Demon Slayer: Taking Care Of Tanjuro's Wife And Daughter

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Himejima Gyomei had not always been a warrior of the Demon Slayer Corps. Before fate drew him into their ranks, he was a monk, devoted to caring for the orphans who found refuge in his temple. These children, abandoned by the world, became his family. Their laughter was a soothing balm, their innocence a light in his life.

In those days, Gyomei found true happiness in the simplicity of their presence.

But all of that changed on a night drenched in horror. The protective wisteria lanterns surrounding the temple—his sole defense against the dark forces—were extinguished. A demon, drawn by the scent of human life, crept into the sanctity of their home.

When Gyomei awoke to the sound of screams, it was already too late. The demon had torn through the temple, leaving destruction in its wake. Without a blade or weapon to defend them, Gyomei fought with nothing but his fists. His enormous strength, forged from years of physical labor, allowed him to tear at the demon's limbs and break its bones. Yet the creature's regenerative abilities made his efforts futile. Severed limbs regrew, and its attacks became even more ferocious.

One by one, the children fell. Their cries of terror echoed in his ears as he desperately fought to shield them. By the time dawn's light began to pierce the horizon, only one child, Sayo, remained alive. Bleeding and battered, Gyomei held her trembling form as the first rays of sunlight struck the demon, reducing it to ash.

But salvation did not come.

When the villagers arrived, drawn by the chaos, Sayo's words sealed his fate. With tears streaming down her face, she pointed at him, accusing him of murdering the children. The sight of her small, trembling finger and the fear in her eyes crushed him more than any physical blow could.

In that moment, Gyomei lost his faith in humanity. Children, once a source of joy and purity, now seemed fragile, cruel, and unreliable.

Years later, Gyomei shared his story with Ryuji, a young warrior of exceptional strength and potential who had sought him out for guidance. As Gyomei's low, resonant voice recounted the tragedy, Ryuji sat silently, his hands clenched into fists.

When Gyomei finally fell quiet, Ryuji exhaled deeply. "Thank you for sharing your story, Master Gyomei," he said softly. "I can't pretend to understand the depth of your pain, but I feel honored that you trusted me with it."

Gyomei offered a faint, bitter smile. "Even after all these years, I have not found peace. My chants and prayers feel hollow against the weight of these memories."

"It isn't weakness," Ryuji replied, his voice firm. "You've carried this burden alone, and yet you still stand. That's strength, Master Gyomei. Strength that inspires others."

The words lingered between them, and for a moment, Gyomei regarded the young swordsman with quiet respect. "You speak with wisdom beyond your years, Ryuji."

Ryuji gave a modest smile before changing the subject. "Master Gyomei, I came here to learn from you. If it's not too much, would you honor me with a sparring session?"

Gyomei nodded. "Very well. Let us move to the courtyard."

As they stepped outside, a group of children—gathered to watch. Their excited whispers filled the air as Gyomei and Ryuji prepared to duel. Gyomei glanced at the children but said nothing, his face betraying a flicker of discomfort.

Ryuji bowed deeply. "Ryuji requests the master's guidance."

Gyomei pressed his palms together, murmuring a quiet prayer. "Himejima Gyomei, accepting your request."

The two stood still for several moments, the tension between them palpable. Then, Ryuji surged forward, his speed remarkable for someone of his stature. His strikes were powerful, each one aiming for an opening in Gyomei's seemingly relaxed stance.

But Gyomei's movements were effortless. With a calm precision that belied his enormous size, he deflected each attack. Ryuji's strikes, no matter how fast or forceful, failed to reach their mark. It was as though Gyomei's presence created an impenetrable barrier.

As sweat dripped from Ryuji's brow, he retreated, panting. "You're on a completely different level," he admitted, bowing deeply. "Thank you for the lesson."

Gyomei shook his head. "Your strength is extraordinary, Ryuji. Raw, but extraordinary nonetheless. With training, you may surpass even the greatest among us."

Ryuji looked up, startled by the praise. Gyomei's expression softened. "Your potential is undeniable. I will speak to the Corps leader about your future."

The children cheered as the sparring session concluded, their admiration for both warriors clear. For the first time in years, Gyomei allowed himself a small smile, though the weight of his past remained.

Perhaps, in guiding the next generation, he could find a measure of redemption.

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After the sparring session with Gyomei and receiving his guidance, Ryuji felt he had gained invaluable insights. Gyomei's calm demeanor and overwhelming strength had left a lasting impression on him, and Ryuji knew he had much to reflect upon.

Since neither of them had rested through the night, both felt the weariness creeping in. Fortunately, Kie had prepared a spare room. Ryuji extended the invitation to Gyomei, who gave a slight nod in gratitude.

"Sorry to intrude," Gyomei said before quietly heading to the room arranged for him.

As soon as Gyomei disappeared into the house, Kie approached Ryuji, her curiosity evident in her expression. "Ryuji, why do you have a friend who's a monk?" she asked, her tone a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Ryuji hadn't considered her perspective until now, but the anxious look on her face gave him pause. It dawned on him that she might be worried—worried that Gyomei's presence could inspire him to leave and adopt a monk's life.

A soft chuckle escaped him as he reached out, lightly tapping her nose. Leaning closer, he murmured, "How could I ever consider being a monk when I have a charming little enchantress like you here?"

Kie's cheeks flushed deeply at his words, and she mumbled, "I'm not a little enchantress…"

Still smiling, Ryuji straightened. "Actually, I haven't eaten well this morning. I'm still a bit hungry."

"Oh! I'll make something right away," Kie said, stepping naturally into her role as a caring wife. She hurried into the kitchen, donning her apron with practiced ease.

Ryuji watched her with an affectionate gaze before following her inside. As he closed the door softly behind him, the quiet click caught Kie's attention. She turned, her face already beginning to redden as she saw him step closer. Before she could speak, Ryuji gently wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

"Ryuji… if you hold me like this, I can't cook properly," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Ryuji's eyes softened as he reached into his pocket, revealing a small, glistening ring. "Here. I wanted to give this to you," he said.

Kie's eyes widened in surprise, a spark of joy lighting up her face as she stared at the delicate piece of jewelry.

"It's a ring," Ryuji said softly, holding it out to her. "It symbolizes love and commitment—a promise of unity forever."

Kie's heart fluttered at his words. Since meeting Ryuji, her once-ordinary life had been transformed into something vibrant and full of unexpected moments of happiness. With a shy nod, she lifted her hand, allowing him to slip the ring onto her finger. The morning light streaming through the kitchen window made the ring sparkle brightly against her skin.

"This ring," Ryuji murmured, gently tilting her chin to meet his gaze, "means you're mine from now on."

Kie's eyes grew misty, and she whispered, "Yes…"

Ryuji's heart swelled as he took in her affectionate, gentle expression. Moments like this made him feel like the luckiest man alive. After savoring the tender moment, he grinned and asked, "So, what will you make for breakfast, Mrs. Kie?"

She glanced up at him shyly, a small smile forming on her lips. "Whatever you'd like, Ryuji… anything you want."

"Then how about something refreshing to drink first?" he teased lightly.

Kie's face grew even redder, but she nodded obediently, smiling as she began to prepare their meal.

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After a delicious breakfast together, Ryuji stepped outside, stretching as he surveyed the yard. The Kamado household was lively as always. Tanjirou was practicing his sword techniques under the morning sun, his movements fluid and precise. Nearby, Hanako, Takeo, Shigeru, and Rokuta played together, their laughter filling the air. Nezuko sat quietly, watching over them with a serene expression.

The warm sunlight cast a soft glow across the scene, and Ryuji found himself appreciating the peaceful atmosphere. His gaze lingered on Nezuko, who had grown slightly taller over the past year. Though her face still held a gentle, innocent expression, there was a quiet strength in her eyes.

Sensing his gaze, Nezuko turned and gave him a playful glare, baring her small fangs in mock annoyance.

Ryuji couldn't help but laugh as he approached her, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Good morning, Nezuko."

The young girl let out a small "hmph!" but leaned into his touch, a smile breaking through her initial pout. It was these moments of simple joy and connection that reminded Ryuji of what he was fighting for—to protect the peace and happiness of those he cared for.

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