64. After the Sunrise

The sunlight burned against Hana's vision, making her squint. Her entire body screamed the moment consciousness returned. Every muscle felt torn apart. Her ribs ached sharply every time she breathed. Blood trickled down the side of her face.

She lay motionless against broken ground, staring upward blankly as sunlight warmed her blood-covered face. She couldn't move properly.

Kakushi moved through the battlefield in urgency, lifting the injured, calling out names, trying to stitch together whatever was left of the living.

Hana swallowed weakly. Her throat burned. For a long moment, she simply stared at the sky. It felt strange. Too peaceful. After such endless violence, the quiet almost didn't feel real.

For a second, she didn't understand where she was. For a long moment, she simply stared at the clouds, trying to gather the shattered fragments of her memory. Muzan. The fight. The light. ​Then, it hit her. Tanjiro.

"Tanjiro-"

She was already moving before she even realized she was awake.

"Tanjiro!" Her voice cracked the moment it left her throat. Barely sound. Barely anything at all. "Tanjiro... where are you?"

"Lady Kamado, please stop moving!" A Kakushi grabbed at her sleeve from behind, his voice high and panicked.

She didn't even turn her head.
Her fingers dug into the dirt as she dragged herself forward, trembling so hard

​"Lady Kamado, please! You're severely injured, you have to let us treat you!"

She shoved his hand away.
"Where is he?"

"Lady Kamado-"

"Where is my brother?!" Pain exploded through her body with every movement. She moved forward

"Tanjiro..." she whispered desperately.
Her voice barely existed anymore. She forced herself onto shaking legs. Then stumbled forward through the ruins. One step. Another. Blood dripped steadily down her body.

Then she saw him. Tanjiro was kneeling several yards away. Motionless. Her heart broke.

​Hana's breath hitched. As she drew closer, the details began to sharpen, each one a knife to her heart. Where his left arm should be, there was only a shredded, blood-soaked shoulder. The entire limb was gone, severed directly from the joint. The fabric of his haori was fused to the wound by dried gore.

Three Kakushi surrounded him. And they were crying making Hana's stomach dropped the air leaving her lungs. When they saw Hana approaching, their eyes widened, and they scrambled back, unable to meet her gaze.

No. No. no. no.

She reached him, her knees giving out as she collapsed into the dirt at his side.
​
​"H-Hey...Tanjiro"

The name tore from her throat before she even fully woke. Her trembling hand slowly lifted toward his face.

"H-Hey..."

Her fingers cupped his cheek gently.

Cold.

His skin was cold. "No..."

Her lips trembled violently.

​She shook him weakly, her hand clutching his one remaining shoulder.
"Tanjiro... wake up.."

One of the Kakushi, a young man whose mask was soaked with tears, looked up at her. "He's not breathing," he whispered brokenly. "He has no pulse... Lady Kamado, he's... he's gone."

Hana didn't hear him. Or perhaps she refused to.

"Tanjiro... please," she pleaded, her voice cracking painfully. She acted as though she hadn't heard the Kakushi at all, clinging desperately to the hope that if she ignored the words, they wouldn't become true.

"Tanjiro," she whispered, her voice cracking like dry wood. "Tanjiro, wake up. The sun is out. We did it. Nezuko is waiting for us. You can't leave her now. You can't leave me"

​There was no response. His chest didn't move. His heart, which had always beat with such kindness, was silent.

​Hana let out a low, broken wail that tore through the quiet of the morning.

She slumped over his body, her forehead resting against his.

​"You promised," she sobbed, her hands clutching the fabric of his tattered haori.

"You promised we'd go back together. You said we'd see the house in the mountains. How am I supposed to go back without you? How am I supposed to tell Nezuko?"

​Around her, the sounds of the battlefield were fading. She heard the distant, muffled cries of the Kakushi as they found the survivors. She heard the heavy, uneven footsteps of the slayers who were still standing.

​"Hana..." ​She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Giyu. His touch was light, but his hand was shaking.

​"I'm sorry, Hana," Giyu said, his voice a hollow rasp. "He... he fought until the very end."

​"No!" Hana screamed, turning her head toward the sound of his voice. "He can't be! He's the one who was supposed to live! Why why him?"

​Giyuu didn't answer. He couldn't. He only tightened his grip on her shoulder, pulling her slightly toward him as she collapsed into another fit of weeping.

He pulled her into his chest, closing his eyes against the sight. He felt his own heart shattering into pieces. He had failed again. He had failed to protect Tanjiro, and now, listening to the agonizing cries of the woman he loved, he felt as though he were dying alongside them.

​Hana felt like a small child again, lost in the snow after the night their family was slaughtered. Back then, Tanjiro had carried her. He had been the warmth that kept her from freezing. Now, that warmth was gone, and the winter felt like it would never end.

It had been years, but Hana still remembered that day.

Four-year-old Hana bounced on her heels, clutching the edge of her mother's kimono. Her dark eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"Can I see?" she asked.

Kie let out a tired, happy laugh. "Just wait a little longer, Hana."

"But I want to see!" Hana pouted.

Her father, Tanjuro, chuckled from across the room. "There."

Hana turned. A tiny bundle rested in her mother's arms. She stared. Her eyes sparking. The baby was so small, much smaller than she had imagined. His face was red, and his eyes were tightly shut as he slept peacefully under the blanket.

"That's him?" she whispered. "That's my baby brother?"

Kie smiled. "Yes, my love."

Hana stepped closer, moving carefully as if he might break. She saw tiny fingers, a tiny nose, and tiny ears. The baby let out a soft sound, and Hana leaned forward. When his little hand opened, she held out her finger. A moment later, his tiny fingers curled around it. Her eyes widened. His grip was weak, but to Hana, it felt so strong.

Tanjuro watched quietly, his eyes filled with affection. As Hana stared in wonder at her baby brother, he rested a gentle hand on her head and ruffled her hair lightly.

"You'll be a wonderful big sister, Hana."

Hana puffed out her chest. "I know." She looked at the baby. "I'll always look after him."

The adults laughed, but Hana meant it. To her, it was a promise that would last forever.

But that was years ago.

Now Hana was no longer a four-year-old girl standing safely between her mother and father. The warmth of that home was gone, and the tiny baby who had once wrapped his fingers around hers had long since grown up. Instead, she knelt beside him on a blood-soaked battlefield. Beside her brother's lifeless body.

Tanjiro. Her Tanjiro.

The little baby who had held her finger. The little boy who had followed her everywhere. The brother who had laughed with her, argued with her, and grown beside her. The brother she had promised to protect. The brother she had sworn would always stay.

A sob tore from her throat. This was not supposed to happen. Not to Tanjiro. Never to Tanjiro.

With trembling hands, she reached for him. His hand was cold. Far too cold. Still, she held it tightly, just as he had held hers all those years ago. She squeezed, hoping she could pull him back if she refused to let go. She squeezed, hoping she could keep a promise that had already slipped through her fingers.

Tears blurred her vision. "Tanjiro..." she choked out.

No answer came. There was no smile, no gentle reassurance, and no warm hand squeezing hers to tell her that everything would be alright. There was only silence. The same hand that had once clung to her finger as a newborn lay motionless in her grasp. Hana bowed her head against his hand and wept.

"I'm sorry, Tanjiro," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper now. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry.."

The battlefield was filled with Hana painful cries.