1. child of brightness in swordsmith village.

"Huh, weird. You're early."

He is almost sixteen when he meets Death for the first time.

The being stands tall, the books of life around him parting to his guidance, trailing as would a river around him. A single one opens, too far from its epilogue.

"Yeah. I'm going to need to talk to that bitch about this. Give me a second."

He's rolled over to his stomach by the time Death gets the phone connected and starts cursing in some indecipherable language. His face is almost completely buried into his arms and there's the call of sleep in the distance, but then Death raises his voice again.

"I said I'm not fucking taking him, Life! We're fucking overpopulated down here alright? I'm not making someone pack up early just because your intern messed up!"

A pause.

"What do you mean you lost his body?! He was supposed to die of old age, so what'd you do to it?"

Another longer pause.

"What the f— HE IS SIXTEEN, bitch! You bring his murderer down here! I don't care, you rewrote one lifetime, you can rewrite another! WHO DOES THAT TO A FUCKING SIXTEEN— Hey??? You're hanging up on me? You're fucking hanging up on me?!"

Death slams the phone down and groans deeply into his hands.

He turns around to where the aforementioned sixteen-year-old has made himself very comfortable on the floor, legs swinging behind him as he stares up, awaiting Death's next decree.

"So uh..."

Death sighs, crouching down and resting a hand on his head. His fingers are cold, but they're gentle, and they ruffle his hair just briefly, before he simpers, amused.

"Wanna get isekai'ed, kid?"

-

Swordsmith Village is pretty nice.

Being born again in this hidden village, Tecchikawahara Kanata was a quiet child that didn't do much except observe from a distance. He spends his days helping out in odd jobs, leading slayers and Kakushi to the village and out, or, well,

"Kanata. Don't come this way. Go to the woodworking station today."

"Hmm."

Forgers in the smithy usually took their masks off, but those in the woodworks keep their on, if only because the dust kicks up everywhere in this place.

"Kanata. You're here to watch again? Can you tie some tsuka? A new batch of swords for new demon slayers just got done cooling, so we'll mostly be doing polishing today."

"Hmm."

Life in Swordsmith Village is mundane. Hidden as it is, it's peaceful. The children spend all day helping out the adults, apprenticing under their parents and endeavouring to eventually take over whatever those limited jobs are.

Kanata didn't have parents. He was found in the wake of a demon attack and brought into protection in the Swordsmith Village since he happened to be nearby. The chief bestowed him the name of the Tecchikawahara, and here he's stayed for nearly a decade now.

("He's a Child of Brightness, don't you see?" the Chief had said, when the Butterfly Mansion wanted the child too. "He must be in a family that works in fire. He will bring us luck in the Swordsmith Village.")

(Kanata's little swaddle had been found in sunlight that day, and it's presumed by Kakushi that it was the only reason he lived through the demon attack. Similarly, only a portion of his front-left had hair a shade of vibrant red, as if the sun itself had dyed it so as an emblem of a debt incurred. His eyes were similar, just a segment of each had a strange flicker of red in the right lighting.)

It's not a very interesting place to be, but in this era of an endless war, being in peace and having a guaranteed job is already very much of a privilege.

So, Kanata isn't complaining. Sometimes he gets to follow the adults out on deliveries, and that's fun, too.

-

Nevermind.

"What are you doing back here already?!"

He's very happy to see that Death hasn't changed a bit in ten years. Well, Kanata is shorter now, and dressed rather differently, but Death is still very fussy.

This time, Death picks him up by the collar, scowling from arm's length as one would a wet cat.

"You did worse than last time! You couldn't try to stay alive a little more than... oh wow, nine years. Almost half your previous age."

Death's almost chastising him, but it's more exasperation than anything. The book of life opened beside him isn't any further progressed, and the disappointment is palpable.

"Look, you're not supposed to come here for another good, long while. I don't have a spot open for you until then. Take better care of the body I give you, alright? Life doesn't want to give you any more."

-

"Kanata. You're here to watch again? Can you tie some tsuka? A new batch of swords for new demon slayers just got done cooling, so we'll mostly be doing polishing today."

Kanata lifts his head to Uncle Kiyoyuki, works the wood grinder.

Then, at himself, his pristine clothing, not a speck of blood on the fabric. There is no gouge of a demon's fangs in his shoulder. His arm is still with him. His eyeball is not staring back at him from two feet away.

"Hmm," he responds.

"You're such a hard worker, Kanata," Uncle Kiyoyuki pats him on the head, endeared. "After we're done, you can come with me on some deliveries, how about that?"

Kanata shakes his head.

"Oh? You don't wanna go out?"

Ah, wait. If he doesn't go, uncle's going to die.

"Oh, so you want to go?"

Kanata's clutching this man's haori with all his might because he has no idea how to say anything without sounding absolutely unhinged.

He just nods.

-

"KID. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING?"

Kanata has his hands buried in his face. He is very sorry. But what is he supposed to do, they took a completely different route and still managed to get found by the demon! And they're like, lower moon or something, Kanata saw some writing in that eye.

But Kanata likes Uncle Kiyoyuki, okay? He doesn't want him to die.

"Look, kid. Your fate was sealed the first time you died. No matter what you do, you're always going to die the same way... dismembered then eaten."

Kanata's fist closes around his face. He really didn't like that.

"I can give you a longer, slightly more peaceful time in another world, but I cannot change the fact that you will one day end up back here again. So are you going to stay put in that village, and live as peacefully, as quietly as you can?"

Kanata was not put into that world for some purpose. He was not put in that world to create a legacy, to set forth a saga, or to save the world.

He was simply sent there to make up for a life he was supposed to live.

So, he didn't have to do anything, and if he simply behaved he was guaranteed a fairly long life before dying again.

"Decide what you want to do. You're not using up any time if you keep repeating this day, and I don't suggest you linger in this moment for too long."

-

"Kanata. You're here to watch again? Can you tie some tsuka? A new batch of swords for new demon slayers just got done cooling, so we'll mostly be doing polishing today."

Alright.

Kanata will play this game.

He tries a few things. He's seen it before. If he's fated to die gruesome and cruel, then he could do anything, as long as he isn't put into that scenario.

(If he's fated to get dismembered and eaten, then isn't he immortal, as long as he's inedible?)

It takes him multiple tries to get as far as a fang to his neck getting abruptly pulled away to retching and choking.

"You shitty brat! You poured fucking wisteria incense all over yourself? Is that what that dust was?!"

Lower Moon Six. How interesting. The rankings changed so often, Kanata couldn't imagine seeing a young girl like this in what he knew of this world. The white hair and red stripes on her face rang some bells, but not too loud of one.

It didn't matter.

Combing the wisteria powder through sawdust let it spread through the air and stick easier to things when thrown, and it was very useful paired with the steady stream of blood from his bleeding elbow where an arm was supposed to be.

Uncle Kiyoyuki's dead.

Well, that's fine for now. Kanata will do better next time.

-

"If it weren't for Kanata's quick thinking, we would have been in great trouble," Uncle Kiyoyuki praises him dearly, once they arrive at the point of delivery.

"I— I really thank you so much for coming all this way!"

Kumeno Masachika is a nervous and budding demon slayer, and though he's well aware of how dangerous his place is, he's so regretful to know such danger nearly came by when his swordsmith delivered his sword. Especially when the swordsmith's apprentice is so young, too.

"It's no problem. We swordsmiths always carry incense with us. It just so happened this demon had been abnormally strong, is all," Uncle Kiyoyuki assured. "Now, would you draw your nichirin sword? I would be honoured to envision its colours change."

Uncle Kiyoyuki held Kanata close— careful with his tender wounds, dearly wrapped by Kakushi. He's warm and clean in fresh clothing, having taken a well-earned bath in Masachika's house. Kanata's very tired, but he feels this is something he would rather not miss out.

And he watches, entranced, as the sword reveals a silvery green glow, shimmering in the dim house lighting.

Kanata nods, nuzzling into Uncle Kiyoyuki's side.

See? The dark green tsuka-ito was the right choice.

-

"You're not allowed to handle Kanata ever again."

"It's not my fault we got attacked by demons! Give him back!"

"Absolutely not! How do we give you a kid and you come back with him like this?"

They seem really devastated about him accidentally having his hair cut off during the demon attack. It's the best possible outcome all things considered, but considering this was never supposed to happen to a Swordsmith that always carries wisteria, the fact that Uncle Kiyoyuki couldn't hide its occurrence made things complicated.

"You're telling me the demons are stronger now, and the amount of wisteria we carry isn't enough?" the Chief question. "Regardless, I am glad you've both made it home safely. Now, Kanata, eat some snacks. Let the adults talk."

"Hmm," Kanata bows in gratitude before gorging on the sweet cane biscuits contentedly. He's a kid and he doesn't need to care about any of this. Thank goodness.

-

Kanata has no idea when he is. And the curiosity is a bit daunting sometimes.

"That doesn't mean you get to come here just to ask me to get your manga for you!"

Death slams the book of life over Kanata's head, earning a sharp squeak before the child's completely buried under a mountain of books that all wanted to join the suffocation-risk cuddle pile.

"How did you get here?!"

Kanata blinks, confusedly. Oh! One of the books was the manga he was looking for. nice.

"I'm not asking how did you die , of course I know that," Death retracts, a little embarrassed for the outburst, "I'm asking how the hell you got dismembered and— I guess you don't necessarily need the eating part, fine— but you didn't even go out of the village!"

Kanata hums.

But the book of life is already open beside Death.

"What the— YOU THREW YOURSELF INTO THE WOOD SHREDDER?" Death is mortified. "I guess that's one way to get to my realm, but... Kid! You can't keep doing this! How many times do you think you've been here, just to figure out how to chase Mukago away? My assistants are treating you like a regular customer at this point!"

Kanata simply hums noncommittally as a little black ent carefully balances over a tray with some hot chocolate in a cute cat-shaped mug. Another scales him, making its way to his face for a cheek hug.

Death facepalms longsufferingly.

-

Time passes, regardless.

Even if Kanata knew of things that could happen, he didn't quite have the permission to travel far, nor the strength to stop certain events from transpiring on his own. Nor does he have the privilege of extending his knowledge to someone greater.

If he attracts the attention of the demons, it'll only be worse.

Death told him that he wasn't here to do anything. He didn't need to fix the story, to save people, he wasn't obliged to do any of that. And Kanata agreed. He didn't really care for half of the people that were fated to die, anyways.

So, for now, he's just going to do what he can.

And that's 'live'.

He's not very good at that, but it's what it is.

-

"Chiefffff!! I don't know how, but Kanata-dono took the key to Yoriichi Type Zero and I don't know how long he's been training with it, but he's a good swordsman now!"

The Chief pauses in the middle of his tea.

He doesn't blame Kogane for losing the key— he's usually very careful with it, but maybe having his new child has made him flustered.

But what?

Kanata?

"Is he still alive?" the Chief asks. Yoriichi Type Zero may be tuned for practice, but it was still very capable of accidentally killing unattentive swordsmen, especially a barely ten-year-old that has barely learned how to wield a sword at all.

No one in this village can wield a sword in a way that matters.

Kanata didn't stand a chance.

"...yes," Kogane says, deeply apologetic. "Even more, he doesn't have a single wound on him. He's broken at least two of its arms, which I can fix, but..."

"He what?"

"He broke... two of Yoriichi Type Zero's arms."

Kanata has always been strange, but this is just impossible. That thing is a village secret for a reason— even Hashira may have to expend some effort against it.

"And... how many times has he used it without our knowing?"

The Chief is very infuriated. What a selfish, danger-prone child.... He is going to be such a handful once he grows up, and seeing as he's nearing his most difficult ages, they're all quite dreading it.

"That's the thing, chief..."

When they make their way up the steps, the answer appals everyone that rushes to see.

"He said, and I don't think he's lying... 'only once'."

(Specifically, his answer had been: 'Only once, I guess.')

And there, in the clearing, Kanata is being tended to by Uncle Kiyoyuki, who isn't convinced that Kanata isn't injured at all. Yoriichi Type Zero has been shut down before him on his knees, two of its arms broken off, swords laid out around him.

Kanata isn't injured. Rather covered in sand and very dirty after the scuffle, but he's alright.

But what caught the chieftain's eyes were neither the slash through Yoriichi Type Zero's clothing, the new shatter upon its face; nor was it the undaunted, calm expression on Kanata's face as he simply allows himself to be coddled.

It was the nichirin sword in Kanata's hand, a newly bonded blade that should be too long for his size, and yet—

—and yet, the blade spilled over with colour, a pure bronze in the sunlight.

-

It's not all that easy to learn Breathing Techniques, but once he got the basics down— from a Kakushi that was a former slayer— the rest came in its own way.

It's a bit tricky.

The Kakushi didn't teach him any sword technique breathing styles, just the basic concentration breathing that even the swordsmiths sometimes knew simply because of the harsh work they do daily— but Kanata tried to juggle that concentration over and over— and then messed up the rhythm here and there because each time he died, he came back a different breath, a new strength—

—and well, at some point while training with Yoriichi Type Zero, it became a Breathing Style unique to himself.

"...I guess we'll call it the 'Sand Breathing Style'," Uncle Kiyoyuki deems. Kanata kicks up a lot of sand when he's fighting, "but how did he even know how to do all this?"

"Well, we only ever have one explanation for talented children in this village."

"Oh, inherited memory, makes sense."

Silence.

"So... Should we hide him, or should we let him take the Final Selection?"

"Absolutely NOT," someone roars. "This child is TEN."

"But like, look at that potential. I'm pretty sure the crows already tattled."

"Squawk! SQUAAWKKK!" a crows bellows overhead, "Oyakata-sama is calling! Oyakata-sama summons the Chief of Swordsmith Village. Bring Tecchikawahara Kanata along!" And then, repeat.

Silence.

Then, the Chief calls, "someone get Hotaru. He will kill that bird for us and we will agree that we have never received any message."

"CHIEF, NO!"