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You hadn't meant to become a demon - of course you hadn't. You didn't know who would. Despite all the powers and strength it granted, who would willingly deny themselves the feel of dappled sun on their cheeks? Who would give up the scent of a daytime breeze - which was distinct from that of a nighttime breeze - as it parted their hair so that their scalp could breathe in its freshness?
It reminded you of a conversation you'd shared with Tanjiro. You two talked about aromas, amongst other things. You both craved and dreaded his company, because you, well, you...
You weren’t comfortable with some of the impulses that you had around him.
Nezuko was laid beside you, her snores like fluttering moth wings, your hand nestled in her long black waves. Despite the muzzle on her mouth, her expression radiated peace. For Nezuko, it made things easier. For you, it didn't really matter whether you covered your mouth or not: the temptation was the same. But it had grown stale with disuse, as your brain slowly registered that attacking humans would not be necessary for your survival.
One human being the exception, of course.
"[...]!"
As soon as he called out your name, every hair on the back of your neck stood on edge, every muscle fibre contracting in a held breath of tension.
You didn't look.
It was your own fault for letting your guard down, for getting too complacent and meditative. Mindfulness was great - until you were in a situation where you wished you had thought ahead.
You couldn't run. The tent was your safe refuge from the sun's glare and the house where you were staying was a good few sun-drenched metres away.
Damn it... you released your grip on the book in your hands, allowing it to flip shut. You'd found Nezuko here several hours ago, enjoying the long, dark winter night before the sun rose. You'd played together in the garden, then rested under the dark tent as the sun peeked above the horizon. Nezuko had drifted off - you'd opened up the book that you kept beneath the tent for situations like these.
There was only one other solution you could think of. Your back was turned to the source of the voice, so you pressed your eyelids together as convincingly as you could and tried to relax into a sleeping posture.
You smelled him from behind you. Comforting charcoal ash. Warm hints of wood. A little bit of sweat.
And you felt his breath tickle your ear, rustle your hair, stroke your scalp, and your chest could have burst.
"Is this good?"
Your stomach did a backflip. Yes it's good, keep going, your brain unhelpfully offered, before begrudgingly admitting that he'd probably been talking about the book.
Through all this, you forgot that you were pretending to be asleep, and replied curtly, "I-I mean, it's… engaging. Quite complicated."
"Really? It seemed like you were so bored it almost put you to sleep!"
You laughed, off-key, sort of wheezing. "Y-yeah..." You trailed off, leaving a chasm of silence in your wake.
Tanjiro read the cover, "Experiments in human biology. That sounds like something I would have trouble with… Oh, I know!"
He scooted around you from behind (where he'd been tickling your ear with his words) until he was sitting beside you. You still had your eyes closed (like an idiot). "Will you teach me?” he inquired, tone light.
You opened one eye and dared to peek at him. He was so cute - bright and sparkling eyes fixed on yours, smile luminescent with innocent excitement - you almost wanted to look away for fear of blindness. (How could you say no to that face?)
But simultaneously, an impulse spread through your body like a disease. Part of you looked down at that face and wanted to smother his sun-tanned cheeks with kisses, and the other wanted to take a massive bite.
Both were concerning. The latter obviously more so, but the former too. Until now, demon travelling with a human was unheard of. But being with a human?
You shifted away, shaking your head 'no', heat rising up your neck and face. No. You were in love with him because he saved you. And he had no obligation to reciprocate it. In fact, you shouldn't allow him to think he should bother himself with interacting with you.
He pouted. You saw it in your periphery, and it was irritating how much you wanted to turn back to him and give in.
You felt his hand go to your head and you stifled a sigh, though noticing how he carefully avoided messing up your bun, fingers skirting the edges of your hair ribbon. His fingers ran gently along the grain of your thick, unruly locks; they'd grown back exponentially after he'd saved you from starvation, and you sometimes caught him staring at the crown of your head in awe, at the spot where a bald patch had once been that was now overflowing with hair. It made you chuckle.
"Alright. Maybe another time?" He turned his gaze to the garden, soaking up the peace while unintentionally disturbing yours, "Wow! The garden looks amazing, even though it's Winter!"
You looked. There were flowers of every height and every shade, vermillion to magenta to violet, all deep and bold and unapologetic. It went unspoken, but the implication sat heavy in the air: if you'd died, mouth sewn shut, alone in that room like you'd originally planned, you would never have enjoyed a sight like this ever again, or at least for a very long time until your next life. You nodded, solemnly. Such beauty, an abomination like you did not deserve.
But if you're an abomination, does that not make Nezuko the same? a voice in your head countered, but you shut it down. She's different, you thought, though unable to explain how.
Then you felt that dull sting across your palms, the pulsing burns from Nezuko's flames - her burning wall that had prevented you from leaving the room while she gave you the medicine - and found your answer. Where Nezuko had self-restraint, you had to be stopped by fire from going out to hunt for a human. You two were different.
You felt eyes burning into your cheek, so you turned to meet those ruby irises head-on.
The intensity of his stare, his lips gently parted, pupils dilated, self-awareness abandoned for a moment - you caught the tail end of it, enough to know that you were its focus. He quickly morphed his expression into a reassuring smile. Pretending that he had it all under control.
But you'd seen it - the way he'd stared at you, it was all wrong. A revelation of the worst kind. Did he forget that he was looking at a monster carrying the blood of his arch-nemesis, Kibutsuji?
"I have to go," you said, then realised you couldn't go anywhere (it was still daytime) so did something you'd done too many times to the poor boy. You turned your back to him.
The gesture couldn't have been clearer, but as silence fell between you two for a long moment, neither moved. "Please leave," you repeated, colder than the chilly air.
You heard him sigh through his nose. You heard him rise to his feet.
“See you later,” you heard him offer gently, “I'll be on patrol again tonight, with Nezuko. Feel free to join us if you're feeling up to it. I think we're close…”
To finding the demon that they came to this village for. Thankfully, the one reported wasn't me, you thought.
You heard retreating footsteps.
You didn't look.
___________________________
Tanjiro was right. He found the demon.
In the village square, the night icy. The moon an 'o' of terror, white light the battle's spotlight. The three of you - one demon slayer, two reformed demons, against one despicable opponent.
Dodging one of his flying daggers, you tried to strategize. A deep cut on your shoulder was stinging; your regeneration was slow, painfully so. You needed to use your blood demon art before it healed. You could see Tanjiro's mind working at a hundred miles per second by the way his eyes, wide and alert, flicked over his surroundings, and you tried to do the same. He rolled beneath an onslaught of daggers then stood and swung his sword at the demon. With your blood demon art, you could telepathically sense and manoeuvre metal objects. You felt Tanjiro's nichirin in the warmth of his hands, felt the air it glided through and now, the sticky flesh of the demon's left arm.
The demon snarled in agony and clutched the stump as it regenerated, dodging one of Nezuko's devastating kicks. Her foot left a crater in the ground and the demon sprang away. He landed several metres from you and caught his (its?) breath. Believing he was safe.
Your eyes focused on Tanjiro approaching from behind, his sword raised high.
He was such a different person when fighting. He thought a lot more. He was angrier, brasher. But the one thing was constant on and off the battlefield.
Kamado Tanjiro had no subtlety.
He roared a battle cry. You watched in horror as the demon, foreseeing the demon slayer's incredibly predictable jump-slash from overhead, grabbed him by the chin with a clawed hand. Caught mid-leap, Tanjiro's sword arm swung through air. His feet kicked. The hand choked him. Claws dug into his cheeks and drew red. And your vision turned red too.
You sensed Tanjiro's blade quiver in his grip. He endeavored to hold it tighter, but the demon immobilised him. And he was terrified.
You needed to take control of the sword. With your mind, you willed it to move. But as you visualised its path of action, Tanjiro's grip tightened in resistance.
"Let it go!" you snapped at him.
The demon guffawed, "See, even your demon friend is telling you to give up!" With its free hand, it sliced through an approaching Nezuko, daggers dismembering her arms and legs.
You cried out, "Nezuko!" The demon girl collapsed to the floor, struggling to regenerate from bleeding stumps.
"Let go, Tanjiro!" you yelled. The whites of his eyes grew. Did he trust you? You wanted to tell him why you wanted him to let go, but then the demon would know your plan and you'd have no chance at winning.
So you implored with your eyes.
Just a little, but enough, his grip loosened.
You drew a line of action in your mind.
You whipped the hilt out of his grasp.
You turned the blade, and sliced cleanly through the demon's neck in a split second.
Done.
Exhausted, you collapsed to your knees, joints jarring painfully on the hard ground. Tanjiro landed unceremoniously with a whump. The demon’s body disintegrated. His sword landed a few metres away with a piercing clatter. Nezuko, legs half-regenerated, crawled over to her brother.
Your breath caught. You stumbled over to them. Your body felt like it was being dragged.
"T-tanjiro?" you wheezed hoarsely, and when his head turned towards you, you fell to your knees at his side. Cupping his face in your hands, the pliable and slightly sticky warmth of his cheeks flush against your skin.
"It's alright, [...]. Just a few bruises," he reassured through gritted teeth, “You saved me… thank you.” Trying his best to offer a smile, though there was a dark red patch like a blooming flower in his uniform, on his left shoulder. But it wasn't that wound that concerned you.
Your stomach was turning, for two reasons. They were consuming you from the mind out.
One, the fight had left you exhausted. And you were hungry.
Two, you could see the weeping half-moons in an asymmetrical line across Tanjiro's chin.
Something animalistic, possessive, raged in your belly. That other demon had dug its claws into his cheeks, those cheeks that you loved. Another demon had marked what was rightfully yours.
And his blood smelled heavenly.
Your demon form towered over him. Your green-clawed hands dwarfed his face. Yet he smiled up at you, oblivious, vulnerable and relaxed and submissive as you drew closer.
In your chest, your arms, your legs, it was unbearable now, an ache that drew you to him. To somehow make right the wrong; to wipe bleeding cuts from the visage you deemed precious. The face that brought you so much hope and joy. To claim him; to make your own marks with the taste of skin between your teeth, yours to savor. You were crouching over him now, your face looming closer.
Tanjiro's expression changed. He was uncertain, now. His eyes flicked to his sister. She was a few inches behind you. Nezuko growled in warning.
But the sound died in her throat. With incredible restraint, you brought your lips to those red half-moons and tenderly kissed them. You kept your lips closed, not even tasting the blood, but feeling the comforting warmth of his cheeks. They were warm like home, like the sun's rays.
You had never thought you would feel either of those things again.
You pulled back. Both the warring impulses had faded. Instead, heat diffused through your chest.
Nezuko made a noise of childish confusion. It snapped you out of your daze, and both you and Tanjiro pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. It didn't work. The tension in the air dissipated, just like your steamy breaths in the winter air.
You did want to explain yourself. But at that moment, you could only laugh.
_____________________________
As the three of you painstakingly limped back to the house, your heart clenched with a pang of guilt.
"Tanjiro, I'm sorry," you blurted, "I'm sorry for doing that, without asking!"
Tanjiro blinked at you for a moment, his trademark reassuring smile fixed in place like he hadn't quite registered what you'd said, but was ready to accept the apology nonetheless. Then he turned red and suddenly the road beneath your feet was irresistible viewing.
"Uh, don't worry! I liked it!" he blurted, eyes glued to the road.
Your eyes bulged out, brain working at a hundred miles an hour. "What?"
"I- I liked it! Can I kiss you too? Please!" he almost shouted, complexion feverish.
Nezuko made a groaning noise that said: 'Gross. Not right now, please.'
You unsuccessfully stifled a laugh, "Maybe later."
You both avoided eye contact, but Tanjiro's fingers entwined with yours. You hesitated, but conceded, and for the first time, you let yourself hold on tight.
It still felt wrong. But if someday you defeated Kibutsuji, there might be a future where you might be a human again. Feel the sun's warmth, return home, hug your family again.
But until then, he would be your home.
He would be your sun.