Demon Slayer: Taking Care Of Tanjuro's Wife And Daughter

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Ryuji entered the room, his footsteps soft yet distinct.

Takeo, Shigeru, and Hanako were playing quietly, but the moment they noticed him, they sprang to their feet and greeted him in unison:

"Good afternoon, Uncle!"

Their voices carried warmth and familiarity, a far cry from the shyness they'd once felt around him. Now, their respect and admiration for Ryuji were clear—they looked up to him almost as they would a father figure, despite him not being their actual father.

"Takeo, Shigeru, Hanako, you're all so well-behaved. Keep playing," he said with a kind smile as his eyes swept the modest yet immaculately kept living room. Though the house was humble and lacked luxuries, it was spotless, even with children around.

On a small table, a cup of tea still steamed softly, hinting that its maker hadn't gone far. A faint, inviting aroma of food filled the air, drawing Ryuji's attention.

Following the scent, he entered the kitchen.

There, Kie Kamado was busy preparing food.

Wearing an apron, she worked with quiet focus, her jet-black hair cascading down her back. Her skin, healthier now than when they'd first met, glowed softly in the kitchen light. The long-sleeved dress hugged her figure modestly, showing the grace in her movements. As she turned, the dress briefly pulled tighter against her form, but she seemed oblivious, engrossed in her task.

Hearing footsteps, Kie looked over her shoulder, her soft, serene face lighting up when she saw him. Her eyes held a warmth she rarely let herself express openly.

"Ryuji," she greeted, her voice gentle as she offered a slight bow, her hands instinctively settling over her apron in a modest gesture.

Ryuji, tall and broad-shouldered, looked down to meet her gaze. He caught a glimpse of the delicate skin at her neckline, and he quickly averted his gaze out of respect.

"Anything I can help you with, Kie?" he asked, his tone light.

Kie shook her head gently, her voice even softer now. "No need, Ryuji. I can manage."

In her experience, the kitchen was traditionally a woman's space, but Ryuji had always shown thoughtfulness beyond that custom. It was one of the many things she appreciated about him.

"At least let me stoke the fire," Ryuji offered with a smile, noticing a light sheen of sweat on her forehead from the heat of cooking.

Without waiting for a response, he knelt down and added more wood to the stove, stirring the embers. Kie's meals were always prepared with care, and he understood how much work it took to cook for her large family.

As he tended to the fire, Kie found herself watching him, her heart unexpectedly tightening. The sight of Ryuji working quietly, his strong hands moving with practiced ease, stirred a warmth within her. Since her husband's passing, she'd never allowed herself to feel this way, nor had she imagined she could.

Shame and self-doubt surfaced, her hands clenching as she looked away. How could someone like her—a widow, a mother—ever match someone of Ryuji's caliber? She had long accepted her role as mother and widow, believing her days of love were behind her. While some men had looked at her with interest, she knew they saw only her appearance, not her heart.

But Ryuji had always treated her with respect. This deepened her insecurities, yet sparked a faint hope.

Unconsciously, she moved toward him, drawn by her feelings. Before she could stop herself, she stood behind him, her heart pounding. In a moment of vulnerability, she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his broad back.

"Ryuji... I... I like you," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope. She held her breath, heart racing as she awaited his response.

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Ryuji felt the warmth of Kie's embrace and heard her quiet, trembling confession.

He was momentarily taken aback.

Kie, with her gentle, reserved nature, had always been shy around him. Her boldness now felt surprising yet sincere. Though they had become close over time, he had assumed her heart would take longer to open. It seemed both of them had their own unspoken doubts. But here she was, crossing that invisible boundary.

Then again, perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised.

Ryuji knew he stood out—taller than most men here, his presence often exuded a quiet strength. For Kie, a widow carrying the weight of her family alone, his steadiness must have seemed like a shelter. But he knew her feelings were not just about physical presence.

He had arrived just when the Kamado family's world was collapsing. Kie's husband, Tanjuro, had passed, leaving her and the children adrift. Ryuji had been there for her and her family, showing care and warmth. In a world where a woman, especially a widow, rarely received kindness from a man without expectations, his gentleness must have felt like a lifeline.

So, as he felt the warmth of her embrace, he couldn't deny a subtle pride. Kie was a beautiful woman in the prime of her life, yet there was something purer in her affection, a fragile heart entrusted to him.

But Ryuji quickly tempered his feelings. Now wasn't the time to indulge in his own satisfaction.

What he held in his arms was not just a woman's body, but a heart that had endured pain, loss, and loneliness. He knew he had to respond with all the care she deserved.

Turning gently, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

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For Kie, the second she embraced him, a wave of regret hit her.

What had she done? She felt she'd broken a fragile balance, crossing a line she couldn't redraw.

What if he rejected her?

Kie's heart raced with a mix of fear and hope. She wasn't a young, naive girl but a widow with a life marked by hardship. Would he see her that way, or would he see beyond?

But Ryuji didn't push her away. Instead, he turned and embraced her, holding her tightly. The moment washed over her, dissolving her fears.

His words were a soft murmur she barely understood, but his strong arms spoke of safety and reassurance. Kie buried her face in his chest, letting herself be held, feeling a comfort she hadn't known since Tanjuro's passing.

The scent of simmering chicken broth wafted through the room, and Ryuji, ever practical, soon noticed the water level dipping.

With a gentle pat on her back, he gave her a small, knowing smile, signaling that it was time to return to the moment.

Kie reluctantly released him, her cheeks flushed. Ryuji added water to the pot, chuckling. "We nearly let the soup dry out," he teased lightly.

Kie's cheeks deepened to a shade of red, and she lowered her gaze, smoothing out her disheveled hair. Her expression was a mix of shyness and lingering affection.

Ryuji stepped back, opening the door slightly to let in a cool breeze, hoping it would ease the warmth between them.

Just then, Tanjiro came into view, returning from his training.

Ryuji looked back at Kie, who was straightening her apron, still rosy-cheeked. He gave her a soft, playful grin. "Your clothes look a bit wrinkled."

Kie glanced down, her eyes widening as she saw the creases on her dress from their embrace. Shooting him a quick, flustered glare, she whispered, "That's your doing," before letting out a soft laugh.

Ryuji only smiled, their shared laughter sealing the bond between them in a moment neither would forget.

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