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As he drew his sister into his arms one last time, Tanjiro's eyes tapped into yet another reserve of fresh tears. "I'm sorry... Hanako..." In the attack, her bedtime kimono was ripped to a degree that it would be unusable by the living, but as he had no time, it would have to do for the dead.
‘Tanjiro, can you help Hanako with her obi?’ His mother's words rang back through his head as he stole a glance over to where he laid his mother next to his brothers. It had been a long time since the final time Hanako cried with frustration that she couldn't do it herself, though it looked plenty good to Tanjiro's eyes, and even longer since she went bounding up to him and spread her arms with a big silent smile that asked him to perform the belt-tying routine from the start. It was like wrapping her up like a package and then folding origami at her back, though the kimono was already neatly tied in place before he started.
His one family member who remained, Nezuko, stood in the corner, staring blankly with a low pink glow in her eyes and a stick of bamboo jammed against her teeth. Her bedtime clothes hung loosely, stained with pools of blood.
His first thought was that she might be cold like that. Did demons get cold? He asked her so, but she did not respond, so he had to guess she was. "Come on, Nezuko. I'll find your kimono and your coat. We'll need to travel a while. You should keep your legs warm, too."
She was like a doll as he dressed her; blank gaze and unfighting limbs, reassuringly unscathed skin. He wrapped one layer around her and then another, minding left over right, but then as he held the ends in both hands, he paused.
"I needed something to tie this, didn't I? Was it one, or two cords? It was two cords, wasn't it?"
Nezuko made no response.
"I'm pretty sure it was two cords. Wait here."
She did wait, for she did nothing. Whatever attacked them left even the dresser drawers broken, and all their belongings smelled like blood. Feeling they needed to hurry out of there, Tanjiro folded the kimono back around Nezuko, and tied one string around her waist. That didn't look right, so he stole a glance to their mother's body for reference, but the fit had come loose. It was supposed to be tied at the hips, wasn't it? He closed his eyes, trying to remember what his mother's kimono looked like under the apron, and all at once the sting of never seeing her in her daytime clothes again washed over him with another wail he couldn't contain.
They had to hurry. He knew the kimono still didn't look right, but at least it was secure enough for him to take Nezuko and run.
Tanjiro made it a point to ask her about the finer points of fastening a kimono once she woke up. Maybe by then she'd come around, be more like herself. Nezuko would had chosen that pink kimono, wouldn't she? After all, she always said it was a favorite. It was beat up and repaired over and over, but one could hardly tell from Nezuko's dedicated reinforcement of the stitched hemp leaf pattern. It would probably be a longer time now before Tanjiro could get something nicer to replace it, but knowing Nezuko, she'd probably refuse. For as long as she couldn't speak for herself, he had to assume.
Over his two years of training, he cared less about her speaking clearly and only wished to hear her voice at all. In all the time Nezuko slept he sometimes wondered if the kimono should be changed and washed, but it didn't smell like Nezuko had sweat at all despite all that time under a futon. "Demons have similar physiological functions as humans, they sweat when nervous or tired," Urokodaki explained, "but for as long as she's been sleeping, her body sees no need for any of that."
Tanjiro had forgotten all about his concerns over a sweaty kimono once Nezuko finally awoke; her general welfare, and his new membership in the Corp and his demon slaying missions distracted him. There was never a moment to attempt to fix the fit of Nezuko's kimono, nor did it seem like she had any opinion on it. He worried her hair would get in her way or get tangled left down like that, and tried to fix it for her one night, but the bun was sloppy and very soon fell out of place. How had she done it before? She was so practiced that she could put it up and tie her ribbons in minutes, chatting and sometimes even making breakfast at the same time. She had been so skilled, but there was a simplicity in her limp hands now, all they did now was squeeze his hand back or flex with claws to draw apart flesh.
Nezuko's kimono managed to stay on the way Tanjiro tied it, but with all her kicking and changing size, the shape kept getting more unshapely. The sloppier and sloppier obi was hidden by her haori, but for the kimono, all he could do for her was tighten the strings. She never once complained, and normalcy made it bother Tanjiro less and less.
Until the day in the Butterfly Mansion, however, when Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho fumbled their hands and looked to the floor like the first day they started a conversation with him. They smelled hesitant about something, and he encouraged them to say what was on their minds. "It's about Nezuko-san's kimono," they said, and his heart dropped. "That's not the way it's supposed to fit."
"I'm sorry!" he plastered his arms to his sides and bowed like a bookcase tipping over. "It looks bad, does it? I couldn't get it to look right. She uses her legs to kick things a lot now, so I was only trying to keep it on. I never meant to embarrass her."
"We're sorry! We didn't want you to feel bad!"
"Is there any way you can help me with it? She can't do it herself now..."
"Maybe if I was dressing myself, but I've never done it for anyone else..."
"It may come loose anyway if she's kicking things, though..."
"Hmm..."
The frown in Tanjiro’s voice fell lower. "It gets loose when she gets smaller, too. I don’t know what to do about that."
"Hhhhhhmmmmm," they pondered harder together, until Kiyo decidedly remarked, "Let's ask Aoi-san."
"Aoi-san? Is she good at working with kimono?"
"Really good!"
"She had to dress Kanao-sama up one time for a visit to Oyakata-sama with Shinobu-sama. Her hands were a blur she moved so fast!"
"It was really pretty!"
"One time she folded Kanae-sama's obi like a flower for her!"
"I remember that!"
"Aoi-san fixed the box Urokodaki-san made too. She's really dependable," Tanjiro’s smile bounded back, and they all nodded and agreed. "I hope she won't mind."
When he found a good moment to ask her about it, Aoi took a serious look at Nezuko's kimono. Nezuko didn't seem aware that she made things difficult by staying toddler-size for the consultation, but she was otherwise cooperative as Aoi circled her, tugged at the folds and straightened the obi, and stuck her finger through a few holes that she verbally noted would need repairs. "I really don't think you should bother," Aoi finally declared. "Your missions won't afford you the time to keep redressing her, especially if you aren't used to it. I'll arrange a simpler outfit. A skirt will give her room to move, I'll just have to find the right material to adjust to her size changes."
"Western style clothes, you mean?"
"Yes, that would be most practical. It will be easier to carry spares around as necessary."
"I... I understand that, but..."
"But?"
He stroked Nezuko's hair. She leaned her head against his palm like a cat might enjoy being pet, but otherwise she did nothing. "This kimono is Nezuko's favorite. Not letting her wear it, I feel like that would be denying her will. Deep down, I'm sure she still..."
Aoi frowned a moment before replying. "Understood. I'll see what I can do."
She later supplied him with a few replacement items to use as fasteners, explaining had they'd fit to Nezuko's smallest form but provide give when she grew.
“Thank you!” he said, stretching the cords to admire how generous their give was. “These must be so much more comfortable!”
“That thing is still going to keep getting beat up out there, though,” Aoi warned him. “I can see how meticulous she must had been with it. I repaired it for now, but no one has the time to sew those holes up so nicely anymore.”
“I understand,” he bowed so low his head was nearly even with his hips. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”
As a demon obi swirled around him, Tanjiro pushed himself to think and move and watch faster than he ever had before. It was too soft, too elastic to slice, he needed a way to keep it in place, like how Hanako always held one end of the obi at her shoulder while he wrapped the length and then tied it into neat origami.
‘Oniichan, breath! Please!’ Hanako shouted to him, and for the oddest moment, Tanjiro wondered when she had changed into her daytime clothes. He just as soon realized his perilous state and could do nothing but cough for air, and the familiar pink of Nezuko’s kimono passed him by. The next thing he smelled in his memories was Takeo’s worry, and then he heard his plea, ‘Oniichan, save her. Oneechan’s losing herself!’
Tanjiro awoke to the smell of Nezuko’s blood everywhere, both fresh and burnt. It smelled like she had been hacked to pieces. All his care for her modesty was to the wayside of his thoughts as he saw how monstrously she had transformed, not a shadow of the will he believed was still locked inside, she was enjoying the violence, and anticipated sinking her teeth into innocent human flesh. It was hard to see in her the same sister who so dedicatedly stitched her kimono back together, with the kimono stretched and pulled like nothing more than a rag.
She was huge and enraged, there wasn’t even a thread concern for whether the cords from Aoi stretched enough to fit her new girth as she shoved and scratched and threw Tanjiro, even smashing him through a wooden ceiling and back down through a second story window, crashing his back against the ground beneath her. Rather than the relief that her onslaught had stopped, the relief to hear her cries was a sweeter sound than he could had ever imagined her sorrow to be.
After all, Nezuko had always sounded like that when she cried.
He wanted to think he heard her voice in his dreams, but he could only recall one unrelated dream in the weeks he spent asleep after that night. When Nezuko came bounding him to greet him the night after he finally woke up, she was fitted with a verdant new slab of bamboo, and her pink kimono trailed her tiny legs like she was a princess of an old samurai villa. Her eyes, a more fiery pink, were bright and expressive, saying everything from how worried she was for him to how happy she was to finally see him awake, and that she had been waiting very patiently for him to pat her head. Tanjiro’s cheeks warmed as he smiled, and his eyes stung a little. Maybe complex thoughts and tasks were still too much to expect, but seeing a brighter glimmer of her will gave him hope for how much more of herself she may still take back.
On the journey to the swordsman village, he wondered what Nezuko might be thinking, with all that time in her dark box. It must had been so dark she couldn’t even see her own kimono well, could she? It would look so much better under the sun—a silly thought even he was surprised at himself for.
As skilled as Nezuko had become lately at expressing her interests, with grunts and pointing and meaningful glances, he thought again how nice it would be to hear Nezuko voice her thoughts. Again, a little silly, for she still had to wear a muzzle.
But, he thought as he dried her off after their dip in the hot springs and pulled her undergarments around her, it was so much easier now than it was before when she was limp and dazed and he had to guess everything. This way he could be more confident he was taking care of her, and fulfilling her will. “Come on, Nezuko. Let’s get you dressed and go to dinner.” She spread her arms out with an expectant look in her eyes like little Hanako did asking for help with her obi, and Tanjiro spread the pink kimono wide at the sleeves.
It was then that he noticed a faint line stretching down the left sleeve, like scissors had been taken to the garment, entirely separating it into two pieces. His first impulse was to take offense to whoever had done that, though why would someone had done that just to spend all the time on mending the two pieces back together as subtly as possible? Who would even have had the time, or the skill? Aoi? A team effort of the little girls? Maybe even Shinobu? He thought there was even a light scent of flowers, so he held it closer for a whiff, but a similar line cutting straight through the middle of the kimono caught his eye first.
By the trail the line made, the kimono must had been cleanly cut in half with Nezuko in it.
“--!!” he gasped with horror, and the sight of Hanako’s cut kimono rose to his memories, triggering the memory of the scent. Nezuko’s kimono slipped from his shaking hands.
She grumbled her displeasure than he dropped it, so she scooped it up herself and made a fussy display of tossing it over her shoulders, running her arms through one at a time and stretching her tiny clawed hands out either end, and flapping the baggy fabric around with extra grunting. Tying the kimono was his job, and since he wasn’t doing it, she grabbed a handful of his yukata and tugged. “Mmn, mnnh!”
He responded with his arms around her, drawing her close for a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Nezuko! I’m sorry. Nothing was supposed to happen to you. It wasn’t supposed to get this bad. It must had hurt so much, didn’t it? I’m sorry I let your favorite kimono get so damaged. Someday, Nezuko. Someday I’ll get you a new one. A beautiful one, one that nothing will ever happen to.”
“Mmn,” she grumbled, and when he drew back, he found her nose wrinkled over the muzzle.
He smiled, despite himself. “You still won’t let me, will you? Alright. I understand. We’ll need to thank everyone later for how hard they worked on it for you. For now, I’ll do my best to tie it nice and pretty, so no one will even notice! Leave it to me!”
“Mmn, mn!” her eyes smiled back, and she assumed the position with her arms out for him to fasten it. It still wasn’t quite right, but with how contentedly she hopped ahead of him down the halls, maybe she had come to like it the way Tanjiro did it.