KNY Plot Rewrite

Chapter 36 - Run

Zenitsu heard so many steps, so many hearts beating as one as countless masked people shuffled past him. Each adorned a Slayer's uniform, but even their faces were concealed, like the ninjas of old. He had seen some before; Gramps often invited them inside the house to eat peach dessert when they helped maintain his orchard.

Kakushi were what they were called. Without the talent to wield a blade, they had a different job: the dirty work regular Slayers didn't have the time to do. They cleaned up the battlefield, scrubbed away stains, set up temporary residences, rebuilt homes, and reimbursed those with broken shops or workplaces with Oyakata's never-ending stream of funds.

At least, that's their formal job. All Zenitsu's ever heard them complain about was being fancy janitors and garbage collectors for the Pillars. He always felt kind of bad for them.

After the mysterious butterfly lady treated his poison, he was wrapped up along with the other poor, transformed souls, ready to be carted off to some medicinal ward. He couldn't ask for more details, but it sounded promising.

Amongst the busy Kakushi was a girl. Her sleek, black hair was held up at the side of her head in a neat ponytail, a pink butterfly clip holding it in place. Her sound was quieter than most; calm and steady, almost too perfectly steady. For all he knew, she could be an automaton with a mechanical heart from the complete lack of odd meter changes or emotional rubato in each phrase of her sound.

"Ms. Tsuyuri, do these ones also go to the Insect Pillar's ward?" A Kakushi asked, holding a bundle of wrapped up spider-human minions.

All she did was nod and move on.

Ah, now Zenitsu remembered. The butterfly pin girl from Final Selection and the cloaked one before him were the same. He remembered asking to court her. With the exorbitant amounts of money he would now receive for simply not dying in this job, he could buy her anything she could ever want. And if she survived that damned exam, she must be strong enough to protect him from any kind of danger.

It was really weird how she didn't say anything. She didn't even laugh at his admittedly preposterous offer, nor did that sympathetic "oh... sorry, I already have a fiance waiting for me" response, just blinked, turned around, and left.

What a weird way to reject someone...

*

Much to Tanjirou's relief, the body and clothes of the Demon finally started fading. It was a slower process, like her dust itself still clung to the power Muzan gave her until the very end, desperate and lost without it.

Tanjirou still had a job to do, and as much as he wished to pray for her and the overwhelming air of melancholy that swirled around her form, his muscles cried out and ached with every movement. All he was able to do was jab the blood drawing device into the Demon's torso before his head hit the ground.

I'll have to give this to Chachamaru later...

The Slayer who came to his rescue crouched down. "Are you two alright?"

"Y—Yeah... thank you." Tanjirou said. He tried to get up but winced when his entire body flared with bone-deep agony. The man hastily helped him sit up. He really didn't have to do that, but there was no room to complain, not when the man's brow furrowed minutely, and his tsunami calmed, surged with worry (if storms could worry).

Wait, tsunami...

"You're—You're Mr. Giyuu."

The man who spared his sister's life and threw him a line when his life had been thrown into chaos only hummed while rolling out bandages. "Yes, that's me. Congratulations on surviving that old man's training and not being eaten by your sister, I suppose."