Chapter Text
Yuichiro runs the back of his hand on his forehead, wiping off cold sweat. The wind was soft, barely noticeable, yet it didn’t make it any less cold.
Yuichiro’s shoulders ache from the continuous swing of his axe against tree bark. It’s practically winter now, which means heavy snow and freezing temperatures.
To keep him and his brother warm during the coming season, Yuichiro took the initiative to gather as many logs as he could. Not to mention, it could also work as a source of income if they were to sell it to the village just beyond the wood’s end. In any case, he has to do twice the amount of work.
Muichiro, his identical twin brother in everything other than the slight difference in hue of their hair, offered a helping hand. Yuichiro appreciated the assist, but as the days got colder in late October, Yuichiro forbade him from coming outside to help despite Muichiro's pleas and persistence.
Yuichiro couldn’t allow Muichiro to be out in this weather. Not when he could get sick. And sure, maybe it’s a bit hypocritical given that he himself is outside in this bitter cold, but Yuichiro has an immune system that could only be described as unconquerable. He’s never gotten sick, not once, not even at the vulnerable age of four, while his brother seemed almost to be absolutely susceptible to it. Given what happened to their mother… Yuichiro isn’t taking any chances.
So Yuichiro yells harsh, nasty things that make his chest ache with remorse when his words ultimately affect his brother until his lips are quivering and his eyes are welled up with tears. At least, at the end of it, Muichiro would reluctantly go back inside their home without another stubborn retort.
There are days, however, when the biting cold irritates his fingers, and his breath becomes visible, that he, in desperation, lets Muichiro grab a spare axe, follow him up the path, and cut up wood just so the job could be over faster.
Today, though, is one of those days where Yuichiro shouts and demands that Muichiro stay indoors. It was only after five minutes of back and forth, and a promise to check up on him did Muichiro gave in.
Yuichiro doesn’t know how long he’s been cutting, the minutes blurring together with each repeated swing of his axe, but it must've been a considerable time, since Muichiro was now a few feet away from him with brows pinched in worry.
“Come on, time to go back!”
Yuichiro shakes his head, raising his axe high over his shoulder before slamming it down on the log for emphasis. He’s got work to do.
“Yuichiro! It’s cold!” Muichiro’s gotten closer when Yuichiro glances up.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re going to get sick!” Muichiro’s voice rises with an edge of desperation. He’s panting, transparent puffs escaping his lips as he tries to catch his breath.
Yuichiro almost laughs.
Lowering his arm for a moment, the ache in his fingers becomes apparent, and suddenly his body wants to give out, begging for warmth and rest. But he couldn’t stop when their survival depends on the wood in front of him.
Muichiro’s expression somehow looks even more desperate if there was any way it could. “Yui, please! It’s freezing out here!”
Yuichiro’s grip on the axe tightens, and for a moment he just stares at his fists, skin whitely pale and numb. The wind seems to mock him, picking up and gnawing at his exposed skin, sending a shiver down his spine as if to prove Muichiro’s point.
“Fine,” Yuichiro mutters and picks up the last of the logs and puts them in the basket.
Yuichiro bolts the basket over his shoulder and walks past Muichiro, muttering, “You’re such a pain,” under his breath, though there was no real spite in his words.
Muichiro looks relieved and quickly steps into pace with Yuichiro as they walk down the path back to their home.
“When we get back, I’ll start the fire!”
Yuichiro raises a brow in question. “You don’t even know how to.”
“It can’t be that hard.” And Muichiro looked so sure of himself that Yuichiro didn't have the heart to burst his bubble, even when he ended up being the one to make the fire while explaining how to Muichiro, who was sulking beside him from his failed attempts prior.
Yuichiro finds himself shivering, the freezing temperature of December seeping through every crevice of their home. The sheets over his body barely aid against the cold.
Muichiro is shaking too, his teeth clattering with each sharp breath. They had latched onto each other at some point in the night, their holds tightening with every sudden surge of wind.
Yuichiro has been rationing their wood as best as he can. As he expected, they barely had enough to supply them through the winter, especially after selling a portion of it to afford food that nature could no longer give once snow began falling.
“Y..Yui…” Muichiro’s voice is shaky, barely coherent, with his teeth chattering.
Yuichiro shifts, pulling Muichiro closer towards himself, hoping he’s giving any warmth from his body heat against the storm. They stay like that, huddled like koalas, for the rest of the night, unable to rest until they are too exhausted to keep their eyes open.
In the morning, Yuichiro wakes and looks at the thin sheets covering the window and notices that the snowstorm has finally ended
Despite the freezing weather being just as frigid as before, Muichiro was shivering violently as he was last night. And maybe it was seeing that his brother was just a bit warmer than he would be without Yuichiro wrapped around him, or from his own exhaustion from the cold that Yuichiro stayed under the sheets holding Muichiro.
It’s only when Muichiro begins stirring in his sleep, and eventually his eyes flutter open, that Yuichiro slowly pulls away from Muichiro.
“Morning...” Muichiro whispers while rubbing away the crust from his eyes.
“Morning.” Yuichiro pushes himself to sit upright. “I’ll start making something to eat.”
Muichiro leans up on his forearm with a yawn. “I can help!”
Yuichiro shakes his head and stands up. “No.”
“But–”
“No,” Yuichiro says once again, firmly, glancing at his brother as his tired eyes follow him as he makes his way towards their cooking setup.
The meager supplies they had left are almost something to laugh at if it wasn’t their problem. There are only a few grains of rice left, and just a single strip of salted fish. It wasn’t much, probably wouldn’t even last them this whole day, but it’ll have to do. Yuichiro will have to figure something out after, though.
Yuichiro tries not to focus on the cool air around him as he works to prepare the meal. He starts up a small fire, making sure not to overdo it with the wood, knowing that he might have to resort to giving the last of their stock away. He places their worn-out pot over the flames, and the warmth of the fire is a small mercy.
“What are you making?” Muichiro’s voice comes from behind Yuichiro and almost startles him.
Yuichiro turns his head, finding Muichiro wrapped up under the sheet like a cocoon.
“I told you no.”
“But it’s warmer over here.” Muichiro juts out his lower lip in a pout and shuffles closer towards his brother.
Yuichiro sighs, loud and dramatic. It’d be cruel to turn his brother away from warmth. “Alright, but you’re not helping me cook.”
Muichiro's face lights up, a wide smile gracing his expression when he settles beside Yuichiro and asks again, “What are you making?”
“Rice porridge.”
Muichiro hums in delight, settling into silence as he watches his brother work with practiced precision, rinsing the rice under water and then pouring it into the heavy pot with five times the amount of water. As they wait for the liquid to bubble, Muichiro rests his head against his brother’s shoulder.
“Do you think spring will come soon?” He asks.
Yuichiro doesn’t answer right away. It’s hard to tell how long winter will last… he never listened when their mother explained the signs for the shift in seasons, which he’s regretting only now.
“It will,” he finally says. “We just have to make it through.”
“Then we can plant mommy’s flower seeds.” Muichiro looks over at him, the corner of his eyes crinkled into soft bright crescents as a smile spreads across his face.
A feeling of warmth settles in Yuichiro’s chest, and he knows his own face is mimicking his brother’s infectious smile.
“Yeah.”
Spring came slowly, when the sun finally started to feel like the sun that beamed heat and began melting the thick, stubborn snow away.
Spring brought warmth and security, and it brought comfort to every bone on Yuichiro’s body as he let the sun rays warm up his exposed skin.
Spring brought out the sun that broke away the ice that had so rudely covered their access to fish.
Yuichiro loved Spring, especially what came after it. It should’ve been a relief, a weight of whether he and his brother would freeze to death finally lifted, but it wasn’t.
This spring, unlike the many springs the twins experienced, brought out the horrible reality that Yuichiro’s been dreading all winter. The thawing of snow came with the realization of how fragile their survival had been. Their supplies were practically gone, and it was still too early for fish to return in abundance or to begin planting crops of any sort.
Yuichiro didn’t know what to do. He never had to worry about this. Their parents always knew how to prepare for winter and the days after; he and his brother never went hungry even when they rationed, and they always had more than enough to bring into early Spring.
Yuichiro stands by the edge of the riverbank, staring at the swirling currents as a few fish begin rising towards the surface. Maybe they wanted to feel the sun’s heat as well. His hands are rough and calloused from weeks of chopping wood, and his body still aches as if he had been doing it just yesterday.
Muichiro is sitting nearby, poking at the damp earth with a stick. There are still patches of snow around, but that doesn’t seem to bother much of the bug life.
“Yuichiro,” he calls out softly, breaking the silence.
“Hm? What is it?”
“Do you think things will get better?” Muichiro asks somewhat hesitantly. “It’s spring now.”
Yuichiro contemplates. Impulsively, he wants to lie, to offer his brother some sort of false semblance of comfort, but the reality weighs heavily on him to even come up with something plausible.
“I don’t know.” And that’s as close to the truth he could get. “It’ll take time for things to go back to how they were.”
Muichiro glances over to Yuichiro. “But we’ll be okay… right?”
Yuichiro feels a pang of worry. The same feeling he had when he realized that winter was coming and they’d be on their own without their parents' guidance. That same feeling of fear of uncertainty.
“We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”
And Yuichiro doesn’t know if he’s trying to comfort his brother or himself.
“Yeah. Because of you.”
Yuichiro turns to his brother with a frown.
Muichiro shrugs before faking interest in the ground under his feet. Yuichiro doesn’t know how to respond, but his brother’s faith in him doesn’t do much to ease his worry.
Still, there was a spark of determination, even if it was more of him trying to steel himself. Maybe things will get better. It's been six months, and they're still standing. Winter had to be the worst of it, and they made it through that already. Surely things would just start to get better from here on out.
And maybe Yuichiro should’ve scolded himself for even entertaining such a hope. After all, spring didn’t bring their salvation in the slightest. It brought about a stranger who would try to coerce them away from their way of life.
Muichiro was the first to meet her. A stranger on the opposite side of the creek wearing a pale kimono that nearly made her invisible among the morning mist.
Muichiro found her beautiful, almost like an angel or maybe more like a moon goddess. And that’s exactly how Muichiro described her to Yuichiro when he had brought her to their home.
Yuichiro was livid, afraid even, seeing a stranger standing just outside their door. He scolded his brother for his dangerous decision to bring someone they didn’t know to the place they laid their heads at night.
The woman tried to ease Yuichiro’s concern by identifying herself, introducing herself as Amane Ubuyashiki. Her name was unfamiliar, but she said it with such weight, like it held some grand importance, and that made Yuichiro’s stomach twist in apprehension.
It didn’t ease Yuichiro the slightest. If anything, it made him uneasy. Why would a woman who looks from a well-off family, who can have three whole meals a day or more, want to be with him and his brother, who lives in the woods from nowhere, away from any large village she’s likely from?
“I’ve brought a basket.” Her voice is gentle, kind, steady, and said with just the right amount of emphasis.
Yuichiro’s eyes follow as Amane lifts a light brown basket perfectly woven in front of her.
“I just want to have a few words… if you’ll let me.”
Muichiro tries a small smile, and his lips part to answer, but before he could get a word in, Yuichiro clicks his tongue and asks, “What do you want?”
Amane lowers the basket, hanging in both her hands. She offers a small smile, but it doesn’t earn one from Yuichiro.
“I’ve come with an offer for you both.”
Yuichiro’s frown deepens, and now Muichiro looks a little less trusting, glancing at his brother in confusion.
“Offer? What offer?”
The woman doesn’t respond right away, but when she does, she has lost any saving grace she might’ve had with Yuichiro the moment she said, “It’s an offer to become swordsmen.”
Silence. A heavy, pregnant pause fills the space as Yuichiro and Muichiro processed the words.
What?
Muichiro's frown deepens, and he looks at his brother with wide eyes as if looking for some sort of lead, waiting for Yuichiro to react. Swordsmen? Is this some weird wording to recruit for the army? But that wouldn’t make sense… drafting happened months ago. Muichiro saw it when he and his brother went down the mountain to the village to have dinner with Ms. Oda; he saw young men leaving their homes, mothers and wives crying as they said their goodbyes.
“They are going to serve in the military.” Ms. Oda explained, her wrinkles deepened with worry as she scooped rice into bowls, dismissing any efforts to help.
“Why Grandma Oda?” Muichiro had asked, his head resting on his forearms as he watched through Oda’s window.
“It is law.” Oda tried to offer a tired smile. “When young men turn twenty, they must report for examinations, and the military chooses the strongest ones to serve for a few years.”
“What happens to the rest of them?”
“Well, the rest are put into the reserves.” Oda slowly places rim-filled bowls of rice on the low table. “Right now it is their turn to go.”
“Did you have to do that too, Dad?” Muichiro asks, turning around to look at his father.
Sitting at the low table is his father, Ryoichiro, pulling his twin brother’s thick hair up in a low ponytail.
He looks at Muichiro with a soft smile. “I did. But I was lucky. They placed me in the reserves. I did basic training, and then they sent me right back home to your mother.”
Yuichiro looks up at his father now. “Why?”
“Well, you,” then looking at his other son with a fond expression. “and you were in your mother’s belly. This family needed a father to support them, and the law sometimes spares a man for his household.”
Ryoichiro ties off Yuichiro’s ponytail and kisses the top of his head. “They knew your mother, with two babies on the way, couldn’t very well chop timber on her own.”
Across the table, there’s a laugh, and a woman’s voice counters playfully, “I’m stronger than I look, ya know.”
Ryoichiro turns his head to his wife, a bright grin breaking across his face. “The strongest.”
Asae leans across the table to press a quick kiss to his cheek before turning to Muichiro, opening her arms slightly to wave their other son over. “Come on, Muichiro, it’s time to eat.”
Muichiro glances once more outside before scrambling up from the floorboards. Yuichiro, already free from his father attending to his hair, slides onto the mat, tightening the tie.
“Yuichiro sat still for once, so he gets the bigger portion,” Ryoichiro jokes, nudging a steaming bowl of wild vegetable soup towards his son.
“Ryoichiro,” Asae chides softly, though a smile tugs at her lips as she hands Muichiro his chopsticks.
Muichiro takes his bowl. “I can carry three logs at once today, Dad! Just watch!”
Yuichiro rolls his eyes over the edge of his bowl, though he secretly moves a piece of sweet root vegetable from his own into his brother’s. “Make sure you don’t trip over your own feet first, Mui.”
Muichiro sticks out his tongue at his brother, earning a round of laughs from the adults at the table.
“What is this?” Yuichiro’s voice breaks Muichiro’s train of thought.
“It’s—“ Amane began, but Yuichiro wasn’t done.
“We don’t want any part of whatever shit you’re trying to pull.”
“Yuichiro…” Muichiro began, hating how he had said it.
Yuichiro paid him no mind, his eyes locked on the woman in front of them.
Amane doesn’t appear any bit affected by Yuichiro’s harshness. “…I'd like to explain if you’ll let me.”
Yuichiro shakes his head, always stubborn once he makes up his mind. “No, thank you.”
Amane stands there for a moment without another word before nodding, then placing the basket she arrived with on the ground. She takes a few steps back, her head lowered in a slight bow before straightening her back and turning around, leaving from whence she came.
Muichiro and Yuichiro stood there at the doorway, watching Amane’s figure disappear in the distance before making any sudden movements. Muichiro bent down, grabbing the basket as Yuichiro turned back and went inside.
“What even is in that?” Yuichiro asked without turning around.
Muichiro closed the door behind him, then fully took in the contents inside the basket. “It’s… it’s food.”
Yuichiro's head whips around. “What?” In a millisecond, Yuichiro is in front of Muichiro, pulling the basket towards himself and peeking inside.
Rice balls, pickled vegetables, bread rolls, and more grains and, for some odd reason, a branch of wisteria. Yuichiro didn’t know how to react. He didn’t care for whatever the woman was carrying in the heat of the moment and was a second from telling his brother to throw whatever she left them out… but now…
“May—maybe,” Muichiro stammers. “Maybe we should’ve listened to what she was going to say…”
Yuichiro clicks his tongue, stepping back and shaking his head dismissively. “No way. She’s a random stranger who just appeared out of nowhere! Just be glad that she left when told to.
Muichiro frowns but doesn’t argue. He glances back down at the basket and can’t help but think that it was a nice gesture despite him not knowing how to feel about the woman’s arrival.
The woman showed up again, a week later, and like before, Yuichiro turned her away with a bit more edge to his words. And, like before, Amane left without much of a dispute, leaving behind another basket with her departure.
Yuichiro was more agitated this time. He didn’t like that this stranger knew where they lived and showed up again with the same damn offer.
Yuichiro tried to wrap his head around what exactly her angle was with them. He didn’t let her continue, not after she mentioned the offer about swordsmen.
Really? Swordsmen? What the hell do Yuichiro and Muichiro have to do with that? They’re children and nothing to note at all. They’re skinny, bones protruding at awkward angles, hands and knees rough from hard work, cheeks and eyes sunken from sleepless nights. They weren’t even a bit healthy, surviving purely off of grains and sheer will.
They’re no good, so she'd better leave them alone like they were. She asked strange questions about their lives, their family, and how they had survived the harsh winter. It was all weird, and Yuichiro didn’t like her prying. Muichiro, on the other hand, seemed captivated by her, always standing a step too close.
She arrived again a third time, and at this point Yuichiro wasn’t even surprised. Muichiro immediately got off the ground where he sat and ran to open the door, smiling when Amane said hello.
Yuichiro glared from where he sat, but oddly enough, he’d been just the slightest curious about her intentions throughout these days. To see what exactly she planned with them.
For the first time, when Muichiro turned to him, Yuichiro shrugged, and his brother’s expression practically glowed as he guided Amane inside their home.
The woman doesn’t bat an eye at their run-down home, making her way towards where Yuichiro sat, slowly sitting in front of him with a soft smile.
“Hello,” Amane greets Yuichiro, placing down another basket beside them. More food and wisteria.
The boy just hums with a quick nod as Muichiro happily settles beside his brother, asking Amane why she’s here even if they all already knew the answer.
“I think you both have great potential,” Amane starts, pausing when Yuichiro snorts.
“What a bald-faced lie.”
“I believe so.” Amane places her hands on her lap. “You two come from a familial line of strong swordsmen. I do think the Demon Slayer Corps could use more individuals like this.”
Yuichiro frowns, biting back another snarky comment as Muichiro leans forward, a bit intrigued. “Demon Corps? What’s that?”
Amane smiles with a soft chuckle. “The Demon Slayer Corps. It’s an organization dedicated to bettering the world.”
Yuichiro looks even more unconvinced. “What type of name is that?”
“What do you do?” Muichiro asks.
“The corps is designed for individuals to serve, help, and train people who have the willingness and strength to cleanse the lands from evil. To eliminate demons who prey on the innocent.”
“Demons?” Muichiro's eyebrows are furrowed in worry while Yuichiro rolls his eyes.
“What are you even going on about? Tell us the truth instead of feeding us tales! We’re not that dumb!”
Amane's smile wavers. “Yuichiro… I understand how this may sound. Most people go on their entire lives unaware of knowing demons roaming around at night, but—“
“Get out.”
Muichiro’s head snaps over to his brother with wide eyes.
“Demons? Ridiculous. Get out. I’m done listening.”
“Wait, Yui—“ Muichiro tries, but Yuichiro turns to him with a growl.
“What! You seriously can’t believe anything she’s saying! It’s just like those stories Grandma Oda used to tell us to keep us from going out at night! “Demons who’d eat little boys if they venture far away from the village.” It’s all make-believe!”
“But—“
“Yuichiro. Muichiro.”
Both boys turn their heads towards Amane. Her back is straightened out, and she is no longer smiling, instead putting on a face of placidity as she speaks, “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I promise it’ll make more sense if you decide to come with me.”
“No way.” Yuichiro snaps. “You show up here, spouting nonsense about demons and organizations, and you expect us to just, what, go with you as if we owe you anything. Just leave our home wherever you take us?”
Yuichiro shifts in his seat and, like he’s done with this back and forth, just straight up asks, “Is this some sort of trafficking?”
Muichiro gasps, and Amane’s eyes widen a great deal. She looks almost offended by that but, with great practice, smooths her features over instantly, erasing any trace of shock.
“No. This isn’t. I wouldn’t…” Amane takes a sharp breath. “I just want to give you two a path. Something to make of your lives if you choose to—“
“Huh?!” Yuichiro's voice rises, his fists clench at his sides. “You don’t know us! You don’t know what we’ve been through! And you sure as hell don’t get to waltz in here and tell us what we should do with our lives!”
Amane bows her head slightly. “You’re right. I don’t know everything about you. But I do know strength when I see it. And I know what happens when people like you try to live in ignorance of the world’s dangers.”
Yuichiro opens his mouth to retort, but Muichiro speaks up first, his voice soft but trembling. “Are… are they real? The demons?”
Yuichiro turns to his brother, feeling confused and somewhat betrayed. Unbelievable. Why is he still entertaining her?
“Yes,” Amane says, turning her attention to the younger brother. Her tone softens, becoming almost maternal. “They’re real, Muichiro. And they’ve taken countless lives. That’s why the Corps exists, to fight them, to protect those who can’t protect themselves.”
Yuichiro shoots up from sitting, stepping in front of his brother. He towers over them and shifts Amane’s gaze up to him. “I don’t care what you’re selling,” he spits. “We’re not interested! Leave!”
Amane studies him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. Finally, she sighs, and for a moment it looks like she’s disappointed and even a bit mournful.
“Alright.” She stands, smoothing the folds of her kimono. “I’ll take my leave for now. But please consider my words. Your strength is a gift, and gifts like yours are rare. It’s up to you how you choose to use it.”
Amane walks towards the doorway, her footsteps eerily silent. Muichiro watches her go, his small hands gripping the edge of his yukata. He looks like he wants to say something but decides against it.
Amane turns to them once more, lowering her head in a gesture of farewell before stepping out of their home and making her way down the path she must now remember.
Yuichiro lets out a sharp exhale, his jaw tight, and turns to his brother. “Don’t let her get into your head.”
“But… what if she’s telling the truth?” Muichiro whispers, his voice barely audible.
“She’s not,” Yuichiro says, though his tone is less than conclusive. “We don’t need whatever she’s trying to set for us, or anyone else. We’ve made it this far on our own. That’s not going to change.”
But as Amane’s figure disappears into the distance, a sliver of doubt crept into Yuichiro’s mind—one he refuses to acknowledge.
Amane’s visits continued, despite Yuichiro’s protests and increasingly harsh words. She never stays long, always arriving with the same sentence and leaving once Yuichiro won’t let her get another word in, always before sunset.
Each visit, she brought something with her: a small basket of food, a spare blanket, or a bundle of herbs she claims could help with light sicknesses.
Yuichiro refuses her offerings, shoving them back toward her with a scowl, but Muichiro, with his soft, kind heart, would quietly accept them when his brother wasn’t looking and always placed the branches of wisteria around their home, purple now peeking through the dark, dull color of wood.
Yuichiro hated it. To him, Amane’s presence was a threat, a reminder of how precarious their lives had become. He didn’t trust her, not her calm demeanor, not her soft-spoken words, and certainly not her talk of the “Demon Slayer Corps”.
“Why won’t she just leave us alone!?” Yuichiro whines one evening. “She won’t stop coming, no matter how many times I tell her to stop coming back!”
Muichiro hesitates, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from him. “I think she’s just trying to help.”
“Help? We don’t need her help.”
Muichiro lowers his gaze. “She said we’re strong. What if we can help people… protect them.”
Yuichiro scoffs. “Protect people from what, Muichiro? From demons? She’s feeding us stories. There’s no such thing.”
Yuichiro turns toward the window, his jaw tight. “Even if she’s telling the truth, it’s not our problem.”
The next time Amane comes, Yuichiro pushes past his brother and confronts her before she even steps into their home.
“Why do you keep coming here?” he demands, blocking her path. His tone was cold, his eyes narrowed.
Amane folds her hands neatly in front of her. She doesn’t have a basket with her this time. “Because I’d wish for you to come—“
“We don’t want anything to do with your Corps,” Yuichiro snaps. “We don’t need saving, and we’re not interested in whatever it is you’re trying to recruit us for. Why can’t you take no for an answer!”
Amane frowns with a deep sadness that makes Yuichiro's stomach twist.
“I wish for you to disregard what I’ve previously been saying.” Amane shakes her head. “Now I… I just want you to come to my personal estate. Stay there if you’d like. You two are boys living all alone in the middle of nowhere… It’s no place for children, especially twins who… lost a lot. Please just let me provide you with a safe place.”
Yuichiro stares at her, his jaw clenched tight as he fights back the sudden sting in his eyes. He hates how her pity makes him feel weak. He hates how the mention of their losses forces the memory of their parents right back into his throat.
“We don’t need your charity,” Yuichiro forces out, though his voice cracks slightly on the edge of his anger. “We’ve survived this long on our own. We don’t need a ‘safe home,’ and we don’t need you.”
Amane gently drops to her knees so she is looking up at them, stripping away every ounce of her authority. There’s another expression from her that’s new to them. Desperation.
“Surviving is not the same as living, Yuichiro,” she says softly.
Yuichiro clenches his jaw, her words stirring something deep inside him, something he didn’t want to feel.
“Leave,” he says, his voice cracking. “Please…Don’t… don’t come back.”
Amane doesn’t argue. She just looks at the two of them, her heart breaking for the fierce, wounded boy trying so hard to be an adult. She then reaches into her obi, pulling out a small purple sachet. She reaches out, holding the bag out.
Muichiro extends his hand, and Amane gently places the sachet on the palm of his hand. Sniffles are coming from Muichiro, and Yuichiro doesn’t dare to look at him, knowing he’d find his brother failing to hold in tears, something of longing in his eyes.
“The strength you two have, it’s admirable.” Amane smiles gently. “Please remember what I’ve said and take care of yourselves. A storm is coming in a few days. Keep that sachet safe on you two, okay?”
Muichiro nods. “Okay…”
Amane stands up, bowing as she does before leaving.
After that visit, Muichiro began encouraging the idea of them going with her, sprouting nonsense that Yuichiro was most definitely not a fan of.
“But we can help!” Muichiro protests, his eyes wide with conviction.
“Help who?!” Yuichiro snaps, his voice rising in frustration. “Ourselves? Because no one else is going to! You can’t even help yourself! We’re eleven! What can we do?! Why can’t you see that she doesn’t care about us!”
“She’s been kind, Yuichiro! She's been giving us food and stuff every time she visits! She’s only trying to help!”
“You’re so stupid!” Yuichiro yells, the words sharp and cutting. “She’s just doing that and saying what you want to hear so we’ll do what she wants!”
“That’s not true!” Muichiro fires back, his cheeks flushed with frustration. “You don’t know that! You’re always mad at everything!”
“Yeah, I am mad!” Yuichiro snaps, stepping closer to his brother. “I’m mad because you don’t get it! Why can’t you get it, Muichiro?! We don’t need her! We don’t need anyone! We just need us!”
“But it doesn’t have to be!” Muichiro shouts, his voice breaking as tears stream down his face. “I don’t want to! I don’t want to be alone!”
“What are you talking about?! You're not alone!”
“We’re alone!” Muichiro cries. “Ms. Amane said we can go with her! That we can stay with her! Doesn’t that sound great, Yui? We can finally—“
“Then go with her if you think she’s so great!” Yuichiro challenges, his chest heaving.
Muichiro looks up at him, hurt and defiance warring in his teary eyes. “Maybe I will!”
For a moment, neither of them says anything. The air between them feels heavy, thick with emotions they’re too young to fully understand.
Finally, Yuichiro turns away, his shoulders stiff. “Do whatever you want,” he mutters, walking toward the door. “Just don’t expect me not to say I told you so when she disappoints you and leaves just like everyone else.”
Muichiro watches him walk out of the home, his chest aching with emotions he can’t put into words. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to stay angry, not at Yuichiro, not at anyone. But as he stands alone in the quiet house, he wonders if wanting to go with Amane is really such a bad thing.
The silence in the house is suffocating. Muichiro sniffles, wiping his face on his sleeve as he glances toward the door Yuichiro slammed shut behind him. He sits down on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest as the argument plays over and over in his mind. Yuichiro’s words sting, but they don’t drown out the hope Amane’s visit had sparked.
Why can’t Yuichiro see what he sees? Why can't he get it?
Outside, Yuichiro leans against the doorframe, staring into the thick trees that surround their home. His chest rises and falls with uneven breaths as he tries to calm the storm raging inside him.
“Stupid…” he mutters under his breath, his hands trembling as they clench into fists at his sides. He doesn’t know if he’s talking about Muichiro or himself anymore.
He doesn’t want to lose Muichiro. He doesn’t want to risk everything they’ve barely managed to hold onto. But deep down, something about Amane’s words had shaken him, planting a seed of doubt he couldn’t shake.
But he shakes his head, banishing the thought. No, they’re fine on their own. They have to be.
Still, as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest, Yuichiro can’t bring himself to go back inside. The weight of his fears and his brother’s quiet hope presses down on him, leaving him frozen in place.
Inside, Muichiro stares at the flickering candlelight, his thoughts filled with images of Amane’s kind smile and the stories she told about the Demon Slayer Corps.
He wants to believe her. He does believe her. And he hopes, desperately, that one day, Yuichiro will too.
Days passed, and Amane hadn’t returned.
The silence between the brothers stretched thinner and thinner, broken only by the necessary exchanges of daily life. Yuichiro busied himself with chores as though he could scrub away the remnants of their argument.
Muichiro, on the other hand, remained quieter than usual, retreating into himself. His small frame seemed to shrink under the weight of unspoken thoughts.
He would sit by the river sometimes, staring at the water as if searching for answers or, better yet, waiting for Amane to show up.
One afternoon, while Yuichiro was chopping firewood, he noticed Muichiro sitting on the porch, fiddling with the small purple sachet.
“Are you planning to do anything useful today?” Yuichiro asks, the words coming out harsher than he intended.
Muichiro doesn’t look up. “I was thinking… about what she said.”
Yuichiro slams the axe down into the chopping block, the sound echoing through the clearing. “Of course, you were,” he mutters, turning away.
“She wasn’t lying, Yuichiro,” Muichiro says quietly. “You know it, don’t you?”
Yuichiro freezes, his back still turned to his brother. “It doesn’t matter,” he says after a moment. “Even if she wasn’t lying, it doesn’t change anything. We’re fine on our own.”
“Are we?” Muichiro’s voice was soft, but there was a tremor in it that made Yuichiro’s chest tighten.
Yuichiro whips around, his expression a mix of frustration and fear. “What are you saying, Muichiro? That you want to run off with some stranger and then what? Did you forget what she first said? Swordsmen? Fighting demons? You don’t even know what that really means! She could be sending us off to some child soldier prison or something.”
“You can’t really think that.”
“I don’t know what to think anymore!”
“I…” Muichiro hesitates, gripping the bag tightly in his hands. “I want to go, Yui. Even… even if she lied and I’ll be put to train… to fight something. I want to be useful. Like Dad.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and raw.
Yuichiro stared at his brother, his heart pounding in his chest. “No.”
“What?”
“I won’t let you,” Yuichiro said, his voice trembling now, the walls he’d built for so long starting to crack. “I won’t let you throw yourself into a life like that! I won’t let you go and get hurt! You can be useful here!”
“But—!”
“I can’t—I won’t,” Yuichiro repeats, his eyes desperate now. “We already lost Mom and Dad! I can’t lose you too!”
Muichiro’s heart skips a beat. He wants to say something, anything to ease the tension, but his words don’t come; he doesn’t know what to say. He stands there, stunned, watching as Yuichiro’s eyes shimmer with unspoken fear.
For a long while, neither of them speaks. The only sound is the wind rustling the trees.
Then, before Yuichiro can react, Muichiro suddenly flings himself against his chest.
“Muichiro, what are you—?!” Yuichiro starts, but his words die in his throat as he feels his brother’s trembling form pressed against him.
Yuichiro tries to pull away, but Muichiro’s grip is tight, stronger than usual, and as he hears the small sniffles and cries of his little brother, he freezes.
“I’m sorry!” Muichiro sobs, his voice breaking. “I didn’t—I—!”
Yuichiro’s breath catches in his throat. His brother’s tears are like needles piercing his chest, and for a moment, all the anger and fear he’s been holding onto melts away. Slowly, his hands come up, hesitantly; eventually, he wraps his arms around Muichiro, holding him close, as if trying to shield him from everything, even the weight of their past.
“I’m just scared,” Yuichiro admits quietly, his own voice cracking. “I’m scared of losing you. I’m scared of everything that might happen to us.”
Muichiro sniffles, his face buried in Yuichiro’s chest. “I’m scared too,” he whispers. “But— I want to be strong like dad…like you… I want to be able to protect you too… but—but I can’t! I don’t know how to!”
Yuichiro’s arms tighten around him. He wants to say more, but nothing feels like the right thing to say. Instead, he just holds Muichiro there, and for the first time in a long while, he lets himself just be.
“Please, Yui. Please… when she comes back, we have to go with her…”
Yuichiro pulls away from the hug just enough to look at his brother. “…What?”
Muichiro’s face scrunches. “I don’t know how to be strong… we’re all alone, Yui. What happens when winter comes again?”
Yuichiro's eyes darted back and forth from Muichiro’s eyes, wide, puffy, and red from tears. While he wanted to deny it, they both weren’t cut out for this. Their bodies were practically giving out from exhaustion every day, skin pale and clammy, height shorter than what their age would have suggested. They looked awful. Weak and malnourished twins.
God, he was so delusional to think they could survive on their own.
The storm Amane warned them about came.
“The wisteria!” Muichiro whines when the storm comes to pass.
The wisteria he had placed around their home were drenched.
“Look, Yui, they're all ruined!”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Yuichiro mutters, trying to start the fire in their hearth to no avail. “Ugh, this damn thing won’t start!”
Muichiro glances at his brother with a frown. “Do you think Ms. Amane will be back?”
“Who knows.” Yuichiro shrugs, standing up, giving up on starting the fire.
A few more days go by, and there’s still no sign of Amane. Yuichiro subconsciously hopes that means the end of her visits, that she’s given up and won’t bother them again. He tells himself it’s for the best, that things can finally go back to normal, just the two of them, like always.
Muichiro, on the other hand, finds it harder to accept. Yuichiro notices the subtle changes. He’ll catch Muichiro lingering by the window, his small figure framed by the light as he stares down the path where Amane always appeared. Sometimes, Muichiro will ask questions he knows Yuichiro won’t answer, like, Do you think she’ll come back? Or what if she’s waiting for us somewhere?
Yuichiro brushes it off every time. “She’s gone. And maybe that’s a good thing,” he says firmly, chopping firewood or fixing something around the house to avoid looking at his brother’s disappointed face.
One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Yuichiro spots Muichiro sitting outside on the porch, his knees drawn to his chest, eyes fixed on the forest. The sight makes Yuichiro pause. He knows Muichiro well enough to see what he’s thinking, even if he doesn’t say it out loud.
“She’s not coming back,” Yuichiro says as he steps outside, leaning the axe against the wall. His voice is more tired than harsh, though he doesn’t look directly at Muichiro.
Muichiro doesn’t turn around. “… why not? How do you know?” he asks softly, his voice barely audible.
“Because people like that always leave,” Yuichiro mutters. “When they don’t get their way anyway… That’s just how it is.”
Muichiro finally looks over his shoulder, his expression a mix of sadness and quiet determination.
Yuichiro tries to offer a smile. “I’m still here.”
Muichiro blinks, then a smile spreads across his face that doesn’t exactly reach his eyes. Yuichiro tries not to dwell on it and sits down next to his brother. The world feels still, and for now, that’s enough.
“Can we keep the door open tonight?” Muichiro asks suddenly as sweat drips from his forehead.
“What? Why?”
“It’s so hot, Yui!” Muichiro whines, fanning himself drastically with his hands.
He’s not wrong, though. Spring has become increasingly hot, with the once gentle breezes replaced by stifling, humid air that clings to their skin. The days feel longer, the sun lingering in the sky more than usual, and even the nights offer little relief from the heat.
Spring must be short this year, Yuichiro thinks, his gaze drifting toward the horizon where the faint glow of the sunset seems to shimmer in the heat.
“We can’t keep the door open; the windows should be enough.”
“Pleaseee?” Muichiro pleads, clasping his hands together dramatically. “Come on, Yui! I loveeee you! Pleaseee.”
“Really? What about yesterday when I would let you keep that frog?”
Muichiro flushes, his pout deepening. “That was different! And you know I didn’t mean it! I always love you!”
“Right,” Yuichiro rolls his eyes. “Fine. We can leave it open tonight. Tonight. That’s it.”
“Yes!” Muichiro grins. “Thank you! You're the best!”
“Shut up,” Yuichiro grumbles, but there’s a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Now finish eating.”
Muichiro hums happily, digging into his meal with renewed energy, the heat forgotten in his small triumph. Yuichiro watches him for a moment, shaking his head. “You're lucky I’m too tired to argue.”
And well… maybe Yuichiro should’ve argued harder. He should’ve said no to Muichiro’s pleas to keep the door open, should’ve gotten up, should’ve closed it himself once Muichiro went to sleep. Anything really, but he didn’t, and that was his first mistake.
His heart felt like it had completely stopped as he stared at the dark figure towering over his brother by the doorway. It took a moment too long for his brain to process what he was seeing. The figure moved—an arm raised—and instinct took over.
He just ran.
The next moments were a blur of panic and pain. Yuichiro didn’t even see the strike before his arm seared with excruciating pain, the likes of which he had never known. It started in his shoulder, spreading like fire through his entire body.
The next thing he knew, he collapsed, doubling over with a scream that tore from his throat that was raw and terrifying.
He felt small hands gripping at him desperately.
“Yui!” his brother cried, his voice trembling with fear. But beyond it was laughter. Sickening, hollow laughter.
Yuichiro forced himself to look up even when his eyes were hazy with pain. The figure’s sharp teeth gleamed in the moonlight. It had crimson eyes that appeared to be glowing. It didn’t look human… even with the appearance of one, it just looked wrong, and the first thought that crossed his mind was “demon”.
Muichiro tugged at him frantically, trying to urge him to run with him, but Yuichiro’s body screamed in protest as he staggered to his feet, legs threatening to buckle.
His brother’s trembling frame clung to him, but the sound of heavy footsteps closing in spurred him forward.
They didn’t make it far. Yuichiro’s legs gave out, the burning in his arm making it impossible to think straight. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He felt totally helpless. But he kept remembering that Muichiro was here, holding him up to his chest, shaking, and all he could think about besides pain was protecting him. He had to—
Then a scream ripped through the night, piercing and guttural, so that it made Yuichiro’s blood run cold with goosebumps. He never heard someone yell like that… then his heart nearly stopped when he saw Muichiro break away from him and, instead of beelining it to the door, he ran straight towards the demon.
“Mui!” Yuichiro tried to yell, but his voice cracked. He tried to reach out, but his arm felt numb and useless—and then it was gone. His arm. His arm was gone.
Yuichiro’s world tilted as he stared at the blood pouring from where his arm should have been. The ground beneath him blurred as he fell, the pain so overwhelming he couldn’t even scream anymore. His vision swam, his mind frantic.
“Mui…” His voice was weak, barely above a whisper. “Muichiro…”
He couldn’t see him. He tried to move his head, to find his little brother, but his body wouldn’t listen. His body couldn’t move. Yuichiro began hyperventilating. What’s happening? What just happened?
Panic claws at his chest, worse than the pain. Where is Muichiro? Is he okay? Was he—
Yuichiro feels tears welling up, hot and stinging. His breathing grows shallow, his strength fading fast. The blood pooling around him felt endless, soaking into the floor beneath him… god he is so lightheaded, and his vision is beginning to darken at the edges. He knows… He’s dying. Oh God, he’s dying.
And yet all he could think about was Muichiro. His sweet little brother, so flawlessly naïve but good to his very core. He wanted to help people; he wanted to go with Amane even before she offered that they didn’t have to train and could just stay with her. Yuichiro knew it. Yuichiro had always called him foolish for it.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying on the floor for. It feels like forever…
“Please…” Yuichiro choked out, his voice barely audible. “God… Buddha… save my brother… please…”
The words tumble from his lips in a broken whisper, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. His surroundings blurred, his mind growing foggy.
His eyes flutter shut, but just before his senses numb completely, he feels something.
A hand. Small, trembling fingers wrap around his own. Yuichiro forces his eyes open, just barely, and through the haze and blurriness, he sees Muichiro, face streaked with blood and tears. He was crying, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
He’s alive.
Yuichiro felt a faint, fleeting relief. His lips twitched. “Mui…” he whispered, his voice a mere breath.
And then, everything went dark.
Muichiro wakes with a gasp, his chest heaving as if he’d been pulled up from drowning. His body feels heavy, and he swears something is weighing him down.
“Easy,” a familiar, sweet voice soothes. “Don’t move too quickly.”
His vision is hazy, disoriented, but he can make out a soft hand pressing gently against his chest, grounding him.
His vision is obscured slightly by whatever is covering one of his eyes. It takes him a moment to focus.
The face above him sharpens with a few blinks; it's Amane, her kind features tinged with sadness.
“M…Ms…Amane?” Muichiro’s voice cracks, hoarse and weak.
Her eyes widen slightly before she offers him a soft, almost apologetic smile. “Yes, it’s me. You’re safe now.”
“What… what happened?” he murmurs, his head pounding as fragments of memory begin to surface.
Amane hesitates, her gaze dropping for a moment before meeting his again. “You were attacked,” she says quietly. “I… I should’ve come to get you both sooner. I’m so sorry, Muichiro. I’m so sorry.”
Her words hang heavy in the air, but they don’t register immediately. His mind is sluggish, trying to piece together the scattered images: the open door, the towering figure, the blood—so much blood.
“Yui…” His voice is barely above a whisper; his eyes begin roaming around the room. “Where’s Yui?”
Amane’s expression crumples, the sorrow in her eyes deepening. She opens her mouth to speak but falters, her lips pressing into a thin line. Muichiro’s breathing quickens, his chest rising and falling erratically. Panic creeps into his voice.
Tears pool in Amane’s eyes as she gently places a hand on his forehead, her touch trembling. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
The world around him collapses. Muichiro’s uneven breathing turns into gasps, his body shaking as tears stream down his face. He tries to sit up, to move, but his strength fails him.
“No… no,” he chokes out, the denial pouring from his lips like a mantra. “Please…”
Amane closes her eyes, keeping her tears from falling, and grips his shoulders gently.
Muichiro shakes his head violently, fresh tears falling. “Please, he has to be… where is he? Where is Yui?”
Amane’s heart aches for the boy before her, so small, so broken. She kneels beside him, her hands still on his trembling frame. “I know…,” she murmurs, her voice soft but resolute. “I know… ”
Muichiro sobs. He curls in on himself, his tears soaking the thin blanket covering him. And it’s almost like every memory wants to resurface now when he’s most vulnerable.
The memory of Yuichiro-his joy, sadness, excitement, even his anger, moments since they were five and innocent… it all comes crashing down, so cruelly it does nothing but make him cry more.
Remembering it hurts. The grief and pain just swells throughout his entire being, and then it pulls away, retreating into a quiet, unreachable place.
Yuichiro wakes with slow blinks, adjusting to the dim lighting and registering the sleek wooden ceiling.
Everything feels off; his body feels heavy, like he’s too exhausted to move. ‘What happened? ’ he asks himself. ‘Where am I?’
He doesn’t feel cold or warm… he doesn’t feel much of anything, really. ‘Is this the afterlife?’
“You're awake,” a deep voice cuts through his thoughts, rumbling.
Oddly, the words were more felt than heard, making his chest tighten in discomfort.
Yuichiro’s gaze shifts, pulling away from the ceiling towards the far corner of the room, where a figure stands, barely visible in the lantern’s faint golden glow.
“Who…” Yuichiro’s voice is hoarse, strange to his ears, and something is making it feel off to speak.
His tongue gets nipped against something. And suddenly he’s tasting a bit of iron.
The figure steps closer, their features still obscured in shadow. “Get up. Time to eat.
And then, almost as if triggered by the words, a scent floods the air, foul and rancid, yet enticing in a way that makes Yuichiro’s stomach lurch and his senses sharpen.