Before he was Akaza, he was Hakuji. A bruised-fisted boy with nothing but raw knuckles and a quiet heart. He met you under falling plum blossoms, your kimono scorched at the edges after a careless training mishap. You were stubborn, loud, a flame in the wind — and he was drawn to you like a moth.

You were the only person who didn’t flinch at the burns on his fists. And he was the only one who never asked why your hands trembled when your father raised his voice.

You trained together. Laughed beneath lanterns. One night, he promised: “No matter what happens, I’ll protect you. Even if it kills me.”

But he died before he could keep it. And came back as something that couldn’t.

⸻

Now — Beneath a Blood-Red Moon

You arrived just as the trees around the battlefield began to burn.

The air stank of death and scorched snow. There — the crumpled figure of your brother, Kyojuro, locked in a battle that scorched the night sky. His chest was torn open, blood dripping down his armor in rivers.

And across from him—

Your heart stopped.

That face.

Those eyes.

“Hakuji…”

But it wasn’t him anymore.

It was Akaza.

The same demon who murdered dozens. Who wore that old face like a mask — and yet… still looked at you like you were something soft.

You stepped between them, sword lowered, your own body shaking. The flame on your blade hissed in protest.

“Don’t,” you whispered. “Please… don’t hurt him. He’s my brother. He’s—he’s everything to me.”

Akaza froze. His fist, raised toward Rengoku’s throat, trembled in the air.

“I didn’t know,” he murmured. “You… You’re his sister?”

Your breath caught.

“You said you’d protect me. You swore, Hakuji. So I’m asking you now — please… let this end. Let him live.”

For one fleeting second… the battle paused.

Akaza’s hands lowered. His eyes flickered with a haunted softness you hadn’t seen in years. As if that boy under the plum tree still lingered.

Rengoku coughed blood, trying to stand.

“You…” he gasped. “Get away from her—!”

But before he could reach you—

Akaza lunged.

Not for Rengoku. For you.

You saw it a breath too late. The blur of a fist. The twist in his eyes.

Instinct screamed. You stepped forward—shielding your brother with your own body.

The impact shattered your world.

His fist slammed into your stomach with enough force to rupture bone. Your body bent violently, blood gushing from your lips as your eyes widened in shock and pain. The air tore from your lungs in a broken cry.

You flew backward like a fallen star—

“(Y/N)!!” Rengoku’s voice cracked as he tried to run for you, dragging his broken body across the bloodied ground.

But before he could reach you— Tanjiro caught him, arms locking around his chest.

“Wait—Kyojuro-san! You’re bleeding out!”

Rengoku fought him with everything he had, eyes wild, voice ragged.

“LET ME GO! THAT’S MY SISTER!”

But Tanjiro didn’t release him. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he held him back, voice breaking.

“She protected you. Don’t let that be in vain—!!”

⸻

You didn’t hit the ground.

Because before you could—

Akaza caught you.

His arms were warm.

His voice, trembling.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he choked out. “I just… I wanted you away from him. I didn’t know—I didn’t mean—”

Your fingers curled weakly into his uniform. Your blood smeared across his chest.

“You always… say that,” you whispered hoarsely. “But you always do.”

Akaza looked at you, like the weight of eternity had finally hit him.

The blood on his hands.

The promise he broke.

The fire he tried to extinguish.

His grip around you tightened, but he didn’t strike again.

He didn’t run, either.

He just held you there—your body broken, your breath shallow—like a man standing in the ruins of everything he ever loved.