Death Of A Hero (Sabito x OC)

"- West from the hot springs..." Giyu traced his finger across the map. "Down the winding stone steps, you'll find the guards that each know a piece of the route to the swordsmith village. Every blacksmith there will try to accept your oar. Reject them all. The only man you want forging your katana is-"

He paused, his eyes wandering off into the distance as he searched his mind for answers.

"-Haganezuka Hotaru."

His intense royal blue eyes locked with hers. "Trust me, he's the best one. Just by all things holy, don't chip your sword. He'll go absolutely manic."

"Good to know." Lumae pondered. "How long is the journey?"

"Around half a day. You could probably make it to Sensei Kuwajima's before sundown." Giyu crisply rolled the map shut before placing it back on Urokodaki's shelf.

Lumae's eyes wandered to the little doll like figurines Urokodaki kept of all his students. Most of them were pushed back against the shelves, collecting dust. Old apprentices who had already passed on, to the other realm.

Although Lumae never trained under Urokodaki, there she was, standing next to Giyu's figure in Sabito's white haori.  On the side of her head rested her fox mask.

Giyu's figure looked just like him, the spiky black hair and the two-toned haori-- it must've been an alteration Urokodaki had added after Giyu had become a demon slayer. Attached to the doll was a small piece of intricately carved and painted wood- a small blue katana.

Lumae searched throughout the rows of wooden dolls behind the two figures. All of them adorned carved fox masks, not a single one carrying a katana.

"The fallen children. The ones who never made it home." Giyu bowed slightly, a sign of respect.

Slowly, Lumae pushed aside her own figure to find four less dusty, well taken care of figures that sported the likness of four very familiar children. Three of them had fox masks, one did not.

Carefully, she reached forward and picked up Sabito's figure. His white haori, the scar that marked his face as well as his own mask- the sight sent a sharp pang of guilt through her heart.

Right next to him had been Makomo, adorned in her pink and beige kimono. The blue flowers on her mask seemed to pain Lumae's eyes, like the color was so out of place it hurt to look at. Makomo loved color.

On either side of them, stood the remaining two- Giyu with his mask on Makomo's side, and Lumae- old Lumae- to the left of Sabito in a pale yellow kimono. Her hair was carved plaited down her back, entertwined with a bright yellow ribbon. Something Makomo would put on her.

Lumae's heart dropped. She felt the urge to cry, but no tears came. She just felt empty.

Giyu took Sabito from her and placed him back on the shelf reverently before pushing all four of the figures against the wall.

"Giyu," Lumae's voice lacked humor. "We're not dead."

"We're not dead," Giyu agreed. "But they are."

They both glanced at the figures of their old selves, Giyu's solid red haori to his split one, Lumae's braid to her flowing hair.

Giyu and Lumae weren't  dead. But at the same time, they were.

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"I'm here to pick up a white haori. I requested it done this morning, with the sleeves and robe length extended with woven yellow. I was told it would be done."

The woman's eyes got a little frantic. "I know this must've been really important to you, but I don't know if it's possible that we actually got it done in time-"

"Miss Lumae!" The short little man bustled out, dark bags framing his eyes. "Completely finished, like you asked."

He knelt in front of her reverently with the haori extended out to her.

A weird sensation - possibly excitement?? swelled up inside her as she took it, unfurling the robe to see the weaver's work.

She gasped at the sight. The yellow thread seemed to fade into the white fabric, extending everything by about a foot. This man was talented- and she was extremely grateful for that.

"Thank you." She bowed. "Your work is beautiful."

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Akira circled above as Lumae entered the clearing of hot springs, adorning Sabito's haori. In the small satchel under her arm rested her most prized posession at the moment- the oar for her sword.

"Just down the stone steps." Lumae called to Akira.

The very moment the sight of her demon slayer attire reached the eyes of the blacksmiths waiting down below, the whole town seemed to bustle out of their shops, begging to be the one to forge the sword. The first offer she got was from three little blacksmith boys, who just wanted to see the oar and they'd even pay her for it. Even their masks seemed to beg for their cause.

She politely refused every offer, asking for Hotaru. The ones she rejected seemed very disappointed, but were more than happy to help her find Haganezuka. By the time she had found him, she had a whole crowd of villagers helping her search.

"Ah, another demon slayer." Hotaru remarked. "Show your way inside, quick!"

She quickly entered his little shop and dropped the cloth over the opening shut behind her.

Before she could object, Haganezuka had snatched the satchel and dropped out the dazzling oar onto his palm. He surveyed it carefully, like it was an interesting specimen of sorts.

"This is a good oar..." He plunked it into a pot before thrusting the whole thing in the firey furnace, shooing her out of the workshop.