The Days That Must Happen

ARC III-ACT VIII

When your eyes opened the morning you knew of before was turning into a late evening, the world around you - the view of the concrete floor and wooden hallway doors - darkening under the orange and dark blue skies. It took you a second to register the never ending pain your body was experiencing, from your headache to your bruised back to your swollen lips and cheeks. The side of your eye felt scratched from laying on the floor and your stomach could not stop rumbling from both the weight of your body and the simple fact it had been more than too many hours since your last meal.

'Meal' a five minute noodle cup.

With a lot of effort and strain on yourself, you managed to push yourself off the ground enough to be able to look into your apartment. There was a single light on by the looks of it coming from your cramped little bedroom. It was deeper to the left, through a very short hallway that hosted the door to your equally as small bathroom.

The familiar voices of your characters could be heard from within, not a single one even trying to stay quiet in case you heard them.

"This must be them when they were a child." It must have been Rengoku, but you couldn't quite properly remember his voice with the pounding headache that made your world turn.

Your eyes watered and your hands cupped your head, overwhelmed, hungry and tired. Your small personal space and life felt even more suffocating with them and it had only been two days. Your rights felt violated and you felt disrespected as a person, for a group of people that came out of your own love and mind, they sure were cruel.

In a fit of rage, you stood up and stomped into the apartment, slamming the door closed behind you and effectively catching their attention as you heard Zenitsu scream and Shinobu along with Tomioka and Muichiro peeked through the door and into the living room.

You marched towards your work table, shoving aside the mess of books and documents to reach out for a stack of blank pieces of paper. Curiously, the group slowly stepped out with Tanjiro now conscious and safe beside them.

The pen in your hand scribbled angrily on each paper, never spending more than a few minutes on each piece before shoving it aside and moving to the next one. "You guys hate me so much?" You scoffed with teary eyes, sniffing and shoving aside the third page as you continued working. "You guys hate that I caused you so much pain?"

They curiously shared an exchange of silent glances, watching you with your back turned to them. Sanemi growled as he stepped forwards. "Hey shithead, what's all this?!"

"I must be a monster to you guys for writing such painful backstories to people I didn't even know were real, huh?!" You continued, losing complete grasp on any sort of calmness.

The seventh page fell to the ground and only then with the dim light that came through the sheer white curtains in front of your desk was Sanemi able to see a drawn version of Himejima on the page - face covered with tears.

His eyes widened and he bolted forward, grabbing your shoulder and pulling you back away from the pages with much more force than intended. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" You yelped as he pushed you to the hard ground, standing in front of the desk and baring witness to the eighth page with Zenitsu's small animated drawings on it.

A panel featured a young girl that looked a whole awful lot like Nezuko - he quickly deducted that it was Nezuko before she got turned into a demon. The young girl seemed to be smiling at the boy who handed her a flower, a softly round speech bubble beside her read; "I accept your confession!"

"What...?"

You swore at him loudly, pushing him away just like he did with you but with much less force. He stumbled back only three steps and watched with wide eyes as you finished the page with a drawing of Nezuko and the boy walking off to a field of flowers with their hands interlocked. Mitsuri stepped forward carefully, kneeling down and picking up two discarded pages from the floor - Himejima looked back at her with a smile on the first panel, a story speaking about how he had opened a home for troubled youth where he and his younger companions hosted other children without homes or families.

His face was clear of scars and his body stood leaner than what he looked like now, but still healthy.

The other page showed Uzui, laughing animatedly next to his parents and his siblings as they played a traditional game over the dinner table that if she remembered correctly originated from China.

"Are these..." she trailed off breathlessly as the others from the group stepped forward to look on carefully.

Leaning down she picked up another three pages, Rengoku, Tomioka and herself. They all showed stories of them smiling and laughing and playing with past or abandoned families and friends - a story they always dreamed they could have had instead of what truly went down.

You sniffed loudly as the last panel was drawn too harshly onto the white page - tearing the corner and ruining Inosuke's face as a tear dribbled down your cheek and splashed onto the ink.

"There!" You scoffed, shoving the page harshly into the exposed chest of Sanemi. "I'm so evil for making you suffer?! Well I'm sorry! I fixed it now so leave!"

They stood frozen with the pages in their hands, Sanemi reaching to grab Inosukes before it fell to the ground.

You raised your chin to stare him straight in the eye. "You're overstepped your welcome in my home. I offered you all a safe place to stay while we figured out how to return you home, I never once offered for you all to hurt me and take advantage of my kindness! You all need to leave! Find someplace else to stay!"

The words fell on deaf ears, the man in front of you scrunching his eyebrows in distaste. The page in his hand got scrunched up into a ball as he closed his fists tightly in anger. "You think some worthless piece of paper with some doodles is gonna fix the mess you made?! Who do you think you are?!"

"Leave!" You repeated, done with arguing back and forwards. Stepping away from him, you walked to the door and opened it, looking back at them expectantly.

Tanjiro jumped at this, raising his hands in defense. "Woah, woah! Guys let's calm down a little and talk things through! Something like this can be fixed!"

"Stay out of this!" He quickly got scolded by the white haired man. The anger quickly turned to you again. "If you think for even a second that you're a victim or that you're innocent I swear I'll personally kill you!"

"LEAVE!"

"Sanemi.. maybe-"

"YOU BITCH THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! FIX IT!"

Too much was going on, at this point others had begun to intervene either trying to calm down the screaming Hashira or berating you for your half assed attempt at fixing things. Mitsuri and Tanjiro stood in the middle with wide eyes, for the first time when they were unsure of how to solve a problem like this.

"You went through all my personal belongings and hurt me! You were never welcome to my stuff, only my home!" You screamed, pointing at one of your childhood photos that sat in Obanai's hand.

The snake pillar showed no regret or embarrassment, arguing that it was part of the investigation to find out how to go home. You didn't believe it for a second, rolling your eyes and swearing at them again.

The argument seemed impossible with you adamant on getting them out of your house and with them against even stepping a foot outside without even so much as a single clue on how to fix things. The swearing continues through the air and the attacks only got more and more personal, more and more hurtful.

Outside, footsteps could be heard padding through the hallways and concrete floors, but not once noticeable over your loud arguing. The havoc only stopped when the dark silhouette of a figure stepped into the area of your doorway.

Both you and Sanemi stopped arguing, turning with wide eyes at the new visitor.

For a second you thought it was a neighbour coming to berate you for the noise, but that theory was soon proven wrong when the familiar voice spoke out;

"My children, it is not polite to be showing such hostility and poor manners to someone who is only providing you hospitality."