Demon Slayer: Taking Care Of Tanjuro's Wife And Daughter

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Kamado Kie struggled towards the kitchen, carrying a large bucket of water. The weight of it was already making her arms numb, and her breath was starting to become shallow, even though she hadn't gone very far.

Just as she was debating whether to stop and rest or try to push through, she suddenly felt the bucket lighten significantly. Startled, Kie looked down and saw another hand gripping the bucket beside hers, effortlessly sharing the load.

Looking up, she realized that Ryuji had appeared in front of her without her noticing.

"Let me help you with that," Ryuji offered with a slight smile, though his gaze lingered a bit too long on her.

His eyes, much bolder and more intense than before, made Kie feel a sudden sense of discomfort. The air between them felt different, heavier. She could feel her heart rate quicken, and her chest rose and fell with each anxious breath.

" Ryuji... I can manage," Kie murmured softly, lowering her gaze.

Her voice, as gentle and frail as ever, stirred something in Ryuji. It made her seem all the more vulnerable, and he found himself wanting to protect her—no, to possess her.

"It's fine," he insisted, "I'm a man. Carrying water is nothing for me. You're much too delicate to be doing such hard labor. From now on, if you need anything heavy lifted, just call me. I'll take care of it."

Kie immediately shook her head. "I couldn't possibly ask that of you…"

"Nonsense. I'm Tanjuro's friend. It's the least I can do."

Without waiting for further protest, Ryuji reached out and lightly patted Kie's shoulder. The gesture, though seemingly harmless, caused her to flinch instinctively, her eyes wide with panic. In this era, it was improper for a married woman to have any physical contact with a man who wasn't her husband.

Seeing her recoil, Ryuji chuckled softly and withdrew his hand, then casually carried the bucket to the kitchen.

Kie stood frozen in place, biting her lip as her face flushed with embarrassment. Recently, she had begun to notice something strange in the way Ryuji looked at her—an intensity that hadn't been there before, as if he saw her as prey.

"Why am I thinking such things?" she thought, shaking her head to clear the intrusive thoughts. "Ryuji is Tanjuro's friend... He wouldn't think of me that way."

But even as she tried to convince herself, she couldn't help but feel his lingering gaze on her back.

---

Later that day, the house was quiet, but tension still hung heavily in the air. With Kamado Tanjuro bedridden and growing weaker by the day, Ryuji had taken on more responsibilities, reluctantly stepping into the role of caretaker for the family.

Tanjuro lay on the futon, his breath faint, as if it might stop at any moment. The house felt shrouded in a cloud of impending grief.

Kie knelt beside the bed, her body trembling as tears silently slipped down her pale cheeks. Her soft sobs filled the room, a sound that tugged at Ryuji's heart in a way he hadn't expected.

"Tanjuro… I fear he doesn't have much time left," Ryuji muttered, glancing at his bedridden friend with a heavy heart.

At his words, Kie's face paled even more, and her trembling only intensified. Despite her sorrow, her beauty was undiminished—if anything, the fragility added a kind of heartbreaking allure to her.

"Tanjuro… Is there truly no hope?" she asked, her tear-filled eyes looking up at Ryuji.

Ryuji sighed, unable to meet her gaze for too long. "It's unlikely," he said, his voice low.

At this, Kie lowered her head again, her sobs growing softer but more heart-wrenching.

Ryuji watched her, noticing how the weight of grief seemed to bow her slender frame. Her shoulders shook as she wept, her posture crumpling as if the burden of her sorrow had become too much to bear.

"Kie, you must take care of yourself," Ryuji said gently. "If Tanjuro passes, Nezuko and the others will still need you. You have to stay strong for them."

For a moment, Kie was silent, her sobs tapering off. She raised her head slightly, biting her lip as she whispered, "I know... I'll try my best."

She bowed her head in gratitude, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you, Ryuji. You've been such a good friend to us. Tanjuro is fortunate to have someone like you by his side."

Ryuji glanced at Tanjuro, still lying unconscious on the bed, his breathing weak and labored. A bitter smile tugged at his lips.

"Is he really fortunate?" Ryuji thought to himself.

Perhaps. But even if Tanjuro were gone, the Kamado family wouldn't be without support. He would still be here, ensuring that Kie and the children were well taken care of.

In the end, there would still be a man in the house—a man ready to take on the burden.

---

The winter sunset slowly dipped below the horizon, casting a deepening twilight over the world, as if everything had fallen into a silent slumber.

In this stillness, only the evil demons that prey upon humans stir, hunting under the cover of night. But as the demons awaken, so do the hunters—those who risk their lives to protect humanity.

Inside a small mountain cottage, the air was thick with the smell of medicine.

Kamado Tanjuro, who had been bedridden and teetering on the edge of death, suddenly opened his eyes.

"I'm dying..."

He murmured in a low, weary voice, tinged with a sadness only someone facing their end could know. No one chooses death if they can keep living.

"Hah... hah…"

He took a deep, labored breath. As if by some miracle, a flush of color returned to his pale face, and strength—however fleeting—seemed to fill his frail body.

But there was no joy in Tanjuro's expression. He knew this sudden vitality was but a final burst of life, a reflection before his inevitable end.

Quietly, he rose from his bed, dressed himself, and opened the door.

Everything outside was calm, eerily so.

Tanjuro first went to where Ryuji was resting. Standing silently at the doorway, he watched the man who had been helping his family sleep peacefully on the bed. For a long time, Tanjuro said nothing. The cold wind blew through the cracks in the walls, rustling the room's stillness, but Tanjuro didn't move. He just stared, an unreadable mix of emotions flickering in his gaze.

Eventually, he turned and left.

He then went to his wife's room. Kamado Kie lay there with tear-stained cheeks, clutching Nezuko and Hanako close to her. Tanjuro's heart tightened with sorrow as he looked upon them. He lingered for a moment, his eyes filled with love and regret, before he too turned away.

Finally, he approached the room where his sons, Tanjirou, Takeo, and little Rokuta, were sound asleep.

If only he could stay longer—watch his children grow, teach them all he knew. But time was slipping away from him.

He walked quietly toward Tanjirou's bed. Though his steps were steady, they made no sound on the wooden floor. Kneeling down, Tanjuro gently brushed his son's cheek, his heart swelling with both sadness and hope.

Tanjirou stirred, his sleepy eyes fluttering open. When he saw his father beside him, his tiredness vanished, replaced with surprise and happiness.

"Father?" Tanjirou whispered, but Tanjuro pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him gently.

"Come with me," Tanjuro said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, yet somehow clear amid the cold silence of the night.

Though confused, Tanjirou trusted his father. He quickly dressed and followed him outside.

The snow outside was thick, each step sinking half of Tanjirou's leg into the icy ground. He trudged forward with difficulty, but his eyes never left his father's back.

What puzzled him, though, was how his father walked ahead without leaving a single footprint in the deep snow. Tanjirou didn't question it, though. He was too overjoyed to see his father up and moving, seemingly stronger than before.

They walked in silence, the wind howling and making the trees groan with the weight of the snow. Eventually, Tanjuro stopped, turning to face his son. His expression was soft, filled with a deep longing and an unspoken apology.

"Tanjirou," Tanjuro called out, his voice quiet, almost lost in the wind.

Yet, despite the storm's noise, Tanjirou heard it as clearly as if his father had spoken directly into his ear. He blinked, sensing something was wrong, but he stood still, awaiting his father's words.

"Do you remember what I once told you?" Tanjuro asked, his gaze serious and full of meaning.

Tanjirou swallowed hard. A strange, unplaceable dread crept into his heart, but he nodded, determined not to show fear.

"I remember," he replied, his voice firm.

"What did I tell you?"

Tanjirou hesitated for a moment, but then answered, "You told me... to remember my breathing. To breathe like you…"

His father had repeated this lesson many times before.

Hearing Tanjirou's words, a faint smile formed on Tanjuro's face. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Tanjirou's shoulder.

"One day, you will grow strong. But never forget the legacy of our family..." His grip on Tanjirou's shoulder tightened slightly. "Always remember to breathe."

Tanjuro's gaze drifted upwards, toward the dark, starless sky.

"I'm dying, Tanjirou," he said, his voice barely audible. "Before I go, let me pass something on to you… something only I can teach."

Tanjirou's heart froze. His father's words struck him with the force of reality, more painful than any blow he had ever received. He wanted to speak—to beg his father not to say such things—but he couldn't. The words caught in his throat.

But his father's grip on his shoulder remained firm, comforting, even as the bitter truth settled in.

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