- REAPER - [Demonslayer x reader]

03

This book is property of [NAME] [LAST NAME]

March, 13th, 1921

'Good morning, again. This is the sixth book in my collection, my desk is honestly starting to get a little crowded. But, it's okay! I like seeing so many journals filled completely with my own thoughts and handwriting. They look complete, each and every one of them. I find joy in that, really, I do. However, there is a different subject at hand, one far more important than my journals.

Fujimori told me that she has nothing left to teach me. That I have grown well and look stronger than she ever expected I could. Of course, I am grateful...but it leaves me to wonder. What comes next? She has talked very briefly about something called 'Final Selection', though she refuses to go into detail about it. It's frustrating. I'm 15. I've lived with her for 2 years, yet she still hides things from me...why?

I felt the steady vibration of footsteps, placing my brush on the thin, linen bed next to my book. I watched as the ink soaked into the fresh fabric. Disregarding the familiar sight, I shifted in my kneeling position to face the sliding door to my room. I awaited her breathing pattern to invade my ears, as it so often did when she was near me.

'Wait...her footsteps are different,' I thought, 'they're heavier...she's holding something.'

I kept my eyes trained on the door as she slid it open, meeting my expecting gaze immediately. I made a mental note to write about her expression when I got back to the journal, as it was strange. Different to the stoic, commanding face I had seen so many times before. She seemed...upset? No, that wasn't it. Confused? Concerned? I couldn't place it. This was a face I was not used to. I wasn't expecting it. Nor have I ever.

Her eyebrows creased slightly, shoulders tensed and eyelids low on her piercing irises. Feet, no longer planted to the ground as they usually were, landing freely wherever she stepped. Her lips curved downward ever so gently, as she gripped the box in her hands tighter, knuckles turning white. She looked down, breaking our unspoken stare, and hiding into the shadow of her cloak's hood.

As I searched her, I noticed something. Something I thought I would never see. I watched as the small tear slipped down the curves and wrinkles of her stern face, leaving a wet trail in its wake. My calm demeanor slipped, as I stood up swiftly. The blanket in my lap had been abandoned as I met her at the door, in only a few strides.

"Lady Fujimori, what's wrong? Did something happen? Are you okay? Is something in your eye or-"

"[NAME]," she stated, cutting off my worried ramblings. "I am fine, I just...have something to tell you." She lifted her head, meeting my eyes with her watery, glazed over ones.

"I am so proud of you." She stated. It was so kind...so true. I stared at her with eyes widened and mouth slightly open.

"Close your mouth, flies will get in." She joked, subtly wiping the tears from her face as she chortled at her own remark. I echoed a laugh as she walked over to my sleeping mat, placing herself on the edge of it. Her knees touched the ground without a single sound to follow. She was so graceful...and it never ceased to amaze me.

She pulled the box in front of her, looking up at me and gesturing for me to meet her level. I obeyed, walking in front of her and mimicking her kneeled position as she reached for the lid of the box, pulling it off in one, swift, motion. I looked into the brown abyss of the container, seeing nothing very interesting, other than a piece of linen wrapped around something I couldn't place mentally. She reached into the box, her wrinkled hands gripping the cloth with intent and purpose. It reminded me of the way she held her staff, with aggressive purpose. She lifted the item from the box. Using her right, non-dominant hand to push the box to the side, placing the linen-wrapped something in between us, filling the empty space.