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Today was the funeral, the funeral of the late flame hashira, Rengoku Kyojuro.
Hayami sighed wistfully at the chill of the air. Although it was at the end of spring, the sakura blossoms bloomed. The peace hashira looked up at the petals that fell around her.
"Beautiful," she thought to herself.
If only this wasn't a sad occasion she'd smile at the sight. And possibly spent time with him. Under the cherry blossoms. Hayami thought of what could've been, as the larger haori with red flame-like ridges hung around her shoulders.
Hayami never wore any other haori besides her own. The one she wore that night her home burned down. But today, she wore his haori ━ it was the last time she could ever see the piece of clothing before it will get buried with his body.
As she walked toward the dedicated cemetery for fallen demon slayers. She stumbled upon the grave of her deceased friend. She used to often visit the cemetery, but since the start of spring, everything felt so hectic and Hayami had no time to visit. Hayami placed her palm gently on the gravestone. Her thumb traced over the letters on the smooth surface. Kocho Kanae.
"Kind demons do exist. . . You were right Kanae." She started whispering. She smiled slightly at the thought of Tanjiro's very adorable younger sister.
"And I understand now. . .the feeling you spoke of that day. And I talked to him about it. . ." She said continued under her breath as she pictured the very last time she spoke to Rengoku Kyojuro.
"He felt the same way, Kanae. . . I was relieved. . . But he had to go soon after we had the conversation. He's gone." Hayami finished with a shaky breath.
A few of the falling cherry blossoms landed on the crown of her head, the light lingering feeling reminded her of how Kyojuro would place the palm of his hand at the exact same spot.
Hayami turned to look at ━ his coffin. She stood up before walking towards it. Her hands clutched the edges of his haori closer to her body, as much as she didn't want to let go, she had to. The peace hashira gently took off the haori from her shoulders and spread it out on top of the coffin. The breeze of spring cast goosebumps along her skin with the lack of warmth she has now.
"You always speak so poetically, Hayami!"
Pure poetry. That was how he had described her that day. The day before he left. He didn't even say goodbye, his last words to her were 'see you soon'. And within the past week, a part of her believed that he was still going to come back. Nothing really ever ends poetically, it never could.
As his coffin got buried deep underground, Hayami felt the tears start to slip out. She had Senjuro by her side ━ along with Mitsuri on her other. The other hashira's stood behind her, staring as their comrade got buried.
