Chapter Text
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You were by no means a master seamstress, but Kami did you feel so accomplished as you inspected your nearly finished handiwork laying on the engawa before you. The patchwork of various flashy and beautiful fabrics sewed together, coming together to form the comforter you were hoping to have completed soon. This piece of bedding had been a work in progress from nine months now, with moments of distraction and housework stalling your progress from time to time, but you were determined to have it done by the date of you and your spouses' shared anniversary, which was now only a week away. Winter was inching closer and closer and with the season came the freezing cold and snow, meaning the house would be chilly and drab even with the various fireplaces lit and all precautions taken. On more than one occasion, due to your family consisting of Tengen, Makio, Hinatsuru, Suma, and you, finding a joined comforter or blankets that were big enough to cover your husband let alone two of you was near impossible to find. With that being said, you and your spouses often had to huddle in small groups underneath the covers rather than altogether and on cold nights, body heat that could have been retained if under one surface was lost and at least one of you awoke to freezing limbs.
So, with your spare time and mastered skills in sewing, you set to work, steadily adding various pieces of spare or purchased cloth for each section. At near completion, the comforter now was the length of all of you combined with added space in case one wished to spread out some and still be covered and the width was enough for someone of Tengen’s size to be warmly and properly covered with extra room. The comforter was what you believed to be your greatest work so far and hopefully flashy and flamboyant enough for your dramatic Hashira for a husband and was capable of bringing a smile to your wives’ beautiful faces. Much to your displeasure though, progress had once again been forced to a halt.
The basket that once held yards and scrapes of varying colorful fabrics now stood empty, the last piece having now been added to the comforter not too long ago. You hadn’t realized how low your supplies had gotten until your hand grazed the empty bottom of the basket early this morning and after a swift search around the house, you came to terms that no additional fabric was present either. Such a dilemma was typically an easy fix to make; you would simply grab your basket and make your way into the nearest village to purchase the remaining cloth you needed to finish your project at the time before returning home before dark. Tengen had been firm from the moment you were given to him that under no circumstances were you to leave the estate without an escort and most definitely not at a time that would force you to return home in the dark. See, you were no shinobi unlike the others, no, you had been the youngest child of eight of a distant feudal lord, whose subordinate village was being plagued with various mysterious and sudden deaths. Your father, fearing for his people and your family, sent word to the Demon Slayer Corps in hopes of gaining their assistance in dealing with the matter. At the time of these events, you had merely been sixteen years old with no marriage arranged unlike your seven elder siblings, some who were already married with children of their own. You were intrigued to see the Demon Slayers in action and then, only a few days after your father’s letter had been sent, one of the Corps members appeared on your doorstep.
The man was intimidating to say the least, standing nearly two feet taller than your meager height of 4’11”, and the array of jewels and make up on his face was captivating. He bluntly introduced himself to your father as Tengen Uzui, the Sound Hashira, and as they calmly conversed with one another, though it had been clear your father felt intimidated by this hulk of a man, you couldn’t look away. You had grown up modestly for one of your status and quite secluded, to ensure no one would either take advantage of you or kidnap you for ransom or forced marriage, and anything new had been quite exciting to someone as sheltered as you. When their conversation came to a close and Tengen moved to leave, the Hashira’s fuschia colored eyes landed upon your small form partially hidden behind on one of the pillars within the room. His emotionless yet heavy stare had your cheeks turning red with embarrassment, rushing to escape the room before he could comment on your unauthorized presence. You did not see the Hashira again until three days after his arrival, the Demon Slayer arriving on the doorstep of your home once more with an air of superiority and elegance, his uniform torn in various places while cuts and scrapes littered his pristine skin. He was swift in informing your father that he had dispatched the troublesome demons with style, hands resting on his well muscled hips, silver hair swaying with the movement. Your father, in both awe and gratitude, gave his thanks to the Sound Hashira and beckoned you forward with a stern call of your name and like the obedient child you were, you calmly made your way to his side. What he did next truly surprised not only you but Tengen as well.
“As thanks for your acts of bravery, I wish to give you my youngest daughter’s hand in marriage, Uzui-sama,” your father cheerfully announced, hand resting on your anxious shoulder. “It is the least I can do for what you have done for my people.”
Within an hour following this announcement, you were silently walking after a quiet Tengen, the once boisterous Hashira now seeming to be contemplative. The man had agreed to take you as payment, making you his wife in turn, and your sixteen year old mind was truly panicking at the time. Tengen, who you came to learn was not only a Hashira but a shinobi as well, was five years your senior and he already had three wives waiting at home for him! All you could think about the entire way to the Uzui estate was how your father had slighted you by giving you away to this random stranger, his position and background be damned. If your mother had still been alive, you were adamant that she would have beat some sense into your scheming father, the man only seeing a profit or benefit in everything he did. Still, even with your grievances in mind, you found yourself slightly excited at the prospect of being the wife of not only a Demon Slayer but one of the Nine Pillars as well!
As your gaze shifted back and forth contemplatively between your work in progress and the empty basket, you felt unsettled as your mind and heart tug at one another.
If I go, I will be disobeying my husband’s orders.
But if I do not, the comforter will not be done in time for our anniversary.
Your heart ached at the thought of the comforter being given to your spouses unfinished, the perfectionist within you growling with bitter distaste.
The sun has just risen within the past hour. If I make haste, I can arrive at the village by noon and return home by sunset before demons begin to emerge.
Swiftly, you took hold of the basket and rushed down the hallway to slip on your sandals. You could do this, you were a grown and capable woman and the wife of one of the Hashira; all you had to do was be nimble in both your movements and purchases and no one would ever even know you were absent from the estate! On a day of good weather like today, the journey to the village took two hours max, which meant you would arrive around ten in the morning, use an hour or so for shopping, and you would be on your way home by two in the afternoon in order to be home by sundown at four o’clock. As you stepped outside the wisteria covered walls of the estate, you took in the empty road and quietly shut the door behind you with a soft click. Hopefully, your spouses would not come home during your absence. One could only hope, your feet carrying you away towards the village.
~~~
By the time you reached the village, the sun was nearly at the highest point of the day. Villagers and merchants bustled about, going about the day like any other, very few paying any attention to your wandering self. You had been to this village plenty of times over the years, the trip often made for needed items or pleasure, depending on the present circumstances. The last time you had visited was nearly seven months ago, Tengen having asked if you’d like to accompany him on simple business for the Demon Slayer Corps. It had been a pleasant trip filled with laughs, good food, and simplicity you often missed in your position as a shinobi’s wife. Tengen, ever the flashy man, had not been afraid to shower you in physical affection, something you had come to absolutely crave when he and your wives were absent. He made you feel like a true princess and you relished in every moment of it.
“Ah, Y/N-sama! What a surprise!”
Standing in the front of your destination was a woman with greying jet black waves tied into a simple bun, clothes warm and bland according to Tengen’s rigid standards, a warm smile on her face.
With a cheerful laugh, you hurried to approach the kind older woman with a smile of your own, “Ayame-san, it has been too long! You’re looking well!”
“Well as I can be at my age, my lady,” Ayame replied playfully, curled hand coming to rest on her hip. “Now where are those adorable spouses of yours? I’ve never seen you without one of them before!”
Your cheeks heated up at her words, heart rate increasing with your rising anxiety. “I, uh, I’ve come alone today. I needed some fabric to finish the project I’ve been working on and couldn’t wait for one of them to escort me as per usual.”
“Oh, you’re almost done, eh? Well, you’ve come to the right place! Come in, come in!” The dark haired woman swiftly ushered you inside the warm store, a variety of colorful clothes covering the dark walls.
Ayame shuffled over to a particular stand covered in various colors of shiny floral patterns, easing over a roll with a night blue background and silver flowers. “I had a feeling you’d be coming in today, so I pulled this beauty out of my special collection. I thought that flamboyant husband of yours would love this one!”
The fabric was brightly colored, the design was intricate, and it had a shine to it, of course Tengen would love it!
You grinned as you carefully inspected the roll in awe, “Oh Ayame-san, this is perfect! Tengen-sama is going to adore this!”
“Of course he is! I may be old but I’ve got an eye for fashion, Y/N-sama!” The older woman let out a righteous harrumphed, hands settling dramatically on her hips.
Giggling, you shook your head at the woman’s antics. “Of course Ayame-san. I would never doubt your fashion taste for a second.”
She grinned at the playful compliment, moving behind the counter with purpose, “I’m honored, my lady. Now then, how much will you be needing today?”
“I believe three yards of this one will do,” Your eyes traveled around the store with a thoughtful hum until it landed on a roll of lavender purple with sakuras covering the surface. “And another three of the sakura patterned one over there, if possible.”
“Anything for you, my lady!”
Ayame went about her business, doing as she was asked, and you found yourself wandering about the shop with childish curiosity. It was a treat to be somewhere aside from the estate and you were not about to let it go to waste.
“Here we go, m’lady,” Ayame waddled over to your position, requested fabric in hand. “Is there anything else that’s caught your eye?”
Your eyes skirted over to the corner where the woman kept a bin of fabric scraps, smile growing wider at the sight. “The scraps should just about cover it, Ayame, if you’re willing to part with them that is.”
The woman scoffed, setting the scraps and your order in your basket, “*Pssh*, like I’ll ever do anything with those! At least you’ll put them to good use!”
You retrieved your money pouch and settled a generous amount in the woman’s hand. “Here, as payment for your kindness and craftsmanship.”
“Y/N-sama, this is far too much, I can’t-!” She sputtered at the amount in her hand, trying to argue against the payment you had given her.
With a tender touch, you softly curled Ayame’s fingers around the mound of coins in her palm. “You can and you will take it. You are a good friend to me, Ayame-san, and an even better seamstress. I wish to thank you for all that you have blessed me with.”
Tears began to prick at the corner of the woman’s eyes, Ayame moving to hold her heavy hand against her chest with a nod. “Bless you, Y/N-sama.”
“It is an honor, Ayame-san,” Leaning downwards, you took hold of the basket and hoisted it onto your back with a groan. “I should be on my way now if I wish to make it home before dark. Please take care of yourself!”
Waving goodbye as you exited the shop, Ayame called after you with a grin. “Be safe and tell those spouses of yours I said hello!”
“I will!”
The chilly air stung your lungs as you left the warm environment and entered the world outside of it. With your items in hand, you turned to make your way homeward when a familiar voice filled the air to your right.
“Y/N-chan? Is that you?!”
Much to your utter surprise, you found yourself turning to see a person you’d never thought you’d see again.
“Oh my goodness, Tatsuya-kun!” Your heart fluttered eagerly at the approaching man, his sun colored locks restrained in a loose ponytail atop his head.
Tatsuya had been a childhood friend of your twin brother and a constant fixture within your household growing up. The last time you had seen him was a week or so before your departure with Tengen and what a lie it would be if you didn’t say that you had once wished that he would have been your husband. Those childish dreams died the moment you had been gifted to Tengen and the thought of marrying Tatsuya disappeared from your mind.
The man hurried up to you with a blinding grin and a bone crushing hug, clearly as eager and excited to see you as you were of him. “When I heard what your father did, I never thought I would see you again, Y/N-chan! Look at you now, a beautiful young woman!”
“And you, a handsome young man, Tatsuya-chan.” Your cheeks heated up at his compliment, tilting your head slightly in humility. “You have been doing well, I hope?”
“As well as I can be without you being near, blossom,” Tatsuya looked at you with a playful grin, ice blue eyes sparkling in the fall sun. “Where’s your handsome Demon Slayer husband? Hiding out somewhere while you’re out and about?”
“Always so jealous, Tatsu-kun. You act as if you’re upset that I wasn’t married to you.” You giggled and gave him a playful shove, hiding behind your smirk behind your hand.
The moments those words left your mouth, the air surrounding the two of you tensed and the grin fell away from the man’s face.
His eyes were consumed with bitter, knowing sadness, regret and hatred swirling about like a raging whirlpool, “That’s because I am and always will be. It was me that your father should have given you to, not some fancy shinobi.”
You froze at his statement, lips trembling in surprise. “Tatsuya-kun, I-.”
“I-I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair of me,” Tatsuya speedily backtracked, pulling away with a pained smile. “It’s not as if you had any control over who you were allowed to marry. Just, does he treat you well? The shinobi, I mean?”
Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes, holding your hands against your chest to stop them from visibly trembling. “He does, as do our wives.”
At seeing Tatsuya’s eyes widen in worried surprise, you quickly moved to perform damage control, “My husband’s clan is one that actively practices polygamy. He was given three wives before father gave myself to him and they treat me just as well!”
“I see. Cultural differences are interesting, eh?” Tatsuya looked to you with cautious eyes, forced mirth twinkling in the pools of ice.
You let out a laugh, shaking your head at his comment. “You cannot even begin to understand.”
The two of you chuckled and the tension lifted, leaving you with comfortable silence.
After a few moments of said silence, Tatsuya spoke up. “I know you most likely need to return home soon, but would you like to have afternoon tea with me? We can catch up and you can maybe tell what it’s like to be married to four people. Like we used to.”
A fond smile colored your face as the warm feeling of reminiscence filled your person, “I would love to.”
“Shall we then?” Your childhood friend held out his arm with a mischievous grin, earning himself a giggle from you.
Like a reflex, you locked your arm around his and shot him a jolly smirk. “We shall.”
The man led you down the street to his home at a leisurely pace, the two of you joking with one another long away like old times. With all the excitement of seeing an old friend, you didn’t take notice of his shadow and how a menacing grin grew on its face as you were led further into the village and farther from the safety of your home.