Stone Tsuguko.

3: "Kindness and smoke."

The blind man can't see whoever is speaking, but he listens.

"Please, take him out of his cell."

Gyomei squeezes the girl in his arms tighter, protectively covering her, yet never turning away from the regal voice.

He felt her shift in his arms, back turned to his chest as she glared at the teenager, her protection was evident as he stepped forward, reeling back as if the pale hand would end up hurting them.

"Please, come out." He whispered. "You're both free."

Hesitantly, Gyomei released the young girl from his grasp, standing up slowly as he warily watched Ubuyashiki.

"Don't be afraid." He took his hand back. "I want to help you both."
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The soft scent of the flowers in his garden, the kind smile on his fair complexion, the striking lavender eyes Gyomei can faintly make out.

"You are no murderer."

He spoke in the way people always wanted.

"I know you fought to protect those people."

Gyomei would've done whatever he commanded, as long as this man believed in him.

He took him off the execution line, if he wanted him to use his disgusting strength, he'd do it.

He'd fall to his knees and beg, cry, and plead, to thank this man for saving [Name] and his life.

He'd fight for the Demon Slayer corps if that's what he wanted. If that's what he needed.

He'd be the pillar.
____

When Gyomei had told you what he was to do, you began to cry. Why was he to leave you?

Had you not lost the same brothers and sisters who were raised among you? The same girls who let you braid their hair? The same boys who would rough house with you?

The ones you had loved?

Why was this man taking him away?

This man was going to take the only familiar thing you had left.

"Don't take him away from me! I don't want to be alone!" Your yell was grated, baring like a feral dog, desperate for some sense of sanctuary. "I can't be alone!"

It wasn't a sorrowful cry. It was vitriol. Bitterness and defensiveness.

"I...I can't be alone."

Kagaya's heart broke, a child, horrified by her loneliness.

How could he take that away?

With a small huff, he stepped toward you, knelt, and smiled.

To get yelled at by a sobbing child, four years younger than you, in your gardens was an odd thing for the teenager, but he simply looked down at you, placed a hand on your cheek, and whispered.

"I'm sorry, It's up to him." He looked at you as if you were made of glass, gentle lavender eyes warming your soul." And it's up to you too."

You wept at his feet, grabbing the edges of his haori and begging for forgiveness for your anger, the snarl in your tone turning to gasping sobs, knuckles turning white at the sheer intensity of your emotion.

He knelt there with you, rubbing your back as Gyomei stood behind you both.

"Please, raise your head. Don't waste your tears here." He smiled. "You are already forgiven and welcome."
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