Chapter Text
Kimetsu no Yaiba © Koyoharu Gotouge
Part 1: Wind
[I’m not supposed to be here]
Aniki!
[Because here is not real]
Nii-chan!
—but, I’m trapped in here.
Shinazugawa-kun!
[Then, I open my eyes]
oOo
Everything looks the same. Screeching sound of the wagons’ wheels, fragrant smell of grilled squid and dango, girls in kimono walking across the bridge to the training hall, and the noise of merchants offering their wares. This is the market not far from my home, where I earn my living.
My clothes are different with the ones I wore before. They’re all worn out—it’s my clothes that I used to wear when I was thirteen years old. Wrinkles can be spotted at some places and there’s a glaring patch at the hem, screaming without words that I’m not from a rich family. My palms are blistered and rough, my body is scrawny and bony from how often I hold my hunger for my little siblings. But I don’t care. Their happy faces are one of my reasons for living.
A stray dog licks my toe repeatedly. I study its jet-black eyes for a while, and then I realise colours have gone back into my vision. My colour-blindness has vanished. Flowers, bugs, and everything else look very clear and pristine in my eyes, including the day sky—it’s no longer difficult to recognise.
“Nii-chan!”
At the sound of him I turn around in surprise. My little brother Genya is waving one of his hands, running toward me with a smile. I hurry to him, crashing into his small body until we’re both on the ground. A merry laugh slips out of his mouth, spreading warmth across my chest. I want to trap this moment in my hands and never let it go.
We spend some time together at the nearby ohagi shop and talk about a lot of things. Genya takes care of our little brothers and sisters when Mum and I are working. He often receives food from our neighbours. The tomatoes and radishes we planted at the backyard of our house earlier this spring have grown and are ready to be harvested. If I go home with a watermelon, Genya will surely be delighted. It’s his favourite.
In that content moment with Genya, I catch something unexpected from the corner of my eyes. A girl with two butterfly clips, wearing a pink kimono with carnations blooming on the fabric, running to the other side of the bridge in haste. Not far behind a similar girl follows her. Her black hair shines under the sunlight. I can’t stop the smile from spreading on my face.
My heart warms once again remembering young Kanae hurrying to the sewing training place, the butterflies on her head moved slightly as they met the wind. Her voice was like the chirping of a canary when she’s talking to Shinobu. I remember the words she often said back then and never changes until now, ara-ara. It’s adorable, and I feel my ears grow hot when I hear it.
Most of the time I just crouched near the bridge feeding a stray dog when Kanae went to the training hall. My ears counted her steps, my nose breathed in her scent, and my eyes watched her back getting farther and farther. If I was lucky, Kanae would turn her head at my direction and beam as bright as the spring sun. After she’s done placing that one rosy butterfly in my heart, I would get back to work, washing dishes at food shops or moving goods from warehouses, whoever needed some helping hands.
Sometimes I’m caught up in such thoughts:
How does Kanae feel toward the current me?
Is she disappointed in this different me?
Time and time again she encourages me by saying, you are a good person, Shinazugawa-kun. But her words cannot change me who already looks like a monster. Of course, it’s not my parents’ fault, because I myself chose this path. I don’t hesitate treating demons abrasively, even at the cost of my being. Nothing can and will stop me. My wrath is already overflowing, and the peaceful memories of the past just poke holes at the vessel every time I remember them.
One day, I saw Kanae crying by the river. I was in the middle of pulling a cart filled with radishes and cabbage by my lonesome. Just a bit longer the sky would darken and the sun would be replaced by the moon. When I saw her glassy eyes brimming with tears, pity filled me up and moved my legs to approach her. I braved myself to greet her. Kanae, who noticed my presence, looked up and wiped her nose.
“I-I’m Kochou Kanae,” she said.
“Why are you crying?” I tried my best not to stutter when asking—even though my heart was threatening to leap out of my throat upon hearing her voice. It’s even more melodic than a canary’s chirping.
“My pinwheel is broken. It’s not moving.” Kanae showed me a colourful pinwheel made from bamboo and paper, which regrettably had a dent on it. “What’s your name?”
I didn’t answer her question, but my hands reflexively took her toy and fixed it. I often made this for Sumi; she really liked the pinwheels and wind chimes I made. I just needed to loosen the nail and it’s as good as new. Kanae smiled when the wheel spun with the blowing wind, then she handed me a red bean ohagi.
“You like ohagi, right?” I looked into her eyes, seeing myself reflected there. I had a thin smile on my face. “I smell ohagi every time I see you. Thank you, Ohagi-kun.” Kanae giggled before continuing, “You didn’t tell me your name, so I’ll just call you Ohagi-kun. How’s that?”
I didn’t know what to say, so I only pressed my lips together, playing with the pebble at the tip of my foot. There’s a discomfort in my chest that prevented me from telling her my name. I didn’t want her to know. I didn’t deserve to be Kanae’s friend, or even to be her acquaintance. We’re from two different worlds—look at her! She’s so prim and proper, while I looked like I was dressed in a dirty rag. I was worried her friends would make fun of her, or even worse bully her for being close to me.
A middle-aged man called Kanae’s name from afar, telling her to go home. It must’ve been her father. Upon seeing him, Kanae perked up and asked for a piggyback ride, looking like a spoiled child as she laughed and left me. I watched them walk away and I felt tears welling in my eyes, threatening to fall. They reminded my father, who died several years ago. He never treated me or my siblings kindly. He talked in profanities and often hit Mum. I don’t have a single nice memory of him—maybe it’s non-existent in the first place. Smiling dourly, I tried my best to rid his face from my head, and continued with my work that’s been delayed because of Kanae.
After my encounter with Kanae that time by the river, we exchanged smiles every time we spotted one another. Inferiority kept shadowing my thoughts when I looked at her who always looked clean and pretty, but Kanae never once showed disgust toward me. She’s a good girl; no wonder everyone likes her. When she’s all grown up, I’m sure heaps of men will be willing to trade everything they own just to have her. That notion tugged the corners of my mouth into another dour smile. What a silly thought for a thirteen-year-old boy to have.
However, that didn’t last too long. Several days later I stopped seeing her. Never once she showed up again once she disappeared, and neither did that girl who looked similar to her. My heart felt like it’s frozen. I didn’t talk to her often, but that void in my chest steadily grew larger and larger. I unconsciously filled that gap with horrible thoughts. Did something bad happen to her?
A passing news I heard was a robbery that had happened not too long ago in the village where Kanae lived. After I join the Demon Slayer Corps, I just realise it’s not actually a robbery, but a tragedy brought by Muzan’s henchmen, in which Kanae’s parents were killed.
Kochou Kanae; she has grown into a mature and strong woman. She’s no longer the little girl who cried because her toy broke, no longer the spoiled kid who clung to her father’s back, nor she was the girl who walked everywhere with her sister in tow. In my eyes, she’s an amazing woman. She became a Pillar before me. Sometimes I think maybe it’s better if she were to wed a man and lived her life like a normal girl would, but she chose to be a demon slayer, betting her life on the line with every mission she takes. Yet through it all, a warm and serene smile never leaves Kanae’s face.
Genya suggests we go home after he finishes his tea. We walk side by side to the bridge. At the end of it I can see Mum and our brothers and sisters standing with smiles on their face. They’re alive. Mum looks so happy. The view stings my eyes—I want to run and hug her, carrying her home on my back so she can rest her tiny legs. But the words whispered by the wind freezes my legs.
Shinazugawa-kun, this is not real.
I look back and see a girl standing at the opposite end of the bridge. Her face contorts into a sad expression, her butterfly-wing-patterned haori swayed by the southern wind as her grip on her nichirin blade tightens. My gut feelings scream there is something seriously wrong here, but my mind is still trying to process this odd scene. Kanae says, it’s not real, and it bothers me.
What does she mean it’s not real?
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