Chapter Text
Muichiro Tokito had always been more of the quiet, closed off type of person. He kept to himself, and no one bothered him. If someone did, he’d either ignore them or make a quick quip to shut said nuisance down. Everyone left him alone. He preferred that.
Muichiro often used any free time he had for training. Or folding paper airplanes. He couldn’t remember why he even liked those…but he did. He remembered a time he almost smiled when he had pressed a perfect fold. But Muichiro’s face had just stayed the same. It was pointless to smile if it was just going to turn back into a frown.
Muichiro wasn’t depressed or shy. He just preferred to walk his own path in life. It didn’t interfere with others according to his own speculation, so why should anyone care what he does? So his road stretched on as it was just one foot after another for Muichiro.
Until someone abruptly stopped him without realizing it.
...~.~...
“Tanjiro?” Muichiro remembered a conversation he and the older boy had over lunch the other day.
“Who is the tall boy with the scars? He hangs around you and your friends.”
“Oh! That’s Genya! He’s really great!” Tanjiro’s sunny grin had warmed Muichiro’s heart, and drew a smile on his own face as well.
“Hmm. He looks a lot like Shinazugawa-san…do you know if they’re related?”
“Actually, I don’t, Tokito-kun. I’ll ask him next time he visits the Butterfly Mansion! As a matter of fact, you could come with me! Genya’s really nice and a good friend. I think you two would get along great.”
Muichiro didn’t know who this Genya was. He didn’t want to. At least, that's what he thought at first. The more Muichiro thought about it, the thought of actually meeting the mysterious boy intrigued Muichiro. At first, he thought about making an excuse about training, but something stopped him at that moment.
“Sure. I’ll come with you, Tanjiro.”
Now, here he was. Walking the halls with his (dare he say) friend with blond boy and pig guy arguing behind him. As Tanjiro then knocked on the mahogany door of a patient room, it opened.
“Oh, Tanjiro. Didn’t expect a visit…”
On the other side of the doorway, there was Genya. Muichiro had never taken the time to actually look at the taller male. Well, in his defense, he had only seen the taller boy in a few glances. Genya had one scar coming from his ear as it crossed the bridge of his nose, and his eyes were a dull byzantium color. His complexion was fair, though a little darker than Muichiro’s own pale skin. His hair was very…uniquely styled. A black, slightly long mohawk that was curled at the tips, and his head was shaved to a buzz cut on the sides. Some of the strands fell into his eyes when he turned his head or looked down at Muichiro and the others.
Once Muichiro was in Genya’s line of sight, the taller boy’s cheeks were dusted with pink as he stared down at the shorter male. Then, Genya turned to Tanjiro, whispering something that was obviously not meant to be heard.
“Tanjiro…you didn’t mention you were bringing a girl–” Genya started, much to Muichiro’s confusion.
Girl? Did this boy seriously think he was a girl?
“Haha! Stupid Genmo! That’s not a girl! Even a blind bat could see that!” The boy with the pig head shouted so much. It hurt Muichiro’s ears.
“Stop that. It’s unnecessary and annoying.” Muichiro turned to face Inosuke with a blank stare as he replied.
“Oh Genya! That’s Tokito-kun! He’s the Mist Hashira!” Tanjiro was quick to butt in and smile as Insouke practically had steam coming out of his ears at Muichiro’s retort.
Somehow, Genya’s cheeks got even redder as he realized his mistake. Then, he stepped two inches back from the shorter male, and started to trip over his words like some scratched record.
“Oh, I apologize! Please forgive me, Tokito-sama!” Genya’s voice was frantic as he bowed multiple times in panic.
Muichiro held up his hand to signal Genya to stop his frenzy. As deep purple met misty teal, the shorter of the two sighed.
“Stop. You look foolish when you do that. It isn’t necessary, and frankly, I could not care less about your speculation of my gender. If you apologize for every mishap, you’ll become as weak as those I look down upon. I won’t respect a doormat.” Muichiro was firm with his tone as he brushed past him while his mouthy Kasugai Crow, Ginko (who had taken the backseat for whatever reason) trailed behind him, flaring her feathers at Genya while she then flew off to match Muichiro’s speed. Tanjiro followed him in, and then Muichiro turned around.
“Tokito-kun! That was very rude and I think you should–” Tanjiro started to say.
“Just shut up and die already! You’re not even a Hashira, so don’t act like you’re above one!” Ginko squawked as she shot over to peck Tanjiro.
“O-Ow-! Please stop–” Tanjiro yelped as Muichiro sighed.
“Ginko, please stop. This isn’t necessary,” he told her. So Ginko squeaked apologetically and flew back to Muichiro’s shoulder as Tanjiro shuddered, still a little frazzled from her frenzied attack. Ginko still gave a small huff at her master's unusual interference. She still hadn't gotten used to Muichiro's favoritism of Tanjiro over any other person he had ever met.
“Oh God, get that away from me!” The blond boy’s voice was shrill while he hid behind Genya from Ginko’s threatening squawk.
“Zenitsu. Get a hold of yourself! We’re here for Genya and Ginko is very friendly–” Tanjiro started to say before Muichiro’s crow raised her beak, threatening to peck him again.
“Like I said…now, let's get everyone in here!” Tanjiro’s voice was still bright despite his obvious fear. Everyone sat around Genya on the floor as the group sat munching on some rice balls that Genya unwrapped and handed out for everyone to take.
“Hmm…Kocho’s butterfly girls have a good recipe…these are tasty…” Muichiro commented. Compliments came rarely from the Mist Hashira, so this was a slight surprise. Genya then rubbed the back of his neck.
“Actually…I made them.”
Muichiro’s head snapped to meet Genya’s eyes. There was no change in the Mist Hashira's expression, but a flicker of surprise dotted his eyes just for a split second.
“...they’re good.”
...~.~...
After a while of talking and laughing, Muichiro decided that he was bored and needed to train. He thanked Tanjiro for letting him come along with his friends.
“Of course, Tokito-kun!” Tanjiro had that same bright smile that made Muichiro feel slightly weird and…well, weird. Was he sure he hadn’t met Tanjiro before the Swordsmith Village? I mean…there was the Hashira meeting about his sister, but that time just didn’t feel right…
Oh whatever. Muichiro decided it wasn’t worth thinking about, because he’d just forget about everything later. The only time he even remembered anything was when he was alone under the willow tree by his estate. He also had training to do. This wasn’t the time for frivolous things.
But that time with Tanjiro’s friends didn’t feel frivolous, something in Muichiro’s head brought up. Or those Onigiri–
Muichiro shut up those suggestions as soon as they came. There was a reason he was a Hashira. Because he had worked day and night for two months, not wasting any time to make friends or slow his training down.
Muichiro was snapped back to reality as Ginko rested on his shoulder again, ready to fly back to Muichiro’s estate as he would trail ahead. Muichiro never really smiled, especially not in front of others. But if he ever did smile in public, it would’ve been right now.
Long after Muichiro had slid open the doors on his tatami, he had made himself lunch…or his definition of lunch.
Muichiro was a Hashira. A very powerful one at that, but he was still a child. Someone’s angry words would always pound ruthlessly in his head whenever he placed the pot over his flickering stove.
“You can’t even cook rice on your own? God, how much more useless could you be?”
He couldn’t even remember when or where that conversation had happened…so why was it one of his most prominent memories?
Muichiro brushed them away. He really ignored things a lot, didn’t he? It was sort of like his motto. It actually could be if he cared enough to even have one. He had to concentrate on the rice that was simmering in the boiling water.
After he had finished cooking his meal, Muichiro spooned the sticky clumps into a porcelain bowl that came with his estate. The Master had been kind enough to give him a few cookbooks, though Muichiro never used them. Even in the most simple dishes, there were steps that Muichiro didn’t even know how to complete. He didn’t want to be rude and dismiss his Master’s kindness, and he really didn’t mind living off of white rice.
Muichiro sat down at his small table and grabbed a pair of chopsticks. As he ate, his mind wandered into a million nooks and crannies he hadn’t touched since his last moment of peace and quiet. Thoughts about Tanjiro and his recent missions, and the fragments of memories he still had.
The rice was slightly undercooked in some chunks, and it tasted stale and dry. A few grains stuck to Muichiro’s teeth and wedged themselves under his tongue.
Muichiro then nearly choked after one thought.
Maybe Genya could cook for me once.
The boy didn’t know where that rogue idea came from, but it shook him to his core. Why was Muichiro thinking of Genya? He had barely even remembered the Shinazugawa boy’s name before today.
Muichiro finally centered himself and calmed down. He had been eating the same things for lunch, breakfast, and dinner for years, so it wasn’t strange for him to want something different for his meals.
But how in the actual hell did Genya slip in there somewhere?
Muichiro then focused on eating his rice again. After he was done, he rinsed the bowl with a bit of water and cleaned it to the best of his ability. Ginko, however weak she was as a crow, helped him place the clean cooking pot back into his top cupboard.
Once Muichiro had picked up his katana to go and train, he found himself wondering what he had been thinking about earlier.
He didn’t remember.
Muichiro let out a sigh of relief. It was unusual, but the Mist Hashira found comfort in being clueless. He wouldn’t be clouded with worry or knowledge that he couldn’t handle. Muichiro could focus on his work and his work alone. He didn’t need friends or memories of pain or happiness. They didn’t do him any good.
But then he found a small conflicting idea.
What if there are good memories that I’ll never see?
Muichiro’s eyes glinted with a small sense of hope, but he brushed the thoughts away immediately. Emotions meant weakness. That’s how so many slayers and Hashira had died.
But he could still wonder.