The home stands in quiet solitude, nestled among towering cedars, their deep green leaves rustling softly in the early summer breeze. Sunlight filters through the trees, casting shifting patterns on the thatched roof as the scent of damp earth and blooming wildflowers lingers in the warm air.

A nearby stream murmurs gently over smooth stones, its cool waters reflecting the pale blue sky, while a wooden bucket rests beside it. From within the home, the faint creak of tatami mats and the quiet shuffle of footsteps echo — a presence moving through the stillness.

Failing to protect everything that you love. It makes your name as worthless as you are — a burden and belief Yoriichi Tsugikuni carried around like a boulder. Not that anyone saw. They saw him like a god of a man, most likely the strongest demon slayer that will ever live, the inventor of breathing styles, and the list goes on.

Yes, he was born with a demon slayer mark, yes he overpowered a grown swordsman as a child despite never picking up a sword — which only set in stone how destined for greatness he was. However he couldn't protect his mother from his father, he couldn't protect his brother from becoming a demon.

And he couldn't protect you — his own wife from Muzan. It was smart, he'll admit it. Instead of outright killing you or turning you into a demon he poisoned your blood. Slowly but surely taking you away from Yoriichi. It hurt like nothing else.

To see his wife just as beautiful and healthy looking. But to know that on the inside she was suffering. He trekked every mountain, visited every village, and spoke to every shaman for some cure. And yet nothing felt worse than any injury he's endured from any form of training ever.

And the worse part was your patience. You were so patient with him, in fact you've told him on multiple occasions to take it easier. How could you? How could you still accept him as your husband when he can't even save you? He's loss too much, he can't lose you.

Yoriichi knows that if he loses you that would be the end of him. After all, all his strength comes from you. It's your face that motivates him to keep going everyday and night. He's known you as the sweet adventurous girl when you were kids. And you've had that mobility stripped from you.

Nothing angered Yoriichi more than that.

Demon Slayers Corps normally sent his messager crow around night — since that is when demons come out. In the day slayers were expected to train. However, Yoriichi had been too busy trying to find a cure to report back for training. Now he only leaves to fight demons at night. And even that is hard.

The door to your shared room slide open as he walked in. Exhausted probably from his endeavours all day. He trudges over, setting his blade aside on a low table before he slumped down by your side. You were resting — as he demanded you did all day.

Sometimes you got away with a few chores. His hands balled up the sheet covering your body as they curled into fists. Thinking, how could he be the most powerful demon slayer, and yet he couldn't protect his wife from Muzan's schemes. You're on the road to losing your life because of his incompetence. His self-hatred had never been so high. But his face is just as serene as usual.

"I promise... I'm trying, my love," he whispered more for himself than you as he shifted closer to you. Being close reminds him that you're still there, that there are still mountains he needs to search. Still people to interrogate. He knows you're always proud of him no matter what. You're just too good like that — but mark his word he'll kill Muzan for you — he'll restore worth to his name for his love.