Butterflies' Dance - [A Kimetsu No Yaiba Full Story]

Chapitre 12

    How many weeks had it been ?

   Tanjiro woke up in his room and sat. In front of him, tangled in his sheets, head on the ground and legs thrown on his bed Inosuke was snoring loudly. His fist rubbed his right eye.

 "Inosuke." His voice was hoarse because he had just woken up. He crouched next to him, shaking lightly his shoulder. "Inosuke. You should wake up. Or else, Aoi is going to get mad at you."

   The other one stirred in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible. 

   Heavy steps guided him in the kitchen. He yawned, interrupting Aoi and Zenitsu, who were discussing a subject around the table. They fell into a hush as he entered.

 "How art thou, Tanjiro ?" The perky voice of his blond comrade welcomed him, balancing nonchalantly on a chair.

   Staring at him, he remembered what he came across. Zenitsu was working at the train station, and did not want to talk about it to anyone, for some odd reason. His brows lightly furrowed, and the ginger boy came to sit next to him. They ate their bread with jam, the girl making a new one, sweet strawberry scent floating in the air.

   Nezuko must have smelled it from her warm bed, because she followed soon after, with the black haired boy, both yawning.

 "Where is Kanao ?"

   She simply shrugged.

  Shoot.

   Guilt was building up again, cutting his appetite, which made the late ones very happy to share this sweet thing.

   Tanjiro really wanted to be forgiven, because it did not feel like it.

   At least, not for him.

   Next, he had to visit the sewing workshop.

   He had fixed up something earlier on the scene, pulled and threw outside the beam with the help of the two other boys. Miss Kocho had just looked at the hole sadly, and said something along the lines of : "My, my. I knew it would happen. But why so soon ? Well, I guess I would just have to pay someone.".

   Surprising for him. But, as long as she was not angry...

   He had also inspected the seats and the balconies, not being able to forget about those eyes.

   Except attacking dust, nothing special was to report.

     Nevertheless, Mitsuri — as she insisted to be called — was, as always, cheerful and excited to see him.

   When he had entered the room, he had seen the pink and lime haired woman was happily humming, sewing, then drawing, adjusting her glasses, then turning to Mister Iguro, squeaking delightfully.

   She caught sight of him, and waved  :
 "Tanjiro ! Welcome back."

 - Good Morning, everyone."

   It was intended for the adults he had not yet greeted. In a corner, with her usual frown, Aoi was stitching two parts of fabric and the city boy's hand were supporting his weight while he was giving, fast as usual, ideas for a scenario.

  So this man was a writer... he thought to himself as he looked at the serious and dour expression of the black haired man, his mismatched eyes focused on a sheet of paper in front of him, sometimes galring.

   How can he work in this environment where high pitched voices and contact disturbed him ?

   It was a mystery. However, he always had sharp remarks towards the kid, that immediately softened in grumbles and a blush when intervened a lovely co-worker. This banter continued on and on.

   What he wanted to say could wait, so he moved towards the girl whose blue eyes were focused on her task.

 "Hello. So you know how to sew ? You are really full of surprise."

  Her pouty lips did not respond.

  Okay...

   Perhaps she was mad at him for what he had done to Kanao. And he could not blame her. If someone had done something nearly similar to his sister, he would have been far more angry. He sighed in defeat and just sat next to her on a stool.

   The seamstress got up, trying to reach for a specific fabric. He offered his help — even if she was taller than him. He hardly caught it, and handed it to her, noticing her hurt fingers.

 "What did you need, anyway ?"

 - I just wanted to let you know that the curtains were suffering of... old age. I wondered if you could repair it."

 - There's a ton of things to do." She sighed, apologizing with a simple shrug : "I will see what I will be able to do. I had a lot of orders recently. You understand ?"

 - Do not worry. I just wanted to let you know. With that..." He bowed. "I shall take my leave."

   Nezuko was becoming more and more flexible. Which was great, apparently.

   She did not feel as much stiffness as in the beginning. And she was excited. Because it meant that Miss Kocho would soon be teaching her to train and dance with pointes. She could not wait, and her beating heart was looking forward to it.

"Miss Nezuko !"

   She froze.

  Ugh.

   She turned around, forcing a smile.

   He was nice, there was no doubt. But he was a bit too much of a whiner.

 "Good day..." he uttered breathlessly

   She tilted her head. What was it ?

 "I– Hum... Oh my, you're beautiful." He reddened at whatever he whispered. "I got you this."

   In his palm, rested a hair ornament. Golden blade, pink carnations and cherry blossoms, little strung bead as white as the first snow.

   She shot him an incredulous look. It sure could not– She could not accept it.

 "No, no, no, no. Don't. Just, take it."

   He placed it in her hand, closing it softly.

  His hands were so warm.

  Just like my cheeks.

  Just like my heart.

 "It is my pleasure. Truly."

   It felt like an electroshock when his orbs met hers.

 "I must go. I hope to see you soon."

  It made her shiver when his low voice vibrated through her.

 "I will see you soon. Right, miss Nezuko ?"

    She stayed still, refusing for her body to move, to give false hope to that endearing boy.

    She smiled a little, nodded, avoiding his stare.

   The message was clear. Clear as it could be.