𝗧𝗘𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗦𝗧. kimetsu no yaiba.

𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐢 ; part vii. black.

(Y/n) is not fond of funerals, not in the slightest. Although, they doubt anyone truly is. They are always far too black and suffocating and forlorn, as it is fitting for the departure of wilted souls, be they rotten or holy.

And yet, they are still, with a drowning spirit and a heart, carrying a burden that threatens to overwhelm and swallow them whole. But so, they stand silent, just as before. Even when the Flame Pillar finally finds his rest –when he's finally rewarded for his lion-esque heart. With his sword, close by his heart, just along with the thankfulness of every human he's ever saved, he departs.

Oyakata-sama, as calm and graceful as ever, speaks after periods of silence. 'Kyōjurō was a wonderful child. His bravery and sacrifice shall not be in vain.' And so, all pillars fall onto their knees, all in upmost respect. No one says anything, as Oyakata-sama speaks the truth. They will end this war, no matter how long it takes. Because their leader is the one who will lead them towards the brighter future, even without the promise of tomorrow.

Something burns.

'(L/n)-san,' Mitsuri, as gentle as always. Her hand is upon their shoulder, yet it feels like a phantom touch, more than anything. They stay expressionless, eyes a murky, hazy hue ; absent. The girl's brows crease, even with not yet dried tears that had struck her visage. She worries. Of course she does. The Storm Pillar is, indeed, a peculiar one. But even so, she holds them dear, even more than she usually does to others. In the end, they are too young. Too young to be lost, too young to be so cold and unforgiving.

The (h/c) haired hunter offers no response. She is persistent, however. Arms wrap around the other, in an unambiguously comforting gesture. 'It's okay to cry ... you and Rengoku-san were quite close, and-'

'I don't need to hear it, Kanroji-san.' They seeps through gritted teeth. The following movement much more harsh than needed. 'Please let go.'

Mitsuri does as told, even if her gaze lingers. Oh, how she pities them, for sure. 'Alright ... but please, accept this. ' (e/c) colored orbs barely even glance at the object that is set next to them. She smiles, genuinely, even if its edges are wobbly and her eyes are red. 'I- If you need to talk to somebody, you can come to me! See you later, (L/n)-san.'

She leaves.

It's still, for a few moments. (L/n) finally turns towards the gift.

It's a neatly folded haori, almost entirely white, expect for the fire that seemingly caught its ends.

For the first time in five years, (L/n) (Y/n) cries.

this is an incredibly short chapter (but don't worry! it's supposed to be like that) & i'm finally writing this story again! long time no see, huh... another thing is that i've changed my chapter title format.

(also, i hope you all are ready for the inevitable angsty monologues/flashbacks).