Icy Flames- Rengoku Kyojuro-Demon Slayer/ Kimetsu no Yaiba

74

My steps were steady, purposeful, as I made my way back through the forest, the first light of dawn beginning to pierce the horizon, casting long shadows through the trees. The cold air was sharp against my skin, but it was a familiar sensation, one that matched the icy resolve that had settled within me.

As I approached the Wisteria Mansion, I saw him—Kyojuro Rengoku—sitting quietly, his broad form a silhouette against the pale light of dawn. His vibrant hair, a cascade of flame-like locks that seemed to burn even in the dim light, was unmistakable. The vivid reds and golds of his hair were as fiery as his spirit, a contrast to the calm yet intense expression that was set on his face. His crow sat perched on his shoulder, a silent sentinel that indicated he had a mission to attend to, yet he had chosen to wait for me.

His presence, usually so full of life and energy, now seemed subdued, weighed down by the tension between us. I could see it in the way his shoulders were set, the slight slump that spoke of a burden he carried—a burden I had placed on him with my words. I sighed, the sound almost lost in the early morning air, and walked past him without a word. "Follow me," I mumbled, not bothering to turn around.

He stood and followed me into the mansion, his footsteps soft but determined behind me. We entered my room, a space that was as sparse and orderly as my life demanded. The tatami mats were pristine, the futon neatly folded in the corner, the shoji screens casting muted light into the room. I walked to the center and stopped, waiting for him to speak.

Kyojuro's voice, when it came, was low, almost hesitant. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, the usual confidence in his tone muted. "I thought...I thought I was doing what was right for both of us."

I stood there for a moment, letting his words hang in the air between us. Then, with deliberate calm, I took a deep breath, the pain in my side a dull throb that I refused to acknowledge. The wound had reopened, but I would tend to it later. There were more pressing matters at hand. "I know you care about me, Kyojuro. But you can't make decisions for me. You can't take away my choice, my agency. I need to be a part of these decisions, too. That's what it means to love someone, to trust them."

His eyes, those fiery orbs that always seemed so full of life, searched mine. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of doubt—a crack in the armor he wore so confidently. He stepped closer, the warmth of his presence almost palpable. "I never meant to make you feel like this," he murmured. "I just... I want us to be together, especially after being away from one another for almost an entire year."

I held his gaze, my expression as unreadable as ever. The pain in my side flared again, but I didn't let it show. "Then understand this, Kyojuro: if we are to be together, it must be as equals. I will not allow myself to be controlled, even out of love. If you cannot accept that, then there is no future for us."

Kyojuro pondered my words, his eyes reflecting a deep conflict. He finally spoke, his voice tinged with a vulnerability I hadn't expected. "What if we spoke with Giyuu and Shinobu about dividing the region? They're closer, and it would allow us to—"

I cut him off with a sharp glare, my voice as cold as the air outside. "Why are you so determined to bring me down to your region, Kyojuro? Why not come here, where I'm needed?"

He faltered for a moment, then sighed, the sound heavy with something that bordered on sorrow. "I worry about my little brother," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "And my father... he's not the man he used to be. He was a Hashira once, but after we lost my mother, he became... different. He turned to drink, and I need to keep an eye on him."

The admission hung in the air, and for the first time, I saw a different side of Kyojuro—the side that carried the weight of his family's legacy, the side that feared for the ones he loved. It was a side that made him human, and in that moment, I realized the depth of the struggle he faced.

I turned my head, sighing softly. "I need time to think," I said, my voice softer now, the anger that had fueled me earlier starting to dissipate.

Kyojuro nodded, accepting my words with a quiet resignation. "Take all the time you need," he said gently. "But... before I leave, I'd like to take a nap and share one final meal with you."

I didn't respond immediately, my thoughts too tangled, but I gave a slight nod before turning to the adjoining washroom. I needed to cleanse myself, to wash away the remnants of battle and the emotions that still clung to me.

The hot water stung as it cascaded over my body, the wound in my side protesting against the heat. I stood there, lost in my thoughts, letting the steam envelop me as I tried to piece together my next steps. Kyojuro's words, his confession, echoed in my mind. How could I reconcile his needs with my own? How could we find a path that didn't involve sacrificing my autonomy or his responsibilities?

When I finally emerged from the shower, the room was quiet, almost eerily so. I returned to my quarters, expecting to find Kyojuro waiting, but the room was empty. A part of me was relieved—I needed a moment to myself, to process everything that had happened. I wrapped myself in my futon, letting the warmth of the fabric soothe the chill that had settled into my bones.

As I lay there, lost in thought, I felt the futon shift slightly, and then the warmth of strong arms wrapped around my waist. I stiffened for a moment, surprised, but then I felt the familiar heat of Kyojuro's breath against my neck, his voice a soft murmur in my ear.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his tone filled with genuine regret. "I'm sorry for stripping away your choice, for acting without thinking. Being apart from you for so long... it made me irrational, and I didn't consider how you would feel."

I turned in his arms, looking up at him, my expression still guarded but softer than before. His face, usually so bright and full of energy, was now shadowed with concern, his fiery eyes dimmed with guilt. But as his gaze traveled down to where my hand rested against my side, he noticed the faint stain of blood on the fabric. His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, I saw the familiar fire of his concern flare up. But then he simply sighed, a deep, weary exhalation that seemed to carry the weight of everything unsaid.

He didn't ask about the wound, didn't press for details. Instead, he tightened his embrace slightly, as if acknowledging both my strength and the pain I carried without needing to voice it. It was a silent understanding, one that needed no words.

"I forgive you," I said quietly, my voice steady. "But if you ask me to open up to you, then you need to consult with me before making decisions that affect both of us."

Kyojuro's eyes softened, and then he smiled—a small, relieved smile that banished some of the tension from his face. "I promise," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "I'll never make a decision like that without you again."

He pressed his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin. "I'm going to miss you," he whispered, the vulnerability in his voice pulling at something deep within me. "I love you, Y/N."

My heart skipped a beat at his words, and for a moment, I felt the same walls I had carefully built around myself begin to crack. Without hesitation, I found myself whispering back, "I love you too, Kyojuro."

His eyes widened in surprise, and then a look of pure elation spread across his face. He leaned in, capturing my lips in a tender, lingering kiss that spoke of all the emotions we had kept hidden for too long.