༄ؘ | CHAPTER ZERO :
the proof of your pain .
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WARNING , spoilers for mugen train
"DON'T RUN AWAY! DON'T
RUN AWAY, YOU COWARD!"
THE HEART THAT beats in the chest of Kyojuro Rengoku is one glowing alive with righteousness, blazing with a passion so fierce that it lived up every single bit of the title 'Flame Hashira ' bestowed on his shoulders.
Kyojuro Rengoku's heart is kissed by purity. And like all good hearts, it ended up being the one that bled the most.
He watched, ever so helplessly watched, as the rookie Demon Slayer with hair of burgundy and black screamed until his throat sounded like it was ripping to shreds. He watched, with the single eye left that wasn't stinging with blood, as Kamado Tanjiro came undone, words raw with so much grief and rage and pain, flinging forth from his lips as he screamed at the retreating Upper Moon Three.
The Flame Hashira could only watch, the gaping hole leaking crimson in his chest made sure of that.
In his place kneeling on the soft dirt, he found himself falling into a pit of doubt. His last moments were looking painfully short. Did he really do enough? Were these four really going to survive the cruel monstrosities that were the demons?
His eyes never left the boy in the checkered haori, still and calm. Tanjro Kamado's heart was no different than his. Pure and innocent, daring to fight back in a world no different from a viper, swallowing anything meek and soft whole without a drop of mercy.
Tanjiro Kamado was just like him. He was brave, righteous, too kind for his own good.
But unlike him, Tanjiro Kamado had a certain spirit to him, a spark that guaranteed he would live to see another day with every battle he fought. With the current circumstances, Kyojuro would not.
The Flame Hashira smiled. Tanjiro Kamado, alongside Inosuke Hashibira, Zenitsu Agatsuma, and that little marvel of a demon that had gained his admiration, Nezuko Kamado. Those four were the proof that he had fought well and brave, and the ones to continue his legacy as a demon slayer. Those four were the fruits of his sacrifice. The proof of his pain.
Perhaps now isn't the time to doubt their abilities.
"Stop yelling already. You'll reopen that stomach wound."
A grimy, teary-eyed face whipped to stare back at him. And soon, the boy found himself facing the fallen Hashira, their expressions two stark opposites as Kyojuro broke out into a full speech of what it was like to fulfill the duty of a Demon Slayer, hoping it would bring at least some semblance of comfort to the youngsters that would grieve when he would give in to death's calling. It did nothing of the sort. Tanjiro was a bawling mess in front of him.
The world that had been so kind to let him grow up in its arms was painted a faint pink tint in his eyes. The sun had yet to drive its rays to the fullest intensity. He was stuck in an almost inextricable phase of the day where peace seemed to reign, where people were still alseep. Moments in the dawn had never been this quiet. It had never been so tranquil. It had never been so cold.
He let out an involuntary shiver, noticing how his body was practically begging him to give in. But he couldn't just yet. For stark-white in the distance caught his eye, then ultimately sent a pang into his heart. And in the cold, early morning air, Rengoku Kyojuro felt warmth.
Mother.
He held his breath. How beautiful she appeared in his gaze, so comforting in the glowing, embroidered kimono he held so dearly in his childhood. Oh, how he wanted to run into her arms again like the gentle boy he once was. But he was uncertain, scared even. His heart screamed the questions he had been tormenting himself with for almost his entire life. At that moment he hoped with every bit of his being she would put an end to his agony and answer them all.
Mother...do you think I did it right? Did I carry out what I had to do, and my duties?
And when the look on her face met his gaze, Rengoku could feel the kiss of home he had been deprived of for so long. I'm proud of you, her smile seemed to say. You did well.
A smile so bright it rivaled the sun lit up on the planes on his face. I did fight well, his heart called out to him. It was everything he wanted for his final minutes; he felt welcomed, he felt accepted, he felt contentment. He may have fallen, but it was a fall with dignity. Yet, as his vision began to darken and as he felt the blood slowly pool in his lungs, a voice from deep down, in a place he pretended wasn't there, tore that moment apart.
...But was it well enough?
Kyojuro Rengoku had many regrets. Time couldn't give him the power to put an end to that abhorrent Upper Moon's life. He couldn't make his father proud, nor give his younger brother one final pat on the shoulder. Kyojuro Rengoku was scared. He didn't want to let go. He wanted to return home, where his little brother Senjuro would await him with a plate of steaming sweat potatoes as he always would be greeted with. He wanted to train and fight and persevere, to save people and be greeted with gratitude and hope. He wanted to live.
"I don't want to go," He felt himself whisper, yet his lips had become to weak to mouth the words. His shoulders felt numb, so did his limbs. The breaths he took were shallow, the image of Tanjiro and the rich green hills in the distance began to darken. The warmth had receded, and his body faced the cold again.
Don't take me, his mind whispered in the hopes that someone could hear him, thinking it would be his last.
It was a bit funny, actually, on how at the very last second of his life, where he used the very last bit of his breath to speak for the very last time, the gods decided they would lend an ear.
A pair of loud, consecutive thuds reached his ears. Footsteps followed, light and nimble until the Hashira felt them stop right in front of him, as well the unmistakable aura of a being. It didn't feel human. A smell of faint wisteria and roasted soybean powder filled his nose, and he almost wanted to close his eyes at how comforting the blend lulled him.
It took the last of his strength to look up.
Eyes framed by black met his dimming gaze. He would come to forget everything else, but the color of those eyes . . . so piercingly gray. They were the color of the mountains on a snowy day, or when crackling lightning split the clouds during a storm. The kind of gray that embedded itself so deeply into his mind, haunting his soul.
"Don't speak."
He didn't. He couldn't. Because the moment those words filled his ears, an unfamiliar warmth bloomed into his forehead. He could it compare it only to the kisses his mother would give him in his youth.
And as the heat spread, the world finally went black.
┈ 𑁍 ┈
"Oi! Help me out over here, he's waking up!"
"Rengoku-sama, can you hear us?"
The morning sun burned harshly against his eyes, making him squint. He felt his hand stretched beside him on the muddy grass, before his breath hitched. His chest. It was solid with flesh and muscle, and oh so warm. He could just make out faint cries in the distance, seeing the outline of what appeared to be an unconscious Tanjiro and that Boar-head, followed by a boy with canary-colored hair hugging and moping on something wooden.
Something crimson caught his eye, littered in a pile in the very center of his chest. A quivering hand rose to inspect.
Red. Red...dust?
A/N
lmfao not me rewatching mugen train
and bawling my eyes out and going thru
all that emotional trauma again 🦀🧍🏻♀️☠️
anyways the cliffhanger (was it even one
aksjdjd) was so boring ik but i'll promise
i'll do better in the next chapter 😭 luv y'all
mwah