Archive of Our Own ^beta

It's not a life-or-death situation.
Darling, you're my last destination.
What if I go first, and my angel's still on earth?
I'll wait outside the gates 'til you're there too.
'Cause Heaven won't be Heaven without you.

The sun was lowering slowly, its light spilling through the shoji in warm, golden stripes. Dust motes danced lazily in the beams, moving as if the whole world had grown softer for this hour. From outside drifted the clear voices of three girls: Hinami giving precise but gentle instructions like a little commander, Aiko responding quietly, and Yuzuki’s wild, joyous giggles ringing out as she darted between them.

Their laughter filled the yard, bright and unrestrained. It was the sound of safety, of a peace Tanjiro had once thought impossible.

Inside, the Kamado home was quiet and calm. The scent of tea lingered in the air, faintly sweet and grassy. Tatami creaked as Tanjiro shifted where he sat cross-legged, broad shoulders casting a long shadow against the floor. His scarred hands rested on his knees, the knuckles rough from years of hard work but steady, warm, alive.

Beside him, Kanao arranged a small tray of cups, her movements fluid and deliberate. Even now, years after the war had ended, she carried the same quiet grace she always had—measured, precise, yet softened by the domestic rhythm of family life.

For a while, they stayed in companionable silence, listening to the girls’ voices carry through the open door. Every laugh that reached them tugged a smile to Tanjiro’s lips. But behind that smile, something tugged harder at his heart.

Kanao, always attentive, noticed the faint tension in his shoulders. She set the tray aside and glanced at him. ''What is it?'' she asked softly.

Tanjiro hesitated. His gaze lingered on the open doorway, on the flashes of movement he could glimpse beyond it. ''They sound so happy,'' he murmured at last.

''They are,'' Kanao replied, her voice as even as the calm surface of a lake. ''Every day is an adventure to them.''

Tanjiro’s smile wavered. He lowered his eyes to his palms, staring at the calluses, the faint scars—silent reminders of everything that had come before this peace. His breath left him in a sigh, heavy and wistful.

''I was just thinking,'' he said slowly, ''how much I want this to last forever.''

Kanao waited. She had learned long ago that Tanjiro’s thoughts often bloomed slowly, like petals unfurling, each one careful, heartfelt.

''There was a time I thought I’d never have this,'' he went on, his voice hushed. ''A home. A family. You. I thought... after everything, all I could do was fight to protect others, and maybe that would be enough. But now—'' His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. ''Now that I have it, sometimes I can’t help but worry. Not usually. Not about demons. Not about battles. But about time. About what happens when one of us...'' The words caught. His chest constricted. Finally, with a trembling breath, he finished: ''What if I go first? What if you’re still here without me? Or what if I have to stay behind? The thought of leaving you—of leaving the girls—it feels unbearable. Because heaven won’t be heaven without you.''

The confession hung in the air, fragile as glass. Outside, the girls shrieked with laughter at some new game, their joy a perfect counterpoint to the ache in Tanjiro’s words.

Kanao blinked, her expression softening but unreadable. Slowly, she folded her legs beneath her and turned fully toward him. Her violet eyes shimmered faintly in the golden light. ''Tanjiro,'' she said, reaching for his hand. ''You’ve always carried too much in your heart.''

His breath hitched as her fingers slipped into his, warm and steady. That simple contact loosened something inside him, and the tears he’d been holding back prickled at the corners of his eyes.

''I mean it,'' he whispered, squeezing her hand. He didn't consider himself to be a pessimistic person, but he had to tell Kanao what he'd always known. ''If I went on ahead, I’d wait outside the gates until you came. I couldn’t go anywhere without you, my love. It wouldn’t be heaven if you weren’t there.''

Kanao’s lips curved faintly, though her eyes shone with something deeper than a smile. She brushed her thumb over his knuckles. ''And what makes you think I’d let you wait alone?'' she asked quietly. ''If you went first, I’d carry you here, in my heart, until the day I joined you. We’ve never been apart, Tanjiro. Not really. Even when you were away on missions, even when we faced things that nearly broke us—I always carried you with me.''

Her words sank into him like warmth into chilled skin. He bowed his head, pressing her hand to his forehead. ''You always know what to say.''

''Not always, honey,'' Kanao admitted. ''But it’s true. Life is fragile—we both know that better than anyone. But fragile things are precious too. That’s why every day we have matters. That’s why I’m not afraid of what comes next, as long as I know we lived fully and loved fully.''

Tanjiro’s chest ached, but the pain was a kind that came with healing, not harm. ''I just don’t want to leave you. Or them.''

''You won’t,'' Kanao said firmly. ''We’ll raise them together. Grow old together. And when the time comes, we’ll still be together—even if not in the same place at first. Because love doesn’t end where life does.'' Her voice softened, gentler than the breeze that stirred the leaves outside. ''You taught me that. You’ve carried your family with you all this time. You never stopped loving them, even after they were gone. Why would it be any different for us?''

The words struck him like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. His throat closed with emotion, and tears finally slipped free. He blinked them away, embarrassed, but Kanao’s hand came up to cup his cheek, brushing them gently aside.

''You don't have to be afraid,'' she whispered. ''Not with me. I'll always be with you.''

Tanjiro leaned into her palm, closing his eyes. ''It’s just... I don’t know how I got so lucky. To have you. To have this life. Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it.''

Kanao shook her head softly, thumb tracing the line of his cheek. ''You do. You deserve it more than anyone, Tanjiro.''

He pressed closer, resting his forehead fully against hers now. Their breaths mingled, slow and even. Outside, the world seemed to quiet, the girls’ voices fading into the distance as though granting them this sacred moment.

''I love you, Kanao,'' he whispered, voice thick. ''With everything I am. No matter what happens, I’ll wait for you. Always.''

Her reply was steady, sure. ''And I love you. More than words can hold. And you’ll never have to wait long.''

They stayed like that for a long time, eyes closed, hearts pressed together in the silence between words. In that stillness, Tanjiro imagined years stretching ahead—dinners and birthdays, sleepless nights and celebrations, the quiet rhythm of family life. And beyond that, he imagined waiting by heaven’s gates, her hand still in his, their love carrying them even then.

When they finally pulled back, Tanjiro traced a finger along Kanao’s hairline, memorizing every detail of her face in the soft light. ''Do you remember,'' he asked softly, ''the day we planted that persimmon tree?''

''Of course,'' Kanao’s lips curved faintly. ''You insisted we needed it. You said the girls would grow up climbing it.''

''And you said we didn’t need more chores,'' Tanjiro recalled with a laugh, eyes warm. ''But you still helped me plant it. And now look—it’s taller than the roof. Every autumn, when the fruit ripens, I think of that day. Of how it was the start of building this life.''

Kanao’s gaze softened. ''It was.''

''Moments like that,'' Tanjiro whispered, ''they’re what make me think—if heaven exists, it has to feel like this. But if you’re not there... then it wouldn’t mean anything at all.''

Kanao’s hand found his again, squeezing gently. ''Then we’ll just make sure we arrive together.''

Tanjiro laughed quietly through his tears, pulling her into his arms. He held her tightly, breathing her in—the faint scent of tea on her clothes, the warmth of her skin, the steady beat of her heart.

That was when the shoji rattled open, and Yuzuki came barreling in, cheeks pink from play, hair wild. ''Mommy! Daddy! We’re hungry!''

Tanjiro hastily wiped his cheeks, chuckling as he scooped her up. She squealed, kicking her legs as Hinami and Aiko appeared behind her, equally flushed and smiling.

''Hungry already?'' Tanjiro teased, pressing a kiss to Yuzuki’s hair.

''Yes!'' Yuzuki declared, wriggling. ''We played tag, and Hina cheated!''

''I did not!'' Hinami protested. ''I'm just really fast.''

Kanao rose, smoothing her yukata. Her eyes still shimmered, but her smile was warm as she gently herded the girls toward the table. Tanjiro lingered a moment longer, watching her with a heart so full it ached.

Heaven could wait. For now, this was more than enough.