The Days That Must Happen

ARC I-ACT I

A/n: needless to say, there will be MAJOR KNY SPOILERS in this story.

It was a mistake. The beginning and the end and the aftermath all started from some simple, insignificant mistake that should not have made it this far in life.

In the lively country of Japan, in the sleepless city of Tokyo, under the roof of a rundown apartment building within dirty streets and forgotten alleyways; you sat on your table. Back hunched, and already aching after all the restless nights, hand cramped up in the signature, rigid artist pen hold.

You wanted to groan but your throat felt more than dry, crispy and itchy - it made you wonder, just when was the last time you drank water? Perhaps if your back and legs didn't hurt so much, you'd get up and grab one of the many discarded bottles on your apartment floor.

But even that would be a distraction - self care would be a distraction, and you've already procrastinated enough. If you waited any longer, wasted any other precious second, your publisher would be flooding your crappy work phone screaming his head off about the (yet again) missed dead line.

How many times did you tell yourself that, once your current chapter was finished, you'd take a break and stretch - find food and water and go out for a walk. Exercise. Yet here you are, having promised yourself that when you had first sat down on your work desk at 3:09pm and still holding onto that promise as the clock struck 1:57am.

Your characters, you figured, outweighed daily needs - for the story in your possession was a hundred times more valuable than your wellbeing. Your peace of mind.

The paper on the table crumbled and creased under each pressured stroke of your pen, slowly, but surely, allowing the picture of your signature character Tanjiro to appear in black ink. One last plot twist for your readers; the final jaw drop as Muzan is defeated and everyone's hearts drop at the sight of a bloodied, unconscious Tanjiro - his peaceful unconscious face drawn frozen in time.

That's how it was supposed to end, with the death of the angel in this story, but that would have been too cruel for your readers, wouldnt it? So you resurrected Tanjiro with the help of Muzan's blood - you moved the page, grabbing another spare white one from your decreasing stack of papers, and drew up the lines for the new panels - and the body of what once was the most kindhearted, selfless character returned to life.

How long would you torture yourself like this, you asked yourself as you continued the drawings. One stroke after another until yet another motionless picture was created. Another panel. Another story. 

It wasn't until your phone rung that your eyes snapped away from the inked pages in front of you - the last panel depicting that of Nezuko trying to reach out to her demonised brother. You shook your head, ignoring the dull ache of your eyes and turned to your phone, the bright white screen making your eyes squint as you picked up the device and brought it to your ear.

"Hello?" And god did your throat hurt.

On the other line a happy voice was heard, echoing through the crappy speakers. "Yeah, hey. It's me, Hana."

Hana wasn't your publisher but she was close enough to it for your hands to sweat at the possibility of bad news over a phone call. "Hana," you cleared your throat, straightening your back ignoring the pained cracks and strains. "how are you? What can I help you with?"

"Nothing! Nothin! I was just calling to check up on you and see how my favourite mangaka is going!"

"Well, as good as I can be with all this work." You chuckled bitterly, hoping she wouldn't completely catch onto your passive aggressiveness. She was part of the issue that you're here now; working away night after night for a morning where you could wake up at a socially acceptable time and go out and enjoy yourself.

The other side laughed, and for a moment you almost sighed in relief. "Well as long as ya aren't dead!" She joked. "Listen, I'm currently in Cancun! You know where that is?" She didn't even give you a second to respond before she laughed. "It's in Mexico! Can you believe it?! It's beautiful! Here, here, I'll send you some of the pictures I took today!"

If the torture of hours spent drawing and writing a story that would make another company rich wasn't enough, sitting and having to listen to one of your bosses talk about her super chic vacation for ten minutes definitely made up for it.

"Anyway! I got carried away, sorry darling." She laughed after finally finishing her story about the hot waiter she met at the restaurant of the five star hotel she was staying at.

Your head rested on the palm of your hand as you listened, blinking tiredly and staring down at the few bare panels you still had left before you were one page closer to finishing the series.

"Listen, next month the Japanese International Convention Centre wants to host a sort of ComicCon, some event for weebs and nerds, you know." You could practically hear her roll her eyes as she chuckled. It never sat right with you how she spoke about anime fans, no matter how much you agreed that there were, indeed, a weird bunch. "The convention sent me an email today requesting for you and a few other mangaka working for us to attend the convention. Since demon slayer is getting so much popularity recently you should definitely go!"

"Gee I don't know Hana..." you sighed. "Last time I went to a convention as a guest I kinda got ignored for the director of that one garden movie."

"The garden of words was really popular at that time, of course you were gonna be overshadowed. But now Demon Slayer is trending! Have you seen how much the hashtag blew up! We're worldwide baby!"

You sighed, switching the phone from one ear to the other. "Well no, I haven't been able to look at the hashtag since one; I have no free time, and two; the company still hasn't payed me my due so I haven't been able to get a phone that actually works!"

"This again..." she sighed.

That hit a nerve, eyes widening and brows furrowing. " 'This again'?! Hana I am slaving away finishing this book under your dead line! No normal person could finish two whole books in a month! I haven't even been able to eat or sleep properly! What if I can't even pay my rent this week?!"

"Okay! Okay! I'll talk to boss tomorrow and settle on your pay and a little raise, will that make you happy?! Geez, I'm trying to enjoy my vacation and youre here shouting at me. Not all of us can have the luxury of working from the comfort of our home, you know?!"

She thought this was a luxury?! You looked around, astonished at the trash covering your floor as if it were an expensive carpet, the cheap lemon scented air spray covering the musk of old instant noodle cups and bread long forgotten turned green. You were sure that, if you dared to, move the trash around the apartment, you'd find an infestation of rats and cockroaches.

Finally, you turned back to the phone, readying yourself to shout some more at her, but getting cut off.

"Well, let me know how you feel about which days you'd like to attend the convention, okay? I'll be going now so take care of yourself and remember the deadline is this week! Toodles!" And with a click, the call ended and your phone dimmed down to a black screen, your room now only being illuminated by the soft orange desk light.