two forever

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Yoriichi's empty basket thumped to the ground.

He felt his tongue roll up and his throat hoarsen.

Of course.

He stepped into his now bloodied house, littered with corpses of his loved ones.

Of course...

He gritted his teeth.

Demons.

Within those happy times, he wished that his past life was just a dream. That it was all fake.

That he wasn't Yoriichi. That he was Tanjiro.

That Michikatsu never existed and neither did demon slaying.

He sank to the red and snow stained floor.

This family was long gone, he had realized. Perfect spot to be hunted by demons. Perfect amount. The sense of impending doom wouldn't even leave the house.

Yet...

He wished he didn't have these talents. If he could have lived as a normal human with no abilities or differences.

Only if this end had to come to him too and all responsibilities were put on a worthier person.

Dying with his family was much better than living without them.

He realized,

He wasn't born to be happy.




His steps graced with his supernatural gift, he carried his only surviving kin, hoping he'd get to the doctor before...

He bit his lip.

Pictures of demons and cold bodies swarmed in his mind. He can't bring his attention to anything else other than the towns doctor and demons.

He was so close to reaching the town now.

One more step, and another, and one more...

He felt his sister twitch.

Everything had gone to the worst.

He stops his rapid tries to run to the doctors and puts her down on the snow covered trails.

Yoriichi knows it.

Yoriichi didn't want to believe it.

Every happy moment with his siblings burned and curled into ashes.

She's a demon now.

He did not have time to dwell on this much longer. He could hear footsteps swiftly reaching their location.


But...

This life...

Nezuko started to growl. A tension was stored into his heart.

Maybe...

Yoriichi never felt like this before. Nervousness? Anxiety?

...Fear?

He sits down, right on the snow.

Maybe this life can be different.

I...

I will change it.

He is ready.

He grips his hatchet.

The footsteps are near.

He stands, preparing his nerves.

A glint of blue appears.

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