Murata was ready to give Tanjirou space and time to recuperate from his breakdown, but the boy was tougher than nails and stronger than concrete. He forgot that Tanjirou was not a dainty or feeble-minded bride; after all, he was the man who won Giyuu's love.

The next day Tanjirou bounced right back to his responsibilities as the eldest son. His family earned a decent amount of money in return for Tanjirou's noble sacrifice, but they spent most of their wealth on medical fees and medicine to cure Tanjurou's illness, which was worth every coin. The impact of Tanjirou's sacrifice was visible as the boy watched his siblings play outside, their faces a healthier glow thanks to the food they can afford. Even Nezuko bought a nicer kimono to replace her worn and tattered one. For years, Tanjirou watched from afar as his younger sister struggled to mend the wear and tear, repairing her clothes with the utmost care, but now, he can provide for his family.

However, not all that glitters is gold. His upbeat manner belied the lingering pain, the hollowness of the divine bond that no longer resonated in his soul as if Giyuu scraped out any trace of his essence. That night, when the rain would not cease and almost flooded the village, he felt the divine bond slowly ebb away until it was dull and weak. Any reminder of Giyuu, whether it was the raindrops that splattered on his cheeks or the river that ran down a path, hung over his head like a dark, gloomy cloud.

He tried to summarize his adventures in the realm of the gods to his family, astounding them with his newfound knowledge, but anytime his siblings mentioned the water god to check if he treated their brother well, Tanjirou's smile wavered, almost giving them the wrong initial impression of the opposite. Of course, he rectified that misunderstanding and gave them the excuse that he missed his husband dearly, which was the partial truth.

"Do not tell the humans about the real reason why you're here. Let them think that you're visiting. Never mention the corruption to them," Murata instructed in private. "Including your family and friends."

"Why?" Tanjirou asked.

Murata polished his sword until its slate blue hue was glossy and nice. "Because stories are powerful," he echoed his grandmother's words. "Their beliefs and fears can lead us to ruin."

How lamentable, he thought, that he will never have the chance to properly introduce his husband to his family.

"Well," his immortal companion pointed out a flaw. "Even if the corruption didn't exist, you wouldn't want to introduce a dragon bigger than this village to your folks."

Ah yes, there was that, too.

At first, Tanjirou questioned why Murata was required to follow him to the mortal realm because the corruption only affected gods, not humans. Besides a starving bear or a rampaging boar, Tanjirou was safe from peril, but he got an inkling when he saw a small mob gathered outside while they were eating dinner. The younger children, including Rokuta, circled their brother and held him with the fiercest expression, as if they knew more than they let on. Before Tanjirou removed their hands to face the crowd, his father signaled him to stay and moved in his stead. Men and women alike held torches, weapons, and farming tools, such as ax-shaped hatchets and hoes, but his father was unphased by the display, stagnant and unmovable. The short sword he carried by his side demonstrated his intention to protect his family. He does not look at rude trespassers interrupting his lovely dinner kindly.

"What brings you here?"

One man from the forefront of the group stepped forward. If Tanjirou recalled correctly, he once cleared the man's name when a woman accused him of breaking her plates.

"Tanjurou-san," he spoke to his father respectfully. "My apologies, but please bring out your son. We must execute him for failing to uphold his duty as the bride of the water god."

The children overheard his demand and gripped their brother tighter than ever.

"You are making a rash decision," his father argued, rooted to his spot and denied them entrance.

Tanjirou pinched his nose when the acrid smell of sulfur mixed with smoke flared in the air and filled his nostrils, almost gagging him in the process. His father, who typically smelled like fresh pine cones and berries, was angry.

"My son is simply visiting," he told the man. "Soon, Tanjirou will return to the realm of the gods and reunite with Giyuu-sama. There is no need to resort to violence."

His calm reply fanned the flames of dissent. "Tanjurou-san," the leader snarled and snatched his wrist, "Do not defile the will of the gods."

Tanjirou wanted to vomit from the wave of hostility invading his senses with its foul, putrid smell. He was a fool. Did he learn nothing from Shinobu's warnings? The brides who returned to their village were labeled as abominations who deserved death, often dismembered and hacked into pieces to serve as a reminder to all future brides. Even if Tanjirou vouched for himself, it was his word against years of tradition and conservative values.

His village must have tolerated his existence for at least a day as a gesture of respect to his family because of their services to the community, but they have finally reached their limit.

"Stop!" He cried out, ripping away from his siblings' grasp. He cannot drag his family down with him.

Before his father twisted the man's arm behind his back and increased tensions, Murata materialized in front of them in a snap and diffused the situation. Despite his plain exterior, the villagers were spooked by his sudden appearance, unfamiliar of the outsider who just barged into their fight.

"Murata-sa-"

Tanjirou paused. He does not recognize this man. The person defending his family was not the same ridiculous man who got in trouble for sneaking dumplings into his mouth or punished for peeking into Giyuu's steamy sessions with Tanjirou. No, this person was entirely different, for he now exuded a certain aura that chilled his bone and brought goosebumps in his flesh.

"What are you doing?"

Tanjirou had never seen him so enraged, but this was Murata, Giyuu's right-hand man. If he was entrusted to protect his master's bride, then he will perform this task diligently despite the consequences. It was his master's command; therefore, his word was law.

The man was ignorant of the sudden drop of temperature and had the gall to point at Tanjirou's direction. "That boy must die for his sins. The water god is unsatisfied with his bride, so he threw him out. And now, we will suffer years of drought and suffering because of his fault!"

A chorus of agreement boosted his claims, but the mob's cheers immediately ceased once Murata twirled his finger. In an instant, the man's head was encased in a sphere of water and trapped in there without oxygen. The human thrashed and clawed his throat for reprieve, screaming for help, but the crowd could only stop and stare at the display of power as he continued to gurgle out noise. His torture would have lasted longer if Tanjirou did not intervene.

The burgundy-haired boy rushed to the man's aid and turned to look at his friend. He was drowning. "Murata-san," his voice trembled, "Please."

A second later the water bubble popped, completely soaking the man's top, but that was the least of his worries as he went down on all fours and gasped for air. Tanjirou slowly rubbed his back as he coughed out more water.

"A miracle," someone murmured.

"The will of the gods," another spoke.

The people looked at Murata with discretion and reverence. Some even bowed, scrambling to the floor, to thank him for his mercy, including the man he almost drowned, because what he had done was the proof they needed to believe.

"Listen up," Murata asserted his divine placement. His voice rung in their ears. "You guys have been blessed, for Giyuu-sama has chosen Kamado Tanjirou as his favorite. And from the bottom of his kind heart, he gave you all the chance to welcome his favorite bride." Murata frowned. "This is not the treatment he expects. If you harm even a hair on his head, I swear to you," he raised his voice, "That you humans will not leave unscathed and a calamity, even greater than the Great Flood, will wipe you out." He looked around for any opposition. "Do I make myself clear?"

Again, Tanjirou was reminded of the different world Giyuu lived in, how his mortality separated them from being together. Seeing the villagers hang on Murata's every word made him wonder if Giyuu's decision to throw him out of the realm of the gods was correct. He expected the children to be frightened of his companion, but gratefulness overrode fear. Instead of shying away, the younger kids hugged their savior and thanked him for saving their older brother.

Though Tanjirou was initially shaken, he came to terms that this was what made the distinction between a human and a divine being.

"I went against the rules," Murata groaned. "Ugh, I know I went too extreme, but these humans will never believe me if I didn't."

Tanjirou smiled. The Murata he knew returned.

Later, Tanjirou learned that it was uncommon for a divine being to dwell among the mortals and have direct contact with them. There was a consensus in the council to avoid doing so, but Giyuu gave him the explicit permission to enact his heavenly powers. Somewhere in the heavens, the water god was still protecting his bride and endangered his own reputation.

"It was an order," Tanjirou said, "But you still did it."

"Well..."

"Thank you," he told Murata. "Not only are you my friend, you have done more than I could imagine. For future generations, from now and beyond, I will tell stories of your name. I promise you that."

This was his vow. This was his promise. A god's word was forever and eternal, yet, when Tanjirou spoke, Murata unconditionally believed that his word held as much weight as a god.

As if the boy was a god himself.

XXX

When his siblings gathered to hear his stories before bedtime, Tanjirou remembered a treasured memory.

"What is your favorite story?" he asked his grandmother while he practiced the Dance of the Sun God.

The last response he expected was, "Your stories, little one."

He cocked his head to the side, confused by her answer, which made his grandmother sigh and beckoned him to sit on her lap.

"You used to make your own stories," she told her grandson. Sometimes she wrote them in a journal for his parents to read with pride. "But I was selfish. I forced you to memorize the stories of the gods. Because of that, you stopped telling me your original stories." Her scent was laced with regret.

"It would bring me great joy," she stared at the sky with longing, "If you told me another story before I pass away."

Tanjirou looked at his siblings and Murata with a fond smile, and with that, he spun a new tale.