!Now available on ao3! Same name, same author!
boketto (Japanese)
- the act of gazing vacantly into the distance without thinking.
*~-~*
In which young Y/n is shown there's more to life than fulfilling a duty.
And a young Tanjiro learns that first...
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What we have once loved deeply we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes part of us.
Helen Keller
When I was a kid, my mom often left for dangerous and life-threatening missions. A 'demon saver' she called herself, protecting the weak and the strong from a monster most humans could hardly fathom. She believed in the idea of reincarnation and therefore thought that by killing demons, she was allowing them to have a second chance at an honorable life.
"Where is it?"
"He will come soon."
"...When?"
"Patience," Mom mused, glancing down at me from her spot sitting against the building. I was next to her, knees huddled close to my chest as I flickered my gaze from my parental figure and towards our surroundings. She was much calmer than me, sitting in a relaxed position with her sheathed sword in her lap.
She glanced down at my tense figure before gently cooing, "Soon, my lovely. They hunt at night when the sun cannot harm them."
"I know, mama," Was my mumble, clutching the small folding knife to my chest. I had insisted on taking it just as much as I had insisted on coming; I was unsure why I had done either of those things. The knife would do practically nothing should I find myself feebly fighting a demon, and fighting demons wasn't something I much wanted to do at my young age, anyways. A cruel curiosity had driven me to follow her on her escapade - I had no desire to be a demon slayer. Felt like too dangerous a life for me.
She was strong, collected; a ray of hope among the people she aided. I always compared her to that an angel - saving others from the unfortunate events that befall many of their brethren.
My mother took a deep breath, light grey haori shifting as her chest lifted. Her eyes fluttered, a smile gracing her as she gazed up at the darkening sky. At the time, I could never understand how she was so calm and collected. How she held herself with such grace and viewed the world as if she knew all its many secrets and answers. But she didn't. This was a fact she reassured me of many times.
"Do you want to go home?" She questioned, flickering her gaze from the night sky and down to me. She wasn't patronizing; she never acted that way toward us. Still, I could feel it nicking at my pride (or what could be regarded as a child's sense of wanting to make their parents proud).
Without hesitation, I was furiously shaking my head at just the thought of backing out now. Not when I'd been asking for so long and had even planned a way for my younger siblings to be cared for while I was gone. There was no way I was gonna flake out now. For some reason, I needed to know what she did. Needed to see and understand why she left so often. She always told us, but I had to see.
A gentle laugh of amusement came from her, causing my gaze to flicker up and the tension in my shoulders to lax just a bit. She always had the prettiest laugh and the gentlest smile. I could only hope to be as pretty and gentle as her.
