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Naminé Yamada wishes to kill demons.
Followed by the nightmares of her past, Naminé dedicated her life to strengthening herself mentally and physically ever since the death of her mother, hellbent on avenging her somehow. Though it seems that...
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"You look just like your mother."
Eyes snapping open at the sound of Muzan's voice, it felt like she couldn't breathe as Naminé sprang up from . . . what was she doing in a bed? Comfortable blankets covered her as she glanced around the spacious, unfamiliar room, a tranquil canopy draping the edges of her bed.
All except for one section. A spot where a sleeping Tanjiro lay against the sheets from his place in a chair, hand enclosed around her own.
Parts of her face burned at the sight.
Reaching out her free hand, strands of his usually slicked back hair had fallen across his forehead, Naminé moving them back into place while her thumb traced over the scar on his forehead. It seemed as if its shape changed since their battle at the Final Selection.
Glancing down, she was met with large, burgundy eyes staring back at her.
"Naminé . . ."
Every word hurt as she attempted to speak. "Tanjiro, where are--"
Cut off by the swift encircling of Tanjiro's arms around her body, his hand rested on the back of her head, pressing her face into the curve of his neck, the intimacy of the gesture making her heart race.
"You're okay . . . You're okay!"
Resting her hands on his back, it was obvious how difficult it was for him to get out each word, Naminé uncertain if he was holding himself together based off of the small jumps of his back.
"I'm sorry, Naminé . . " he started, somehow managing to hold her closer. "When I saw Muzan choking you, I . . . I wanted to cut his hand off right there for touching you like that. I should have done it. You got hurt because I didn't act and now . . "
"Tanjiro," she whispered gently, raising a hand to run through his hair. "You did the right thing. If you had let go of that man, he would have killed innocent people."
"It doesn't feel like the right thing if you get hurt." His fingers trailed up to her throat, his delicate touch careful not to injure her further. "I can still see where he grabbed your neck . . . "
There must have been some bruising left behind, which made sense after how violently he clutched her flesh. Pulling away, her hands came up and cupped either side of his face, grateful to see no tears in his eyes, though there was pain there. Every second it remained made her feel guilty for being the cause, even if it wasn't her own fault.
"We are demon slayers. It is our duty to protect. You should regret nothing you did. I promise to try and stop burdening your heart with any more unnecessary ache, Tanjiro."
Raising his hand, Tanjiro placed it over her own on his cheek, both of their eyes fluttering closed as his forehead came to rest against her own.