Chapter 6: Remnants of a Lost Maiden
[Opps, Author here, I deeply apologize for not mentioning this earlier, but I must warn you that the story will contain spoilers for the manga of Demon Slayers. If you are hoping to avoid any spoilers and experience the manga's plot twists and surprises for yourself, I highly recommend that you stop reading any further. However, if you are eager to read further then have a nice read!]
In the bustling city of Tokyo, the district of Azabu is alive with the sounds and smells of the middling 1920s. Located on the southern side of the city center, Azabu is a neighborhood of contrasts: a place where traditional Japanese culture meets the modernity of the Western world.
The streets are lined with small shops and vendors, each one offering a unique glimpse into the daily life of the locals. Brightly colored fabrics hang from the doorways of textile shops, while the aroma of freshly brewed tea wafts from the open windows of teahouses. The air is thick with the scent of incense and the sound of chanting from the nearby temples.
As you walk through the streets, you might catch a glimpse of a few Western-style buildings, a symbol of the country's growing fascination with foreign cultures. But overall, Azabu remains a place where tradition reigns supreme, with most structures built in the traditional Japanese style of wooden architecture.
Despite its relative tranquility, Azabu is not without its share of excitement. The district is home to several theaters and cinemas, where visitors can catch a show or a film. And on weekends, the streets come alive with the sound of music and dancing, as locals gather for festivals and celebrations.
As the clocks almost hit 6:30 a.m. the streets of Azabu Juban were already teeming with activity. The hustle and bustle of the morning rush hour had begun, and the people of the small community were eager to get to work.
Men and women of all ages could be seen hurrying along the narrow streets, dressed in their finest attire and carrying their tools and belongings with them. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the quiet morning air as they made their way toward the various businesses and shops that were scattered throughout the area.
The smell of freshly baked bread and steaming hot coffee wafted through the air, as the local bakeries and cafes began to open their doors for the day. The sound of horses and carts could be heard in the distance, as farmers and merchants made their way into the city to sell their wares.
Despite the early hour, the streets were alive with energy and excitement. It was a new day in Azabu Juban, and the people were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Only a couple well-known to us seemed to not engage with this hurrying as they slowly walked toward their destination under their black umbrella, their arms that faced each other clasped tightly together in unison.
Eudokia looked up at Jiacheng with a disappointed expression as she asked, "Are you really saying you do not know where to go?"
Jiacheng shrugged his shoulders, a look of uncertainty on his face with the scar that the burning sun caused, wouldn't ought to be healed. "How should I know if even Hidemasa Zhǎngménrén does not know?" His expression turned from frustration to a comical grumpiness as he continued. "In Hidemasa Zhǎngménrén's memory, this city was just a fishing village near Tokyo Bay. It's natural that the village would experience some growth and development, being so close to the new capital city." Jiacheng stood in awe, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling city around him. "But I did not expect this," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "Nonetheless, it's remarkable that Azabu has been able to evolve into this bustling town without getting lost in time. It's a clear sign of the ingenuity and hard work of the people who call this place home."
Eudokia rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. "Ok, let's not start another preach about the wonders of humanity and all that," she said. "I've heard it enough times." she narrowed her eyes as her voice reached a new level of annoyance.
Jiacheng let out a sigh, his disappointment was evident on his face. "Why do you have to be such a killjoy, Eudokia?" he said. "Anyway, we should seek out a local and ask..." He adjusted his fedora hat with a look of determination on his face. "Where the Kanroji residence is located, if their bloodline survived over almost six centuries. Surely someone in this town will know where to-" Without warning, Jiacheng came to an abrupt halt as an intense wave of fury coursed through his being. The overwhelming surge of fury had taken hold of Jiacheng, but he was quick to realize that this intense emotion was not his own, but rather that of one of his subordinates.
Jiacheng's sudden halt caught Eudokia off guard, causing her to lose her forward momentum and stumble clumsily. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though she might lose her footing entirely, and suffer a grievous fall that could lead to an agonizing demise beneath the scorching sun's fiery rays, which would mercilessly penetrate her body and evaporate every last cell. Her body swayed dangerously, teetering on the brink of collapse, as she struggled to regain her balance, clasping her arm even harder around Jiacheng's arm, finally stabilizing herself. The experience was so terrifying that it left her feeling traumatized, realizing how fragile and vulnerable her existence was, and how a seemingly insignificant event could have led to her untimely demise.
Eudokia's eyes brimmed with tears as she cast a glance towards Jiacheng, her face contorted with a tumultuous mix of emotions ranging from embarrassment to anger, all tinged with a deep-seated fear that still lingered within her. She stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and frustration, her lips parting slightly as if to say something, but no words emerged from her quivering voice. Her heart was pounding, and her breathing was shallow and labored, as she struggled to regain her composure and come to terms with the near-death experience that had just befallen her, finally managing to croak out a question through shallow, labored breaths.
"Couldn't you at least warn me before doing a stunt like that?" she asked, her words laced with a hint of irritation and reproach. Despite her anger, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that she had managed to survive the ordeal, albeit narrowly.
Jiacheng's mind was in a frenzy as he struggled to identify the source of the fierce anger that had momentarily overwhelmed him. His thoughts raced in all directions, trying to make sense of the intense emotion that had taken hold of him. He was so consumed by this inner turmoil that he hardly registered the world around him, including Eudokia's emotional state.
After a few moments of deep contemplation, however, Jiacheng's face suddenly contorted with recognition, as if a light bulb had just gone off in his head. "Thoghzan," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's Thoghzan's..."
"What are you talking about?" she demanded, her tone laced with hysteria and confusion. "What's with that rat?" she added, her irritation palpable. Despite her attempt to get a response from Jiacheng, her questions fell on deaf ears, as his mind was still consumed with the task of unraveling the mystery behind Toghzan's sudden outburst. He suddenly felt a sense of familiarity wash over him. It was a feeling he had experienced before, not once but twice, in the span of this very century. With a sense of dawning realization, opening his mouth.
"So, that imbecile did it again..." he said with annoyance. Eudokia's patience had worn thin as Jiacheng seemed lost in thought, his face betraying no hint of what was going on in his mind.
"Did? Did what? Tell me already! I hate when you hung your thought into nothingness like this." she exclaimed, her voice filled with exasperation.
"He underestimated his opponent."
x-x-x
"FUCK!" He uttered a cry of frustration through clenched teeth, his features contorted with rage. Slowly, he tore off another strip of flesh from the unfortunate deer with his jaws that had to withstand Toghzan's wrath and rage, still twitching in its final throes, a casualty of his fierce wrath. As he chewed the raw, sinewy meat, the fiery anger within him roared up once more.
"FUCK!" he hissed through his jaws, glaring balefully at the deer that refused to yield up its last ounce of life, clinging stubbornly to its feeble breaths that grew ever more labored and ragged. "Would you just die already!" he bellowed in exasperation, his outrage rising by the second at its tenacious hold on life.
Unable to endure another moment of its gut-wrenching struggle, he finally conjured a spike of his blood demon art, plunging it deep into the deer's heaving flank. Only then did its last breath sigh forth in surrender, its pain at long last stilled forever. "If only I could do the same to that bastard!" he muttered. "It is more than a shame that I have to devour this to somehow manage to recover my body to at least a functioning state." Though he needed the deer's flesh to heal his broken body, claiming its life filled him with regret.
The blood and flesh of mere animals were a poor substitute for that of Devil's Brood, containing but a fraction of the energy needed to heal injuries as extensive as his. But it was the only option available, and he had no choice but to make it suffice.
He began to feed in earnest, tearing into the carcass with teeth, gulping down chunks of meat and bone and sinew, soaked in the deer's still-warm blood. Slowly but surely, he felt his body start to grow out from the neck - bones forming, fusing, muscles growing and rejoining, tissues regenerating. The progress was agonizingly slow and that body would not be strong enough, but as long as he continued to gorge himself on the bloody feast before him, he knew he would recover, at least enough to escape this forest and hunt more fitting prey. His revenge, and the completion of his healing, would have to wait. But neither would be denied him for long.
He chewed the meat fiercely, his teeth grinding together until one cracked with a sharp pain, but he did not even feel that, only the rage that boiled in him. Cursing under his breath, he grasped the broken tooth, despair and frustration flooding him in equal measure.
"I will make him pay for this," he whispered, inhaling the metallic scent of the deer's blood, as he took another bite. His anger burned hot within him, almost making a new level to this meaning. "He will know true suffering for forcing me to do this. I GONNA SHOW HIM REAL HE-"
"Thoghzan..."
The gentle voice echoed through his mind, filling his entire being. Time itself seemed to freeze as every thought fled from his mind. The voice was soft yet carried an immense power, like the whisper of creation itself. It stilled his rage-filled heart and quieted his rage-filled thoughts. His eyes began to twitch uncontrollably, and cold sweat dripped down his face. His head trembled with the intensity of his terror, and he could feel the instinctual urge to run coursing through his veins.
But he knew all too well that there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the power of that voice. Even if he were to try to flee, he knew that he could never outrun the voice, nor the hands that wielded its power. The fear within him was like a wild beast, gnawing at his very soul and threatening to overwhelm him at any moment.
The meat fell from his numb mouth as he grew still as stone. Terror and awe filled him in equal measure. Though the voice spoke his name with kindness, he knew to whom it belonged. At that moment, he felt small and insignificant, like a mere mortal in the presence of a god, he understood the true meaning of fear and the weight of his misdeeds and failure.
"Thoghzan," he closed his eyes and trembled slightly with fear. The voice that spoke the name was like a phantom, ethereal and yet filled with an immense power that sent shivers down his non-existent spine. "My little prodigal son, why are you so angry? What troubles you?" The words carried a warmth that seemed to seep into his very being, and he couldn't help but yet to feel a sense of discomfort. Thoghzan could not even bulge his mouth or breath. "Did I not warn you that this would be the price of your endless ego?" the voice continued, still soft but with an inexorable tone that filled Toghzan with foreboding. "FOR THE FOURTH TIME IN THIS CENTURY? THIS TIME IT WASN'T EVEN A TUSK BUT AN UPSTART BUŠARA WHO ALMOST TOOK YOU DOWN BECAUSE OF THAT!" the voice suddenly roared in a furious crescendo, shaking Thoghzan to his core, spitting blood from his mouth as an answer.
Agony exploded in his mouth as invisible fangs tore into him. The sweet nectar of the voice had Curdled into a venomous rage that struck Thoghzan down where he froze.
"ANSWER ME!" the voice demanded. Thoghzan's mouth trembled as he formed the desired words with difficulty.
"Y-Yes," he stuttered, the name tasting bitter on his trembling lips. "B-Bay(-Lord) Hidemasa." Taking a slow, shaky breath, he continued. "Indeed, you warned me to be more thorough, cautious, and modest to avoid such... misfortunes again." His voice grew steadier as he spoke, though his body still trembled beneath the gaze of his liege. Lord Hidemasa's wrath was terrible to behold, stripping away all pretense of grandeur and laying bare his servant's failings. "I acted in haste and arrogance," he admitted, bowing his head into the guts of the deer without any hesitation. "M-M-My ignorance brought about this... misjudgment." The words twisted painfully in his mouth, yet he knew only truth could calm Lord Hidemasa's ire.
Lord Hidemasa's voice softened once more, the rage fading from his tone. "This has gone too far, Thoghzan," he said gently. "Your strength, your potential, your mastery of swordsmanship - all would be wasted if you died because of a mere inconvenience. Your strength and your speed are almost equal to the 2nd Full-Moon, Bahram, and yet your rank is stagnating because of your temper and nothing else. I only seek to avoid such an end and finally put an end to this."
A weary sigh escaped his lips. "Thus, I must demote you to a Gibbous-Moon and make you fight your way back to the top. Perhaps then you will learn what to do, and what not to do after three centuries."
Though unworthy, Thoghzan raised pleading eyes to the heavens. "T-T-Though I d-deserve far worse for my insolence, I-I beg for one last chance as a Full-Moon! Give me a chance to mend my ways and prove my worth through changed actions, not just vows."
Lord Hidemasa considered in silence. Then, faint traces of a smile touched his lips.
"Thoghzan... You know almost too well how benignant and how generously my hands weigh, as you learned that for now the sevenfold time. I trust every one of my creations, and, I treat them with the same benevolence I myself would wish to receive in their place. So shall I offer you...one...final...opportunity for redemption."
"My Bay's kindness is beyond what I deserve," Thoghzan shuddered in recollection of that voice, once so soothing and now a harbinger of pain. His maker's capacity for kindness seemed boundless, far beyond what Thoghzan deserved.
Lord Hidemasa's voice softened. "At least you realize that. That's a good first step." His tone grew firm but fair. "Now prove it with your well-said 'actions' if you have truly learned from your errors. I have a mission for you - accomplish it with maximum efficiency and without any failure, then I will forgive all your transgressions."
Thoghzan bowed his head, once more drilling it fully into the guts of the deer. "My bay is gracious to give me this chance."
Lord Hidemasa continued. "Do not forget, even though I am a demon I was once human as you and my human nature remains within human limits. My patience wears thin. Meet me at the Flying Snowlands, you'll receive insights into my plan and we shall continue our little chat... in person.
The voice trailed off into silence, but Thoghzan's neurons continued to fire, leaving him awash in simulated endorphins and cortisol. His maker's voice inspired a paradox of hope and fear within his mind as he was still frozen in place, sniffing the deer's guts and flesh to its fullest. The aching possibility of redemption warred with the certainty of Oblivion should he fail yet again. Either way, he knew his fate rested entirely in his maker's all-too-merciful hands. There would be no eighth opportunity.
x-x-x
Amidst the bustling streets of Azabu, there stood a modest yet charming house, the home of a middle-class family. Its exterior was adorned with a wooden gate that creaked softly in the gentle breeze, and a small garden that bloomed with vibrant colors in the warm sunlight.
As one entered through the gate, they would be greeted by the sweet fragrance of flowers and the rustle of leaves on the trees. The path leading to the house was lined with small lanterns that cast a warm glow in the evening hours.
Upon entering the house, one would find themselves in a cozy foyer, where a pair of sliding doors led to the main living area. The room was spacious, yet intimate, with a low table and cushions arranged in a traditional Japanese style. A large window allowed natural light to flood into the room, highlighting the intricate wooden framework that adorned the walls.
Beyond the living area, a small hallway led to the bedrooms, each decorated with tasteful simplicity and adorned with delicate fabrics. The sliding doors that separated the rooms were made of paper-thin shoji screens, allowing the soft glow of lanterns to filter through.
The kitchen was small but functional, with a wood-fired stove and a small pantry stocked with fresh ingredients. A sliding door led to a small courtyard, where a small herb garden and a small pond could be found, providing a peaceful retreat from the hustle and bustle of city life.
As one explored the house, one would discover small details that showcased the family's love for beauty and their appreciation for the finer things in life. A small vase filled with freshly-picked flowers, a delicate teapot adorned with intricate patterns, and a collection of artfully arranged books were just a few of the treasures that could be found throughout.
In this humble abode, however, tranquility was momentarily replaced by the hustle and bustle of its inhabitants.
"Dearest, do you happen to recall where you last placed my dirty working pants? My tools remained inside when I set it down last," the man called out in a somewhat hurried tone from another room.
His wife's melodious voice responded calmly yet firmly from the kitchen, where she stood garbed in her simple cotton yukata, her lustrous ebony tresses artistically coiled into an elegant Japanese chignon, engaged in crafting lunch for her husband to take to the job site.
"Please, not right now," as her hands worked nimbly popping the lid off the bento box and spooning steaming hot rice into one compartment, grilling mackerel fillets into another, and minced pickle potatoes into a third. "I am still making your bento box. I need to focus or the rice will get stuck to the lid."
Her husband's worried timbre then responded, "But I really do not see it anywhere and I fear I'll be late arriving. You know how short-tempered my supervisors can be. I'd rather not find out the full extent of his wrath today."
Softening her tone, she inquired, "Did you check in the laundry hamper where you piled your work clothes yesterday?"
His weary voice replied, "Of course I did. That's why I asked you, sweetheart."
All of a sudden, their eldest son's voice rang out from the hall room, with his youthful and fruitful 17 years.
"Dad!" he hollered, his tone suggesting mischief more than distress. "I think I've found your work pants." His announcement was followed by a chorus of giggles and "Ows!" from his younger siblings, no doubt engaged in some rowdy play that had unearthed their father's missing work attire.
He then entered the living room in his school uniform even though it would only start around 8:30 a.m. He was smiling, followed by his two brothers. The five-year-younger wore the oversized pants, pretending to go off to work like his dear father, while his middle son grinned at his antics. Behind them trailed their youngest sister six-year-younger than the eldest son, radiant in one of her colorful yukatas and a makeshift basket, playing the doting wife and mother preparing her hardworking 'husband's' lunch.
Their father let out a joyful chuckle as he saw his boy running around in his attire.
His wife's face softened at the sweet scene. "Be gentle with your father's things, dears," she said kindly. "Now come help Mama set the table. Breakfast is almost ready for you. Papa already ate, so he already got the 'good luck' kiss from Mama."
"That's not fair!" the children exclaimed in unison, their expressions turning sulky as they realized they had missed out on breakfast with their father and received a good morning kiss from their mother.
Pouting lips and furrowed brows appeared on the two younger ones as they lamented not being woken up earlier.
The eldest son, however, merely watched the scene with an indulgent smile. Having grown accustomed to the routines in the house, he understood his mother's intention of letting the little ones sleep a bit longer, as they don't, it is better said, can't go to school as it would be too expensive for the family.
Yet for the eldest son himself, the situation constituted an entirely different state of affairs. He had exhibited a precocious gift for scholarship from a tender age, consistently scoring marks that neared the maximum obtainable on examinations without expending hardly any effort studying, for he had been too occupied assisting his mother with chores around their habitation and in the surrounding garden to properly apply himself to his lessons. Once his academic prowess came to the notice of his instructors, his family abandoned all else and focused their energies on providing him with a sound education, in order to lift him and his future descendants out of the lower middle stratum of society in which they currently resided.
Their mother embraced each child in turn, kissing their foreheads. "I'm sorry," she said. "Mama wanted you to get some extra rest. But next time, we'll have breakfast together, I promise." She turned her head slowly back towards the wooden bento box on the kitchen counter, carefully crafted lacquered boxes that had been passed down for generations. "Now, please give Dad his tools quickly as he needs to leave for the factory," she said.
The children let out quiet sighs but moved willingly, retrieving the well-used tools from the faded and stained work trousers their father had cast aside the previous evening - a rusty clamp with chipped paint, hammers with worn-down handles, wrenches bearing scratch marks from years of torque, and chisels blunted from pounding countless nails.
They carried the implements to their father, extending their small hands up to him in offerings of respect and love.
Their father gently but eagerly accepted the tools from his children's outstretched palms. "Thank you, Kiyoshi, Isamu, Fumiko," he said gratefully as he lovingly stroked each face in turn, bestowing soft pats upon their heads. With an affectionate smile and nod of acknowledgment, he then cast a fond glance back towards his young brood still gathered in the hallway before hurrying out the doorway in haste so as not to be late for his work at the factory.
The kids watched their father depart for another long day's labor at the factory, feelings of wistfulness and longing to mingle with gratitude for their father's tireless devotion to providing for his family. Though simple folk with modest means and many hardships, the bonds of love and duty within their home sustained them.
Their mother's gentle voice drew their gazes back to the present as she gave the prepared bento box with loving care. Their father lingered a moment longer in the doorway, gazing fondly upon his cherished family with muted emotion. "Alright!" he finally declared in a steady voice tinged with resoluteness. "I'm off now!" And with that, he resolutely turned and made his way down the path toward the entrance gate, squaring his shoulders as if steeling himself once more for the demands of the day as he saw how he rushed toward the gate waving at him.
The children watched their dear papa's figure retreating in the distance, his strides strong yet weary, reflecting the many long years of uncomplaining toil that had shaped his sturdy frame. They waved enthusiastically, calling out "Do your best, Papa! Work hard and come home safely to us!"
Their words of love and encouragement brought a smile and renewed energy to their father's step, reminding him of the simple yet profound joys that awaited him at the end of each workday - the comfort of his beloved family gathered around the table, lively voices filling their humble abode with warmth and harmony.
Yet the eldest son felt a sense of vague unease as he stood in the hallway watching his younger siblings. There was an indefinable yet palpable absence within this otherwise beautiful tableau depicting his family - a missing piece in the puzzle that had once been whole. A person, a person he had loved dearly - his sister, the eldest child, and his closest confidant.
She had been like a light in his life, her joy and spirit warming his weary soul. Then one day, the light went out.
He recalled the notice of her departure, the words haunting him with their finality. 'I have found a place where I can finally be myself.' At the time he had not understood, her meaning shrouded in mystery. But now he knew she had been stifled, expected to conform to social norms that chafed against her nature.
How well he remembered her sorrow when her fiancé left, the pain in her eyes as she was judged unworthy. Yet to him, she had been perfect, strange yet wonderful in her difference. He had tried to console her, telling her she would find her chosen one. Her smile in response had given him hope.
But then she tried to change, dying her precious hair black to suit another suitor. Though she rejected this man too, she had remained untrue to herself. Finally, unable to endure further suppression of her spirit, she had gone - leaving only that letter behind.
Now, a year and a half later, he still thought of her - missing the light she had brought. He wondered if she had found her freedom if she walked proudly now in her truth. But most of all he wondered if she ever thought of them - the one who had loved her not despite her difference, but because of it, her whole family.
Her mother's voice came gently but with concern, "Shigeo, what troubles you, my son?"
He stared at the empty space where she used to sit, so full of life and laughter. Now it felt hollow, drained of meaning. His eyes, weary from unshed tears, met her mother's gaze.
How could he explain the ache in his heart? The grief that gripped his soul? He'd tried to move on and focus on the present. But he couldn't let go.
She finally found her freedom, blossoming into who she was meant to be. Yet he yearned for the familiar - her smile, her silly jokes, the way her pink and green hair fell around her face.
He tried to tell himself it didn't matter. She'd moved beyond their little world, chasing big dreams. Her thoughts were of wider vistas, not of a father, a mother, and their siblings waiting at home. Perhaps their bond didn't mean as much to her.
But it still meant everything to him. Even as a child, hoisted on her shoulders, she'd filled his world with joy. Her laugh, so full of innocence, echoed through the years. He recalled her first steps, wobbly but defiant. The sparkle in her eye when she'd perfected a new trick.
He should be happy for her new life, full of possibilities. But he couldn't let go of memories flooding back - moments shared that he clung to like a lifeline. The aching question he dared not voice remained - did she miss them too?
Slowly lifting his head, he found himself meeting the gentle yet concerned gaze of her mother. As their eyes met, memories of her warm smile and radiant presence came flooding back into his mind, filling him with a bittersweet yearning. Though she was gone, the glow of her spirit still lived on within his heart, bringing brief moments of light into his weary existence.
Shaking his head slightly in an attempt to banish these wistful thoughts, he mustered up a reassuring smile for her mother's sake. "Oh, sorry for making you worry, Mom," he began in a calm voice. "I was thinking about the exams coming up before the summer break. It will be thought. Yet you need not fear, for I intend to study and prepare just as thoroughly as I have for previous exams. I am determined to give my best effort, just as I have done in the past."
A look of relief washed over his mother's face as she heard his words. "Oh, Shigeo," she said softly, pulling him into a loving yet bone-crushing embrace. With her vastly superior strength, she nearly crushed his ribs and snapped his spine like a twig. Though frail in appearance, his mother possessed the hidden power of at least two men, a trait that his precious older sister had somehow managed to inherit and even surpass it. "Of course, you will!" she continued as well as her killing hug.
"M-M-Mom, please!" he muttered with difficulty. "I cannot breathe!" his mother finally released him, a look of horror dawning on her face as she realized the power of her embrace. Shigeo stumbled back, his lungs desperately sucking in air.
"Are you alright, Shigeo?" his mother asked anxiously, clearly distressed at having injured her son even unintentionally.
After several more painful breaths, Shigeo forced a small smile to reassure his worried mother. "I'm... fine," he said slowly, his tone belying the strain he felt through his sore ribs and bruised diaphragm. The pain was bearable, though a dull ache remained.
Though attempting in vain to suppress their giggles, the sight of their elder brother struggling helplessly in their mother's formidable embrace continued to bring smiles to the three younger siblings' faces as they made their way back toward the living room.
"I don't think you would giggle," Shigeo remarked, "if Mother were to embrace you with the same force as she did me."
Immediately, the laughter died on their lips as imaginations conjured visions of themselves suffering the same strained gasps and aching ribs. They saw mirrored in their brother's tight predicament the very real distress their own frames would undergo in such a hug.
A chastened silence fell as they considered their brother's weary yet wise words.
However, their mother quickly intervened in a cheerful yet soothing tone. Clapping her hands gently yet firmly, she said "Now, now! Please, Shigeo, do not frighten your siblings. I hugged you tightly only because I was so worried.
"Children, let us set the table and eat our meal together in peace." She turned to Shigeo with a smile. "Could you please wake Mitsue? I believe she took the time I gave her to rest, unlike these little thieves here," She gestured playfully at the other siblings, continuing in an amused yet chiding manner. "who 'borrowed' your father's work pants from the laundry!"
Shigeo mustered a small yet reassuring smile and replied in an even tone, "I'm on it."
Slowly and stiffly, he made his way down the hallway toward the bedroom he shared with his siblings, his bruised ribs protesting with each step.
Gently sliding open the bedroom door, he found Mitsue fast asleep on her futon, lost in peaceful slumber. Reluctant to disrupt her much-needed rest yet compelled by their mother's request, he softly called her name and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "Mitsue," he said in a low voice. "It's time for breakfast."
At his gentle touch, his fourteen-year-old sister stirred beneath the thin blankets, awakening from her peaceful slumber. Her long black hair fell messily across her face as she blinked up at him sleepily, dark brown eyes hazy with remnants of dreams.
"Shigeo?" she murmured, carefully pushing herself into a sitting position and dragging thin fingers across her eyes to brush away the grit of sleep. "Oh, you appear to be in pain." her voice carried little to no concern, perhaps due to remnants of sleep or her naturally carefree nature.
It surprised him how effortlessly she found this out, despite just waking up and also as he tried to hide it. "It's nothing serious," he reassured her. "Just a slightly bruised rib from Mother's enthusiastic embrace. Now come," he said, extending a hand to help her rise, "Mother wants us at the breakfast table."
Mitsue yawned again as she slowly rose from her futon, accepting her brother's outstretched hand. Rising to stand beside him.
"Alright, let us go then," Mitsue declared in a voice still rough with slumber. Following Shigeo's steps, she walked out of the room and into the corridor beyond, her steps slow and gait uneven in the wake of her long rest.
As the siblings made their way down the corridor, an unnatural silence fell over the normally bustling house. Not a sound could be heard that is impossible. Shigeo quickened his pace, a sense of unease creeping over him.
"Hey, what's wrong now?" Mitsue called after him as she noticed her usually stoic brother hurrying forward, concern etched on his face.
As Shigeo entered the living room, the cause of the deafening silence became immediately apparent. Standing silently by the entrance was an enormous man dressed entirely in black, clutching a black umbrella. Beside him stood a beautiful woman in a blue dress, with European features and fair hair. His mother stared at the strangers in evident shock, while his other siblings clustered close by her side, gazing wide-eyed at the intimidating visitors, whose umbrella brought shadows upon their cheeks darker than night.
Despite his own racing heartbeat, Shigeo was determined to protect his family and assert himself in the face of potential danger. With a confident look, he quickly made his way to the towering man and spoke with firmness and authority as the man in the house.
"Who are you and what are you doing?" he asked, his voice steady despite his inner turmoil.
The man slowly adjusted his fedora hat, unfazed by Shigeo's question. He paused for a moment before answering, his words measured and deliberate.
"It doesn't need to bother you. But we have a question. Perhaps... is this the Kanroji residence?" The implications behind that cold inquiry, combined with the strangers' forbidding demeanor, served only to heighten Shigeo's senses and determination to protect his vulnerable yet curious siblings and increasingly distressed mother from whatever threat these ominous visitors might pose.
The loving mother fell silent as she contemplated her response. On the one hand, honesty dictated that she lie to these imposing strangers who had arrived at the house. Yet something in their cold demeanor and rigid posture hinted that any deception might bring severe consequences, not only for herself but for her beloved children now gazing up at her with inquisitive yet fearful eyes.
After a long moment of thoughtful deliberation, she gradually inclined her head in affirmation and spoke in a quiet yet steady voice. "Yes, this is the Kanroji residence."
The man hummed with a smile, seemingly pleased with their successful inquiry. The sudden shift in his demeanor caught the family off guard as his rigid behavior evaporated into nothingness. "Ha! Didn't I tell you?! It only took some minutes to ask someone!" he exclaimed, turning to the woman next to him.
The woman accompanying the man spoke with an annoyed look, dismissing the family's cooperation as a result of her verbal prowess. "Oh, please," she said, "they only answered because I was the one who wielded words. Otherwise, they would have run away at the sight of your stupidly big physique. Almost like them!"
Her dismissive tone and contemptuous words left the family feeling even more embarrassed and uncertain, as their eyes slowly turned into dots with cartoonish uncertainty on their faces.
The man cleared his throat with a fake cough, attempting to redirect the conversation back to the topic at hand.
"Please forgive me if my size and our unexpected arrival have frightened you," he said in an attempt to establish a degree of trust between the strangers and the family. "But we have come with an urgent message that was entrusted to us by an old friend of your family." With deliberate movements, the man slowly reached into his greatcoat, causing the family to tense up again. However, he soon produced a letter, which he held out for them to see. The letter had no address, raising further questions about its authenticity and the true motive behind its delivery.
The mother took it gently, her hands trembling slightly as she opened it. Shigeo and the rest of the family leaned in, trying to read the mysterious contents of the letter.
"Dear descendants of Shichirobei Kanroji, the last Kanroji who I met still in person.
If this letter finds its way to you, I cannot express how overjoyed I would be. My name is Hidemasa, Hidemasa Hatakeyama. I owe an eternal debt of gratitude to your great forefather of Shichirobei that can never be repaid, even after the span of nearly 800 years.
When I was young... even in human age, I was a mindless and raging imbecile, knowing nothing of trust or compassion, not even your ancestors took me in and sheltered me from the blades of justice hunting me. Though I was a stranger and a monster who would devour anything in my path, they showed me unconditional kindness. They hid me in their home, at great risk to themselves, and through their selfless care they taught me the meaning of friendship, kindness, and pureness. It made me realize my unspeakable flaws and sins I've done.
Their act of mercy changed the course of my life. Because they saw a glimmer of humanity left in me and fostered it with their generosity, I was able to break free of the savagery that once defined my existence. I owe them everything I have become since that pivotal moment. Their kindness lit a candle in my darkness that still guides me to this day... and I shall repay it..." (-the letter still continues)
As the mother began to read the lines, her expression quickly changed from one of curiosity to one of utter disbelief. She looked dumbfounded, unable to comprehend the words that she was reading. Was this some sort of joke? Demon? What is going on?
Across from her, Shigeo regarded the text with a far different expression. A hint of familiarity flashed in his eyes as he read the opening lines. The name written there was one he had heard spoken once before, many years ago. His father had told him the story one night, telling Shigeo that it was merely a family tale, nothing more. His father had shrugged and said the story shouldn't be taken seriously. Yet here it was, written down in black and white for all to see. The name from his father's story is given credence by being set down in written form.
What is the meaning of this?
[Hey all, author here again with some notes about this chapter. No worries about the notes, I just wanna clarify some things before moving on. First of all, if you guessed right that the family in this chapter is Mitsuri's, you're correct! We don't actually know much about Mitsuri's family - like if they know she's a Demon Slayer or how she left to join, did she run away, or something like that, what are the names of her parents and siblings, etc. - in the manga. There's not much detail about that part of her life.
So I took some creative license and made up some drama to make things more interesting. But if I got anything wrong that doesn't line up with canon, definitely let me know and I'll fix it! I'm just doing my best with the little info we have about Mitsuri's family and past. Hope you enjoyed this chapter nonetheless!]
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