Chapter Text
Tanjiro knew a lot of things about life, now that he was six and practically grown up. He knew his mother and his father, he knew Nezuko and Takeo, and he even knew the forest and the fire. Father took him to the kilns sometimes, because he was old enough now to be careful around them, and those days were the best.
But even though Tanjiro was big now, he was still learning about life, too. A thin wail rose through the house as he played with Takeo, and he abandoned his brother with Nezuko to hurry over to its source. A tiny baby, his new little sister, seven days old today. He watched, eyes round, as mother lifted her and fed her and soothed her. He could be patient, for his newest little sister. He couldn’t remember when Nezuko or Takeo were this small, and he sort of didn’t believe that any of them had been so tiny. Every day he learned something new about how to care for her, so small and needy, and it was never enough. He wanted to spend every minute with her when he wasn’t at the kilns.
Mother smiled at him softly as she finished burping the baby. “Would you like to hold your sister, Tanjiro?”
Tanjiro sat up straight, trying to look as responsible and adult as possible. “Yes, please, mother!” This was the moment he’d been hoping for; she’d let him hold her yesterday, and he hadn’t stopped thinking about it since then.
“Do you remember how to do it?” Mother asked as she shifted the baby in her arms.
“Don’t move, keep her head on my arm, tell you when I get tired,” Tanjiro rattled off. “I’m ready, mother!”
She laughed and smiled at him, and his own smile burst out of his face. “Very good,” she said. “You’re such an attentive big brother, Tanjiro. Your little sister already knows you and loves you, I’m sure.”
Tanjiro’s eyes burned. He stuck out his lower lip, fighting the big scary feeling rising up in his chest, as Mother delicately placed his little sister in his arms, and she smelled like milk and hot fire and flowers. Nezuko and Takeo snuck up next to him, each sitting to one side to stare at her cradled in his grasp. He looked down at her soft and sleeping face, and the feeling in his chest rushed up and met the burning in his eyes and fanned the flames like when they opened the kilns before they’d burnt out. He fought it so hard, not wanting to have his little sister taken away, but a fat tear drop landed on her little cheek, and then a second, and then a whole rainstorm as he tried to not make any noise.
“Oh, Tanjiro, what’s wrong?” Mother asked him. “Here, I’ll take her back--”
“No!” Tanjiro yelped, a little too loud, and then remembered he was big now and had to be careful for his sister. “No,” he said softer, though it wavered through the tears. “Don’t take her.”
“Okay, I won’t,” Mother soothed. “Are you feeling sad?”
“No!” He thought about it more. “Yes?” A little more. “No.” It was so confusing, so he looked down at his baby sister’s perfect face, shining from his tears, and then Nezuko carefully swiped her sleeve across it to wipe it dry, and another wave rose in his eyes and spilled out.
Mother placed her hand under the baby’s back to steady them. “It’s a very big responsibility, to care for our family,” she said. “When I look at all of you, I love you so much, I could cry too. Is that how you’re feeling?”
“Yes,” Tanjiro forced through the rocks in his throat. “I love her!” That was right. He loved her. Big and scary and perfect and a little painful and a lot warm. That was love.
“I love her too!” Nezuko said, and Takeo echoed, “Love her!”
When Tanjiro looked up, his mother’s eyes shone, and a tear fell down her cheek. “Oh, my sweet children,” she murmured. “Come here, please.” Nezuko and Takeo flung themselves forward into her arms. Tanjiro looked down, torn; he wasn’t supposed to move when he was holding the baby, but he wanted so badly to go with them. But then mother’s hand landed gently in his hair and stroked until he relaxed.
“I’m home!” Father called. Normally, that would have Tanjiro and his siblings up and running for the door like a stone from a sling, but not today. At their absence, he added, “Are you all playing hide and seek?”
“We’re here, Tanjuro,” Mother called back. “Tanjiro is holding the baby.”
“Is that so?” Father asked from behind Tanjiro. “What a good big brother you are.” He kneeled down slowly next to them; even though spring had fully arrived, the cold lingered, and it made Father hurt. Tanjiro didn’t like it. But once Father was settled, Nezuko and Takeo leaned into him to help him warm up. “Today is a special day for your little sister, did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t,” Tanjiro responded dutifully. He held the baby a little tighter. He hoped special day didn’t mean Father would take her away from him already.
But Father didn’t reach for the baby, only smiled at them. “Today is her seventh day, which means we celebrate oshichiya. You will learn her name today, and then she becomes officially part of our family.”
“She’s already part of our family!” Tanjiro said, angry.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Mother soothed. “What your father means is, to live for seven days is very important. Some babies do not survive, but she has, and very well at that. So today, we celebrate her with a special meal and share her name and welcome her to our nest.”
“Ah, speaking of meals, should I check on how Grandmother is doing with dinner?” Father asked. At Mother’s nod, he rose slowly but with no complaint, Nezuko trailing after him. Takeo had laid down on their mother’s lap with heavy eyes. Tanjiro boiled with jealously; he wanted to nap with Mother, too. But he didn’t want to let go of his little sister. What sort of a name would she have? How would they welcome her to the nest?
Eventually, though, his arms began to ache, and he reluctantly said, “Mother, I’m a little tired.”
“You did so good, Tanjiro,” she told him as she carefully slid her arms around his little sister. “Thank you for telling me. You can hold her again later. Would you like to come sit close with us, or will you help your father?”
Oh, he wanted to do both! Tanjiro bit his lip as he tried to decide. But he hadn’t seen Father since morning, so he said, “I’ll go help!” He sprung to his feet, but then paused. He carefully reached out to pat the baby on her head. “I love you,” he said, and when that big feeling burned in his eyes again, he ran away.
“Ah, Tanjiro,” Father said as he entered the kitchen. “Your grandmother is taking a break, since everything is cooking and I can watch it. I don’t have anything for you to help with, so come sit with us.”
Tanjiro sat next to Nezuko, suddenly chilled without the warmth of his little sister against his chest, and they huddled together. He loved his new little sister a lot, but he loved Nezuko too. They played together, and did chores together, and did everything important in Tanjiro’s life together except the kilns. “Can I ask you a question, Father?”
Tanjuro chuckled. “Why of course. What would you like to know?”
“How do we welcome the baby to our nest?” He understood what a nest was, mostly. They lived in a house, but they also lived in a nest. A nest was a special place that a family made together, so not all houses were nests. Their was, though, and in their nest he felt warm and safe.
“That’s a very good question, Tanjiro.” Warmth bubbled in his chest at his Father’s praise. “Do you remember what I told you about when Mother and I met?”
“You decorated for her!” Nezuko chirped. She sat up, eyes shining; this was her favorite story. “You found things she would like and made a bower to show her. She liked them too, so she put her things in the bower, and you both made the bower into a nest, to raise a family in!”
“Exactly, Nezuko,” Father said as she clapped her hands together. “It was very important to me to someday make a nest with someone special, even before I met your mother. So I began collecting bower gifts since I was young. For our nest, I wanted pretty things that made us both happy and reminded us of the love in our nest. I also wanted useful things, so we could make a good life with our family. Your mother felt the same way, and collected her own bower gifts to share. Even though we’re married now, we both still take care of our nest, and add things to it for our entire family to enjoy.”
“I like our nest,” Tanjiro said, followed by an emphatic hum of agreement from Nezuko.
“I do too. It makes me very happy every day to spend time with you in it.” His eyes fell on the fine vase that sat on the table; today it was filled with bright yellow flowers, the first canola blooms of spring. He’d told them the story of why he brought the vase to the nest, once, but Tanjiro couldn’t remember. “So to welcome your new little sister, I have found something special to add to the nest for her. To make this a good oshichiya, we’ll have a celebration dinner that your grandmother worked very hard on, and then we will share her name for the first time, and then I’ll give your mother a bower gift in the baby's honor.”
“What is it, Father?” Nezuko asked as she bounced on her heels.
Father laughed as he reached out to pat her head. “You’re so excited, aren’t you, Nezuko?” She nodded under his broad palm. “I’m excited too. You’ll get to see soon, I promise.” Nezuko pouted at the non-answer, so Father said, “Come, let’s see how dinner is doing.”
Dinner was ready, so Tanjiro and Nezuko hurried to help. In no time, the family gathered around their bowls filled with special red rice and simmered fish, with the heads proudly sat atop the meal. Their little sister slept through the eating and the laughter and the love, but Tanjiro knew she heard it anyway.
When all their dishes were scraped clean, Father clapped his hands together. “Today is a very special day,” he told their family, listening so closely. “Our newest child is seven days old today. She has survived her first week in good health, and now we can share her name with you.” He turned to Mother, who smiled at him and shifted closer, until he could rest a hand on the baby. “Her name is Kamado Hanako.”
“Hanako,” Tanjiro said wonderingly, as Nezuko jumped up and shouted, “Flowers!”
“Yes, flowers,” Mother said. “She is our new little flower, blooming early in the spring to give us hope for warmer days.”
Tanjiro felt the burning again, so he crowded close to Mother to rest his hand on Hanako’s back. “Hello, Hanako,” he whispered. “I’m glad to meet you. I’m your big brother Tanjiro, and I’m going to take care of you too, like Mother and Father do.”
“Hanako is part of our nest now, so we must welcome her properly,” Father said as he lifted a box from next to him. He placed the box in front of Mother, smiling softly at her as she passed Hanako to him. “Thank you, Kie, for bringing us Hanako. May this bower gift always remind you of her.”
Mother lifted the box into her lap like it was just as delicate and precious as Hanako herself. She lifted the top and pressed a hand against her mouth as she gasped at what was within. “Tanjuro, it’s beautiful,” she said. “Everyone, look!” From the box she took out a perfect flower crown, filled with all the tiny early spring flowers scattered through the forest. Father must have spent hours finding enough to weave such a full crown that the stems couldn't be seen beyond the petals. Nezuko covered her mouth just like Mother as Takeo tried to grab at it. “Ah, ah, it’s very delicate,” Mother said as she lifted it from his reach. “We’ll have to carefully dry it so that we can keep it in our nest forever.” Gently, she settled the crown on Hanako’s stomach, as it was far too big for her head.
Tanjiro never forgot that moment: Mother and Father sitting close, smiling down at Hanako and her flowers, with he and Nezuko and Takeo and Grandmother all gathered close and warm in the nest, all of it smelling like a warm fire.
------
The river sloshed around Tanjiro’s ankles as he waded through the shallows, and the frigid water felt good in the humid, angry heat that had arrived too early this summer. Nezuko, Hanako, and Shigeru splashed at each other downstream of him, laughing and shrieking. Tanjiro smiled at their antics but didn’t join in, because Mother had sent him with a job to the river. The others had come along just to keep him company. “The fuki is growing big this time of year,” Mother had said, hand on her round, round belly. “Go to the river and gather plenty, please. And if you see any late radishes, bring them as well.”
So Tanjiro waded through the peaceful shallows of the river to forage. His basket was half-filled with fuki leaves, but he hadn’t sniffed out any radishes yet; Hanako and Shigeru loved them, so he was determined to find some. Something caught his eye as he combed the shallows and banks for radishes, not the green leaves and sharp scent he searched for, but something else. He leaned down, and under the sparkling water lay a rock with a band in it the same light purple as Mother’s eyes.
An unfamiliar feeling swelled up in Tanjiro. He had to have it. He needed it. No, he needed to give it to Mother. She would be so happy with it! He plunged his hand into the freezing water, curling his fingers around the stone before they lost their nimbleness from the cold and pulled it free. When he rubbed it dry against his yukata, he found it still shiny, river-polished. The purple streak nearly glittered in the dappled sunlight, and it was truly the exact shade of Mother’s eyes. His stomach grew shaky as he thought about giving it to Mother, how happy she’d be, how she’d know that Tanjiro loved her so much.
“Tanjiro!” wailed Shigeru and Hanako in concert. Tanjiro slid the rock into his pocket, turning to sort out whatever sibling spat had happened while he was distracted. But as he finished foraging-- finding two small handfuls of radishes, not much but better than none, and filling the rest of his basket with fuki-- he patted at the rock to assure himself it was still there.
Hanako and Shigeru pouted the entire walk back to the house, resistant to all of Nezuko's cajoling, so Tanjiro was relieved to leave them outside the front door as he delivered his foragings to Mother in the kitchen. “I’m home,” he called as he opened the front door. “I have plenty of fuki and a few radishes for Hanako and Shigeru. Well, if they stop fighting with each other, anyway.”
“Again?” Mother asked, amused and exasperated. “What is it this time?”
Tanjiro shrugged the basket off his shoulders next to where Mother rested in the kitchen. “Nezuko was watching them, and even she can't figure out why.”
“Well, I’m sure they’ll forget all about it by dinner and be best friends again. Thank you for gathering so much food, you did so well.” Tanjiro beamed at her praise, and with a lurch in his stomach remembered the rock. Should he give it to Mother now? Should he wait? He wanted her to see it and he wanted to know if she loved it, but at the same time he was so afraid. What if she didn’t? She solved the problem for him, though. “Could you please go see if your Father needs anything?”
“Of course, Mother.” She gave him a pat on the head and shooed him from the kitchen.
Father did need help with the kilns-- two were starting to over-fire at the same time, so Tanjiro spent several long and sweaty hours getting the fires back down so the charcoal wasn’t ruined-- and it was nearly dinner time by the time the kilns had calmed.
“Good job, Tanjiro,” Father said as he wiped sweat from his brow. “It’s very difficult to save the charcoal once it starts to flame. I think you’re nearly ready to run the kilns yourself.”
“Really?” Tanjiro could hardly believe it. Running the kilns himself meant Father could rest on his bad days. It meant he could take care of his family as well as Father could. Unconsciously, his hand went to his little rock, pulling it out from his pocket and turning it in his palm. Maybe it was lucky? Mother definitely would take good care of his lucky rock.
“What’s that you have?” Father asked.
Tanjiro felt his face go bright red. “Just a rock!” he stammered, shoving the rock back into his pocket. He was as shocked by doing this as Father looked. Tanjiro wasn’t a liar! But something in him said this rock was for Mother, and he had to protect it until he could give it to her.
Father studied him, a thoughtful look on his face, as Tanjiro squirmed and wished the ground would eat him up. Finally, a small smile curved across Father’s lips, and his eyes brightened. “I see,” he said. “Just a rock it is.” But the way he said it made Tanjiro think Father knew something he didn’t. “Well, let’s go back to the nest and have a well-earned dinner.”
“Yes, Father!” Tanjiro said in relief that his lie had passed by without a thunder bolt striking him down from the clear skies. Light-footed, he walked home next to Father, careful to match his pace to Father’s exactly so as not to push too hard.
Dinner came and went, ceding to the evening, when the family gathered together in the great room and told stories while little tasks were finished. Tanjiro had mending in his hands, as did Mother and Nezuko-- Hanako and Shigeru produced far more rips and tears than hours to mend them, Tanjiro despaired-- while Father’s hands were free to make expansive gestures as he told the Tale of the Bamboo Cutter. Takeo, Hanako and Shigeru listened to him as they played with little wooden toys that Father had carved for Tanjiro as a baby. This tale was Nezuko’s favorite, which is why she’d requested it for the thousandth time, but Tanjiro didn't mind because it was his favorite too.
It took some time for him to settle in and cool off after such a hot and busy day, but finally, Tanjiro focused on his hands and let Father’s words pass through him. By that point, Father had gotten a good bit of the way into the long-familiar story. He said in a hushed tone, “Kaguya-hime’s five suitors were too determined. No matter how many times she rebuffed their advances, they returned again to ask for her hand in marriage. How could she possibly choose which one to accept?”
“Bower gifts!” Nezuko said, too excited to restrain herself.
Father laughed. “Yes, indeed, Nezuko! She asked each of the five for a final bower gift, a true nesting gift, to prove their affection, and whoever returned first with their correct gift would win her hand and her nest. But they were no easy gifts! The first suitor was told to bring her the stone begging bowl of the Buddha, from far-away India--”
With a stutter of his heart, Tanjiro remembered his rock. It wasn’t the stone begging bowl of Buddha himself, but surely Mother demanded less than the great princess of the moon for her bower. His stitches grew uneven as his fingers trembled with nerves, and it took a pause and several long, slow breaths to still them. He itched with impatience to give it to Mother immediately, but he didn’t want to interrupt Father. So he forced himself to settle and listen to the rest of the tale.
Finally, Kaguya-hime returned to the moon, and the Emperor burnt the elixir of immortality, unwilling to live forever without Kaguya-hime making a nest with him. Tanjiro had heard the tale many times, but this time the thought of the Emperor and Kaguya-hime apart forever, unable to make a loving nest together, stabbed through Tanjiro’s heart.
“Tanjiro, are you okay?” Mother asked.
She’d noticed something amiss because he hadn’t made a stitch in a few minutes, he realized, but he couldn’t bring himself to push needle through fabric with the great unhappiness swelling up in him. “I’m sad that the Emperor and Kaguya-hime couldn’t nest together.”
‘It’s so sad!” Nezuko agreed, setting down her own mending. “They loved each other but couldn’t be together. What if that happens to our family?”
“I am not Kaguya-hime who was born on the moon, Nezuko,” Mother said on a laugh.
“And I am certainly not the Emperor!” Father added. Nezuko still looked worried, though, so he lifted his arm, and she tucked herself under it. “Thinking those thoughts borrows trouble that does us no good. Today we are all here as a family, and gods willing, so we will be tomorrow. If that ever changes, all we can do is love each other and keep what remains of our family together, whatever it takes.”
Tanjiro worried at his lip, as consumed by the thought as Nezuko apparently was. Mother noticed, and just like Father had, raised an arm to invite Tanjiro to curl up against her. As he did, the rock pressed into his skin, and all thoughts of the future flew out of his head.
Father and Nezuko started a spirited discussion of what nesting gift the Emperor should have taken to Kaguya-hime. Under the cover of their discussion, Tanjiro said lowly, “Mother?”
She let go of her mending to rest a hand upon his head. “Yes, Tanjiro?”
He wriggled around so that he could wrap the rock in a nervous fist and withdraw it from his pocket. “I have something for you.” Some part of him said that there were better words, fancier ones, like the ones the nobles used when presenting their false gifts to Kaguya-hime, but he didn’t know any better words than these, simple and true.
“Oh, do you? That’s so sweet of you, Tanjiro.”
Shyly, he presented his closed fist to her, only opening it when her palm cradled the back of his hand from beneath. “I saw it in the river,” he said all in a rush to the tatami. “The purple reminded me of your eyes and I wanted you to have it because it’s beautiful and I thought of you and I hope you think it’s beautiful too.”
The last words fall into a silence in the room, and Tanjiro feels his face catch fire like a kiln starting up. “It is very beautiful, Tanjiro, thank you,” Mother said. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He looked up to see what Mother’s expression was, if she really did like it, but he found her giving some sort of a look to Father. When she looked down at him again, it was with a smile, though, which Tanjiro answered with a relieved one of his own. She patted his head, and said, “Go put it on the table in the kitchen, won’t you? It’ll make for a nice worry stone when I’m cooking.”
Tanjiro obediently followed her directions, albeit on shaky legs, and soon after that Father shooed them off to bed. Tanjiro helped get Hanako and Shigeru settled, and before he could go to his own futon, Father said, “Tanjiro, let’s work on the kilns tomorrow. The third kiln needs to be re-mudded, and we can start a firing in kiln two now that the patch should be dry.”
“Of course, Father,” Tanjiro said, and thought nothing more of it.
------
Tanjiro rose with the sun every day, as Father did, whether or not he needed to work on the kilns. Today was no different, the cool dawn air tickling at Tanjiro’s chilled nose with its indescribably fresh scent. Father had already started the morning rice porridge, so Tanjiro chopped vegetables and mushrooms to add to it. Takeo and Nezuko ushered in a sleepy Hanako and Shigeru as Father and Tanjiro polished off their bowls.
“Good morning, Father! Good morning, big brother,” Nezuko said. Hanako and Shigeru attempted their greetings, but they were less than comprehendible.
“Good morning,” Tanjiro echoed after Father.
“Are you going to work on the kilns together?” Nezuko asked. When Tanjiro nodded, her lips tilted downward, and he realized they hadn’t had time to play together lately.
“We’ll work hard in the morning, but then we’ll need to rest,” Father said as he began filling bowls for Hanako and Shigeru. “You and Tanjiro can have the afternoon to yourselves then, if you’d like, Nezuko.”
“Yes please!” she said with a bright smile, and Tanjiro smiled back. Kilns with Father in the morning, and an afternoon to play in the woods with Nezuko? Today was a good day.
Sometimes Father and Tanjiro talked while they worked, but sometimes they didn’t. This morning, the only words that passed between them as they mudded kiln three were practical ones like “More mud here,” and “It’s drying out, I’ll fetch more water.” They were both filthy and drenched in sweat by the time the kiln had a fresh coat of mud. Tanjiro tried to wipe his brow as they stood back to survey their work, but he mostly just succeeded in smearing mud all over himself.
“It’s a fine job,” Father finally pronounced after running a critical eye over the kiln. Then he looked at Tanjiro and laughed. “I thought we were only mudding the kiln, but it seems we mudded you too!” Tanjiro grimaced as he tugged at a clump of half-dried mud in the hair around his face, and he suspected it wasn’t the only one. Father reached out with gentle fingers to scrape off as much of the gritty mess as he could, but it was not a winning battle. “Let’s have a quick rinse in the river before we fire kiln two.”
The cold of the river felt bracing after the morning’s work. Tanjiro dipped in and out as fast as possible, and Father helped him chase away all the mud in his hair. On their walk back to the kilns, Father cleared his throat. “That was a very thoughtful gift you gave your mother, last night,” he said.
That inexplicable embarrassment rose up again. “Thank you,” Tanjiro said, a little too loud.
“I think it’s time we had a talk, father to son,” Father said. His voice was stilted, uncomfortable, and when Tanjiro whipped his head around to look, Father stared solidly ahead as if Tanjiro wasn’t there. He’d never acted like this before; it was so strange that Tanjiro immediately panicked and tried to fix it.
“I’m sorry for whatever I did wrong with the rock!” Tanjiro shouted at full volume, feeling a heavy flush rise to his face. “I’ll make it up to you! I’ll apologize to Mother! To the whole family! I’ll take back the rock and throw it into the river!!” He cheeks burned hot in embarrassment, the emotion so strong he could smell it on himself, and he would’ve kept yelling forever if Father didn’t interrupt him with an equally loud, “Tanjiro!”
“Yes, Father!” Tanjiro shouted back in alarm.
That caused Father to come to halt. He put a hand to his face and started laughing, working up from a small chuckle to a shoulder-shaking guffaw, and Tanjiro helplessly joined in even though he wasn’t quite sure yet what was so funny.
When Father’s mirth had subsided, he sunk to one knee next to Tanjiro and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “I don’t think I’m doing this right,” he said ruefully. “I have to admit, I wasn’t quite ready for this day to be here yet. You’re growing up so fast. I’m so proud of the man you’re becoming, but I thought I had more time before I had to figure out how to talk to you about this. Can I try again?” Tanjiro nodded, more lost than he had been before, but Father said he was proud, so this couldn’t be all that bad.
Father cleared his throat as he attempted eye contact with Tanjiro, but his eyes flickered to focus vaguely past Tanjiro’s left ear and back as he said, “You are taking another step towards being a man, Tanjiro. As children grow up, they practice important things with their parents. You gave Mother a bower gift because someday, you’ll need to know how to do it to find yourself a nestmate.” Father paused, and his eyes met Tanjiro’s again, just as warm as always, even though he smelled the slightest bit sharp and uncomfortable.
“So… I gave Mother a… bower gift?” Tanjiro felt his brow furrow. “But I thought bower gifts were special and different from other gifts.”
That seemed to give Father more solid ground to work from. His scent shifted to something warmer and softer. “Did you feel different about the rock?”
Tanjiro remembered the moment of seeing the rock and the gut-deep need to take it and give it to Mother. He’d never been one to care so much about things, and it really had felt different. “I… suppose so,” he said slowly.
“And did it feel special to give it to your mother?”
Tanjiro felt himself flush. “Yes,” he squeaked.
“That’s a bower gift, Tanjiro,” Father said. The words were gentle, but Tanjiro still wanted to throw himself back into the river to escape this conversation. He’d never before desired to become snow melting away under the bright spring sun, but today he knew that was a feeling and it wasn’t an enjoyable one. Father looked a little pained around the eyes, too, so at least Tanjiro wasn’t alone.
“Why… why did I do that?”
“Because it’s part of us, the instinct to collect bower gifts that will make for a good nest and give them to our loved ones. Now you are old enough to feel that instinct, and it’s my job-- and Mother’s-- to help you learn how to use it.”
“Okay,” Tanjiro said, then: “What do I do now?”
“I--” Father started, then his face twisted in a grimace. Crouching as he was had given him a cramp, Tanjiro realized. “Can I--” he asked through gritted teeth. Tanjiro nodded frantically and braced himself to take Father’s weight.
Father’s hand on his shoulder was indeed heavy as Father levered himself into a standing position. He rolled around his right foot until the pain suffusing his scent faded. “It’s a troublesome day,” he said. “Thank you for your help. Where was I?”
“What I should do about bower gifts?”
“Ah! That’s right. Well. Everyone takes a different approach to bower gifts. Some people like to make them, others prefer to buy, and many do a mix of both.”
“I want to make something,” Tanjiro said promptly. He didn’t know it until the words came out of his mouth, but they rose from a deep, still place and he knew them to be true the instant they passed his lips. Surely he’ll have to buy the things he can’t make himself, but for now, his fingers itched. “What do I make?”
Father smiled, a wistful one full of memories. “You have to listen to your heart, Tanjiro,” he said. “It knows what it wants. It will lead to you bower gifts that will please a good mate for you.”
Tanjiro wanted to stomp his foot like Shigeru did when he fought with Hanako. “I don't know!”
Father gestured Tanjiro to join him as he resumed their walk back to the kilns. “The first bower gift I made was a carved netsuke bead. I liked that it was both beautiful and useful. And I could re-carve it as many times as I had to, to get it right.”
“What was the bead of? Did you give it to Mother?”
“I did give it to her eventually, though it wasn’t the first gift I showed her. It was a flat bead with kikyo carved into it. Do you know what they represent?”
“Of course!” Tanjiro said. “That’s Mother’s favorite flower. It means endless love and honesty.”
“Yes. And I made it because I knew the right mate for me would appreciate those qualities as much as I do. Do you see? Follow your heart, and you’ll find who holds it.”
They’d arrived at the kilns, and they set to preparing kiln two to fire without a single word needed. They had shared this task so many times it was instinct. “I… don’t know what my heart says,” Tanjiro admitted after thinking for a long time.
“Then just keep listening, and eventually it’ll tell you,” Father said on a smile.
It was a lot for Tanjiro to think about. A comfortable quiet settled over them as they started the kiln, Father clearly sensing that Tanjiro needed some time. As they finished sealing the kiln shut, Tanjiro’s stomach rumbled embarrassingly loudly.
“You’ve earned your lunch and an afternoon to yourself,” Father said as Tanjiro patted his stomach to soothe it. “Will you and Nezuko go in the woods?”
“I hope so!” Tanjiro said, though he could barely think past eating. Luckily, his wishes were anticipated; when they returned to the nest, Nezuko and Takeo were nearly done with lunch, working under Mother’s watchful eye. She gave Father a stiff smile as they stepped into the kitchen, and he sunk down next to her immediately to cradle her against his chest. The kitchen boiled with the sharp scent of discomfort, mixed with the iron-tinged smell of pain. The baby must be coming soon, Tanjiro realized, and it must be awful for Mother.
“Come on!” Nezuko said, catching Tanjiro’s collar to drag him backwards out of the kitchen with a yelp.
“But lunch!” he wailed.
“I have it, don’t be silly,” Nezuko said, and when she swung her other arm, Tanjiro saw the basket filled to the top for them. “Let’s go!” She let go of his haori so he could scramble at the door to put his shoes back on, and off they went running, laughing and yelling nonsense into the trees. Neither of them had to say where they were going; it was always the same place when they were let out to have time for themselves. A small grotto they’d found years ago, nestled between ancient, mighty trunks and coated in soft moss, close enough to the river to have fresh water but far enough to feel secluded.
Nezuko crashed to a halt as she pushed past the baby pine trees that guarded their entrance, and Tanjiro nearly bowled her over as he tried to stop himself in time. He peered over her shoulder to see--
The grotto, peaceful and beautiful, with a single golden beam of sunlight slashing down between the tree branches. The sharp ray of light landed on a boar that rooted at the base of their favorite tree, surely looking for mushrooms or other such boarish delights. The grotto smelled of light and green and growing things on top of the earthy musk of the creature, and Tanjiro’s breath caught in his lungs as his heart quivered. Something about it made him sing, down to his bones.
The boar finally detected their presence, raising its head with a snort. It looked at them with rare intelligence in its eyes, and its tail swished as it thought about what to do. It took one step towards Nezuko, and acting on instinct alone, Tanjiro grabbed her by her upper arms and shoved her behind him, so he stood between her and the boar. The boar snorted again, pawing at the ground in warning, so Tanjiro crouched down. He wasn’t sure at all how to fight a boar, but he could figure it out. He clenched his fists and tilted his head down-- surely he could headbutt a boar to scare it off, right?-- and that gave the boar pause. After another snort, it turned away to exit the grotto at the other end.
“So scary!” Tanjiro said as it hit him. He sunk on shaky knees down to the soft mossy earth and clutched his legs to his chest. “What if it ran at me?!”
“But it didn’t! Big brother, you protected me, and it ran off.” Nezuko said. She curled around him in a hug, and he wrapped his arms around her in turn, and they sat there on the forest floor for a long moment, trembling together. Finally, when they’d settled and were breathing normally, she pulled away to tug the basket of lunch closer. “Here, have some food, it’ll make you feel better.”
“Yes, Mother,” Tanjiro said reflexively, because she was always saying that, and they both giggled. Nezuko handed him a gourd of water and an onigiri, and indeed, Tanjiro already felt better as he licked the final grains of rice from his fingers.
“There’s still more,” Nezuko said as she pushed the basket over to him.
“It’s very good! Thank you for the meal, Nezuko,” Tanjiro said as he plucked up some greens and a piece of salted fish along with his next onigiri.
“Takeo did a good job helping. I think soon maybe he can work in the kitchen without one of us.”
“That would make things easier, especially once the baby is here.” The words come automatically; his mind was still on the boar. Nezuko might have responded, and might not have, while he thought about the way the light highlighted a halo around the boar, of its rough fur, and how calmly it looked at him, at peace but ready for fierce battle if necessary.
“--lloooo! Big brother! Are you there?”
Tanjiro shook off his haze. “Huh? Sorry, Nezuko, I got distracted for a moment,” he admitted sheepishly.
“What about? Come on, tell me!” Nezuko shifted to stare expectantly at Tanjiro, hands on her knees as she bounced in place. “Did Father tell you something? Did something happen at the kiln? What is it?”
“I think I need to carve a netsuke of a boar,” fell out of his mouth.
Nezuko came to a complete standstill, head tilted to the side. “Huh?” She tipped her head the other way, as if that would shake loose some kind of meaning. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You know I gave Mother that rock yesterday,” Tanjiro said, feeling his face heat. “Father says it’s my bowering instincts and that I should follow my heart to know what to make for a bower gift and I saw that boar and now I have to carve a boar netsuke.” He buried his face in his hands.
“Big brother, that’s so exciting!” Nezuko said, and the pure joy in her voice was all that rescued Tanjiro from his embarrassment. “But… why the boar?”
“I don’t know,” Tanjiro confessed as he lifted his head. “I just know it’s right.”
Nezuko put a finger to her chin as she thought. “Boars represent…” The words emerged slowly as she clearly struggled to remember. Then she lifted her finger as her expression brightened. “Ah! Bravery and determination and affection towards loved ones!” She clapped her hands together. “Big brother, that’s so wonderful. I hope I’ll make such meaningful bower gifts.”
“Of course you will!” Tanjiro said hotly, trying not to think too much about bravery and determination and affection towards loved ones. Father had said, follow your heart, and you’ll find who holds it, and Tanjiro couldn’t think of better qualities for a person who held his heart.
“I can’t wait ‘til I’m old enough for bowering instincts,” she said on a sigh. “Until then, tell me everything! What else will you make other than the netsuke? Will you buy gifts too? What kind of gifts do you want to have? Are you going to give the gifts one by one, like Mother and Father did? Or will you build a bower and show them all in a display?”
“Nezuko!” Tanjiro wailed, once again wishing to become melting snow. “That’s so embarrassing, stop!”
“It’s not embarrassing! Mother and Father tell us all the time about these things! Come on, tell me, tell me, tell me!”
Tanjiro refused, so Nezuko chased him around the trees until she cornered him by the river and dunked him under the water. He pulled her in too, and after a long splash fight, they laid out on a sun-warmed rock to dry off.
“I know you’ll find a good mate, big brother,” Nezuko said softly, finally done teasing him.
“You will too,” Tanjiro said as he grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
“I hope-- even once I do, I hope you’ll be nearby. I hope you’ll stay my big brother all our lives.”
“Yes, Nezuko, I promise,” Tanjiro said fiercely. “I’ll always be your big brother, and I’ll always be there for you. Even once we find mates, we’re still family.”
“Always family,” she said, the words ringing heavy with an unbreakable promise.