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Tale of the Flower Hashira

Master list

INFO:

This story will contain Kyojiro Rengoku x Reader, Tengen Uzui x reader and Douma x reader. All separately. (Tengen is still in a poly relationship with his wives.)

Y/n Shinaguzawa is 18 at the start of this story.

This fanfic will only follow the plotline of seasons 1&2.

WARNINGS: If you are uncomfortable with any of the following then DNI. (Extreme gore, Swearing, Manipulative behavior, disturbing content, Unhealthy relationships, disturbing relationship between child y/n and a demon.)

Chapter 1. Feast for the Flower Hashira

“Flower breathing, fourth form. Dance of falling petals.” 

You spun through the delicate form. Once again you memorized each and every movement like you hadn’t already decapitated a hundred demons with the complex twirl. 

“Practicing again?” Said a calm voice behind you. 

You finished the form, landing the blade gently against the trunk of a tree so you would not harm it. Quickly, you turned and bowed to the dark haired man. 

“It’s alright to feel nervous, you know.” Kagaya Ubuyashiki told you with a soft smile. “Plenty of the others felt the same way when it was their time.” 

“I know but…” You almost felt too embarrassed to say it. 

“What is it my child?” 

He eased your anxieties somewhat. Despite not actually being his child, you felt the warmth of his words. 

“I just don’t think I’m ready.” You told him honestly. 

Ubuyashiki held his hand out to you. Knowing what he wanted you placed your hand over his and guided it to your cheek. His fingers memorized the lines of your face, lingering especially on the raised claw marks that disfigured the left side. His thumb trailed down from where the lines started, from your eyebrow, along the damaged eye, to your jaw.

“I miss seeing your face, y/n.” 

“It hasn’t changed much since you last saw it.” 

His hands finished tracing your features and left to rest on your shoulders. “You have grown so much, it seems you do not realize it. Nearly all of the others were younger than you when they became Hashira. Take young young Muichiro for example, he is only fourteen.”

“My age doesn’t mean I’m good enough.” 

“I would have made you the Flower Hashira years ago if not for your own self doubt.” 

You knew it was useless to argue with him. But still, you felt unworthy of the position. Something still ate at you though, silly though it sounded to you. 

“What is it my child?” It was impossible for you to hide anything from him. 

“I’m just afraid…” you sighed. “They won’t like me.” 

A clear note of laughter resounded through the forest. You looked up at him, startled. He wasn’t making fun of you, he would never have done that. 

“Oh my dear y/n, perhaps you should stop worrying about things that may not be true. Besides, your own brother will be there.” His smile was wide and made the corners of his clouded eyes crinkle. “Now come, sheath your sword and help me back to the house.” 

“Yes sir.” You did as he asked, sheathing your lilac colored blade and taking his hand. 

____

While in your rooms you prepared yourself to join the others. Over top of your uniform you pulled on your usual Smokey gray haori, the pattern faded from light gray tones to almost black at the bottom. It was noticeably too large for you, it hadn’t been made for you in the first place. The fabric was marked with numerous places where it had been mended over and over again, a testament to the many years you had owned it. You fastened your sheathed nichirin sword in your belt and looked in the polished silver mirror on your desk. 

The reflection that stared back at you made a bubble of revulsion grow in your stomach. The thick claw marks clearly visible on your face along with your one clouded eye. Quickly you tied a strip of deep purple fabric around your head in order to obscure it. Another, even stranger scar poked out of the neckline of your uniform. Harsh lines formed the tip of a noticeable design. The rest was thankfully obscured by the collar of your uniform. 

“You shouldn’t cover that.” Your brother snapped before walking into your room.

“It’s not like your scars, Sanemi.” You retorted. “I still have one good eye, so I can see how much it disturbs people.” 

“It’s not something to be ashamed of. Your scars are a sign of your courage. Afterall, you’ve gotten this far and survived.” 

“Still, I’d rather not let people see…”

“Do what you want.” He huffed. 

It was clear you had won the little argument. Sanemi walked over to you and straightened your haori. 

“Why do you insist on wearing this old rag.” He griped.

“I think it suits me.” 

“I’d buy a new one if you weren’t so stubborn. A hashira should look the part.” 

“You’re allergic to buttoning your damn shirt. Why can’t I wear something comfortable?”

He rolled his eyes. “You just look like a shitty, Obanai knockoff.” 

“Thanks.”

Your brother placed a hand on the top of your head. 

I’m proud of you

“Time to go, pipsqueak.” 

There was precious events to celebrate in the demon slayer corps, but the welcoming of a new Hashira was something to behold. You were the first flower Hashira after all. 

____ 

At the dining table you were seated between your brother Sanemi, the wind Hashira and Giyu Tomioka, the water Hashira. Giyu was someone you couldn’t call a friend but you had spent many grueling hours with him in the past. He had taught you the basics of water breathing and along with your knowledge of wind breathing, you adapted your own total concentration breathing style. 

The other Hashira were lined up around the table with Ubuyashiki and his wife at the head. The only empty seat was directly across from you. Wondering who was missing, you looked around the table. Shinobu, Tengen, empty space, Muchiro…

“I APOLOGIZE FOR MY LATENESS!” The flame Hashira announced. 

You were almost knocked back by the force of his voice. When he entered the room, bowing respectfully to the purple eyed leader, you wondered how you had missed his presence in the first place. His fiery red and yellow hair stuck out strikingly against the backdrop of pale purple wisteria. 

Kyojiro Rengoku sat down across from you and struck up a conversation with Tengen, the equally loud sound Hashira. You had seen Rengoku on many occasions, but you had never spoken to him. Choosing to ignore your curiosity you focused on the delectable meal in front of you. You kept quiet and enjoyed the food while the others talked. 

“Congratulations, y/n Shinazugawa, I’m glad you have joined our ranks!” Your eyes darted up and met the wide eyes of the flame hashira. His voice had lowered in volume but still held the same amount of enthusiasm. 

“… Thank you…” you said quietly. “I will do my best to fulfill my duties as a hashira.” 

“I haven’t seen you fight before. I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do!” Rengoku grinned. “Would you like to train with me?” 

Many of the others stopped in their tracks. Everyone, including you, knew how intense Rengoku could be while training. Mitsuri cringed as if recalling bad memories. There were tears in Gyomei’s eyes, but that was nothing new. Obanai sighed in exasperation, and you could almost hear the vein pop in your Sanemi’s forehead. Kyojiro Rengoku watched you with his wide, colorful eyes, daring you to respond. Daring you to say yes. 

“Sure.” You nodded and went back to your bowl of rice. 

“Excellent!” Rengoku said with his usual vigor. 

“Good luck, y/n.” Mitsuri squeaked out. 

 As the meal continued, you looked longingly at the tray of dumplings that sat far from you. They were constantly being picked away by Shinobu and Mitsuri. You felt someone watching you and you looked up to see the bright red eyes of Rengoku once again. He refused to look away and it started to make you feel uncomfortable. You tugged on the purple cloth around your eye to make sure it covered as much of the scar as possible and tried to focus on something else, anything else. 

“Mitsuri! Pass the dumplings!” Rengoku’s voice resounded over all the others. He held the large plate in one hand and snatched a few dumplings with his chopsticks. He kept saying. “TASTY!” Over and over again. 

Three dumplings sat in a neat stack upon your plate. You blinked in surprise and looked up at Rengoku who was smiling. 

“Would you like any more?” He smiled with his mouth full. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

He quickly stacked two more on your plate, making a little tower, before sending the platter back to Mitsuri. The dumplings were absolutely mouthwatering and you relished each bite. All the while you stole glances at the flame hashira, hoping he didn’t notice. 

Once the meal was finished, it was a brilliant starry night outside. Some of the hashira stayed and drank sake while others chose to leave and turn in for the night. After telling your brother that you were heading back home for the night, you left the gathering. You followed the seemingly dazed Muchiro out of the estate gates and made your way to your own home. 

“L/n, shall we train together tomorrow morning?” Rengoku’s voice sounded behind you. 

You turned to see him standing in the lamplight, arms crossed. The corners of his mouth were upturned in a seemingly permanent smile. His red and yellow hair danced in the breeze, unusual tufts almost like an owl’s feathers, stuck straight up. 

“Your hair is weird.” You blurted out, not realizing you said what you were just thinking. 

“Is that so!” 

“Uh… nevermind.” You fumbled. He seemed unfazed by the comment, his smile widening even more. “Why are you smiling?” 

“Why shouldn’t I be!”

You were sure of it now, he was one of the strangest people you had ever met. But even so, something stirred inside you when your eyes met. You stared at him blankly until he spoke again. 

“It seems you never answered my question!” 

“Oh, yes of course. Tomorrow.” 

“I’ll come find you at dawn then! I hope we get the chance to spar a few times before the day is out!” And with that he was off, strolling down the lamplit path to his own abode. 

Before the day is out? Did he plan on training the entire day? You hoped not. 

… but a day with him, that might be nice…

Chapter 2.

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