Gyomei Himejima was once a kind man.
He used to live in an old temple, taking care of orphaned children with nowhere to go. And though they were poor, they were happy. He would eat little himself so that he could feed the children instead, and he worked himself to the bone day in and day out. Not only had he never hit a person, he didn’t even raise his voice to scold the children for their wrongdoings.
Sensitive and honest to a fault, he was an ordinary man, kind to the point of excess.
Until that nightmarish evening …
“Namu Amida Butsu.”
Himejima sliced off the demon’s head with his Nichirin Sword hatchet and then crushed it with the iron ball at the end of the chain leading from the hatchet’s handle.
The room was already a sea of blood by the time he had arrived on the scene. Now the blood gushing from the demon mixed with that of the murdered couple to fill the air with a choking stench.
Two little girls cowered in front of the falling demon. The elder of them, though still in her early years, was desperately shielding the younger one. They had a similar look, and he guessed they were sisters. Both were shaking and crying. Their hearts were no doubt full of fear.
The grief of losing their parents would no doubt close in on them later. That would then mutate into hatred at the senselessness of having the people they loved taken from them.
But right now, the girls’ hearts were ruled by stark, overwhelming terror of this unfathomable creature known as a demon.
Perhaps I too appear as a monster in their eyes.
As he had with Sayo. He had given up so much for her, been injured for her, risked his life to protect her, and she had trembled in fear in front of everyone and sobbed.
“That man is a monster. Everyone—he killed everyone!”
The adults who came running, the officers who questioned him, and even Himejima himself didn’t know that the man Sayo had been referring to was a demon. Convinced that a terrified, confused little girl had gotten everything twisted up in her memory and called him a monster, Himejima never for a second forgot those words, nor her fearful voice.
Children are pitifully weak. And also cruel. This thought still ruled him.
“This is the house of Master Gyomei Himejima, yes?”
Himejima stared blankly at the girls before him. He thought he would never see them again after the Kakushi sent them to live with distant relatives, so he hadn’t even asked their names. Truth be told, he didn’t want to have anything more to do with children.
Not to mention, two weeks had passed since that attack. The fact that they were paying him a visit now meant that they must have come to find fault with Himejima.
“Please forgive us for being so rude as to come unannounced.” The older girl bowed neatly. “My name is Kanae Kocho. This is my little sister, Shinobu.”
He sensed the younger girl awkwardly bow her own head.
“What are you doing here?” he finally said.
“We asked the Kakushi about you. I do apologize that we were unable to give you a proper thank-you for saving us from the demon, Master Himejima. Thank you so much for rescuing me and my sister.” Her tone was gentle and its timbre sweet, but her voice was also clear and crisp. It made Himejima picture a flower blooming in snow.
“Thank you for rescuing my sister.” The little one followed suit and offered up her own thanks. Her voice was still babyish, yet with an unyielding edge to it.
“We had the funeral for our mother and father,” the older sister continued. “Thanks to you, Master Himejima, their bodies were not too badly destroyed, so we were able to have a wake with them in coffins. We are in your debt.”
The words of both sisters were rich with sincerity. Their grief at the loss of their parents, their gratitude to Himejima, and their love for each other came through to him loud and clear.
Did you come here just to tell me that? The wounds in their hearts hadn’t even healed yet. He was moved by their bravery, but he was also afraid of getting involved with them.
While they spoke such admirable words now, with the passage of time, they might start to reproach him and ask why he hadn’t rescued them sooner. They might say their parents’ deaths were his fault. That was the sort of creature a child was. Therefore, he was deliberately curt with them.
“It’s my job to kill demons. No need for thanks.”
“Yes. The Kakushi also told us about the Demon Slayer Corps.” Kanae’s voice was suddenly tense. She looked at her younger sister who looked back at her, and he felt them nod slightly at each other.
“We’ve come today with a request—” Kanae started.
“We want you to teach us how to hunt demons,” Shinobu said, cutting her sister off. “Me and Kanae. Tell us how to cut off demon heads.”
Himejima sensed with his mind’s eye the definitive difference between the sisters in the hardness of her voice. In contrast with the deep sorrow and pained resolve inside Kanae, Shinobu was filled with a burning rage and powerful loathing. The bared blade of her rage was almost beautiful.
Poor girl … If a demon hadn’t crossed her path, this small child would have lived a happy life, wrapped in the warm embrace of her family’s love. Now she was forced to carry this unfathomable anger and hatred. That was so despicable and pitiable that he could hardly stand it.
Still, he could not allow the feelings of this moment in time to rob these children of their futures. Above all else, Himejima’s battered heart refused to care for the girls.
When he went outside to chop wood, he found Shinobu there. He frowned. “You’re still here?”
“I am. You haven’t said you’ll teach us to hunt demons yet,” Shinobu replied angrily.
The crack of wood splitting followed her assertion. “I’m chopping wood,” she continued. “Kanae’s cleaning the house and doing the laundry. She wants to wash that kimono too, so go change later, okay?”
“I don’t recall asking you to do any of that,” he told her, somewhat indignant. “Go home before it gets dark.”
“We don’t have a home to go to,” she said in a hard voice. “We lost everything. We threw away whatever was left. We don’t have anything now. All I’ve got is my sister.”
She split another log. This time, the sound wasn’t as sharp. The axe Himejima used was too big for a little girl.
“Give me that.” He took the tool from her.
The brief contact with her hands told him they were depressingly small. From the echo of her voice, the position he heard it coming from, and the sound of her footfalls, he imagined Shinobu was a bit smaller than other girls her age, and he was exactly right.
“You have to bring the axe down on the wood perpendicularly, like this.” Himejima set a log on the stump and brought the axe down. The crack was especially loud.
“How would you know, gramps?” Shinobu asked. “You can’t see.”
“I’m not yet so old as to be called ‘gramps,’” Himejima told her.
The girl considered this for a moment as she decided what she would call him.