Chapter Text
Colours filled the streets. Red, green, purple, blue…
It was Setsubun.
Akihiko tightened his grip on his sister as he felt a tug. Ayame was prone to getting lost when she saw too many bright colours.
“Yare, Ayame,” he sighed, interlocking their fingers so it was harder for her to get away. “Don't go running off without me.”
He had to admit that he didn't like festival days. There were always too many newcomers, which was a rare sight in Okutama. Their tight-knit village wasn't big enough to constantly have an envoy of merchants, although he knew they weren't all that small either. They couldn't be, if they could still afford such big festivals.
Akihiko turned to his parents, who were languidly following behind their two eldest children. Kiku was already a year old – just big enough to attend her first festival. Admittedly, she wasn’t really interested in anything other than laying her head on Kaachan’s shoulder. Hanako sat on Touchan’s shoulders, her head whipping about as she followed all the colourfully dressed people. Harumi and Misaki were a little more animated, their bags of beans swinging from their wrists. It was still half-full, despite the ojisans walking by with oni masks, because the girls were shy, and they didn’t have their Neechan to guide them through it.
Not for the first time, Akihiko wished he had a little brother. Even just one would’ve been fine. Alas, the gods had only sent little sisters his way.
Ayame tugged on his hand once more, already digging into her bag to throw a small handful of beans at an oji-san that pretended to hound her.
“Onis out! Fortune in!” she shouted, hurling the beans at the oji-san – Akihiko thought it was Katsutoshi-ji, from the pottery on the other side of the village – with all her might.
Katsutoshi-ji groaned theatrically, staggering back. “Curses,” he moaned, “foiled again!”
Ayame giggled. “No onis allowed! Don’t touch my family!”
The oni mask shifted. Sure enough, it was Katsutoshi-ji. He ruffled Ayame’s hair, the strands sticking up in strange little cowlicks from the friction.
“What a little warrior,” Katsutoshi-ji guffaws. “You’re a little warrior, ain’tcha?”
“Un! Take that, Katsu-jichan!”
“Don’t attack our customers,” Akihiko scolded teasingly. He beamed up at him. “Thanks for playing along, Katsutoshi-ji.”
Katsutoshi-ji grinned, showing off his crooked teeth. “Maa, you sound just like a baby Jun like that, eh?”
“Who you calling a baby, old man?” Touchan grumbled, shaking his fist at the potter.
“HA! I’m a year older than you.”
Kaachan laughed, curling her fingers into Touchan’s sleeve. “That’s enough now, you two. Seriously, you’re just like kids.”
Touchan puffed his cheeks out. He really did look like a child like that.
Ayame was already tugging Akihiko forward, bored with the conversation. Akihiko let himself be pulled along; he was kind of tired of Touchan’s and Katsutoshi-ji’s squabbling too.
“See you later,” he called over his shoulder.
“Meet in the square,” Kaachan called after them.
Akihiko waved a hand in reply.
Even though Setsubun wasn’t an official festival, there were still plenty of festivities to be had. Merchants set up stalls all around – more vibrant than what they were used to. Unsurprisingly, Ayame was drawn to a colourful tent set near the edges of the town. It was large – almost as big as a house. He didn’t know what fabric it was made of, only that it shimmered in the light and changed colours right before his eyes.
“Wow!” Ayame exclaimed, rushing in.
Akihiko dug his heels in. He didn’t know what was inside the tent, but it had nothing to do with them. They didn’t have any money to buy anything.
“Don’t – go – running in like that,” he grunted, using both arms to pull his rambunctious sister back. “Quit it!”
Ayame stopped pulling. She turned to him with an almighty pout, stomping a foot.
“Niichan’s no fun,” she complained.
Akihiko scowled. “You don’t know what’s in there! What if you break something and Touchan and Kaachan have to pay for it? Think before you act, stupid.”
“M’not stupid!”
“Then don’t do stupid things!”
“My… what’s with all this shouting?” a gentle voice interrupted.
Akihiko turned to the stranger. His mouth dropped open.
The woman that exited the tent was beautiful. Her dark hair was pulled into an elaborate hairdo, bira-bira kanzashi twinkling as her head moved. Her lips were painted a dark red, a slash of colour amongst a pale face. He couldn’t see her eyes – they were hidden behind a painted kitsune half-mask.
The thing that really drew his attention was the woman’s haori. It was like the tent – the strange fabric shimmered with different twisting colours. At certain moments, he thought they made strange designs that almost looked humanoid. Akihiko blinked and the colours lost their form. The haori was so ostentatious that it took up all of his attention.
“What sweet children,” the woman murmured, leaning down and smiling.
Akihiko flushed, tightening his grip on Ayame’s hand.
“Mask!” his oldest younger sister said happily, already reaching into her bag of beans.
When Ayame pulled her hand back to throw the beans, the woman’s hand closed around Ayame’s small fist. Confusion stole over the young girl’s features, blue eyes darting to where their hands were joined. She seemed surprised for some reason.
Akihiko didn’t like that. It was fine if it was the villagers that reached out to pat Ayame on the head or hand her sweets, but he didn’t know this woman. He wrapped his arms around Ayame’s shoulders, pulling her away. The joined hands dropped, then separated.
The woman’s smile didn’t waver. “That’s quite rude, young lady.”
Akihiko tightened his grip.
In a shaky voice, he scolded, “What are you doing, idiot? That ba-san isn’t an oni. That’s a kitsune mask.”
Ayame didn’t say a word. She was looking down at her fist.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
The woman chuckled, straightening to her full height. The colours on her haori shifted. It was beautiful, yes, but it made Akihiko feel strange.
“No harm done,” the woman said easily.
“Your haori is really pretty, ba-san.”
Red lips curved into a different smile. A secretive smile.
“Thank you. I made it myself. Now, run along, you two. You should get back to your parents.”
“Right. Sorry for the trouble, oba-san.”
Akihiko bowed, forcing his little sister to follow him. She followed without resistance; Kaachan had drilled manners into them, since they were the two eldest children. They made their escape not long after that. Akihiko’s back itched. He could swear the woman’s eyes followed them as they walked away.
Pale purple eyes gazed down at the village she had arrived in. Strangely enough, it was in the middle of a celebration.
“For Setsubun?” the young girl murmured to herself. “How odd.”
The girl’s outfit was strange. Two butterfly ornaments – dyed in pink and green – sat on either side of her head. Her hair was loose and draped down her back, almost long enough to reach her waist. Her haori had spreading vines along the white fabric, fading to green then pink at the cuffs and hem. Underneath the strangely-patterned haori was a purple-tinted gakuran; overall, a strange look for a girl that didn’t look older than fourteen. The most alarming accessory was decidedly the katana at her hip, the four prongs of her tsuba resembling a particularly sharp-edged flower.
This young girl was a Demon Slayer. Specifically, a Breath of Flower user named Kochou Kanae.
And she was on the hunt for an oni.
Kanae sighed as she sat on a branch, watching the people roam the busy streets below. She hummed as children ran along the streets. They didn’t seem concerned that the moon was already up.
Maa, Kanae thought to herself, that’s what I’m here for, I suppose.
She swung her legs as she gazed up at the moon. It was only half-showing tonight, a sly grin amongst the expanse of darkness.
Hm. With all these people roaming about, it would be a few hours before the oni struck.
Kanae settled in to wait.
Or…
She hummed to herself as a thought struck her. There were quite a few merchant caravans about. Perhaps she could hunt down a souvenir for her cute little sister first.
Kanae nodded to herself and hopped down to the forest floor. It would only take a few minutes at most.
Akihiko sighed to himself as he finally closed the shoji to his little sisters’ room. Harumi, Misaki and Hanako had been riled up by the festivities and refused to go to sleep. Kaachan was busy bathing Kiku and Touchan was settling Ayame down, so it was left to Akihiko to mind his littlest sisters.
In some way, he was grateful that all he had were little sisters. He was sure young boys would be more rambunctious. Little sisters were, apparently, better. At least if his friends could be believed. The boys from school always seemed envious of Akihiko and his many sisters.
Bah. None of them had little sisters – and if they did, their little sisters were only babies. He was sure that given a day with Ayame, Harumi and Misaki, those boys would all agree that little sisters were a troublesome breed of their own.
Akihiko stepped into the hallway the same time Touchan did.
There was a fond smile playing on Touchan's lips. He combed his fingers through his hair – as usual, it was an unruly mess that refused to be tamed into a ponytail. Kaachan frequently complained that between Touchan, Akihiko and Ayame, she wasn't sure if she was brushing her husband and children or three random thickets in the woods.
At least Hanako and Kiku had much more manageable hair.
“Touchan,” Akihiko said quietly, “they're asleep.”
Touchan heaved a sigh of relief. “Are they? Thanks, Akihiko. You're a lifesaver.”
Akihiko puffed his chest out at the praise. He knew that he wasn't really making Touchan proud; his skills in the forge were lacking, as was his calligraphy. Although Ayame was younger than him, she was doing much better at all the things Akihiko was supposed to be good at.
He didn't really understand things like bitterness. He supposed he was a little jealous, but as the eldest and only son, he was meant to be the heir to the forge.
Sometimes… sometimes, Akihiko thought that it wasn't enough. A blacksmith to a village that needed him. It was a noble cause, but… well. Weren't there other things out there?
Not that he would know anything about that. He had never left the village before. There was nothing for him out there.
Touchan knelt so he was eye-level with Akihiko. Frankly, Akihiko didn't think he looked all that much like Touchan. Yes, he followed his father's colouring, but he had more of Kaachan's features. The shape of his eyes and the slant of his lips was all Kaachan. At least that's what Baachan used to say.
“Akihiko,” Touchan murmured, “you must be tired, eh? You're such a good boy, always minding your sisters.”
Akihiko kept silent, looking down at Touchan's haori. White seigaiha on dark purple.
The little boy sighed. “It's okay. 'Cause they're my sisters. And a niichan is supposed to protect their younger siblings, right?”
Not that Akihiko really understood that. Okutama was a peaceful village, so he didn't really have to protect them from anything. Maybe from any boys that tried to be mean to them, but they were all too little. If anyone tried to bully Ayame… if she didn't swing first, then Akihiko and Touchan would exact vengeance.
Touchan smiled. “That's right! Although I'll admit you have a harder job of it, what with five sisters…”
“I like 'em,” said Akihiko.
Yes, they could be troublesome. Akihiko wasn't a girl, so he didn't really know what they liked. Thankfully, Ayame liked doing anything he and Touchan did, and the others were too little to do much more than cling to Kaachan's skirts and sleep.
It was nice. He remembered when it was just him and Ayame with Kaachan and Touchan. It had been nice, he supposed, but it was a lot nicer with all of his little sisters. It was the way Ayame just lit up when Harumi or Misaki called her Neechan, as if it was the only thing she had ever wanted in the world. She had always looked up to Akihiko, but he thought maybe she wanted someone to look up to her too.
“Sides,” Akihiko continued, “can't we just borrow Tan-chan if I want a little brother?”
Not that he got to see Tan-chan much. Mostly at New Year's, but it was better than never.
“Or Shicchan.”
Shicchan was even smaller than Tan-chan, although that just made him cuter. He'd always follow Akihiko and Tan-chan around, trying to be a big boy even though he was just a baby.
Touchan chuckled. “I don't think Tanjurou and Kie would like that very much. But I suppose you can follow me the next time I head up the mountain.”
Akihiko pouted but nodded. Being a blacksmith was boring, but he could never say that out loud. Touchan loved the forge and he loved being a blacksmith.
Touchan pinched his cheeks. Akihiko only pouted harder, which had Touchan laughing and leading down to kiss his forehead.
“It’s late,” said Touchan. “Off to bed with you, ne?”
“‘Kay. Goodnight, Touchan.”
“Goodnight, Aki-chan.”
Akihiko trudged to the room he shared with Ayame. He slid the shoji open almost silently, wincing when it creaked near the end. Ah, the rails needed to be waxed again. He glanced at his sleeping sister, but she didn’t stir. The night out at the festival must have exhausted her. Thank goodness.
He silently slid into his futon, muffling a yawn in his hand. He was tired too.
It didn’t take long for him to drop off to sleep.
Akihiko woke suddenly.
He sat up, head swimming from the sudden rush. He shook his head and squinted down at his hands. A little calloused, with nicks along his fingers from helping Touchan in the forge. He scrubbed his face, confused. Why did he wake up?
His eyes naturally drifted to Ayame’s futon. Maybe she had woken him.
His blood ran cold.
He crawled over to the futon with the lavender blanket, shoving his hands amongst the worn fabric. Her futon was empty. Ayame was gone.
Akihiko shivered as a cold breeze swept through the room. Although Setsubun signalled the beginning of spring, winter still clung to the world.
Eh? Breeze?
He stumbled to the open window. He gently touched the shutter. The window was open. They never left the window open, because Ayame was horrendous when it came to cold nights. Even in summer, she didn’t like having it cracked.
Akihiko rubbed his eyes furiously. He didn’t understand. His little sister was missing. She was missing.
He had to find her!
He rifled through the blanket, even upending Ayame’s futon. There was no little girl hiding amongst the cloth. She hadn’t crawled into bed with him, and she wouldn’t have gone to Touchan and Kaachan; Ayame had long grown out seeking out their parents. If she had a nightmare, she usually came to him.
Wait. The window was open, even though it was never open.
He rushed to the window once more, terror creeping into his veins.
Did someone kidnap his sister?!
His first thought was to wake his parents, but that was immediately dismissed. Akihiko hadn’t even gone out to look for her yet. For all he knew, she was just sneaking out to the garden or the forge to play. Ayame still thought that the forge was the perfect place to play.
And he promised Touchan he’d protect his sisters.
He shook his head and curled his shaking hands into fists. He was going to check the forge first. If Ayame was there, he was going to hit her and give her a scolding that would make Kaachan proud.
Akihiko grabbed his haori, slipping it on. He didn’t even bother to check if he was decent, too worried over his missing sister.
Honestly, he grumbled to himself, Ayame can be so troublesome.
None of his other sisters were as wilful as her. She always wanted to do whatever he did too. He remembered when he swung the gun and found Ayame in his sights instead of a deer. If it hadn’t been for Touchan’s quick thinking, she would have gotten seriously hurt! She should’ve felt blessed that the only thing she got was a scolding and three lashes on the palm.
He slipped his zori on, rushing to the forge that was nearby. It was dark, with only the faintest of embers still glowing in the forge. He absentmindedly grabbed a handful of coal and tossed it into the furnace to keep the embers running; a blacksmith should never grow cold.
He hurriedly looked in any nooks and crannies Ayame might have hidden in. charcoal smeared on his yukata and haori, but he ignored it. Finding Ayame was more important right now.
She… wasn’t here.
Akihiko panted, knelt under one of the smithing benches.
Okay. Okay, he should probably wake Touchan and Kaachan right now. He couldn’t find Ayame. (She disappeared under his watch.)
He shuffled to the entrance. His blue eyes flicked along the road, praying that he’d find his sister.
A flash of pale purple caught his attention.
His eyes widened. Ayame!
He took a step forward, then hesitated. She was… moving strangely. There was a floppy quality to her head, her limbs moving about in an unnatural way. There was a tall woman next to her, wearing a haori that had too many colours.
Why did she seem so familiar…?
Akihiko gripped the hammer next to the door. It was heavy, but he was used to it. It was the only sledgehammer he was allowed to use, because all the others were too big for him. Touchan said he would grow into it – and the others as well. He was the heir to the forge, after all – the same way Tan-chan would inherit the coal furnace and everything that came with it.
A fury that he had never felt before burned him from the inside. How dare that woman try and steal his sister from him. It was unforgivable.
He should have woken his parents. He should have told any adult.
Akihiko grabbed the hammer and followed after the mismatched duo.
He did his best to keep his footsteps silent. He was tracking them, the same way he tracked game up in the mountains. He didn’t have a gun, but a hammer was just as good a weapon as any. If he needed it.
Horror slowly crept into his body as the pair made their way into the forest. It was dangerous – especially at night. Only seasoned hunters were allowed to go there at night. That woman and Ayame were the furthest thing from seasoned hunters.
Akihiko hid behind a tree as a branch broke under his foot.
Crap! That was a rookie mistake!
He clamped a hand over his mouth to quiet his breathing. Stupid, stupid! Sweat trickled down his face despite the cool night.
Maybe… maybe he should have told someone before he left the house.
“Must have been a woodland animal,” the woman murmured. “Come along, my dear girl.”
Their footsteps restarted, crunching along the dense undergrowth. Akihiko didn’t dare breathe until he was sure they were out of earshot.
Oh. There was light up ahead.
Akihiko frowned. There weren’t any houses this way, though…
He followed after them amongst the trees instead of the barely-there path created by human feet. The source of the light was nestled at the end of the path.
It was strange. He was pretty sure that big tent was down in the town square earlier. There was no way that one woman could have dismantled it and brought it all the way up here. The shifting colours on the fabric was bathed in moonlight, making it look more ethereal. Almost like a child’s plaything.
Akihiko tightened his grip on the hammer. He didn’t know what to do. He could leave and get some help, but what if they disappeared? It would take him a while to get back to the village and even longer to wake someone and explain what he had seen.
He crouched in the underbrush. He could… just go in and grab Ayame. Take her home. Then they could forget any of this had happened.
There was no point in waiting. He could wait a whole night, but it was unlikely anything could change. Decisiveness was the key to bringing home meat or bringing home nothing.
Akihiko slowly crept forward. The tent flaps were slightly ajar, so he slipped in without a rustle.
He couldn’t help but gape.
There were tapestries everywhere. In a well-lit environment, it was breath-taking. There were beautiful colours with names he didn’t know, painted in scenes that were fantastical. In one, there was a little boy in armour fighting a dragon. In another, a princess was sitting by a river. The scenes were beautiful, but they made Akihiko uneasy. In every tapestry, the faces looked too young. Nothing like the ones he saw when Touchan brought them to one of the bigger villages.
Without realising, he had gone deeper into the tent. His foot nudged something, and his gaze shot down in a panic.
A strangled gasp left his lips as he scrambled back, falling onto his butt.
That… that was a human arm.
A shudder wracked through Akihiko’s body as his stomach lurched.
The arm was deceptively small. If it hadn’t been for the torn flesh and the blood, it could’ve been one of his sisters’ arms. So small…
What in the seven hells had he walked into?
“Oh, dear. I wasn’t expecting guests.”
Akihiko whipped around to face the voice.
It was the woman. The woman with the pretty haori and the kitsune half-mask. Only the half-mask was gone now; the woman’s colourful eyes were like her haori, shifting colours the longer Akihiko watched. No pupil, but he knew she was watching him. Engraved on her right eye was the kanji for Lower Two.
He wasn't watching her anymore. His gaze was on her hands, cradling an unconscious Ayame. And she was melting into a bolt of cloth.
“AYAME!” he screamed.
His sister – his little sister.
The first sister he ever had.
The one he was taught to protect first.
He rose to his feet, holding the hammer before him in a shaky grip.
“Give her back!” he demanded.
The woman shushed him. Black fog oozed from her form, settling over Ayame.
“She's sleeping,” she chided. “And what a wonderful dream she's having.” The woman tenderly brushed a lock of hair out of Ayame's face. “So beautiful…”
“Let her go right now!”
Akihiko stepped back, foot almost snagging on one of the hanging tapestries.
“Be careful,” the woman snapped. “Don't step on Miyako. She's such a sweet girl as well.” Her voice took on a dreamy quality. “Did you know she wanted to be an artist as well? Her dreams created the loveliest shade of blue…”
The woman wasn't human. He could tell that much. Not with the way the black fog floated from her hands, his little sister slowly melting into a bolt of cloth. Where her body had… disappeared, shades of purple and maroon were bleeding onto the white fabric.
No. No, no, no. No one was allowed to take his sister away from him. Especially not that thing.
He snarled. “Give me back my sister.”
“Don't you want her to be happy?” the thing asked. “Look at the colours. Look at how peacefully she sleeps, cradled in the dreams I give her. Doesn't it make you want a beautiful dream of your own? I wonder what colours you'll give me…”
A tapestry flowed from the ceiling. It fell with a sharp snap that made Akihiko jump. The colours were vibrant, a young girl resting in a meadow of crimson flowers.
“Sayuri-chan was about to be sold into a brothel. The only thing she wanted was to lie in the meadows and play. So I gave her that.”
Another tapestry dropped. Akihiko tightened his grip on his hammer, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the young boy in the embrace of an old, wrinkled man.
“Kotarou missed his Jiichan. He cried every day, until I made it possible for him to see his beloved Jiichan again.”
Tapestry after tapestry dropped. They were all beautiful, all filled with colours Akihiko didn't have a name for, but the only thing he felt was revulsion. They might have looked peaceful, but the dismembered arm haunted him.
It didn't matter how wonderful their dreams were. In the end, they were going to be nothing more than a broken body thrown on the ground. A – A dismembered limb discarded without a thought.
The woman tilted her head. Dark green locks fell into her face, but she was solely focused on Akihiko.
“Not to your liking? Well then, how about these?”
Unlike the others, these ones were filled with vibrant colours. They were in soft pastels, muted when compared to the others. They were formless as well, evoking emotion rather than imagery.
The woman chuckled. “I'm not particularly partial to infants, but they do have the most delightful colours.”
Infants…?
Were they – ?!
Amongst the formless clouds, he could spy a small nose. A tiny fingernail. Just like Kiku's.
His hands shook – not from fear, but from his white-knuckled grip on the handle of his hammer. Babies. She was stealing and throwing away babies.
Akihiko charged, a hoarse yell ripped from his throat.
He swung his hammer as hard as he could. He didn't care about colours or dreams. He wanted the woman that thing to hurt for taking his sister. For taking the babies.
The woman disappeared just as his hammer touched her haori.
“Don't you understand?”
The woman. That thing. It was behind him.
He whirled around, swinging his hammer with all his might.
He hit air.
The thing that looked like a woman brushed down her haori. A furrow appeared between its manicured brows.
“The things I create,” it lifted its arms, “are a work of art. I'm immortalising youth. These children… they live on forever.” Its hands settled over where a heart should be. (Akihiko was sure there was nothing there but a void.) “Just like my own children.”
Her own children.
Her own children.
Akihiko glanced at Ayame. She was still sleeping, still half-melted into the cloth. Only her upper half was free.
“I won't let that happen,” he growled, eyes narrowing. “Give me back Ayame right now. Or I'll – !”
“Or you'll what?” it countered coolly. “Come now. Would an oniichan really leave his sisters behind?”
Leave his sisters…?
The tent flap behind that thing moved. Horror made him numb as Harumi – carrying a sleeping Kiku – appeared. Then Misaki, her hand loosely curled around Hanako's.
Their eyes were open and unseeing. He didn't understand how they could move, but they shuffled closer with a crook of that thing's fingers. Just like Ayame, they moved as if they were puppets on a string.
“No,” Akihiko whispered. “Why…?”
“Why not?” The thing chuckled. “Ah. Ayame-chan loves her little sisters so much. She was so ecstatic when they were all born. How could I separate them? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taken whole families.”
It hummed. Akihiko wanted to vomit.
“I don't typically eat children this young,” it murmured, running a hand over Hanako's hair. “Too chewy. Although it is a nice break sometimes. Loving families do give me the most interesting colours.”
Heat.
Fire.
The flames of the forge were burning within Akihiko. It felt like red-hot metal, like burning himself on iron that hadn't quite cooled.
“You LEAVE MY SISTERS ALONE!”
He lifted his hammer once more. It was small, but that didn't mean it wasn't heavy. He just had to get that thing away from his sisters. Even if it wasn't human, it must feel pain. It wouldn't dodge his swings otherwise.
Akihiko breathed. He breathed like Tanjurou-san did when he performed Hinokami Kagura, breathed like he had everything to lose.
The distance between himself and the thing disappeared.
His hammer swung upwards. He felt the soft give of flesh, the shattering of bone under the iron head. The thing gurgled as it was swept off its feet, tumbling out of the tent.