“Hey, are you okay?” said the boy with the sword. “Don’t worry. I got the demon’s head. Your arm’s really bleeding, though. Here, apply pressure above the wound.” With his free hand, he tossed Sanemi a clean handkerchief.
Sanemi looked the boy over suspiciously. Likely one or two years his senior, the boy wore some kind of stiff-collared military uniform. Two old scars burned beneath his left eye.
Sanemi tried to collect himself. “Do demons die when you cut off their head?”
“You’re out here demon hunting and you don’t know that much? You’re lucky you’re still alive.” The boy wiped the blood from his sword before returning it to its sheath. He squatted next to Sanemi.
“That blood’s not stopping, huh? How about I bind the wound tight for you? Just make sure you get it looked at properly when you get the chance.” The boy took a bandage out of his pocket. “Give me your arm.” He pressed the fabric against the wound and deftly tied it off.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” he asked as he worked. “The dumb kid running around hunting demons even though he’s not a Demon Slayer. Why would you do a thing like that?” He looked into Sanemi’s eyes, his gaze almost painfully sincere.
Sanemi looked away. “I’m going to slaughter every last one of those hideous things.”
“Yeah?” The boy seemed unfazed by the bitterness in Sanemi’s voice. His tone remained light. “Keep this up and you’re gonna die, you know. You won’t take out a single demon fighting like that.”
“Oh yeah?”
Ignoring Sanemi’s bitterness, the boy stood up and held out a hand. “I’ll introduce you to a Trainer. To kill every last demon, you’ll really need to build up your strength.”
The boy’s smile was bottomless and bright. Despite himself, Sanemi was caught off guard.
And that was how Sanemi Shinazugawa met the Demon Slayer Masachika Kumeno.
“Hi, Sanemi! Injured again, huh?”
“Shut up,” came Sanemi’s reply.
Masachika was waiting in front of the house when Sanemi returned from his latest mission. For a moment he looked troubled by the gaping wound on Sanemi’s shoulder, but his smile quickly returned.
Sanemi didn’t try to hide his displeasure. “What are you doing here?”
“Just got back from a mission. A Kasugai Crow told me you’d finished yours too, so I figured we could get a bite together. You used your rare blood again, didn’t you? I told you, you have to stop cutting yourself up all the time.”
“That’s none of your business.” Sanemi clicked his tongue in annoyance as he pushed the hair back from his face. All he wanted to do was get some sleep, and here was this loudmouth in his face again. It was too much to take.
He’s always ambushing me like this. What is with him?
Sanemi tried to push past the other Demon Slayer, but Masachika grabbed his arm. “Stop right there. We’re going to Butterfly Mansion.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need to get that wound treated. And you could use a good scolding from Kocho while you’re at it.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Sanemi stepped up to Masachika, their noses practically touching. Sanemi’s fierce scowl put fear in the hearts of their comrades and the Kakushi. It even made older Demon Slayers flinch. Yet it had never had any effect on Masachika.
“I’m not kidding,” said Masachika. “Not over this.”
“I told you it’s none of your business, Kumeno.”
“Is that so?” He arched an eyebrow. “I’m the one who introduced you to our master, Sanemi. I’m basically your big brother.”
“Sanemi this, Sanemi that. Don’t call me by my first name like we’re friends.”
“You can call me by my first name. Then we’ll be even, right?” Masachika grinned. “Ma. Sa. Chi. Ka. Go on, give it a try.”
“You don’t get it!” Frustrated, Sanemi tried to yank his arm away, but Masachika’s fingers dug in like a turtle’s beak.
The standoff didn’t quite come to blows. Sanemi, in his weakened state, passed out mid-struggle. When he woke up, he was in a bed at Butterfly Mansion.
“I see you cut yourself again.” Kanae Kocho frowned as she studied Sanemi in the examination room.
“Get off my back,” Sanemi snapped.
“The injuries from your last mission haven’t healed yet, but you insisted on pulling your bandages off. Those wounds are going to fester. And your face is so swollen I barely recognize you.”
Kanae got out disinfectant to clean his wounds. Sanemi averted his eyes with a short snarl.
“It’s not all the demons’ work,” he told her. “That piece of garbage Kumeno wasn’t exactly gentle when he dragged me here.”
She sighed. “And whose fault is that? Stop making him worry.”
“I didn’t ask him to care. I mean, come on. What’s his problem?” Sanemi could hear his voice rising.
Don’t cut yourself. Don’t be so reckless in battle. Have you eaten? Try to get along with people. Take a bath. Stop glaring at everybody... On and on it went, day after day. The guy was always hanging around, pestering him, and Sanemi was sick to death of it.
“And he won’t shut up about the ‘brothers’ thing,” he snapped. “Just because we’re apprenticed to the same master...”
Kanae gently took his hands in hers. “You don’t have to be so angry. Try to accept his friendship, okay?”
With a sharp breath, Sanemi looked away from her shining face. Somehow, it was impossible to argue with Kanae. Her hands were so gentle as she treated his injuries. In every movement of her fingers, he could feel her thoughtful care, the way she avoided touching his wounds directly to shield him from pain.
So warm …
His mother, long gone, had warm, gentle hands too.
As Sanemi’s mind wandered, Kanae finished disinfecting his cuts and began sewing them closed with small, tight stitches.
“Kumeno cares about you, Shinazugawa,” she said softly. “He worries that you’re too kind for this line of work.”
Sanemi was yanked back to reality. “Huh?” He burst out laughing. “How am I kind? I’m a jerk. That brainless dolt’s the one who acts like a puppy begging to be kicked.”
Kanae shrugged slightly. She looked up as if she had something to say, then turned back to her work. Once each cut was stitched up, she pressed it with gauze and neatly wound a bandage in place.
The faint aroma of wisteria mixed with the harsh scent of disinfectant in the bright, tidy examination room.
When Sanemi left the room, Masachika was in the hallway outside, talking to another Demon Slayer. Sanemi scowled. Was the guy actually waiting for him?
Sanemi couldn’t get over Masachika’s persistence. He wondered what, exactly, he had to do to get Masachika to understand precisely how unwelcome he was.
Masachika’s conversation partner was a female Demon Slayer with delicate features and a butterfly hairpin worn high at the back of her head. Sanemi recognized her as Kanae’s younger sister, Shinobu.
Siblings were rare in the Demon Slayer Corps. Sanemi could barely imagine the traumas in Kanae’s past: witnessing her parents slain by demons, being rescued by the Stone Hashira, and finally choosing to join the Corps. But after everything she’d gone through, it seemed unfathomable that she would let her younger sister sign up as well. If his own little brother Genya said he was going to join the Corps, Sanemi was sure he’d do anything short of murder to stop him. He was determined to walk this bloody path alone.
Masachika neared the end of the story he was telling. “And the Stone Hashira’s flute was so loud that some old lady chased him around town, hitting him with a broom!”
Shinobu nearly burst out laughing, then hurried to settle her face back into a solemn expression. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t know Himejima played the flute.”
“You wouldn’t think it to look at him, right? You know what else? He’s a huge cat person. When the neighborhood cats see the Stone Hashira, they all …”
What was he going on about? Sanemi knew that not every conversation had to be serious, especially during downtime between missions, but Masachika always took it too far.
“Oh, Sanemi!” Masachika noticed his annoyed comrade and raised a hand. “All fixed up?”
“Oh good,” said Shinobu. “I need to talk to my sister. See you later.” She dipped a quick bow at Sanemi before passing him to enter the examination room.
Masachika leaned playfully toward Sanemi. “See, you had everybody worried. Better not get yourself injured again, right? Hey, are you blushing?”
“Shut up.”
Masachika’s grin only broadened. Sanemi shouldered him out of the way, but Masachika showed no sign of irritation as he trailed along behind. “Hey, wait up!”
His carefree attitude only annoyed Sanemi more.
“I was just chatting with Shinobu about the Stone Hashira. He’s really something, isn’t he? Tough and reliable.” Masachika sighed, deeply moved. “So cool.”
All Sanemi had heard was some idiocy about flutes and cats. He sniffed indignantly to himself. How exactly is that cool?
“I want to be a Hashira someday. You do too, don’t you, Sanemi?” Masachika danced around his comrade. “Don’t you? Don’t you?”
Sanemi ignored him.
“We should bet on who becomes Hashira first,” Masachika continued, as if Sanemi had eagerly agreed. “I’ve got it! The loser can buy the winner dinner. But no cheap eats like soba. That’s hardly worth a bet. It’s gotta be fine dining, like sukiyaki. Ah, that simmered meat and tofu, and the sauce... A prize worth training for.” He let out an ecstatic sigh.
Sanemi couldn’t keep quiet another second. “Not interested,” he spat.