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

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Ryuji leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes lingering on the shoji door where the Kochou sisters had departed moments ago. Their elegant demeanor had left a faint impression, like the lingering scent of wisteria.

"Ryuji, you must be tired," came a soft, familiar voice.

A pair of delicate hands rested on his head, kneading the tension from his temples with practiced care. Without needing to look, Ryuji knew who it was.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to savor the gentle ministrations. Her hands pressed against the pressure points with just the right firmness, coaxing a rare moment of ease from him. His head tilted back slightly, resting against something warm and pliant.

Kamado Kie's cheeks flushed a deep red as she stood behind him, her long lashes veiling her downcast gaze. Her heart raced, but she continued to work, her fingers steady despite the soft breaths she could feel against her skin.

She bit her lip slightly, a flicker of hesitation passing through her. He likes this… doesn't he? she thought. If it brings him comfort, then it's enough for me.

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke again, tinged with a nervous edge. "The girls who were here earlier… they're very beautiful."

Ryuji's lips curved slightly, though he didn't open his eyes. "They are," he admitted. The images of Shinobu's sharp, playful smirk and Kanae's serene smile flitted through his mind.

Kie's hands paused briefly, but she quickly resumed her work, though her tone betrayed her unease. "I… I could never compare to them."

Her words hung heavy in the air, laced with self-doubt.

Ryuji opened his eyes and turned, his piercing gaze locking onto her. Without a word, he reached out, his hand encircling her slender waist with ease. Kie let out a startled gasp as he pulled her closer, her delicate frame trembling slightly under his touch.

"You're wrong," Ryuji said firmly, his voice low and steady. "No one compares to you, Kie."

Kie's face burned at his words, her heart thundering in her chest. She averted her gaze, unable to withstand the intensity of his stare. Just as she was about to respond, the sound of hurried footsteps shattered the moment.

"Mother…?"

The voice of Kamado Tanjirou froze them both.

Kie turned, her face pale as she saw her eldest son standing in the doorway, his wide, innocent eyes darting between her and Ryuji. A small gasp escaped her lips before she quickly pulled away from Ryuji, bowing her head in embarrassment as she fled the room.

Ryuji watched her retreat, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He then turned his attention to Tanjirou, who stood stiffly, clearly at a loss for what to say.

The boy's gaze flickered uneasily. While he'd long suspected that his mother and Ryuji shared a bond beyond mere gratitude, seeing it firsthand was something else entirely.

"Tanjirou," Ryuji said after a moment, his tone even. "Let's talk."

Without waiting for a response, Ryuji turned and walked into the adjacent room. Tanjirou hesitated, then followed, his steps reluctant.

Inside, Ryuji pulled out a simple ceramic jug of sake and two cups. He poured the clear liquid into both, sliding one across the low table toward Tanjirou.

"Sit," Ryuji instructed.

Tanjirou obeyed, folding his legs beneath him and sitting with a rigid posture. His hands fidgeted slightly in his lap.

"Drink," Ryuji said, gesturing toward the cup.

Tanjirou shook his head. "Uncle, I don't know how to—"

"Then it's time to learn," Ryuji interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "A man faces what's in front of him, whether it's a battle or a cup of sake."

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Ryuji leaned back in his seat, the faint sound of the sake pouring into the cups filling the quiet room. Across from him sat Tanjirou, his shoulders tense, his gaze fixed on the low wooden table between them.

"Go on," Ryuji said, sliding a cup of sake across to the boy. "It won't kill you."

Tanjirou hesitated, his fingers trembling slightly as he picked up the cup. He sniffed it cautiously, his brows knitting together. With a deep breath, he tipped the liquid back, only to choke as the burning heat coursed down his throat.

Ryuji chuckled softly, watching Tanjirou's face flush. "Drinking isn't about chugging like a boar at a trough," he said, lifting his own cup with practiced ease. "You savor it—like life. A balance of fire and calm."

Tanjirou wiped his mouth, coughing slightly, but the faint smile on Ryuji's lips made him straighten up. "I wasn't expecting it to be so... strong."

"It's your first time. No shame in that," Ryuji replied, pouring another round.

For a moment, neither spoke, the quiet stretching between them like the calm before a storm. Then Ryuji broke the silence, his tone steady. "You saw your mother and me earlier. Speak your mind, Tanjirou."

Tanjirou flinched slightly, his hands tightening around the cup. "I don't know what to say, Uncle," he admitted, his voice low. "It's just… Mother, she's—"

"A widow," Ryuji finished for him, his gaze unwavering. "And you think that means she must remain alone forever."

Tanjirou looked down, the weight of Ryuji's words pressing heavily on him.

"Your father, Tanjuro, was a good man," Ryuji continued, his voice softening. "But even good men know when to let go. Before his passing, he trusted me to protect your family—not just out of duty, but because…" He hesitated, his next words heavier than any blade. "Because I loved her."

Tanjirou's eyes widened, his heart pounding. "You loved my mother… even when Father was alive?"

Ryuji nodded, his expression somber. "I did. But I respected Tanjuro too much to act on it. It wasn't until he passed that I allowed myself to care for her the way I'd always wanted."

The room fell silent again, the weight of Ryuji's confession settling over them like a thick mist.

Tanjirou's emotions swirled—anger, confusion, even guilt. He respected his uncle deeply; Ryuji had been a pillar of strength for the Kamado family after his father's death. But this? This was something he hadn't prepared for.

Ryuji poured another round, his movements calm and deliberate. "Drink," he said, his tone inviting no argument. "It'll help you think."

Tanjirou hesitated for only a moment before he grabbed the cup, downing its contents in one go. The fire in his throat mirrored the turmoil in his heart, but the edge of his confusion dulled ever so slightly.

"I don't understand," Tanjirou said finally, his voice rough. "Why would you… why did you wait until now to tell me?"

"Because you're a man now," Ryuji said simply. "And men deserve the truth, even when it's hard to hear."

Tanjirou's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. "Uncle," he began, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion, "I want to hit you right now."

Ryuji smiled faintly, leaning back. "Then do it. If that's what you need, I won't stop you."

For a moment, Tanjirou's fist hovered in the air, trembling with indecision. But then it fell, his anger deflating as quickly as it had risen. He slumped forward, his head in his hands.

"I can't," he muttered.

"You're stronger than that," Ryuji said, pouring himself another drink. "And stronger men choose their battles wisely."

Tanjirou lifted his head, his eyes glassy from the alcohol. "Just promise me one thing," he said, his voice steady despite his wavering frame. "Promise me you'll make her happy."

Ryuji nodded solemnly. "With everything I have."

Tanjirou stared at him for a long moment before standing, his legs unsteady beneath him. As he stumbled toward the door, he turned back one last time, his expression a mixture of frustration and reluctant acceptance.

"Uncle," he said, his voice firm despite the slur in his words. "You're the biggest bastard I've ever met."

Ryuji raised his cup in a silent toast, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "From now on, you should call me 'Father,' Tanjirou."

The younger man's face turned red with a mix of anger and embarrassment as he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Ryuji sighed, his smirk fading into a more genuine smile. Lifting his cup, he stared into its clear depths, his thoughts lingering on the family he had chosen to protect.

"One step at a time," he murmured to himself, finishing the drink with a satisfied hum.

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