Chapter Text
In the late afternoon sky, sun rays fell on the hill covered with greenery. It wasn’t high, but it was steep enough that the air stayed quiet.
Halfway up, where the slope flattened for a moment, a house sat. Wood slightly darkened by a few years, tile roof worn smooth by rain and sun. Not large, not small. Just enough space for a family and the silence they preferred. The courtyard in front was packed earth, scored with the paths of feet and the drag of a wooden training post that had seen better days.
Late afternoon light spilled across the engawa, gilding the edge of the roof and turning the dust into slow-moving motes. It was the kind of light that made everything look softer, even when it wasn’t.
Moving past the open doorway, past the clean line of the engawa, past the way the light caught on the grain of the wood, inside, on the tatami mat, a woman knelt behind her daughter.
Her hair was pulled back in a simple, old-fashioned knot, a few strands loose against her jaw. A blackish-blue haori over a white kimono, the hem marked by faint gray flowers that had faded with washing. Her eyes were the same blackish-blue, deep and sharp even when she wasn’t looking at you.
She worked fast. Fingers precise, pulling hair into a ponytail without yanking. Strict hands, but careful.
“Hold still,” she said. Her voice was low, clipped at the edges. “If you move again, I’m leaving it uneven.”
In front of her, the girl sat vibrating with energy she couldn’t contain. Orange hair, a little messy, was being tied high. An orange kimono with a small white flower pattern. Eyes crimson-orange, bright and focused.
In her hands, a wooden sword. Old. The wood was dark with wear, the edge smoothed round from years of use. She’d found it wedged behind a loose board at the back of the closet, under a pile of old linens her mother had placed there on purpose, somewhere she’d never think to look.
But here she was. Sword in her hands. Hinatsuru Rei let out a small sigh, thinking, “How’d she find it this time?”
She twisted at the waist, testing a stance she’d seen once and memorized.
“Mom, look!” She jabbed the air, all elbows and enthusiasm. “If a demon came right now, I’d—”
“If a demon came right now, you’d trip on your own feet,” Rei cut in. She didn’t stop working, but her brows pulled together. “Head still. I’m not redoing this.”
The girl pouted, but stilled for three seconds. Then the sword was up again, pointing at the trees, at the sky, at nothing.
She continued working with her hair. “You should try getting along with others too, Akane,” the woman said quietly, almost as an afterthought. “Children of your age. You can’t live here forever talking to wood.”
The girl froze. For half a second, then she shook her head. Short. Final.
“No.”
It wasn’t rude. It wasn’t a tantrum. It was blunt, the way kids are when they’ve already made up their mind. Mischievous in the way she said it, careful not to cross the line.
“I don’t need them. I’ve got this.” She held the sword up, eyes shining. “When I’m big, I’ll be like Father. I’ll beat demons. I’ll be strong.”
The woman’s fingers paused for a second. Then she tapped the girl’s forehead with two fingers. Not hard.
“Being strong isn’t just swinging a sword,” she said. She let out a tired but annoyed sigh. “Your father and that idiot Hashira friend of his are to blame!
A flash of memory: two broad backs crouched in the courtyard in front of her, their haori caught the afternoon light. One had short orange hair and he wore plain red coat, while the other sat beside him with a wild mane of fiery hair spilling down over a white haori marked with bright orange flame patterns. At their hips rested two swords—one featuring a simple red single-flame guard, the other an intricate orange flame. And Akane just stared at the guards, her eyes wide and bright.
“They stuffed all that nonsense into your head till it stuck.”
The woman finished the hair. Let her go. Annoyed. Fond. Tired.
The girl grinned, all teeth and no apology, and immediately stood up and turned, launching into another clumsy stance, muttering about footwork under her breath. “Don’t be mad. I’ll protect you too, mother.”
Rei sighed, tucking a few strands of hair behind Akane’s ear. “Protect me later, kid. For now leave me alone. I have work to do,” she said, stepping away.
Akane blinked, then grinned anyway. “Yes!” She darted off outside the house.
---
Down the hill, the village sat in late afternoon light.
A man walked the narrow path at an easy pace, his red haori catching the low sun. Short orange hair, deep crimson-orange eyes. The weight of his sword sat at his back, hidden under the haori. He had that bright, small smile he always wore when he was heading home. Home was home.
Laundry hung between houses, shop shutters rattled shut, and a vegetable cart trundled past with the driver calling out prices no one answered. Kids chased each other through the alleys, voices dropping as dinner time neared. Everyone was busy, heads down, hands moving.
“Oi, Kaito-san!”
A man stood in the gap between two houses, sweat on his brow, face caught between panic and forced calm. Glasses catching the light. Dr. Tenya — the village's doctor, and one of the few people who had been trusted with both secrets and fevers.
“Got a moment?” Tenya said, forcing a confused grin.
Hinatsuru Kaito stopped.
His smile stayed, but it thinned at the edges. He gave Tenya a once-over: the sweat, the glasses slipping down his nose, the way his hands were gripping nothing behind his back like he was hiding something.
“Dr. Tenya?” Kaito said. “What did you do? You’re supposed to be the most careful guy in this village.”
Tenya winced. “I know. That’s why this is bad.”
Kaito’s brow furrowed. Dr. Tenya wasn’t the type to make a mess. He was steady, reliable—the doctor everyone trusted at 2 a.m. The only times he ended up like this was when he tried something out of his reach. Fixing furniture. Building things. Anything with his hands that wasn’t a scalpel.
“I just wanted to fix it before she got back,” Tenya said quietly. “I thought I could manage. But I couldn’t. If my wife comes home and sees the shelf in pieces and the door off its hinges…”
Kaito shook his head immediately. “No. I’m heading home.”
He meant it. He wanted to get back. The path, the house, the quiet of it after a long road.
Tenya’s shoulders dropped. “Please, Kaito-san. Just until it’s stable. If she comes back and sees it like this, I can’t even imagine what’s gonna happen.”
Kaito looked past him, toward home. Then back at Tenya’s face.
“Please,” Tenya said again, lower this time. “I don’t ask you for much.”
Kaito exhaled through his nose. He disliked it. He always disliked that part.
“Fine,” his expression softened into a tired smile. “But I’m not staying late.”
“Thank you,” Tenya breathed out, relief hitting him all at once. “Thank you, Kaito-san. It'll only take ten minutes or maybe…”
It didn’t.
What started as “ten minutes” turned into rehanging the door, tightening the frame, checking it twice so it wouldn’t fall the moment someone leaned on it. Tenya hovered, apologizing every few minutes. Kaito didn’t answer much. He just worked.
By the time the last nail went in, the village was dark. Midnight had come and gone. Lanterns out. Alleys empty.
Moonlight fell across the quiet alley. Kaito stood with his shoulders slumped, letting out a slow, tired sigh. Behind him, Tenya stood a step back, head bowed and hands clasped, his face tight with genuine apology. Kaito turned and walked toward the hill where his home was.
---
The night was too quiet. Only his footsteps and the crickets followed him up the hill. It didn’t take long to reach the house. He slid the door open with a quiet creak.
The engawa was dim, lit by the faint glow of an oil lamp from inside. And there, sitting on the step sideways against the wall, was Akane.
Her head rested against the wall from the side, cheek pressed to the wood, eyes closed and breathing slow and even. Her orange hair was tied high in a ponytail, neat from where Rei had done it earlier. The wooden sword lay on the floor beside her, still loosely held in her hand as if she’d dozed off mid-wait.
Kaito stopped for a moment, watching.
Footsteps sounded softly behind him.
Rei appeared in the doorway, hair half-undone, the blackish-blue haori draped loosely over her shoulders. She glanced at Akane first, then at Kaito, her expression a mix of exasperation and something warmer that she didn’t bother to hide.
“You’re late,” she said, voice low and clipped, but without real bite.
Kaito gave a small, tired smile. “I know.”
“She waited for you,” Rei said, crossing her arms. “Said she wanted to show you the stance she learned today. But fell asleep before you made it halfway up the hill.”
Kaito looked down at their daughter again. Akane didn’t stir.
Rei sighed, kneeling down and carefully pulling the sword from Akane’s fingers before it could slip and clatter to the floor.
Kaito knelt, lifted Akane gently into his arms, and carried her inside, careful not to wake her.
He took her straight to her room. The futon was already laid out, as if Rei had been expecting this. He set Akane down carefully, adjusting the blanket over her shoulders and making sure the ponytail didn’t get caught beneath her head.
He didn’t leave right away.
Kaito stayed there, crouched beside her, watching. Her breathing was slow and even, the stubborn set of her jaw softened by sleep. The wooden sword had slipped from her hand earlier, but even now her fingers twitched faintly, like she was still holding it in a dream.
---