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stellar-constellations · 8 months

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Depressed! GN! (Y/N) x Aged up! Muchiro

(Y/N) is suffering from survivors guilt.

(F/c) is favorite color! Or choose any color you like.

I’m tired, I’m always tired. Despite that, I have many sleepless nights. I can’t sleep at night, never at night. There’s demons to kill; and I’m afraid of them.

I’m afraid of what I work with on a daily basis; it hurts seeing the things that killed my family. They took away my happiness and I feel numb without them. Despite feeling like this, I feel that I want to help others, to help avoid the same thing that happened to me despite the exhaustion and pain it brings me. Even then, I want to help everyone but myself. I don’t quite deserve happiness. I shouldn’t even be alive right now. I should’ve died in that attack.

But he saved me. The Mist Hashira, Muichiro Tokito. He took me to the Butterfly Mansion and after I got healed by the nurses and he made sure I was alive. He didn’t have to, but he did. I asked many questions about him, his nichirin, his life. Many answers he did not remember, but the ones he did know, I paid extra attention listening to.

When I found out he had terrible memory and forgot stuff a lot, I was shocked to find him at my healing room. If nobody reminded him of me, than he remembered someone as unimportant as me. It warmed my heart to see someone care for me, even if they were probably doing it out of pity. Despite that, after I finished healing and taking a test to make sure I was good to go, I couldn’t leave.

I didn’t know what I wanted to do in life until I met him. I know I wanted to save people, but I didn't know who I wanted to be. Now that I did, I realized I wanted to see him all the time. I confessed to him that I wanted to become his Tsugoku, to undergo excessively difficult training to become a Hashira. I didn’t want to become a Hashira nor did I care about it, I just wanted to become a stronger demon slayer and see him everyday.

When I told him that I wanted to be his Tsugoku, he was…confused. I had to explain to him what a Tsugoku was because he forgot, but once he understood, he thought about it then decided to accept. My first day of training began immediately after he accepted as he drew out his Nichirin and swung down at me. I ducked and drew mine out.

“Your nichirin is f/c?” he asked, almost out of thought yet dull. Despite him seeming out of it, I knew he was focused and in a battle-state mind.

“Yes! It is my favorite color.” I responded. When you get your Nichirin (having another alias as the Color-Changing Katana), you unsheathe your weapon from its holster; it’ll change color based on the owner.

“Okay." He simply pushed it aside, ready to give another swing.

That day I ended up with many bruises and scars. He didn’t have the energy or time to go easy on me at all. I couldn’t even land a single hit on him. He never went easy on me, because the enemy wouldn’t show me mercy.

For months, it was me being brutally defeated. He was untouchable, unattainable, but I’m stubborn. I would reach for the stars if I really wanted to. And one day, I was able to graze his cheek with my Nichirin.

“O-oh!” I stammered. “I’m sorry! Are you hurt?” I immediately questioned, throwing my Nichirin on the ground (only for him to get right back up and attack me).

Yeah, that bruise still hurts even though it's long healed...

I cared for Muichiro deeply, to the point where I started recognizing my feelings as love, an emotion I didn’t know I was capable of after my family’s death. Even though I was aware of my feelings, I kept them quiet from everyone. Muichiro couldn’t even remember my name, and he finally started remembering that I was his Tsugoku.

I remembered having to tell him months and months, everyday in the morning as he sat under that big tree, staring up at the clouds and mumbling an occasional “what shape was that cloud again?” or “did I say hi to the Master today?”

Once I finally nailed in that in the mornings to dusk I would train with him as his Tsugoku, he made sure I wouldn’t give up on training. There were times where I thought it was impossible, but when I would look into his beautiful, crystal clear, sky blue eyes, I would find a new found hope to push on. I wanted to make him proud of me. I wanted him to see as more than a Tsugoku. I didn’t just want to see him everyday—I wanted to see him every night as well, go to sleep next to him and wake up in his arms.

It hurt having these kinds of unattainable dreams. I expected too much. Muichiro didn’t seem capable of loving a person, let alone his Tsugoku. So I hid my feelings. I hid them very well. It wasn’t like Muichiro could figure out my feelings, he forgot his own emotions quite often, asking me to help him understand them.

We could be in the middle of a battle and he’d tell me his heart raced incredibly fast when we got closer together. My heart would burst into flames when he tells me that. I would think that for a second—only a second—that only I had that effect on him (that same effect he has on me), but I would brush it off and tell him that it was from sparring so much, that moving around and summoning energy like this can weakened people and make the heart work overtime.

He would suggest breaks and right when he did, I would collapse on my knees and look up at the clouds panting heavily. He would lean over me, his hair almost reaching over my face as I gaze upon him and smile. He would return the smile softly and his eyes would warm up. It was always a sight to see and I could never get enough of it. I was the person to make him smile, something so out of his character, that I couldn't even breathe when I first saw him smile at me like that.

”Hi.” I would giggle softly.

“Hello.” He’d respond with before laying down on the grass next to me.

Only recently he started to softly place his hand on mine when we stared up at the dusky clouds. The first time he did that my face exploded red, to which Muichiro noticed and asked if I needed water. I would shake my head, afraid that my voice would betray me, and I would wrap my pinkie with his, in a silent attempt to convince him to stay. It would work every time and I would smile to myself in accomplishment.

“There’s a dragon.” I would point up into the sky.

“Yeah…” he would softly say, almost whispering before asking, “What’s a dragon again?”

I would giggle and look at him with a soft expression on my face.

I loved his cluelessness; it made me want to protect him. I loved his questions, how he would turn to me out of everyone for answers. It made me feel that he relied on me as I did to him, that I was his rock, his safe haven as he was to me. I loved answering his questions, how his eyes would light up slightly before he would close them and respond with “interesting…”.

It made my heart explode every time he would bless me with his voice. His soft, firm, authoritative voice whenever he would grace me with a word or sentence. I didn’t care if it was a simple “hello” to a “your stance needs work”.

When I learned about Total Concentration by Tanjirou (a fellow demon slayer I was really good friends with since I saw him at the Butterfly Mansion often tending to our injuries. His injuries originated from fighting demons while I would battle the unmerciful Muichiro. He’s currently the only person who knows of my crush, his sense of smell ratting me out).

I asked Muichiro when he was gonna teach me about it and he avoided my gaze. He laid down on the grass, his long black hair with teal ends framing his face perfectly, like an angel. He looked at me and closed his eyes.

“I didn’t want you to leave.” He responded.

I sat down next to him, silently encouraging him to carry on.

”If you left me, my chest would feel like snow.”

I fell my heart ache at his choice of wording. He would be sad and empty... all because of me?

“If I taught you that, your training would improve greatly. Even then, you’ve surpassed my expectations and improved in combat. You would leave me once you find no use of me.” He confessed.

My heart felt even worse—did I unintentionally make him feel that way?

I leaned down and carefully wrapped my arms around his body. “I won't leave you; it'd hurt me too.” I admitted as I carefully rested my head on his chest.

"I don't understand." He stated. "If you left, I wouldn't bleed, so I wouldn't be hurt?" Muichiro spoke.

"Sometimes, you don't need an injury for a scar to form." I hummed. “You know, I could’ve left you once I finished healing at the Butterfly Mansion years ago.”

Right…it’s been two years already and I’m still under his guidance—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

”But I didn’t want to leave you. After my family died, maybe even before that, I felt that I was empty, trying to find the will to live. But you helped me out of that dark space and suddenly, I started to see things and feel things I thought I forgot.” I admitted, feeling tears well up in my eyes.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

”Like me?” He asked. Then the dam I tried to push back overfilled.

“Mm-hm. Like you…” I silently cried, doing my best to make sure he didn’t see or hear my tears. “Yeah... I don’t want to leave you at all. I want to see you everyday and every night. I want to be there for you. I want to be someone you can rely on. I want to be someone you can always trust.”

“What would you call that?” he questioned.

“Many names: family, friend, lover—“

“I want that.” He spoke, cutting me off.

“Lover?” I questioned.

“Tanjirou told me about how we loved each other; he could smell the scent on us. He told me about what lovers feel and what they do. I liked his idea, but I want yours more.”

I felt more tears roll down my face, it wasn’t from sadness, no, it was happiness.

He lifted my head and wiped the tears from my eyes.

“You're crying? Did I hurt you too bad while training? Was it something I said?" he questioned

"No, no. It's not that." I chuckled.

"Oh. How can I help make you happy?" he questioned, his eyebrows furrowing down in confusion.

I smiled, grabbing his hand and softly holding it. “I am happy. You make me happy everyday. You’re everything I want and more.” He smiled softly at me as he slowly started to comb his fingers through my hair. “Yes, I want you to be the person to make me happy, and I want to be the person to make you happy.”

“You have, ever since I met you, (Y/N).” Muichiro confessed.

That was the first time he remembered my name...

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cutiemochiii · 10 months

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Infinite

My interpretation of the thoughts going through Muichiro’s head when his brother protected him ;-;

ALL THE ANGST (I cried writing it for fucks sake), IF YOU DON’T WANT IT, THIS ONES NOT FOR YOU

credit to the artist (wish I knew who it was) for the beautiful fanart

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Had it really been that hot? Had the cicadas really been that loud? Couldn’t he have just laid still? So still that his skin would’ve melted into the sleeping mat, so still that his breathing would’ve just stopped. Maybe then he wouldn’t have attracted, whatever the hell it was standing beside him.

But there it was, menacing grin and outstretched claws. Just one swipe against his helpless body and he would break-

“MUICHIRO!” His eyes widened as something flew past his head, hitting the wall in a sickly squelch. Something thick, warm, and tangy sprayed across Muichiro’s face.

And then there was the scream. A scream unlike anything Muichiro had heard before. He glanced down to see his brother, crumpled beneath him, cradling whatever was left of his arm as his scream ravaged his throat. What was going on? Why couldn’t he move? Why, god, why was Yuichiro making that sound?

“IT HURTS! IT HURTS!” His wailing snapped Muichiro out of his daze. Muichiro bent down in front of his brother, chest heaving in pain as if someone had reached their hand into his ribcage and was slowly squeezing his heart until it stopped.

Muichiro supported one side of Yuichiro’s body as he limped to the corner of their home. Where else could he go? What else could he do? He was trapped. He was useless, just as his brother had always said. He was being toyed with, and could only pray that death would be swift as the creature took his sweet time approaching them.

I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I will not die. I will not die.

He couldn’t breathe. His throat hurt, it hurt so bad he felt as if he had been breathing in endless smoke. Muichiro’s own screaming sounded distant to him. His heartbeat pounded in his head. No, he would not die.

~~~~

His body ached, covered in blood that Muichiro was pretty sure wasn’t his own. But he only had to walk a little further. Yuichiro. Even if he were to disintegrate into nothingness, it had to be beside Yuichiro. He finally dragged himself over the threshold into his home.

Muichiro would’ve teased his brother for the position he had decided to take his nap in, if the mat wasn’t covered in so much red, if the house hadn’t reeked of a bitter stench that made Muichiro want to heave. He hated red, it was the ugliest color he’d ever seen.

Muichiro didn’t realize he too had fallen to the floor, pulling himself across the wood with his shaking arms. Yuichiro was mumbling, words slurring together lazily as if he were drunk. Muichiro got close enough to hear the whispers.

God, Yuichiro was praying to god.

“God… Buddha… please.” Wasn’t he the one that had told him praying was pointless? That only the weak see value in something like that? Muichiro couldn’t bring words to his mouth, couldn’t beg his brother to stop. To stop praying like he was weak, when he was the strongest person Muichiro knew.

“At least, save my brother. He’s not like me.” Muichiro was gasping. He was gasping and it scared him, more than anything that had happened in the past few moments of his life. All of a sudden, all the air in the world wouldn’t be able to fill his lungs. They were shriveled, each word out of his brother’s mouth a needle poking through the delicate membrane.

“He’s a good boy. He wanted to help people. But I stopped him.” But he couldn’t help people. He couldn’t, right? He was fragile, he couldn’t help anyone. There was no point in being saved if there was nothing you could do in return. Even now, he prayed against Yuichiro.

Take your words back Yuichiro. Please, let me die with you. Please don’t leave me here without you. Stop me, hold me back, do what you want. Just don’t leave me to live this weak life alone.

“I am the one to blame. Let me be the only one who receives the punishment, please.”

Muichiro could not bring himself to say something to his delirious brother. How could he ask to die alone? How could he ask for punishment for Muichiro’s shortcomings? For letting his brother come to his rescue, scared and unable to move.

The rage struck him as his vision began to fade. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for that demon. True weakness was killing a child that had done nothing. True weakness was depriving his brother of his life.

Muichiro let the tears burn down his face as he sobbed. He hoped they etched themselves there as a permanent memory of what the world had dared to take from him. He took Yuichiro’s hand, slick with blood, and held tightly. He gazed at his brother’s face, Yuichiro’s eyes looking back at him, but not truly seeing. Not anymore. Not as the light was seeping out of them, his eyelids drooping closed. He looked much older than Muichiro could recall, much older than a boy his age should look.

To his bitter surprise, he realized his brother had always looked older. Ever since their mother and father had died, and he was left to take care of Muichiro. Muichiro had just refused to see it, admit it to himself. That he was pulling Yuichiro down.

Yuichiro’s voice was barely above a whisper, and Muichiro had to drag himself even closer to his pale body, laying his head in the puddle of his brother’s blood as he listened.

“The ‘Mu’ in Muichiro never stood for meaningless. The ‘Mu’ in Muichiro,” Yuichiro coughed violently.

“Stands for infinite.”

Screw Buddha. Screw whatever higher being sat atop his hill, watching this all play out and doing nothing. They were just as weak as the demon. Damn them all. Infinite he would be. Infinite in his search. Infinite in his wrath. Infinite in his pain, and hatred. Infinite in his hunt for demons. Infinite in his desire to avenge the brother that should be the one alive. Should be the one listening to Muichiro’s mindless mumbling as he died. Infinite in every lifetime, infinite in his will to fulfill his brother’s prayers himself. He would never give up. Never let them win. He would carry his brother’s life with him, infinitely.

No, he would not die. He would not allow his weakness to succumb to the sudden peace he felt. Even as his own eyesight began to darken, even as he felt a gentle presence floating above him. He would struggle, and fight. And survive. He would no longer be the weak, frail brother that couldn’t help anyone.

Yuichiro’s death would not be in vain.

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Author’s Note: Man, this one HURT to write. I cried so hard thinking about the anime/manga during this. My baby Mui;-;.

Anyways, in case people were wondering, my last piece was also a manga inspired rewrite. The reason why I’m doing this is because I’m trying to work on emotional writing. And, at least with this one, I’ve hit the fuckin’ feels.

I will move on to more fanfiction-based writing soon. For now, I hope you enjoy this sad little drabble and continue with me on my journey to improve as a writer. Thank you again.

#kny fanfic #kimetsu muichiro #demon slayer muichiro #demon slayer #kny muichiro #muichiro tokito #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba muichiro #yuichiro tokito #kny yuichiro #kimetsu Yuichiro #brothers #ANGST #kny angst #kimetsu no yaiba manga #my baby muichiro #babies #;-;#i cried

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maplescloudymistbutterflies · 4 months

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JUST LIKE A DREAM.

TW! manga spoilers.

bittersweet! wistful.

t. muichiro x gn. reader.

HE FOUND HIMSELF ENSNARED IN THE RAPTUROUS EMBRACE OF A PLAIN, UNADORNED NOTEBOOK. its pristine pages beckoning him to whisper tantalizing secrets.

seating himself in the seiza style-his limbs folded gracefully—he wielded a quill like a maestro's baton, while his other hand languidly cradled his cheek-a solitary pillar of repose in the vast expanse of contemplation.

with a sigh of resignation, he embarked upon the wondrous dance between ink and parchment.

...hey.

he paused, his countenance adorned with a mask of impassivity, concealing a tempest of thoughts within.

why, he mused, did he feel compelled to extend his greetings to a humble sheet of paper?

yet, a flicker of ephemeral memory flickered through the corridors of his mind—a faint echo that whispered of customs and courtesies, of beginnings and origins.

though he found himself adrift in the enigma of it all, he yielded to the notion that a simple "hello" would serve as the key to unlock the labyrinth of his newfound routine.

anyways..

that butterfly lady gave me this.

i don't know why, she just did.

he blinked, his brows ascending with a subtle grace, as a revelation had alighted upon his consciousness like a silken butterfly.

i don't know why, she just did.

actually, i do.

she gave me this because she said that journaling..

it'd help me with my memories somehow.

if i recall correctly..she told me to write down anything i figured is worth noting, saying it'll help me 'treasure' it or something.

as he neared the culmination of his literary pilgrimage, he sighed yet again, his breath a gentle zephyr that whispered secrets to the dull room.

whatever. it doesn't matter.

the final words dripped like honey from his quill, an offering to the vast expanse of time and oblivion. yet, even as he penned the denouement of his day, a knowing knowledge clung to his intellect—one he had unfortunately grown accustomed to.

i'll forget about this, anyways.

on the contrary—to his own astonishment—he found himself ensnared within the confines of familiarity, as if destiny had conspired to recreate the tableau of days past.

an unexpected sense of accomplishment fluttered within his being, though he nonchalantly brushed it aside, for its allure held no sway over his seemingly impassive demeanor.

wow.

this again.

never thought i'd actually come back to this.

i guess that person was just so weird that i instantly went here subconsciously.

and yet—a query lingered, teasing the fringes of his consciousness.

how did he manage to recall the precise location where this artifact had been bestowed? his gaze faltered, searching the surroundings with an air of detachment, even as his countenance remained stoic and unyielding.

alas, pondering the intricacies of remembrance proved an exercise in futility.

the answer—it seemed—resided in the glorious mist of poorly scrapped away details.

in reality, for—in a moment of abandon-he had actually just left this vessel exposed upon the very table that bore witness to its initial unveiling.

with that profound comprehension nestled in the recesses of his clouded mind, he simply blinked before returning to the task of diligently jotting down the words he had momentarily paused, delicately inscribing the words that had eluded him mere seconds ago—fully aware that they would soon inevitably slip from his memory.

a pensive cloud descended upon his countenance, casting a shadow upon the dainty tapestry of his thoughts.

his brows, like twin sentinels of vexation, furrowed once more, mirroring the tumultuous musings that swirled within the depths of his mind.

speaking of which, what's their deal anyways?

he simultaneously pondered, his memory a fragmented mosaic that teased the edges of his recollection. who exactly was this vexing interloper that had managed to impede upon his path? the tendrils of remembrance danced just beyond his grasp, tantalizingly close yet frustratingly distant.

bothersome brat getting in the way like that.

the realization dawned, an ember of understanding amidst the haze. it seemed that this individual, by the mere virtue of their skills, bore the mark of a fellow demon slayer. though their intentions remained obscured, he acknowledged that their presence, even as an ally, posed an inconvenience.

yet, he couldn't help but acknowledge that the situation would have been far more dire had they been an unsuspecting civilian thrust into the fray.

"had I not intervened, you would've gotten hit instead."

the echo of their words reverberated within his mind like a daunting scene, conjuring a vivid portrait of their visage. a flicker of irritation danced in his eye, an involuntary twitch that betrayed his lingering frustration.

at least that weirdo refrained from whining and coercing me into helping them seek the aid of that butterfly lady.

even still—a veil of perplexity settled upon his thoughts, shrouding his mind in a haze of bewilderment. the actions of that imbecile confounded him, defying all logic and reason. how dare they insinuate that he lacked the agility to evade the blow? and even if he hadn't, was it not just another day, with the ebb and flow of danger an ever-present companion?

furthermore, the question lingered like a specter; why did they possess such fervent concern, enough to willingly absorb the impact intended for him? a cynical frown danced upon his lips, for he harbored a deep-seated suspicion that their motivations were rooted in a desire to don the mantle of heroism.

ordinarily, such trifling matters would have been dismissed with a mere shrug, relegated to the realm of inconsequential distractions.

and yet, that singular event, like a pebble tossed into a still pond, sent ripples coursing through the depths of his being. it stirred a dormant fire within him, kindling a smoldering embers of annoyance that refused to be extinguished.

the enigma of their actions gnawed at his consciousness, an incessant itch that demanded his attention. why did their interference provoke such a visceral reaction? what lay beneath the surface of his irritation? the answers eluded him, concealed in the murk of his own introspection.

eventually, a flicker of relief danced upon his countenance, as if a gentle breeze had brushed away the creases of consternation etched upon his features. for, in this fortuitous moment, salvation arrived in the form of ginko, his loyal companion, his assigned kasugai crow.

entering the room through the open window with a graceful flutter of ebony wings, the avian harbinger announced his imminent departure towards yet another mission, a clarion call that whisked away the tendrils of disquietude that had begun to take hold.

had he been pondering for that long?

he blinked, extending a hand adorned with purposeful gentleness, he bestowed upon ginko a few aimless caresses to the sleek feathers that adorned the crow's head. a momentary respite amidst the chaos, a fleeting connection between two souls bonded by the trials of their shared endeavors.

and then, with a seamless transition, his expression reverted back to its stoic neutrality, a mask of detachment that shielded the depths of his thoughts.

his gaze, once adrift and almost forgotten, refocused upon the near-forgotten notebook that lay before him—its pages, blank with very few words but brimming with the promise of untold tales, unlike before—it now beckoned him with an irresistible allure. who’s to say that this encounter, this outpouring of his thoughts upon its parchment, would be his last? the question lingered, suspended in the air, as if the notebook itself whispered of secrets yet untold.

however—a hint of exasperation tinged his thoughts once more, a testament to the minutes squandered upon this wearisome endeavor. the weight of time wasted settled upon his shoulders like an oppressive burden, threatening to drown him in a sea of regret. had that butterfly lady bestowed this upon him merely as a means to pass the hours in such a pitiful manner?

what’s with everyone pissing him off lately? a disapproving click of his tongue resounded, accompanied by an inward huff of frustration, as if to dismiss such thoughts as inconsequential.

yet, even as he brushed aside the notion, a lingering seed of doubt remained. the origins of this diversion, this seemingly trivial pastime, stirred a restlessness within him. but he swiftly quelled the rising tide of contemplation, for there were matters of greater import to attend to.

with a languid motion, his hand lazily fell back to his side, a symbol of resignation to the inevitability of his next mission.

ginko—ever attentive—observed his movements with unwavering focus through her beady eyes.

as he rose to his feet and walked away without a word, she hastened to follow, a silent guardian ensuring he treaded the correct path this time.

perchance, had he paid greater heed—he would have discerned the inadvertent significance he ascribed to that encounter.

possibly, if he could decipher his emotions amidst the shroud of negativity, he would come to comprehend the profound influence this ostensibly unavailing—or so he perceives it to be—undertaking continues to hold within the recesses of his hazy recollections.

a sense of weariness pervaded his being, his form slouched over the table in an exhausted posture. his arm, draped atop the surface, cradled his lower face in a gesture of weary surrender.

heavy-lidded eyes, devoid of their usual sharpness, stared blankly at the notebook before him, its pages a repository of familiarity and untapped potential.

his restless fingers found solace in the quill, an instrument of creation and expression. yet, instead of purposeful strokes, they engaged in aimless fiddling, a subconscious act of seeking comfort in the familiar. the quill danced between his fingertips, its weight and texture grounding him in the present moment.

as time trickled by, his hand slowly maneuvered with deliberate relaxation.

the quill hovered mere inches above the pristine expanse of the paper, its poised tip a conduit for the thoughts that swirled within his mind. the ink droplets within the quill began to fall, each one a testament to the passage of time and the stillness that enveloped him.

then, with a leisurely descent—the quill found its mark upon the page, leaving behind a trail of ink as he transcribed the words that lingered in his thoughts. beginning another silent conversation between the depths of his mind and the blankness of the paper.

if i had known that i’d be assigned with that idiot on the mission, i wouldn’t have even waited for their arrival.

eh. i guess they were somewhat useful..for baiting the demon.

the words upon the page bore the unmistakable mark of apathy, as if they had been woven with little to no effort. lines connected words haphazardly, yet he remained unperturbed by their disarray.

a mere blink was his response to the warm embrace of the rising sun's rays streaming through the window, causing him to momentarily shield his eyes. his lids fluttered, adjusting to the light.

shifting slightly, he raised his head, casting a glance towards the window. the sight of the morning's arrival beckoned his attention, a gentle reminder of the passing hours that had slipped away unnoticed.

would you look at that... it's morning already, and i haven't even managed a wink of sleep yet.

a yawn escaped his lips, an involuntary reflex brought forth by the weariness that engulfed him.

craning his head to the right, he raised a hand, fingers reaching out to massage the tense muscles at the back of his neck. the physical sensation provided a fleeting respite from the mental strain that weighed upon him.

tearing his gaze away from the luminous frame of light, his attention returned to the page before him.

the letters—now seemingly slid onto the page without care—formed words that appeared smudged or messy. yet, his response was one of detached observation, his eyes trailing along the inked lines as if merely skimming their surface. his mind adrift in a sea of fatigue and contemplation.

a wistful breath escaped his lips, carrying with it a tinge of reflection. to think that in the end, he found himself aiding them, joining forces with those he once regarded with a mix of skepticism and reservation. vague memories of their coordination and shared battles flickered in his mind, a testament to their surprising competence.

irony hung in the air, as he ever-so begrudgingly acknowledged the decency of their skill, granting them the credit they deserved.

but to say that he still harbored a grudge would be an overstatement. time had a way of blurring the sharp edges of resentment, softening the sting of past grievances.

he had moved on—or at least strived to do so—simply because he no longer wished to expend mental energy on such affairs.

of course, the reasoning behind their initial encounter still eluded him. the circumstances that had brought them together remained shrouded in mystery, a puzzle piece that refused to fit neatly into the larger picture.

yet, despite this lack of understanding, he had chosen to extend his assistance.

it was a matter of reciprocity, an unspoken agreement that demanded the return of the favor. they had aided him, and so he, in turn, had done the same.

but let it be known that his actions were certainly not born out of deliberate intention. it wasn't a calculated decision to seek their gratitude or favor. no, he had been driven solely by his sense of duty, a commitment to vanquish the demon that had threatened their lives. their expressions of gratitude that followed were—in his perception—unwarranted and unnecessary.

don’t get him wrong, it wasn't a matter of rejecting their appreciation out of disdain or arrogance. it was simply a matter of perspective. he saw his actions as obligations fulfilled, his purpose aligned with the task at hand. the gratitude they offered was an unexpected byproduct, an outcome that held little significance in the grand scheme of his mission.

unbeknownst to him—his head gradually dipped lower, a subtle surrender to the weight of exhaustion. his eyes, utterly heavy with weariness, would occasionally flutter open, a futile effort to rouse himself from the encroaching grasp of sleep.

but little did he know, there existed a vast realm of his true intentions beneath the surface of his consciousness, waiting to be explored, waiting to unveil its secrets—a landscape of an undiscovered reality and hidden depths lay dormant, longing to be discovered.

yet, in his current state, he remained oblivious to the elusive wonders that lay within.

oblivious to the possibilities that awaited him, he continued to battle the encroaching embrace of sleep, unaware of the treasures that could be unearthed once he relinquished his conscious hold.

but perhaps, in due time, the mist would lift, and he would come to realize the vastness that lay hidden within, embracing the unknown with open arms and truly delving into the depths, and alas reaching a benevolent understanding of his own subconscious.

soon enough, he found himself absentmindedly twirling a petal between his fingers as he entered the room. his focus remained fixated on the delicate blossom even as his hand closed the door behind him, and even as he made his way towards the mirror.

gradually, he lifted his gaze, his eyes settling on the flower crown adorning his head. the sakura petals, masterfully intertwined, caught his attention, their beauty captivating his senses.

with an almost contemplative look, he then raised the petal he held to eye-level, keenly studying its intricate details.

of all people, who would have thought he'd be adorning something as whimsical as this? it seemed that over time, through some inexplicable force, he had found himself repeatedly crossing paths with an individual he had once deemed a nuisance.

bizzarely, he discovered that he often engaged in small conversations with them—or rather—they spoke while he found himself lost in his own thoughts as usual, staring at the wispy clouds.

however, that habit of his had not lasted long with them.

he recalled a time when he unexpectedly began sparing a not-so discreet glance for the person who stood beside him, whilst internally pursuing his own musings while they carried on with their activities.

perhaps it was because he secretly wished for their presence to vanish? he had made his feelings abundantly clear, even voicing his desire to be rid of them. yet, they stubbornly persisted, undeterred by his dismissive attitude.

and so, he had resigned himself to their constant presence, reluctantly accepting the fact that they would be a part of his daily life.

today, it was he who stumbled upon them—a reversal of their usual encounters.

he couldn't help but note the uncharacteristic silence that enveloped them, a departure from their usual chatter.

enveloped in a realm of heightened intrigue, his inquisitive spirit awakened. his gaze, like a wandering star, was drawn to the focal point that held their rapt fascination.

with an arched ascent, his eyebrows mirrored his amazement. majestically poised, a resplendent tapestry unfolded before him—a bountiful cherry blossom tree, its branches bedecked in resplendent blooms. the sakura petals—akin to balletic maestros—pirouetted gracefully through the air, composing a symphony of ethereal enchantment.

in that instant, he comprehended the rationale behind their entranced stare. the vision of the grand cherry blossom tree, its delicate petals dancing with elegance, possessed an irresistible charm that surpassed his customary indifference. it stood as a tableau of organic marvel, another spectacle capable of evoking a latent response within him, even if he had not fully embraced it until now.

blinking in a manner reminiscent of an owl, he returned to the present moment.

ultilizing both hands, he delicately removed the flower crown from his head. unusually, he handled it with an exceptional tenderness, treating it as though it were a fragile treasure he was determined to preserve with utmost care.

however, inexplicably, he decided to place it adjacent to his notebook. then, his attention shifted back to the petal he had held throughout the entire process, and a subtle downturn of his lips coupled with a slight furrowing of his brows betrayed his disappointment.

the petal appeared slightly crumpled... perhaps he should have focused on it first before removing the crown?

his head instinctively tilted as he contemplated the past. unbeknownst to him, the fact that he was investing such reflection into a... gift—as they had claimed it to be—went entirely unnoticed.

an idea flickered to life within the recesses of his mind, though it may not have been grand in scale.

with a sense of purpose, he resolved to safeguard this newfound notion within the pages of his trusty notebook instead of just noting them down much like the previous, yet now said to be countless of times he did so. it wasn't that he had no intention of exploring the idea further; rather, he held a silly belief that by preserving the delicate petal within its confines, he would be able to summon fragments of today's events whenever he cast his gaze upon it.

it was, undoubtedly, a risky endeavor.

the transience of memory and the fragility of moments made such attempts at preservation inherently uncertain. yet, undeterred by the potential pitfalls, he was determined to give it a try.

there was a spark of hope that momentarily alighted within his ever-so dull eyes as he carefully placed the petal between the pages, allowing it to find its place amidst the inked words and scribbled thoughts.

in his mind, the notebook was like a vessel of recollection, the doorway through which he could access the essence of that particular day.

with each passing glance, he believed he would be transported back to the sights, sounds, and emotions that had colored his experience. it was a belief steeped in a touch of magic, a genuine desire to capture the essence of fleeting moments and keep them alive in some tangible form.

of course, he understood the inherent risk of such an endeavor. memories could be fickle, subject to the passage of time and the distortions of perception—that he knew all too well, yet, he couldn't resist the allure of the notion, the tantalizing prospect of preserving a piece of today's events within the pages of his notebook.

thus, he closed the notebook—sealing the petal within its protective embrace. only time would reveal whether his whimsical idea would bear fruit. but for now, he carried a glimmer of anticipation, a belief that perhaps, just perhaps, he had found a way to capture the essence of the present and carry it with him into the future.

one day, on the verge of departing for the swordsmith village, he found himself casting a final glance around his room.

as his eyes scanned the space, they landed upon a particular object resting undisturbed on the table, alongside a vibrant, circular rosy crown. yet, his gaze lingered upon the sight of the flowers, a momentary pause in his preparations.

was there something he was forgetting?

he brushed off the thought, convincing himself that it was nothing of importance.

or was it?

perhaps a faint inkling nagged at the back of his mind, suggesting that there was more to it than he initially believed.

without realizing it—he was drawn across the room, his steps guided by an unseen force.

he found himself crouching down near the designated area, his hand reaching out to flip through the pages of his notebook. however, his action was halted as his eyes caught sight of a roseate petal nestled within the notebook's pages.

curiosity sparked within him, and he raised an eyebrow as he gingerly plucked the petal from its sanctuary. absentmindedly, he twirled it between his fingers, a gesture that felt oddly familiar, inducing a sense of déjà vu.

but where had he witnessed such a scene before?

as he pondered, a realization dawned upon him. It wasn't a memory of witnessing someone else engage in this action; rather, it was he himself who had performed it.

a surge of recollection washed over him, memories resurfacing from the depths of his mind. the twirling of the petal, the sensation between his fingertips—these were gestures he had made before, though their significance had slipped from his conscious grasp.

In that singular moment, the forgotten fragments of his own past intertwined with the present, weaving together a tapestry of connections that transcended time.

recognition dawned upon him with a sudden clarity. it was from that day—the day where a sensation so tender and poignant stirred within him, almost like a bittersweet ache, evoking a warmth that eluded his understanding, leaving him unable to grasp its true essence.

the memory resurfaced, vivid and potent, as he held the petal in his hand. it was a symbol—a relic that carried the weight of a significant moment, a moment that had shaped him in ways he had yet to fully comprehend.

as his gaze shifted between the delicate petal and the floral circlet, he couldn't help but acknowledge their significance. they were gifts, given to him by that same person whose presence had once been a source of annoyance, but had since become intertwined with his life in ways he never anticipated.

a subtle flicker of a smile danced across his features, fleeting yet unmistakable.

it was a ghost of a smile, evoking a sense of warmth and nostalgia. just like that very same day, beneath the sakura tree.

after a few more contemplative moments, he gently placed the petal back within the pages of his notebook. it was an act imbued with a renewed sense of curiosity and introspection.

as he carefully tucked it away, he recognized that this petal held more than just a fragment of his present—it also served as a tether to his past.

standing up, he straightened his attire, smoothing out the wrinkles that had formed during his moment of reflection.

leaving the room behind, he stepped forward, his footsteps carrying him away from the familiar and towards the villa—yet, as he ventured forth, he carried with him the knowledge that within the depths of his own experiences, there were secrets waiting to be unveiled. these hidden truths, veiled within the recesses of his own identity, held the potential to guide him closer to understanding who he truly was.

muichiro’s brows knit together, his eyes narrowing slightly as he winced, perusing the passages he had penned not long ago—but in that period, he found himself at the nadir of his existence, akin to a vessel housing an empty soul, where the flicker of life seemed to wane within him.

immersed in the depths of his own written words, a wave of self-critique washed over him. the realization of his perceived deficiencies bore down heavily upon his psyche.

was my prose truly so lackluster?

his countenance contorted into a visage of melancholic discontent. he couldn't help but introspect on his conduct and acknowledge the impoliteness he had exhibited. it pained him to recognize the echoes of his late twin brother within himself, bearing the burden of both his loss, and their shared flaws.

a tinge of remorse lingered as he ran a hand through his hair, grappling with the repercussions of his actions.

yet, amidst the remorse, his spirits gradually ascended as he reminisced on a separate recollection—the instant when he emerged from his coma, their unwavering presence by his side.

that memory bestowed a glimmer of solace, softening his somber expression. they had been dumbfounded, incapable of containing their emotions upon witnessing his awakening.

in that fleeting moment, they had clung to him fervently, as if he were their vital lifeline. though their embrace—much to his dismay—had swiftly slackened upon realizing his frailty, the impact of their initial response eternally etched in his consciousness.

reflecting upon that juncture, a smile graced his lips. he held no remorse for his instinctive reaction to embrace them, despite his own corporeal anguish.

a gentle flush tinged his cheeks as he sensed that familiar flutter in his heart, impelling him to tilt his head inquisitively.

“that feeling again...” he mused—this time, aloud—as he rose a hand to the region where his heartbeat, almost amplifying with its errancies—resided. his gaze descended, fixated upon that enigmatic yet captivating feeling. curiously pirouetted in his eyes, a pure and guileless yearning for comprehension.

he contemplated the prospect of unraveling the enigma at the butterfly mansion, where he might unearth the veracity behind this inexplicable sensation.

maybe, it was naught but a lingering malady, an unseen affliction that had eluded his awareness. he mulled over the displeasing notion, recognizing the imperative to illuminate the puzzle that lay dormant within him.

little did he fathom the profundity of what lay ahead, the intricate tapestry of emotions and connections that awaited him.

if only he comprehended the significance of that flutter in his heart, the profound impact it would wield upon his odyssey.

several weeks had elapsed, and once more he found himself clutching his notebook, as if it were an extension of his being.

resting against the wall, he clasped the item firmly in his grasp, his gaze wandering towards the window as he settled into a seated position. with his knees drawn up to his chest, they formed an improvised tabletop, providing a stable surface for him to write on.

the room was bathed in the spill of moonlight, bestowing upon it a tranquil luminescence that infused the scene with ethereal allure. positioned at the precipice of the empty page, his quill poised like a delicate dancer, he sensed a surge of anticipation welling within him.

it had been a while since he had last visited the notebook, let alone written in it.

initially, this realization held a tinge of sadness. however, he began to view it as a form of success—a testament to his growth and progress—he no longer needed the notebook as a vessel for his memories, as he had learned to hold them within himself without the fear of them dispersing from his mind.

although he had been reluctant to let go of the notebook in the beginning, fearing that he would regress to his former self, he gradually grew accustomed to relying less on its pages. this change was thanks to a certain someone who had provided him with remarkable encouragement and support along the way.

speaking of that someone..

a gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he reminisced about the unfolding events.

at long last, he had mustered the courage to convey his heartfelt gratitude to them for rescuing him on that fateful day of their initial encounter. in retrospect, he finally recognized how his own negativity had obscured the fact that his concern and guilt had driven his actions, leading to harm befalling their well-being.

with the weight of unexpressed appreciation lifted from his shoulders, a profound sense of contentment and relief settled within him.

it felt really good.

and relieving too. i’m glad to finally be able to appreciate them properly now.

the words resonated within him, echoing the profound impact this newfound expression of gratitude had on his relationship with them as he lowered his quill onto the waiting page, he began to write, capturing the essence of his gratitude in ink. the words flowed freely, a testament to his newfound ability to express his appreciation and to cherish the moments that had led him to this point.

in that quiet room, with the moon as his witness, he continued to write, allowing his emotions to spill onto the pages, creating a tangible record of his gratitude and the growth he had achieved.

naturally, he expressed his gratitude to shinobu as well, for she was the catalyst that set the entire endeavor in motion.

however, he couldn't deny that his experience with that particular individual had left a deeper impact on him, resonating within his being in a way that he couldn't easily dismiss.

we made origami today.

was if their first time? i wouldn’t believe it at all if they said yes, they did amazing.

the corners of his mouth lifted even further, a radiant smile spreading across his face. pride swelled within his chest as he reminisced about the moment when he, much like they had done beneath the sakura tree during the day—left his creations with them as a souvenir—a heartfelt gift.

his eyes fluttered, lids half-lowered, as his smile softened. the memory of their laughter resonated in his ears, a joyful sound that echoed through his mind. it was a honeyed melody, harmonious and timeless, etched into his memories like a cherished tune he would never grow tired of.

in that moment, he felt a deep sense of connection and shared happiness. the blossoming of their laughter and their appreciation had filled him with a profound sense of fulfillment.

i made them laugh, their smile truly is adorable.

i want them to stay happy.

an undeniably childish wish.

..i wanna be the reason they do.

a selfish, yet reasonable desire.

i could just say it outright, but...

his thoughts trailed off, contemplating the words he longed to express.

his heart swelled with a mixture of emotions, and yet, there was a hesitancy that held him back. the idea of openly conveying his yearning to be their source of joy brought forth an inexplicable feeling, a blend of anticipation and seldom vulnerability.

with a heavy sigh, he leaned his head back, seeking a moment of respite.

however, to his dismay—he misjudged the distance and inadvertently hit the wall with more force than intended. the impact elicited a wince and a deadpan expression as a wave of discomfort washed over him.

“ouch..”

rubbing the back of his head with his free hand, he closed one eye, gritting his teeth in response to the pain. regret filled his thoughts as he berated himself for not considering the consequences of his actions.

"just why didn't I take that into consideration?" he muttered, a tinge of frustration evident in his mellow voice.

it was a momentary lapse, a reminder of the fallibility that resided within him. the physical discomfort mirrored the emotional unease he felt, a reminder that expressing his feelings came with its own set of risks and uncertainties.

no, he had abandoned his initial notion of visiting the butterfly mansion to have his ‘condition’ assessed. as due to being one of the hashiras, it was now his duty to train the lower-ranked individuals, aiming to help them awaken their own marks while enhancing their abilities.

in essence, he found himself devoid of the time needed to pursue his plan. although it was indeed a missed opportunity, he chose not to dwell on it excessively.

besides, none of his attributes seemed to have weakened, so he simply disregarded the occasional peculiar sensation blooming in his chest whenever thoughts of them arose, dismissing it as a mere figment of his imagination—a hallucination.

he let out a resigned breath, a sense of acceptance washing over him. his hand fell back to his side, but as he blinked, his gaze followed a petal as it slipped out of his notebook's grasp, gracefully descending onto the floor beside him.

his mouth formed a small "o" of surprise, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. he blinked thrice, processing the unexpected turn of events. however, his features soon softened, morphing into a tender expression as he retrieved the fallen petal.

solicitously cradling the delicate leaf between his fingers, he twirled it once more, marveling at its beauty. the petal really did hold a certain allure, captivating his attention and stirring memories within him.

"it’s as beautiful as i remember..” he whispered softly, a touch of nostalgia coloring his voice. in that simple petal, he found a reflection of past beauty, a reminder of moments that had touched his soul.

as he held the petal, he couldn't help but reflect on the transient nature of beauty and the fleeting nature of time. just like the petal, moments of beauty come and go, leaving only memories behind. yet, in that fleeting beauty, there is a sense of profound appreciation and wonder.

while the world could be cruel, he yearned to bask in the fragments of ephemeral glory and find joy in the fleeting moments. he’s now understood that life was a continuous stream of passing experiences, and he made a conscious effort to cherish each and every memory that crossed his path.

in the midst of this realization, an idea sparked in his mind—a realization that he had never written about the day beneath the sakura tree.

how had he overlooked such a profound and cherished memory?

a surge of exhilaration and eager anticipation flowed through him as he envisioned immortalizing that extraordinary day within the sacred confines of his notebook. the memory, a veritable trove of exquisite beauty, served as a poignant emblem of life's fleeting nature and the timeless significance of shared experiences.

with a determined resolve, he opened the notebook to a fresh page, his quill poised to bring the memory to life through ink. the sakura tree, with its delicate blossoms fluttering in the breeze, held a significant place in his heart. it was a sanctuary of beauty, a haven where he had experienced a profound connection with another soul—with them.

….

as the final words pirouetted gracefully upon the page, he tenderly closed his eyes, his velvety lashes caressing his cheek in a delicate dance. in this ephemeral interlude, he granted himself a stolen breath, a cherished opportunity to savor the essence of the memory once more. the day spent beneath the resplendent sakura tree had been etched with profound artistry upon the sanctums of his heart, and now, like a cherished relic, it had found its eternal dwelling within the cradle of his notebook's pages.

a contented smile graced his visage as he delicately sealed the notebook shut, its once blank canvases now adorned with fragments of his existence—a treasury of treasured recollections.

on that day, they looked exactly like a dream—all i’ve wanted, all i’ve ever needed.

the parchment succumbed to the deluge of your cascading tears, becoming drenched and sodden, as if thirstily drinking in the sorrow that overflowed from your heart. with a poignant gaze, you traversed the final passage, each word a painful reminder of the bittersweet victory that had come at the cost of his absence.

weariness weighed heavily upon your eyes, threatening to seal them shut, yearning for respite from the harsh grip of reality. your trembling lips contorted, caught in a delicate dance between joy and sorrow, forming a wistful smile that held the essence of longing. in the sanctuary of your other hand, cradled with tender reverence, lay the very petal you had once bestowed upon him. under the caress of the sun's gentle rays, it gleamed like an iridescent gem, casting a luminous glow that illuminated your tears, turning them into shimmering crystals of anguish.

geto, one of the many sentinel who had witnessed the entwined trial of your beloved and tanjiro, could offer naught but a humble bow, his head lowered in utmost deference. he understood the futility of his desire to provide solace through an embrace, recognizing the unfathomable depths of the pain that gripped your soul. as you clung tightly to the notebook he had dutifully delivered, he stood as a silent witness to your inconsolable sorrow.

in the realm of young love, tragedy often unfolds with a poetic grace.

like a tapestry woven from wisps of a dream, your intertwined forms swayed in the breeze, as if caught in the ethereal embrace of destiny. and as the wind whispered its gentle secrets through the tendrils of your existence, the memory, forever enshrined, would reside as an indelible impression within the chambers of your collective memories, transcending the boundaries of time and spanning an unfathomable infinity.

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