the wound and the blade,

what   a   monster   he   is,    tracking   him   all   the   way   to   his   home   &.   scaring   a   child.    it’s   all   muzan   can   do,    allowing   kimiko   to   hide   her   face   in   his   shoulder   despite   the   inconvenience   that   was   the   human   child.    even   unable   to   hide   how   he   tenses,    fear   creeping   up   his   back   at   the   sight   of   the   man.

he   smiles,    ”    is   there   something   that   you   need   ?    ”

what a strange phenomenon it is.     the man yoriichi is sworn and destined to defeat,  pursued solely by the traveling word of mouth of a man who creates cataclysms wherever he roams,  finally stands before him.     just within the reach of his sword’s swing,  cornered in the living space of his own home;  it wouldn’t take anything at all for the slayer to unsheathe his blade right here and now—     to put an end to all these mindless killings,   let his own soul rest knowing these demonic atrocities will be no more...

he could do it right now.     had some other slayer found the progenitor first instead of him,  it surely would have already been done by now,  or at the very least attempted without hesitation.     ...what a strange phenomenon it is indeed,  then,  that yoriichi’s gaze softens despite knowing all of this.

a child.     there is a child who burrows her face into the shoulder of the man he’s here to kill.     clinging onto her father like any scared daughter would,  holding tight for comfort and protection.     it does not take long for yoriichi to understand the position he’s in,  that in the eyes of this child,  he is the scary man who she must face away from.     a wave of guilt washes over him like cold water when he realizes this,  and his eyes,  which were dark and heavy with animosity just moments ago,  now narrow themselves to the floor like a man ashamed.

yoriichi regards the apple in his hand for a moment;  one-half of the catalyst for the circumstance that finds them.     he’s yet to take a bite of it,  despite the amount of time it’s been in his possession.     a gut instinct had spurred him to ask her where she had gotten these from,  and the answer sent him  (  metaphorically?  )  dragging her along with him back to the farmer’s table to pay for them.     rounded to 400 yen in total,  200 per apple she had swiped from the table of the merchant who had his back turned  —  nothing but pocket change to some.     to others,  it could be just enough to feed their family or themselves.

on the walk away from the busyness of the farmers’ market,  he tries to explain this to her.     ❝     the labor of someone’s hard work should never be disregarded so carelessly..     the livelihood of those farmers’ rest on the produce you steal from.     ❞     her will to survive makes her do so by any means necessary,  he understands this,  but he wants to reason with her that it shouldn’t come at the cost of someone else’s livelihood.     ...wants to,  but the air of silence she gives him makes him realize that his words might not mean anything to her,  so he saves his breath and raises the apple towards his mouth.     (  he feels the freedom to do so now,  after all.     a clean conscious whether or not she feels the same.  )     but right before he takes that bite,  something comes out of her in the same moment:     ‘doofus...’

it comes out as if it’s part of the wind itself,  in the regard that it’s just barely muttered above her breath,  and yoriichi makes no gesture to imply that he’s even heard her at all.     maybe he’s naïve enough to believe that it truly was the breeze—  it is the windy season, after all  —or maybe the crunch of teeth snapping into the fruit’s skin drowned it out with perfect timing,  it’s uncertain.     even after he gets a mouthful,  his gaze remains steadfast on what’s in front of him,  his legs continue to walk forward alongside her with an uninterrupted pace.     the only response he makes is this,  if you could even call it that:     ❝     hmmm...     ❞     a contemplational noise,  easy to assume that his mind is on other things now,  probably simplicit thoughts about this and that...     impossible to assume that what he’s thinking is exactly what happens next.

“    it’s going to be nighttime soon.    ”    it’s a observation she makes with her hands in her lap and her clad feet comforted by movement,    or lack thereof.    fitting the life of a demon slayer,     she’s never in one place for long before she’s onto the next.    her destination is always marked with help of her kasugai crow;    with a blade at her hip,    she goes where she is needed.    yukako begins to fear her only means of exploring the nation will be for business rather than for leisure.

this nomadic lifestyle wears her out,    and it does so often.

can’t she sit and live,    like normal people do?    she knows how to do it—    well,    she knew how to do it.    as utterly pitiful as it may sound,    her familiarity with doing so is limited to secondhand experiences.    [it doesn’t seem hard,    which is the most tantalizing part about it:    it requires absolutely no effort.    none at all.]   the memories of her life before she learned of demons seems so beyond reach;    she couldn’t reach for them if she tried.

yukako is pulled from her thoughts at a demonstration of what she craves,    which almost seems like a slap in the face,    given the circumstances:    normalcy.    a young woman calls out to two children that it’s time for them to come inside for the night and that they’ll play more tomorrow.    though they’re unhappy,    they comply with their presumed mother’s request and race eachother home,    laughing the entire way.

elsewhere,    shopkeepers close their businesses for the night and faraway conversations detail of the next day.    shopping,    working,    visiting friends and family…    “    do you ever wish you were like them?    ”    yukako inquires.    the tacit assumption of her speaking to thin air doesn’t seem so probable anymore as she turns to yoriichi,    just as sharp-eyed as she is.    “    living a normal life?    ”

yoriichi’s gaze rises skywards at yukako’s mention.     against a backdrop of oranges and purples,  a crescent moon makes its appearance:     another day comes to an end,  same as all of its predecessors before it.     and what the night brings is the same as every night before it too;     a demon here,  a slaying there.     his hand has grown accustomed to the roughened texture of his sword’s hilt,  the way his fingers flex around it before a swing...     the weight of it in his palms  /  the weight it has on him.     although he knows that there are more softer,  better things his hands could be holding on to,  he also knows that there might never be an end to these lonely nights of his.

but there are more things,  underneath all of this violence,  that he knows might never come to an end.     he recognizes it when she turns and gazes back at him.     it’s not difficult at all for him to immediately notice the sorrow in those violet hues—  he recognizes her yearning because he’s had years to recognize his own.     ❝     mm,     ❞     his footsteps cease when he’s reached the space beside her.     do you wish you lived a normal life?     yes...  of course he does.     doesn’t everybody?     ❝     i had a taste of it once.     it feels like a lifetime before me,  now.     ❞     with the sight of the family in front of him,  he can’t help but to reminisce,  if only for a moment.     a lifetime ago,  he was one of those two children,  a brother.     and in the next lifetime,  perhaps he too can be one of those parents.

he would be  hard - pressed  to discover that nanashi was just as stubborn as him when it came to food.     the life of a mercenary had taught him all too well that food was a necessity never guaranteed.     normally,   the  ronin  would have simply taken the  single  rice  ball  proffered and scarfed it down,   so aware was he that yoriichi speaks the truth.

but taking it from him  …  feels wrong.

he scoffs and gently pushes the hand stretched out to him back towards the man beside him;   ever - kind,   ever - present,   ever - strange.

❛         don’t be a fool.   it’s not about worry.   i’m the one most used to going without food.     two days is  nothing.   if you’re already hungry enough to be  fussing  over me,   then you should eat it yourself.   i’ll catch us something that’ll fill us both.        ❜      in  other  words:   it  is  not  enough  that  you  do  not  go  hungry   ——   i  promise  to  always  make  sure  you  eat  well.

with nothing left to say,  yoriichi’s hand withdraws back under a gaze that lowers onto it.     sitting silent and motionless,  not at all unlike the snow that has swallowed up the once-green scenery outside,  or the icicles that line the edge of the roof like january’s curtains...  he takes this moment to contemplate rather than to insist.     whether or not he’s fully aware of it:     it’s always been in his nature to give much more than he takes.     in those twenty-three years of his,  he has always been the one to offer his hand out in some way.     to help others whenever he can,  even with the most smallest of mundane things,  just feels right.     (  if there is some other reason he was born into this world,  other than to use his strength to defeat evil,  he’s sure this must be it.  )

but that offering hand of his has been rejected here.     yoriichi knows nanashi well enough,  by now,  that simply offering it once more with the hope he’ll have a change of heart isn’t an option.     no matter how incessant he is to make sure he is fed first.     they travel this land together now,  side-by-side,  yet he has always given the slayer the impression of a lone wolf despite it.     set in his independent ways.

then,  like a statue that’s been brought to life,  yoriichi breaks his stillness and moves.     two hands hold onto each side of the rice ball.     the bottom of his palms press down,  and in a folding motion,  it splits down the middle.     a compromise is made.

he extends a half of it back out to him,  just like he had before.     ❝     at the very least,  you can take this then.     ❞     the half of a small thing is an even smaller thing.     it might be nothing to nanashi;     gulped down in three,  or even less,  two bites.     but it might be everything to yoriichi,  to just share it with him.