far away

The dust of the Entertainment District was finally settling behind them, a fading memory of neon lights, clashing steel, and the oppressive scent of demons. The battle had been grueling. With Zenitsu having suffered a complete nervous breakdown back at the Butterfly Mansion—refusing to step foot into a place known for its "immoral temptations" and "scary ladies"—Genya had been the one to step up.

He hadn't done it for the glory. He hadn't even done it because he particularly liked Uzui. He had done it because Tanjiro was going, and the thought of Tanjiro heading into a den of Upper Moons without someone to watch his back made Genya’s stomach do uncomfortable flips.

Now, as the sky began to bleed into shades of violet and pale gold, signaling the end of their long night, the adrenaline was finally wearing off.

Tanjiro was exhausted. It was evident in the way his shoulders slumped and the way his usually bright, coal-colored eyes were glazed with fatigue. He was still dressed in the flamboyant, floral kimono he’d been forced to wear for his undercover work—a garment that, in Genya’s humble and very private opinion, made him look far too soft for his own good.

"You’re lagging, Kamado," Genya grunted, though there was no bite in his voice. He stopped walking and looked back over his shoulder.

Genya was a mountain of a youth. Standing at six-foot-two, he towered over almost everyone his age, especially the five-foot-seven Tanjiro. His scarred face and Mohawk gave him a permanent look of intimidation, but inside, his heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

Tanjiro offered a weary, sheepish smile. "Sorry, Genya. My legs feel a bit like jelly. I think the constant running caught up to me."

Genya looked away quickly, his face heating up. He hated how much he liked that smile. It was unfair that someone could be that kind after nearly being killed by a demon. "Fine. Get up."

Tanjiro blinked, tilting his head. "Get up? Where?"

"On my shoulder," Genya muttered, gesturing to his right side. "I’m not leaving you behind to crawl back to the mansion. You’re small enough that it won't matter anyway."

Tanjiro’s eyes widened, then softened into that genuine, heart-melting gratitude that Genya found so difficult to handle. "Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden, Genya. You fought just as hard as I did."

"Just shut up and get up here, Kamado," Genya snapped, though the tips of his ears were turning a bright, tell-tale red.

"Well... if you're sure. Thank you, you're so dependable!"

With a small hop and a bit of a scramble, Tanjiro hoisted himself up. Genya reached up, his large, calloused hands steadying Tanjiro’s legs as he settled the smaller boy onto his shoulder. Tanjiro sat sideways, his legs draped over Genya’s chest and back, his weight light but grounding.

As they began to walk again, the silence of the early morning woods surrounded them. Genya focused entirely on the path ahead, trying to ignore the fact that Tanjiro’s thigh was pressed firmly against the side of his jaw. The silk of the kimono was thin, and Genya could feel the warmth of Tanjiro’s skin through the fabric. Every time Genya took a step, the friction increased, sending jolts of electricity straight to his brain.

"Wow," Tanjiro breathed, his voice vibrating right next to Genya’s ear. "I’ve never seen the forest from this high up. You’re really tall, Genya! It’s like being on top of a lookout tower."

Genya swallowed hard, his throat feeling incredibly dry. "It’s just five inches, Kamado. Don’t make it weird."

"It feels like more than five inches," Tanjiro laughed, a light, melodic sound that made Genya’s heart skip a beat. "Everything looks different. I can see over the bushes, and the mist looks like a sea under us. It’s beautiful."

Genya grunted an affirmation, not trusting himself to speak. He could feel his face burning. He knew he must look like a ripe tomato, but he prayed Tanjiro would just chalk it up to the physical exertion of carrying a whole person.

Tanjiro leaned slightly forward, his hand resting on the top of Genya’s head to steady himself. His fingers brushed against Genya’s hair, and Genya nearly tripped over a perfectly flat root.

"Are you okay?" Tanjiro asked, concern lacing his tone. He leaned down further, his face coming close to Genya’s. "Your face is really red, Genya. Are you catching a fever? Or is carrying me too much? I can get down!"

"I'm fine!" Genya barked, perhaps a bit too loudly. He adjusted his grip on Tanjiro's leg, trying to ignore how smooth the skin felt. "It’s just... the sun. It’s getting hot."

Tanjiro looked up at the sky, his expression thoughtful. "The sun? But it’s barely over the horizon. The air is actually quite chilly." He reached out and pressed the back of his hand against Genya’s forehead. "You feel very warm. You’ve always been a bit rosy, but this is quite intense."

Genya felt like he was going to spontaneously combust. Tanjiro’s scent—that overwhelming, pure smell of sunshine and woodsmoke—was filling his lungs, making it impossible to think straight. The boy was so dense, so incredibly oblivious to the effect he had.

"I told you, I’m fine," Genya managed to say, his voice cracking slightly. "Just keep looking at the view and stop worrying about me."

Tanjiro hummed, seemingly satisfied for the moment, and turned his attention back to the horizon. "You’re right. Look at that, Genya. The sun is finally coming up."

They reached a clearing on a ridge that overlooked the valley. The sky was a masterpiece of orange, gold, and deep pink. The light hit the trees below, turning the dew-covered leaves into shimmering diamonds.

"It’s so peaceful," Tanjiro whispered. He shifted his weight, his thigh rubbing against Genya’s cheek again as he pointed toward the horizon. "It makes all the fighting feel like it was a lifetime ago. I’m glad I’m seeing this with you."

Genya froze. "With me?"

"Mhm," Tanjiro nodded, his cheek accidentally brushing against Genya’s Mohawk. "You’re a good friend, Genya. I know you act tough, but you have the kindest soul. I can smell it on you—you’re very gentle deep down."

Genya’s heart was drumming so loudly he was sure Tanjiro could feel it through his shoulder. He looked away, staring intensely at a random pine tree. He wanted to say something—something cool, or something that actually expressed how he felt—but his brain was short-circuiting.

"Y-Yeah..." Genya finally stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "It is a nice view..."

He wasn't looking at the sunrise. He was looking at the way the morning light caught the copper highlights in Tanjiro’s hair and the way his eyes sparkled with genuine wonder. To Genya, there wasn't a view in all of Japan that could compete with the boy sitting on his shoulder.

"We should do this more often," Tanjiro said brightly, oblivious to the internal crisis Genya was experiencing. "Not the demon fighting part, of course. But the walking and the sunrises. It’s nice to just... be."

"Sure," Genya said, his grip on Tanjiro tightening just a fraction—not out of necessity, but out of a desperate wish to keep him there. "Whatever you want, Tanjiro."

Tanjiro smiled down at him, a wide, beaming expression that reached his eyes. "You called me Tanjiro! You usually call me Kamado."

Genya’s face went from red to a deep, bruised purple. "Shut up! It was a slip of the tongue!"

Tanjiro laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet woods. "I like it. It makes us feel like brothers. Or even closer!"

Genya choked on his own breath. *Closer?* He wondered if Tanjiro had any idea what that word did to him. He wondered if Tanjiro knew that Genya spent his nights thinking about him, or that Genya had practiced his "indifferent" scowl in the mirror for hours just so he wouldn't look like a blushing mess every time they spoke.

Probably not. Tanjiro was the kind of person who could walk through a fire and only worry about whether the person next to him was getting too hot.

"Let's just get back to the mansion," Genya muttered, though he slowed his pace. He wasn't in a hurry anymore. The weight on his shoulder was the best thing he’d felt in years, and if he could walk another five miles like this, he would.

"Genya?"

"What now?"

"Thank you for being here," Tanjiro said softly, leaning his head down to rest against Genya’s. "I don't think I told you that enough during the mission. I’m glad it was you."

Genya stopped walking for a second, the world around him blurring. He felt the soft pressure of Tanjiro’s head against his, the warmth of his body, and the sheer honesty in his voice.

"Yeah," Genya said, his voice finally steadying, though his heart was still racing. "Me too."

They continued down the mountain path, two figures silhouetted against the rising sun—one towering and awkward, the other small and radiant. And if Genya’s face stayed red for the entire journey back, he simply blamed it on the morning glow.

Tanjiro, of course, believed him. After all, the sun was very bright that morning.