rough voice cut through the air at the same time as his blade, overlapping with the rhythmic clash of wooden swords. Dust rose from the packed-earth courtyard as the two figures moved, their feet sliding and pivoting in sharp motions, the late afternoon heat weighing down on them.

'That goes for those who have awakened the Mark…' Sanemi barked again, adjusting his stance, 'as well as those who haven’t. So stop getting distracted and fight!'

Yuichiro exhaled, a short, scornful sigh. He kept his blade steady, his eyes half-lidded in that usual irritated way. 'Distracted? I was giving you an advantage,' he replied dryly, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Sanemi frowned, his jaw tightening. 'You cheeky little—'

They attacked at the same time, their bokken colliding with a sharp crack. Yuichiro’s grip was firm, his movements precise, but Sanemi fought like a storm, true to his breathing style; his strikes carved wild arcs, forcing Yuichiro back, back, back until his heels nearly touched the edge of the packed-earth ring.

A murmur rose among the trainees lined around them, some newly recruited, others still in the early stages of training. When it came to Hashira sessions, they were not for the weak. These were the moments when the elite honed their skills and, whether they admitted it or not, tested one another.

'Keep fighting like that,' Sanemi growled, stepping close enough for Yuichiro to feel the heat of his breath, 'and how the hell do you expect to protect your brother?'

The blow came a moment later, strong enough to force Yuichiro’s arms up to shoulder height. He blocked it, teeth clenched. That single sentence lit a sharp, unpleasant pain behind his ribs.

He hated it when they used his brother against him, because it worked. And it worked very well.

'Do you think I need you to tell me that?' Yuichiro’s voice rose. His counterattack came immediately, angled downward, forcing Sanemi to adjust his balance.

Bingo!

Sanemi flashed a crooked grin as he saw his provocation had worked. 'From the way you’re handling it, yes, you do.'

Everyone there knew about the Tokito twins, even if many had never seen the younger one. But they did not need to - it was enough to look at the elder brother to form an idea. And for Yuichiro, every word from Sanemi was like a stone thrown against rock.

The next exchange of blows grew more violent by the second; he was giving Sanemi exactly what he wanted. The bokken cut through the air, striking, rebounding, spinning between guard and counterattack in a single flow. Sweat ran down Yuichiro’s temple, stinging his eyes. He was no longer just defending.

Sanemi only grinned wider. Provocation was as much a weapon as the blade in his hands. Every strike forced Yuichiro to adapt, to think a fraction of a second faster than his body could react.

And still, in the brief gaps between blows, thoughts of Muichiro slipped through.

 

If he’s not strong enough, like Sanemi said… then what happens? What happens next time?

Or rather… will there even be a next time?

Would he… would he be able to return to his brother like he promised? Or would he end up like their parents?

He hoped not.

 

He could see his brother’s distant yet trusting gaze, and hear the faint, distracted murmur he made while folding origami, as if he were right there in front of him.

He wouldn’t even understand why I didn’t come back…

A downward strike from Sanemi dragged him back to reality. Yuichiro blocked it just in time before it could hit his ribs, feeling the impact travel through his arms and lock his muscles. His breathing grew heavier, the burn in his lungs threatening to slow him down.

Sanemi still smiled despite the effort. 'You’re thinking about him, aren’t you? That’s why you’re slow.'

'I’m thinking…' Yuichiro said between uneven breaths, twisting to break free from the pressure, 'about how satisfying it’ll be to wipe that ridiculous smile off your face.'

Sanemi shoved him back two steps, and Yuichiro gave ground only to surge forward again with a low, swift strike that nearly caught him in the neck.

Yuichiro’s muscles screamed, but he forced them to obey. Every time the burning threatened to overtake him, he thought of Muichiro’s small hands clutching his sleeve, and how wrong it had been to let them go, and yet he had. That pain became his fuel.

At last, after what felt like an eternity, their blades clashed once more. The tension pressed against Yuichiro’s wrists, Sanemi’s strength bearing down steadily. Their breathing was uneven, sweat ran freely, and dust clung to damp skin.

A simultaneous step back broke the stalemate. Both straightened, still in fighting stance, but neither advanced.

It was the closest they came to a draw.

Sanemi’s smile returned, softened by his heavy breathing. 'Not bad, kid. Still not good enough… but not bad.'

Yuichiro lowered his wooden sword with a sharp motion, his expression unreadable. 'Save your praise. I don’t need it.'

 

 

 

27th May 1916, Taishō jidai

 

The black wooden gates of the Ubuyashiki residence rose before him, tall enough to block any glimpse beyond them. Yui slowed his pace as he approached. The night sky had already sunk into a deep blue, leaving the last remnants of daylight clinging to the horizon. A cold mountain breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of cedar and damp earth.

Somewhere in the distance, a lone crow could be heard cawing before falling silent.

He adjusted the sash of his haori, still dusty from that day’s Hashira training, the fabric marked with light cuts from the exercises. Cold sweat clung to the back of his neck, sticking the collar of his uniform to his skin.

He heard no voices coming from the house. That was somewhat unusual. Normally, there would be some sound from within. It was still too early for them to be asleep. But in any case, he would not disturb them.

He opened the gate himself and stepped inside. The inner path was in perfect order, lined with smooth stones and well-kept shrubs. Paper lanterns, evenly spaced along the walkway, burned with a steady yet soft light, their glow dimmer than usual, as though someone had trimmed the wicks too short. The air carried a faint scent of pine incense, though they usually preferred lavender.

As he walked along the wooden engawa, the floor creaked softly beneath his weight, the only sound present. Inside, the dark wooden walls and pale shōji panels held a gentle warmth, but not enough to drive away the chill running through his bones. He removed his sandals at the genkan and stepped onto the polished floor. Normally, someone would greet him, not a servant, but a member of the family, with a familiar nod or a brief “Welcome back.” But that night, no one was waiting for him.

The corridors stretched out before him, lit by a faint row of oil lamps. Each flame flickered slightly, even though there was no wind, as the windows were closed.

He found Lady Amane in one of the inner rooms. She was seated formally on a zabuton cushion, her posture straight and her expression as serene as ever. A small brazier to her right gave off a gentle warmth, and the soft crackle of embers filled the silence between them.

‘Yuichiro-kun,’ she said in acknowledgement as she saw him approach. ‘Come in.’

He gave a slight bow before kneeling in front of her. She observed him carefully, noting the signs of his fatigue.

‘I hear today’s training was rigorous.’

‘It was,’ he nodded briefly.

She inclined her head forward. ‘There is a mission for you tonight.’

Yuichiro’s brows furrowed immediately, looking at her as though a third head had appeared before him.

 

A mission? But demons had stopped appearing, so why would there be one?

 

He cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me, Amane-san… but, if I may ask, what do you mean by a mission? What we were told is that there has been no demonic activity since the Swordsmith Village.’

She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again. ‘I understand your point, Yuichiro-kun. We did not expect it either, but we have received reports of Oni activity in the north,’ she continued. ‘It is a remote area. A small village has witnessed disappearances at nightfall. This cannot be handled by a lower-ranked slayer. We have already lost so much, and the risk is too great, which is why we decided that you should investigate. Do you understand?’

He narrowed his eyes. He understood the nature of their work, and yet, why would a demon appear in such an isolated manner, and at a time like this?

But he did not question it, despite wanting to.

To her left lay a small tightly rolled scroll, which she picked up and placed on the low table between them. Yui took it with both hands, unrolling it to reveal coordinates, along with notes on terrain, weather, and possible obstacles.

‘There is one thing,’ Amane added, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at something beyond him. ‘We do not know if it is only one Oni.’

Yui carefully rolled the scroll back up and put it away.

‘Understood. I will depart immediately.’

‘Each night we delay may cost lives,’ she said, her gaze drifting to the lantern beside her, where the flame wavered, growing weaker with each moment.

Yui gave a brief bow. As he stood, he adjusted his haori, making sure it sat properly on his shoulders. But before he could leave, Amane-san spoke again.

‘Yuichiro.’

He turned his head to look at her, slightly surprised by the way she called him; she had never addressed him simply as “Yuichiro”.

Lady Amane, who had been watching him with her usual serene expression, now seemed almost sad, though she did not look at him directly, her eyes unfocused on the flames. At least, that was what Yuichiro thought.

And as if she had read his thoughts, she looked at him now, her lips pressed together and her brow faintly furrowed. ‘…be careful, will you? And… please, take care of yourself.’

A shiver ran down his spine. Why was she saying that? I mean, yes, she might be worried, as she always was when it involved the twins and her own children. But… he felt uneasy, and he did not like it at all. Even so, he nodded, a little hesitantly. ‘Yes… don’t worry. I will return soon, Amane-san.’

She gave a small smile, but could no longer hold his gaze.

As he returned to the corridor, the air felt colder, even though only a few minutes had passed since he had walked through it. He made his way to the outer area where his sandals were, put them back on, and crossed the courtyard without looking back.

The gates closed behind him with the creak of something rusted. He grimaced. Why was everything making him feel so uneasy today?

The road ahead was empty, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves above. The light of the residence’s lanterns faded behind him with each step, until they disappeared entirely from his sight.

Yuichiro kept moving forward.

He maintained a steady pace, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. The weight of the katana was as familiar as the beat of his own heart. The path led him further and further from everything, deeper into the shadows of the countryside.

Nothing moved at the roadside. No distant voices from the fields. No glimmer of light from the scattered houses he had passed earlier that day. Only the pale beam of moonlight over the dirt path, broken by the long shadows of trees swaying in the wind, rising and falling without pattern.

Well, of course, the silence was normal in the hours before midnight. Even so, he did not like any of it. It did not feel right to be there. Even about to face a supposed demon, he had never felt like this in the countless times before, so why did his chest feel so tight?

His instincts were always right. Was he about to encounter something, or someone, worse than expected? Was that why he felt so anxious?

He shook his head, pushing the thought away.

Focus, Yuichiro. Whatever it is, you are a Hashira. You can handle anything that comes. That is what you trained until you spat blood for.

And so, he found himself walking for nearly a full hour.

The road narrowed, lined with tufts of tall grass on both sides. The stalks rustled in the breeze, their dry leaves brushing against one another.

From time to time, he lifted his gaze to the moon to measure his progress. The coordinates on the scroll were exactly for that place; he was certain. He had memorised the landmarks: a low hill, a stretch of open field, and then the cedar grove where he was meant to wait. He had done this enough times to trust his own instincts.

And yet, the journey felt… long. Longer than it should have.

When the cedar grove finally came into view, he slowed his pace. The trees stood very close to one another, their branches intertwined above, blocking most of the moonlight. Shadows gathered between the trunks.

He stepped into the grove. The ground beneath his feet was soft, muffling his steps. He walked towards the centre, scanning the area.

Nothing.

Yui stopped, frowning slightly. The place was exactly as described, but there was no sign of demonic activity. No observer. No trace of a struggle. No footprints other than his own.

 

Had the Master mistaken it for something else? But that was not like him. Then why send him to a place with nothing?

 

He slowly turned, observing the dark shapes of the trees. The wind blew again, making the pine needles hiss above his head.

Everything had been too quiet since he had arrived home earlier.

And even for a night mission, there should have been something, some trace of an Oni’s presence, anything, but everything was perfectly normal.

 

What was the purpose of the mission he had been given?

 

His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

The wind blew again, this time carrying a distant rustle from beyond the grove. Yuichiro’s eyes narrowed. He drew his sword, ready to strike whatever might appear.

Until the sudden beating of wings reached his ears.

A small dark shape crossed the edge of the moonlight before flying towards him. The glint of an eye caught what little light remained.

Ginkgo.

The black crow tilted its head in his direction. And, with a sharp and urgent voice, it cried out as loudly as it could.

 

‘Emergency! Emergency at the Ubuyashiki residence! Emergency! Emergency!’

 

His eyes widened.

 

What…?

 

The crow repeated the warning, pulling him from his daze.

He took one step forward, then another.

‘What…’ His voice failed, the rest of the question dying before it could even form.

He did not wait for further explanations. His legs moved before his thoughts could catch up with them, carrying him back onto the path, this time running as fast as he could. The wind lashed his haori with every step.

The steady rhythm of his earlier breathing had vanished, replaced by a heavy pounding in his chest. One, two, three, the cadence of his steps matched the frantic beat of his heart.

Branches scraped against his sleeves as he forced his way out of the grove. The dirt road seemed narrower now, the moonlight harsher, the shadows deeper. He barely noticed. His focus was ahead, always ahead, towards the property etched into his mind.

The crow kept pace above him, a dark blur against the sky, its voice cutting through the air again and again. ‘Emergency! Emergency at the Ubuyashiki estate!’

His mind, now clearer, raced faster than his own feet. What could have happened? An attack? A fire? Both? The estate was secure, protected not by numbers, but by the discipline of those who lived there.

What could breach that?

He pushed himself further. His muscles burned as much as his lungs, but he did not slow down. Gravel scattered beneath his sandals; the air scratched at his throat with every breath, and…

And…

A violent, deep concussion that seemed to split the night in two. The ground beneath his feet trembled. The air itself felt so dense he could barely breathe.

A moment later, a blinding flash burst forth.

Not the steady glow of lanterns he was so used to, but a fierce explosion of orange and red tearing across the horizon.

The force of the wind rushing towards him made him stop abruptly.

The impact of the blast echoed in his ears. The world around him narrowed to a single point: the thick column of black smoke rising into the sky, lit from below by flames.

A point he could only stare at, wide-eyed, powerless.

 

The Ubuyashiki estate was on fire.

 

No… wait, the Ubuyashiki estate had been blown up.

 

He felt numb, as though he were watching the film of his own life end once again.

And like a hammer striking his temple, a conclusion began to take shape amid it all.

No, there had never been any Oni in the north. There had never been any mission.

Lady Amane had sent him away from that place.

She had sent him away so that he would not die there.

His vision narrowed around the smoke, the fire twisting in the darkness. And somewhere beyond it, he could almost feel the pulse of something vast and malevolent.

Kibutsuji Muzan.

Ginkgo landed on the road a few metres in front of him.

Yuichiro took a step forward, then another, and realised he could not run. He could only stare at the fire consuming the place he had once called home.

The air now carried a strong, acrid smell, mixed with the faint sweetness of burning cedar. It scorched his throat.

He did not know how long he stood there before shock gave way to movement. But when it did, it was not the disciplined stride of a Hashira, but the desperate sprint of someone who knew the cost of arriving too late.

And he had arrived too late… once again.

When he arrived, his suspicion was confirmed - before him stood none other than Muzan himself, in flesh and blood. And scattered across what had once been the estate were his eight fellow Hashira, all ready to face their common enemy. But as soon as they drew close enough, each prepared to strike in their own way, the ground beneath their feet tilted, and they fell into an abyss that seemed to have no end.

The air within that vast, strange place was so dense it pressed against his ribs. What appeared to be corridors stretched endlessly ahead, wooden panels creaking and shifting as though alive. Lanterns swayed without wind, the light bending unnaturally, shadows crawling along the walls in impossible forms.

He looked around, but his companions had already vanished within that place. Each one cast to a different corner, far from the others.

No, no, no… this cannot be happening. Not now. Not to them.

He needed to land on some kind of platform; if he kept falling like this, he would surely be caught off guard and killed, if he did not shatter first. The thought made him act quickly, driving his sword into a wooden structure that had just appeared.

Other structures shifted, doors sliding into places where nothing had existed moments before, staircases twisting in physically impossible directions, the very architecture pulsing faintly as though veins ran beneath the wood.

A place like that should never have existed.

 

Keep moving. Do not think. Just keep moving.

But other thoughts began to flood his mind.

 

Where was the Ubuyashiki family? Were they safe? Had they managed to escape before the explosion consumed them as well, just as Amane-san had ensured he escaped? Or were they somewhere within that fortress?

 

He did not know.

 

Somewhere above, or perhaps below, came the distant crash of wood splintering, followed by a scream abruptly cut off. Yuichiro tightened his grip on his sword. This was what his training had prepared him for, for the moment when everything came to this, and yet he could not silence the heavy pounding in his chest.

From the corner of his eye, movement caught his attention at once. He turned, blade half-raised, but the figure that emerged from the shifting wall was not an enemy. The imposing form of Gyomei Himejima approached, the chains around his neck clinking softly as he advanced, his flail and axe still dripping with demon blood.

‘Tokito!’ His voice was calm and deep despite the situation they were in, even as another demon lunged at him from above. The Hashira moved with terrifying precision, the flail rising to crush bone and skull in a single blow. The body fell at Yuichiro’s feet, writhing.

Without waiting for explanations, Yui followed closely behind him. Together, they advanced.

The fortress reacted violently to their advance. The walls opened, revealing swarms of demons, grotesque, misshapen creatures with too many eyes, mouths gaping with hunger. Some crawled along the walls like insects; others burst from the floor in showers of splinters.

‘Left!’ Gyomei’s voice cut through the chaos, and Yuichiro obeyed, swinging his blade in a precise arc. Flesh tore, blood sprayed, and the demons collapsed with guttural snarls.

Do not think. Just continue.

Just continue…

Just…

His mind betrayed him again. Amid the clash of steel and the wet crack of bones, he found himself thinking once more.

Where is the Ubuyashiki family?

When the corridor finally widened enough for them to breathe without immediate threat, Yuichiro turned to Gyomei, his voice hoarse and his brows furrowed. ‘What happened? At the estate… what was that?’

Gyomei’s face remained unreadable, and his silence lasted long enough for Yui’s stomach to twist.

No… it cannot be what I am thinking, can it…?

‘They are gone, Tokito. The Ubuyashiki family… perished.’

If he could describe it, he would say it was what it felt like to die while still alive. His body did not react; it was as though life had simply left him. His organs, his heart, his muscles, his mind, everything seemed to stop, leaving only an empty shell.

No… no, that cannot…

‘And the explosion?’ His voice faltered involuntarily, his hand rising to cover his mouth. ‘That… what was that?’

Gyomei turned his face forward as he resumed moving, forcing Yuichiro to follow. They could not afford to lose focus for even a moment. ‘It was the work of Oyakata-sama. He knew Muzan would come for him. That explosion… was his own life, sacrificed to give us this one chance to win.’

Yuichiro stumbled over his own feet, barely managing to keep his balance. The world around him shrank to the sound of his own heart, beating, beating, beating. The walls seemed to close in, the ground tilting again.

 

He chose to die. He knew. He knew and sent me away.

He left me too… left me just like father and mother did.

And he did not even give me the chance to say goodbye… what were the last words I said to them?

 

Somewhere in the distance, a demon screamed, its voice thin like tearing metal. Yui barely heard it. His fingers were numb around the hilt of his sword; he could not move them to defend himself.

So that was it? Was that how he would die? To demons that were not even of the Upper Ranks? Then why had he trained so hard? Why did he hold such an important position if he could not even steady himself against his own anxiety?

Someone defended him.

And then came the sudden impact, Gyomei’s firm, heavy hand on his shoulder. ‘Focus. They do not want you to fall here, and not now.’

He looked up, startled at first. But he nodded. He was right. He could not, and would not, fall here, the memory of his brother’s smile becoming the fuel he found to keep going.

 

You promised you would return to him, Yuichiro. Do not break that promise, you know the pain of what happens when it is broken, do you not?

 

He is waiting for you.

 

‘Muichiro is waiting for me…’ He did not even realise he had spoken aloud.

But before either of them could even think to speak, the moment shattered as another wave of demons descended, larger than the last. The corridor became a blur of movement, Gyomei’s flail crushing skulls, Yuichiro’s blade flashing in silver arcs. Blood splattered across the walls, coating the warped wood.

Step, strike, turn, step, strike, turn. A claw grazed his cheek, hot blood stinging, but he ignored it. Each demon that fell was one less between them and Muzan. One less between him and the justice the Ubuyashiki deserved.

They fought for hours, the winding corridors seeming endless. Each time they carved a path, the castle shifted, forcing them to begin again. And throughout it all, Yui’s mind wavered between the present, the slaughter, his own breathing, the constant noise of that place, and the memories of quiet mornings at the estate with his brother and all those who had lived there.

When they finally reached a vast hall, lit only by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling, they stopped. The shadows there moved of their own accord, stretching and forming shapes that emerged from the floor with glowing eyes.

‘Prepare yourself,’ said Gyomei, alert to his surroundings.

He nodded once. His voice, when it finally came, was steady, though it seemed to belong to someone else. ‘Alway-’

But before he could finish, a wall appeared and slammed into him, hurling him violently away, tearing the air from his lungs.

‘TOKITO!’ Gyomei shouted, alarmed, as the younger one was dragged out of sight, his voice echoing through the corridor while Yuichiro fought against the crushing force pressing him down.

He was becoming dazed with so many things happening at once. Wooden panels twisted at impossible angles. The lantern light cut through the thickening shadows, making his head spin and spin with the dizziness it brought when he looked at them.

He was thrown into another hall, larger than any he had seen before.

A cold shiver ran down his spine. His hands began to tremble as he felt an overwhelming presence before him. He was not alone.

From the shadows emerged a tall figure, clad in a dark kimono embroidered with crescent moons, six burning red eyes fixed upon him.

 

Upper Moon One.

 

His world became a blur. He could no longer think clearly.

 

He only knew that he so desperately wanted to return to the warmth and safety of his little brother’s arms…

 

Mui… please, forgive me…

 

I want to be strong enough to keep the promise I made to you… to come back to you. But… would you forgive me, if I couldn’t keep it this time?

 

The only things clear to him were that the fight lasted for what seemed to be many hours; he could not remember. But his comrades, Gyomei, along with his Tsuguko Genya and Sanemi, joined in to help him soon after.

They were at a disadvantage against that monstrous force, even being four against one. He had already lost his right arm and felt himself growing weaker and weaker from the loss of blood. All the others were worn down as well, while the Upper Moon seemed to remain intact.

He remembers that they coordinated a combined attack to finally force him back until they struck him completely. But when the moment came, the force of Kokushibo’s counterattack against them sent him flying with such strength that his head collided with a wall. His vision grew darker and darker; he was losing consciousness.

All he could see were blurs of what he thought was Kokushibo with his head severed by Sanemi and Gyomei.

 

Forgive me…

 

And he went out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My dear Mui,

If you are reading this, that is good, because it means you managed to recover your memories! On the other hand… I do not know if I am physically present to see that happen. But I hope so, because it was what I wanted most in the world. So, just in case, I will leave this letter for you:

I do not even know where to begin. I have thought about this hundreds of times, and even so, when I try to put it into words, they escape me. How do you explain years of your life without it sounding like just a list? How do you explain the feeling of having the world shattered and, even so, sitting at the table every day with the half that is missing?

When we were children, I thought we would always be together, running in the garden, arguing over nothing, staying up late because we could not stop talking. I truly believed the days would go on like that forever. Now, those memories feel so distant they might as well belong to someone else.

After that night, when you woke up without remembering anything, after panicking so much, I told myself that it was all right. I said that one day you would come back. And I still say that, even now. But it is like trying to hold vapour in your hands. You are here, but the person I knew is no longer. I never imagined I would have to grieve someone who is still breathing.

There is something strange about loss. It is not only the big things that affect us, it is the birthdays you do not remember, stories you cannot finish, moments we can no longer share. It is the small things that hurt the most.

You no longer call me Nii-san. And I never thought I would miss that, because I never imagined it would stop happening. It is just a word with two syllables, but now it feels as though they held everything in me together. Without them, there is a void that nothing fills.

I felt worthy of holding the role of your older brother and that you recognised it, but now?

I kept doing things you would never imagine were for you. I spoke to you as if you were a stranger, afraid of frightening you. I walked beside you as if we were still on the same path, when, in truth, you were already somewhere else, far from me, and every time I reached my hands out towards you, you vanished before my eyes.

People only realise the value of what they have after they lose it.

And even after we lost mum and dad, I did not feel as helpless. Of course, it was one of the worst moments of my life, but nothing compares to having lost my other half. I do not know if I have ever told you this, but you are the most important person in my life, even when our parents were alive. It has always been like that, and it always will be.

You are my little brother, how could I expect anything less than that?

If I could go back, I would do everything differently. I would not spend my days pretending things were not wrong. I would not stand by doing nothing while I watched you drift further and further away. I would not choose silence when I should have said what mattered most: you are my home, Muichiro.

I miss you. I miss being someone you recognise. I miss being your older brother, and not just someone you share blood with. I miss the way you looked at me and remembered everything.

So, please… know that I love you.

I love you with all that I am.

From your nii-san,
Yui.

 

 

 

 

 

 

8th August 1918, Taishō jidai

 

Yuichiro never considered himself a person of faith.

And, when he spoke of “faith”, he did not mean believing in gods or anything of the sort; he meant having faith in hope itself. He never considered himself someone who believed in second chances or in the possibility of truly having a happy life after so many misfortunes. He was not that kind of person.

But that was not what the Yuichiro of now thought. It might have been what his past self believed, and indeed it was, but no longer, because now he knew that second chances existed.

He was proof of that.

Two years had already passed since the final battle ended, taking with it the entire existence of demons on earth, with the exception of Yushiro. Two years since the dust settled, since the cries of the warriors became nothing more than distant memories.

In that time, many things had changed, both for himself and for so many others. There had been so many losses that it would be impossible to count them. But, somehow, everyone found ways to live with them. The pain never disappeared; it simply became part of their story.

Today, the twins turn 17. Seventeen years of shared breaths, exchanged glances and an unbreakable bond, forged not only by blood, but by everything they had endured together.

Seventeen years since they first awoke in this world.

Yuichiro was sitting outside, on the wooden engawa of his house, with the warm light of late afternoon bathing his face. His legs hung loosely over the edge, and the tips of his fingers brushed the soft grass below. The wood beneath him was warm, and the faint scent of wildflowers rose with each small movement. His eyes were closed, simply feeling the gentle breeze brush against his face and his hair.

The right sleeve of his kimono hung empty, where his arm had once been. At first, he did not deny it, it had been uncomfortable and deeply distressing to live without the hand that had helped him so many times to cook, to wield his sword, to carry out his tasks. But time had taught him to adapt to it. He had learnt to tie his hair with one hand, to wash it, to cut vegetables without thinking too much about what he lacked, to arrange the firewood in the hearth, to learn to fight again, but in his own way, and so many other things...

The house he was in belonged to them, to him and to Muichiro. A modest place, with sliding shoji doors that opened onto quiet, secluded fields, where there was a small path leading deeper into the forest, similar to the small house they had shared in the mountains when they were children. But this one had belonged to an elderly farmer, already retired, who had moved to the city and, because of that, sold it to the twins.

Their former home, the Ubuyashiki estate, had been reduced to ashes and ruins. The family had not survived, only the three youngest children of Amane-san and Oyakata-sama.

The twins felt as though they had lost their parents for the second time. After all, it had been them who had taken them in when the world had nothing left to offer. It had been them who cared, who watched over them, who always asked and made a point of keeping them well looked after, well fed and warm.

And then he remembered his best friend, Shinobu. Yui had fainted before the end of the battle, only to wake in the Butterfly Mansion several weeks later, with the news that she had passed away. He did not take it well at all at first. He cried a lot, broke down, thought it was all a nightmare. After all, how could she have died? Why would she have died? Had she left him too? Why would she do that? That state of denial took almost an entire year to disappear completely. And, even now, he could not say that he was fully convinced of it. He felt deeply numb when he remembered all of them, because they were his family as well.

They were the family he had lost for the second time.

Tamayo-san had also been a light in his life and in the lives of all the other survivors. Without her, so many things would have been lost. The outcome would not have been the same without her intervention against Muzan. Without her, Muichiro would never have regained his true self.

She passed away in the battle and disappeared like so many others in that final wave of sacrifice. And yet, even now, Yui carried an immense gratitude that no distance could erase. Wherever she might be, he would always thank her for giving his brother back to him whole once more. And he hoped that, perhaps, in another life, he could repay everything she had done for him, everything all of them had done for them.

Many others did not survive either: Gyomei, Obanai, Mitsuri... All of them perished, leaving only Giyu, Sanemi and Yuichiro among the pillars of strength. Of course, aside from Uzui, but that big monkey had already retired before everything even ended.

However, in moments like this, with the sunlight warming his veranda, with his brother alive and smiling, Yui’s heart warmed. He wished that all of them could be there, that all those who had once supported them, who had witnessed every step of his struggle to heal Muichiro, could see the boy who had emerged on the other side, not that lost and distant child that everyone had known, but this version of him, calm, radiant and compassionate, unafraid to smile, without doubt in being. The young man he had always been meant to be.

But all of that was already the past.

Today was not a day for that, even if they were thoughts he always found himself having since that night.

Today there was something entirely different.

Today Yuichiro did not want ghosts in his thoughts. He only wanted to feel the fresh air, which carried the faint hum of cicadas coming from somewhere far away in the tall grass, which, by the way, they had to trim, as it was growing too much.

‘Nii-san!’

Yuichiro smiled, still with his eyes closed, upon hearing that soft voice calling him. He turned in its direction to find Muichiro standing at the edge of the garden, the sunlight falling upon his beautiful hair, the soft green strands swaying like leaves beneath water. He was smiling at him, a smile that made it impossible for his own not to widen even more.

In his hands there was a small wicker basket filled with fresh fruit: persimmons, green plums and wild berries gathered at the edge of the forest.

Yui tilted his head, looking at that sight in admiration. ‘You were gone for a while.’

He showed his arms proudly. ‘Well, I wanted to pick the best ones,’ he said, climbing up onto the veranda eagerly and kneeling beside him. He set the basket down gently between them. ‘Besides, it’s our birthday. You can’t just eat anything lying around. It has to be special!’

Yuichiro let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. ‘Special fruit, is it?’

‘Special day,’ Muichiro corrected, giving him a mischievous look.

They remained seated there, enjoying each other’s company, letting the breeze play with their long hair, which, by the way, was identical once more.

Back in his days as a demon slayer, Yuichiro had cut his hair to shoulder length to be more comfortable in battle. But when everything ended, he decided to let it grow again.

You know? His long hair was a sweet reminder of their late mother. She loved it. She loved styling it and stroking it at night to help them fall asleep. And, also, it made them look the same again.

He knew that, just because they were twins, they did not necessarily have to look the same, but he liked it.

He liked resembling his twin. It had always been like that, and he had nothing to complain about. He extended his left hand and picked up one of the plums from the basket. Its skin was fresh and almost damp against the palm of his hand. He bit into it. It was sweet, with just the right touch of acidity. He liked exactly those.

‘You’ve been getting better at finding ripe fruit,’ he murmured, taking another bite.

Muichiro’s smile widened at hearing him. He liked it very much when his older brother acknowledged him. He wanted to repay everything Yuichiro had done for him, even knowing that not even a lifetime would be enough to do so.

Not that he thought they owed each other anything. They were brothers, they would do anything for one another, but he still could not stop thinking about how much he wanted to do just as much for him. ‘I had a good teacher.’ He gave him a wink.

For years, Yuichiro had often been more than just a brother. They were twins, but he took responsibility for everything upon himself. He acted as though he were years older, when in truth they were only minutes apart.

In that time, he had been a protector, a guide and, at times, even acted like a father. Letting go of that role, even now, seemed almost impossible. And, to be honest, Muichiro understood that. Of course, with time, they would work through that issue of overprotection.

It would still take time for them to move beyond that dynamic of older brother and younger brother. After all, Muichiro knew that his twin had grown used to acting that way, so, to him, it even felt wrong.

But they had already improved a great deal. Yuichiro trusted Muichiro more to do things, to walk on his own and had even taught him self-defence techniques in case he were caught off guard by someone.

Their conversation flowed, often filled with playful remarks; at other times, they would simply rest their heads on each other’s shoulder and remain in silence. They spoke about the new vegetable patch Muichiro had planted, about a nearby stream, where the fish seemed to be multiplying more and more, about the small stray cat they had adopted. Yes, they had adopted a cat, no matter how grumpy Yuichiro was about it. But, if it was for his brother, he would accept it.

At first, it had begun visiting the veranda of their house at dusk, until Muichiro grew so attached to it that they decided to keep the feline. So, one could say that it was not exactly two people living in that house; they were three, in total.

And the cat also proved to be excellent company, it must be said, despite its fur causing certain sneezing fits at times, in both twins.

And that was the fortieth reason why Yuichiro did not want pets.

And, amidst all of that, there were the unspoken things, the memories with which neither of them wished to stain that day.

The war had taken much from them, but it had also given them this: the rare gift of a future they could shape for themselves.

At that moment, his younger brother had his head resting against his shoulder, eyes closed, even appearing to be asleep, but that was not the case. Yui looked at him, observing the tranquillity with which he rested there, with a faint smile still on his lips.

‘You know?’, he said after a long pause, ‘I used to think we would not make it this far.’

Muichiro did not open his eyes. ‘I know, I did too, but we did.’

‘Yes, we did...’

Somewhere in the distance, a bird sang. Its song echoed through the air, as if marking the hours. And, speaking of birds... well.

Yuichiro never had a good relationship with his crow, let’s put it that way. But, impressively, or perhaps not so much, his crow has a good relationship with his younger twin.

After Muichiro regained his memories, he became responsible for taking care of her. Yuichiro was not in a condition for that at the time, and they never had a good enough relationship for it to be mentioned anyway. And, in that, they grew closer. Ginkgo became very attached to his younger brother, especially during the time when she was dealing with the grief of having lost Oyakata-sama, and he was the only one taking care of her.

She really liked him and even became quite jealous when she found out that they had adopted a cat. But, in any case, these days she was not at home very much, because she was building a life and a family with Matsuemon, yes, Tanjiro’s crow, which was a surprise at first, considering that they hated each other at first sight. But she would come from time to time to see them.

As the light began to change, painting the sky with streaks of pink and gold, signalling the beginning of the evening, Muichiro opened his eyes, stretching as he tossed his hair back. ‘Come on,’ he said, getting up and picking up the basket again. ‘We still have a few little things to do with this before it gets dark.’

Yuichiro nodded slightly. ‘Well, show me the way.’

Inside, the house was simple, but very cosy. They did not need much, even though they did not need to work because of the countless wealth Yuichiro had earned from his demon slaying.

The tatami mats had a faint scent of cedar. The kitchen was small, but very functional, and the low table in the centre of the main room had a cloth spread over it, which Muichiro had insisted on buying during their last trip to the town. When they reached the kitchen, Muichiro quickly set the basket down on the counter to give attention to the kitten, sleeping on one of the sofas in the room.

He had affectionately nicknamed it Hinoki. To follow the same line of Japanese trees as it had been with Ginkgo. The kitten, upon sensing his presence, immediately leaned into his touch, purring softly, rubbing itself against him.

In moments like these, ordinary and quiet, they seemed to be the greatest treasure they had left.

They lived simply, but they were very happy, and they even thought about studying. They had not done so before because they were still adapting to this new life and to many other things, but, who knows? They would really like that, just as they would like to do so many other things.

As they began working together, cutting fruit, preparing small sweets for themselves, vegetables and fish for dinner, Yuichiro found himself watching his brother once more, observing the way the light illuminated his face, the way his hands moved with a confidence and grace they had not had in the past. He was terrible in the kitchen.

Both of them were 17 now, but, in a way, far more mature than their age suggested. They did not have many plans beyond wanting to make the most of life to an absurd degree. And they did not have plans because they did not think they needed them.

You know? Life becomes much more interesting when we do things spontaneously, even if with some level of caution. They wanted to embrace whatever came.

When everything was ready, they sat facing one another, with Hinoki settling quietly in Muichiro’s lap, despite being drawn to the untouched food in front of him, the small plates between them on the table, filled with abundant food and lemon balm tea.

‘Happy birthday, Mui,’ Yui said, looking at him with shining eyes and extending his only remaining hand to hold his twin’s on top of the table.

‘Happy birthday, Nii-san.’ Muichiro returned the look, holding his hand with both of his.

And so the meal began. The clinking of porcelain was soft. They toasted to another year of life, and, during those hours of shared food, laughter and the comfort of each other’s presence, the outside world did not matter.

There would always be pain lingering in every corner of their memories and dangers lurking, but there would also be this: the bond of two brothers who were born together into this world, walked through fire and came out on the other side together.

Paying attention to Muichiro, who was laughing softly at something he had just said, with his eyes closed and carefree, he knew that, yes, it was true.

 

I do not want my life to have been in vain. I hope that, when it ends, it will have meant something to those who knew me, even if all I leave behind are merely the moments we shared.

 

Second chances exist.

And he would enjoy it with the greatest pleasure in the world.

Notes:

I had absolutely no clue what to do for the twins’ birthday. Chucked loads of ideas straight in the bin, nothing felt right. Then, earlier this week, something finally clicked and I actually got it down on paper. Small miracle, that.

I must admit, there are certain parts of this piece I’m genuinely pleased with, though the final result isn’t quite as close to what I had in mind as I would have liked. Even so, the musics I had playing while I wrote gave me an extra burst of energy, along with a few other sparks of inspiration along the way, so the experience was, without a doubt, worth it.

And that’s all, thank you ever so much for reading!🩵