Thank you, Tokito

— Why? — Muichiro cast his hazy gaze at the dying boy. — Why did you decide to save me instead of hiding in the village? — Y... You... — Kotetsu was wheezing and choking on his own blood. — Saved me, too. I couldn't...— the young swordsmith coughed again. The pillar rushed to meet him. «The wound is severe. It seems to be the area of the solar plexus» — Muichiro thought. It's a long way to the village, but he needs to act quickly. His face instantly filled with determination. He quickly but carefully picked up the boy in his arms and tore into the depths of the forest. There was a hope to stumble upon some hut, a forester's house or something else. Insidious bad luck was reducing Kotetsu's chances of survival by the second. The monotonous thicket squeezed with its density, and perennial trees kept getting in the way, thorny bushes tore clothes and tangled legs. Muichiro didn't pay attention to some pathetic cuts and abrasions. All thoughts were occupied with finding shelter for the child, whose life is now in the hands of the mist pillar. — There is! Found it! — the swordsman exclaimed so loudly that his voice cracked for a moment, sounding strangely on an unusually high tone. Muichiro came across a small dilapidated house. Obviously, no one has lived here for a long time. Unexpected guests were greeted by shabby walls, a swollen floor and a leaky ceiling overgrown with thick mold in the corners. There was almost no furniture, only a bulky wardrobe peeking out of the pantry, and a kitchen table. Carefully laying the boy on the futon, which looked more like a pile of old rags, pillar began sorting through the boxes that were gathering dust on the massive shelves of this cabinet. — Come on! At least something... — Muichiro muttered convulsively. His gaze swept over the contents of the boxes. Everything was falling out of trembling hands from excitement. The heart seemed about to burst out. Somehow, the swordsman dug out bandages and therapeutic ointment in this dusty pile. He immediately took off and flew into the bedroom. The boy lay motionless and sniffed almost soundlessly. Muichiro got down to business. Spreading the edges of the yellow yukata apart, he was horrified by what he saw. The wound is much deeper than he thought. The pillar carefully lifted the small body to bind the torso with bandages, after hastily smearing them with ointment. — Tokito. — the boy suddenly whispered. It seemed that every word was given to him with unbearable difficulty. — Yes, Kotetsu? — Muichiro's voice was trembling with either joy or fear. — Tell me, am I going to die? The demon slayer twisted into a painful smile. What should he do? Tell the truth? Muichiro himself does not want to accept this truth. He will do everything in his power and will believe in a miracle to the last. But his faith is not enough. Kotetsu has to believe that. — You'll be fine. Everything will be fine. —  Muichiro took the young blacksmith's palm and squeezed it lightly in his hands. So small. She still has her whole life ahead of her. — Your wound will heal. You will become a great blacksmith. These hands will earn so many more calluses, you'll see! A slight grin could be seen from under the raised mask. The boy even made an attempt to laugh. It turned out badly, and it all ended with a sudden cough and chest pain. — Tokito, I'm not little anymore. Pillar looked warily in the direction of the window, where some kind of knocking was coming from, and then again at the strange red mask. — I myself understand that I don't have long left. — the boy said, holding back a cough. — What are you saying! — Muichiro was genuinely indignant, although he understood with the remnants of sound thinking that the boy's chances of survival were very small. The dressing was finished. Kotetsu only cried out softly when Muichiro accidentally tightened the knot too tight. He apologized several times and squinted at the window again. The noise became more frequent. — It's raining. —  the mist pillar was thinking out loud. When he turned back to the wounded boy, he noticed a wet track on his cheek. The hand itself involuntarily reached out to the face of the young swordsmith. Kotetsu objected at first, muttering something to himself and weakly clutching the sleeve of the hunters' uniform, but Muichiro still managed to carry out his plan. Now, instead of a mask devoid of any emotions, a cute, frightened boy was looking at him. Wide eyebrows, big glass eyes and a soft smile. The demon slayer wanted to memorize everything, every detail of his face. Both looked at each other thoughtfully for a long time, as if they had seen each other for the last time. This also flashed through the young pillar's mind. He cursed under his breath and narrowed his eyes painfully. The swordsman wiped the tears from the child's cheek with the sleeve of his uniform. «But he's only ten...» — the obsessive thought flashed again. Now diamond drops sparkled from Muichiro's own eyes. He clenched his teeth tightly, trying not to cry. He shouldn't cry. He needs to show that everything will get better, to make Kotetsu think that everything will be fine. But tears treacherously gushed from his eyes, no matter how the mist pillar tried to hold them. — Sorry! — this innocent word burst out of the young swordsman's throat with pain. If everything could be fixed by just apologizing... — Sorry, Kotetsu, I couldn't protect you! — Muichiro continued to scream, no longer holding back his tears. He greedily clutched the yellow yukata, as if it was going to be taken away, and continued to apologize. — I'm sorry too. — the boy whispered back. His sonorous voice has recently become completely weakened, his skin has turned pale, his gaze has become empty and was no longer directed at the young pillar, but wandered around the room and continued to fade by the minute. — And thank you, Tokito. Muichiro bowed his head to the boy's chest. All he could do was sob noisily and shed tears. His own hopelessness corroded the pillar from the inside, his heart squeezed so hard that the pain turned into physical, it was difficult to breathe, and he had to grab air often and sharply. Everything that happened recently can be considered a pure accident, but for a demon slayer, this is the most pathetic excuse. Would he have been stronger then, more attentive, faster… Wouldn't fall into a water urn, a Gyokko trap… Everything would have been different. The young pillar's strength had completely dried up. He lay down next to the boy and did not let go of the edge of the striped cape. — I didn't like you at first. — Kotetsu spoke with difficulty. A real downpour was drumming outside the window, so Muichiro had to listen to what the young blacksmith wanted to say. — I was wrong. You're good. And a talented demon slayer. The pain in his chest did not subside. Muichiro snuggled closer to the boy, but not too much so that he wouldn't be hurt. After a while he fell asleep, but Pillar didn't want to sleep. When sleep took over, he calmed down for a while, but immediately jumped up, pressing his ear to Kotetsu's chest, listening to his breathing and heartbeat. This happened throughout the night. In the end, Muichiro ran out of strength, fell into a deep sleep and did not wake up until morning. Periodically, he shuddered and sobbed, then Kotetsu involuntarily ran his fingers over the dark-haired crown, as if even in the world of dreams he felt the presence of Muichiro next to him. The rain drummed on the windows and lulled the two children sleeping in an embrace. The next morning the rain stopped. Mist pillar Tokito Muichiro woke up completely exhausted and depressed. He met this new day alone, because the boy lying next to him was no longer breathing.