Disclaimer:

I do not own nor claim all the rights to 鬼滅の刃 | Kimetsu no Yaiba | Demon Slayer; all rights are reserved to its respective creator, Koyoharu Gotōge. This is purely a work of fiction; names, characters, businesses, events, localities, and occurrences are all extrapolated from the author's writings and imagination or utilized in a fictitious manner. As such, any direct or indirect references to actual entities, dead or alive, or events do not, in any shape or form, resemble the opinions of the author.

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"..." = Dialogue

'...' = Internal monologues

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Blood.

Sweat.

Death.

Weariness.

It was very early in the morning—somewhere around 4 AM—but the darkness continued to envelop every last vector of the visible Earth. The atmosphere was tense, yet the voices fell silent... 

The air was crisp; black ash and brickle grime suffocated our lungs. Lassitude had grown fond of us warriors, with over half of the present individuals lacking the strength to even stand straight. Uniforms begrimed with dirt and blood after days of incessant combat with our foes. 

For the entirety of the previous few nights—including this one—we have done nothing but slash our katanas, constantly run to evade from, or pounce and ambush, our enemies. Food and freshwater were either scarce or completely gone, no additional supplies could possibly be procured in this demon-infested mountain to alleviate shortages. 

Under these extreme and agonizing conditions, the morale of the cadre of slayers was effectively gone. The will to fight had been lost, and the slayers simply wished that they were home—far away from the suffering and death that surrounded them in this unforgiving forest.

The vicinity was entirely composed of the trees, bushes, and undergrowth. However, unlike the green luster that defines a typical forest, this particular nature seemed more analogous to supernatural characteristics beyond that of a meager woodland. 

The shading of the trees was neither vividly vibrant nor a testament to mother nature's wonders; rather, they exuded more of an anemic complexion that emitted barely any fluorescent lighting witnessed during the daytime—the complexion abrogated such traits and instead implemented only a tinge of the original coloring, as a gray coating concurrent with the darkness that was ever so prevalent in this hostile environment induced the evergreen to shift into more of a monochrome tone. 

Such a somber spectrum of colors was also replicated into the bushes and undergrowth alike; thus, completely changing the ambiance of what should be a joyous occasion in a forest, to a virulent occasion in a forest.

As the demoralizing spirit engulfed the encampment of slayers, I was only focused on sharpening the edges of my Nichirin blade—this was no time for rest, I had to ascertain whether another wave of enemies was upon us at this very hour.

I, along with seven other trainees, found refuge in a nearby burrow—situated in the circumcenter of four large sycamores—as we elude the pungent and malnourished demons from their voracious grasps.

"Giyuu," a familiar voice called out, it was Sabito.

Sabito's pigmentation can be described as fair-skinned. A large, peach-ish scar—which adorned a more horizontal lining than vertical—ran from the right corner of his mouth and cheek. His eyes were almost cat-like with irises of a grayish lavender color.  He had thick, spiked, peach-colored hair that stretched at differentiating lengths throughout his temple and head—with the longest reaching his shoulders. Fringes of his hair did slide down to his forehead, albeit messily with only an overhanging on the left of his forehead.

Sabito wore a green yukata, patterned with a geometric hexagonal design of a yellow and a darker green texture, with a piece of black fabric knotted around his waist, and, right below that, he fancied a pair of hakama (Loose trousers with many pleats in the front, forming part of Japanese formal dress) pants. Moreover, he was wearing a plain white haori over his Yukata. Around his calves, he wore two pieces of cloth that bore the same design as his yukata, which his pants were tucked into, as well as black socks and a pair of Japanese sandals on his feet.

Like me, Sabito is a disciple of the former Water Hashira—Urokodaki Sakonji—and therefore, underwent the same training as a student of Urokodaki-sensei as I did. 

Though he was taken under Urokodaki-sensei's wing earlier than I was, we did have the opportunity to simultaneously train concurrently for a couple of years before both of us were granted permission to participate in the Final Selection—the trial to determine one's entrance into the Demon Slayer Corps by appraising the cumulative years of hard work and nonstop training a trainee applies into this exam. 

Such a premise might seem somewhat simple, but it is highly fastidious in its appraisal of the individual. With a novitiate slayer undergoing tenuous circumstances when trying to survive for seven consecutive nights on Fujikasane Mountain; with circumstances ranging from notions such as the plethora of demons present on the plateau, no external aid to support their efforts, and the lack of edible sources of nourishment or water. 

There's a reason why many train for years on end to make ready for the bloodbath on Fujikasane.

As I was crouching near the border of the burrow—on the lookout for possible intruders into the surrounding locality—Sabito crawled over to me, "Giyuu, any demons out there?"

"Not that I know of," I reply.

"Okay, goo—"

"We should use this opportunity to relocate while we still can," I interrupt him.

"What? No, that's not feasible right now," he replies.

"Why not..." I say back sternly.

"Because everyone's too exhausted to even stand right now! To force them to run would be insane!" he rebukes.

"Exactly, it's insane. You know what's also insane? Needlessly saving all of their goddamn lives and recruiting them into your goddamn personal party of acquaintances!" I retort.

Although we were close friends with whom we could relate our personal experiences of tragedy and demons, there existed a great discrepancy with regards to our personalities and tactical objectives on the field. 

Sabito was more concerned with the livelihood of others than himself; he would go out of his way to plough through a horde of demons just to save one poor soul. Though he was a serious character with a very pessimistic outlook on the perpetual state of conflict between demons and humans, he was also very kind and willing to help others no matter how negligible the prospects might be. 

Conversely, I was more reserved and dubious on the notion of altruism—I had a belief that it was every man for himself in this cruel world. Hence, why I avoid contact with others on the battlefield, as I do not want to trouble myself with their woes. 

Thus, this friction between our individual beliefs and goals can be the source of disagreements and the divisive fissure between the two of us when discussing what actions to undertake in the midst of battle.

Sabito sighed, "Giyuu, we've had this conversation before."

"And look what's happened since then: you've managed to grab six random cadets who can't contribute anything to the fighting because most of them are injured! And the ones who aren't are practically useless because of their redundant skill sets! We're like some fucking babysitters right here! We can't go anywhere nor can we do anything without first taking these people's conditions into consideration. As a result, we are at a disadvantage on the tactical level and have virtually no flexibility for any maneuvers that would have otherwise been a great boon for us!" I exclaimed

"You shut your mouth right there, Giyuu," Sabito warned, with my words provoking his ire.

"And you should learn some common sense!" I reply angrily.

"For heaven's sake, Giyuu, we've had the opportunity to discuss this earlier, and you agreed to follow my plan! No use in discussing right now."

Dammit, he's right; I did agree—albeit, begrudgingly—to follow through with his proposal. However, I did have my qualms with the contemporary plans currently intact. I believed Sabito wasn't assessing the situation with the best of mind at the moment. 

However, even with that in mind, his tenacious nature and intransigence had conformed me to acquiesce and provide sufficient support to his altruistic plans and motions. I was in no position to negotiate at this hour.

I sigh, "Okay, what's the plan then?"

"We'll wait till the break of dawn to relocate when the sun's shining. Until then, we'll just have to hold out," he answers.

"So the two of us have to fight on their behalf? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes, and I hope I'll have your full cooperation, Giyuu."

It'll be only Sabito and me to ward off the demons, but how long can we last like this? Our only hope now is to wait for the sun to rise from the horizon.

I rub the temple on the left-hand side of my head with my index and middle fingers as a gesture for espousing my level of stress and discontent with the situation. After a few seconds of deliberating over the possibilities, I turn to Sabito.

"You'll have it, but don't blame me should one of the novices die," I reply.

"Appreciate it."

The two of us part ways and resume examining the enclosed surroundings of the burrow we are currently residing in. However, within the tormenting silence and the blinding darkness, we could only pray for a temporary reprieve from the clutches of our adversaries as we await for the first glare of sunlight.

Then, I spot something in the distance.

At first glance, one might assume it's merely another one of those sinister, dark brown trunks that comprised the girths of nearly all of the vulgar, colorless trees situated on the slope of the mountain. 

However, upon closer inspection, there were discernible features—such as what seemed to be an abnormal 'trunk' protruding out from the sides at a curved angle, and the girth's diameter seemingly to be not as extensive or enlarged to a degree which would provide unequivocal proof that it was a tree—that provided substantial evidence in favor of the notion that what stood amid the dark shadows was not anything inanimate; it was very much alive. 

Judging from the excessive height, and strange abnormalities that included corrugated contortions that existed in its malleable configurations, I deduced that it was a demon.

I couldn't tell if it was looking at us; was it just passing by? Was it stalking us this whole time?

However, my questions were soon answered the moment the clouds cleared and the boisterous moonlight emerged from the confines of the cloud's coating. From then, I spotted the silhouettes of a multitude of figures and even managed to determine the exact proportions and caricatures of the grotesque creatures from the bottomless depths of hell itself.

"Sabito," I said while pointing in the direction of our enemies, "we have company."

Sabito crawled over and widened his eyes, "Shit, looks like this is gonna be one long night... How many do you estimate?"

"Ten, thirteen... Probably more," I reply.

"Thirteen? Oh, kami-sama, even ten is too much," Sabito laments.

"We'll have to make due," I say.

"So, what's the plan?" he asks.

"I'll go ahead with a frontal assault, you coordinate and provide auxiliary support with the able-bodied neophytes here. After you've managed to gather enough manpower from that useless lot, we'll feign a retreat and temporarily draw the enemy into an encirclement. From there, we'll attack," I explain.

"You want to feign a retreat? That's too risky!" he objected.

"Got any better ideas? Cause we're already in a pinch as it is," I retort.

Sabito formulates a disgruntled look on his face as if he's going to regret every and any course of action or plan implemented regardless of its stratagem. After a few seconds of ponderous vacillation, he yields, "Fine, we'll go with your plan. I'll handle the other slayers here."

I nod in acknowledgment.

Urokodaki-sensei was not just stringent in the physical tribulations and tests we were induced to endure for enhancement of our bodily aptitude, but also in the realm of our mental capacity. By teaching us the most basic stratagems and the various arts of war, Sabito and I were given indispensable knowledge for the amplification of our performance on the battlefield through the utilization of ingenious tactical maneuvers and strategies. 

It is due to the acquisition of such enlightening information—thanks to the erudition of Urokodaki-sensei and his prudence—that the two of us can shrewdly devise and apply a scheme during the chaos and stress that entangles individuals in the midst of battle.

"WE KNOW YOU'RE THERE, HUMANS!" a demon yells out.

"COME OUT, COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE!! HAHAHAHA!" another taunt.

I turn my head back towards them, then stand up straight with confidence.

"Hahahaha! Look at him! He thinks looking strong will win him a battle!" a demon mocks me.

Ignoring their failed attempts at provoking me, I initiate the following process to facilitate the necessary stages of Total Concentration Breathing.

Focus. Remember your training.

I have to regulate my breathing pattern so that I can allot a myriad of oxygen under one single breath in this repetition.

Total Concentration Breathing is a highly consummate technique in which the user accumulates the greatest units of oxygen when inhaling within a specific sequence of breathing to optimize the quantity of oxygen accrued by the lungs at the maximum potential it can possibly garner. 

The lungs, by adhering to its innate prerogatives, will then transfer that supply of oxygen to the red blood cells; who then will traverse the copious amount of bloodstreams within the body to permeate this denoted quantity to its respective organs and bodily functions. 

When endowed with this fresh supply of oxygen, the organs and the multitude of systems throughout the body will therefore have a greater source of energy available to them. 

Hence, aggrandizing their ability to carry out any given task at a moment's notice. Ergo why it is vital that members and aspiring members of the Corps strive to master this skill; it provides them the essential physical enhancement to match the awesome and exalted prowess of their foes—demons.

Breathe. Control your breathing.

As I conform to this unique concatenation with each successive inhale and exhale, my muscles tense up, my lungs feel lighter, a synchronized effect takes hold of me as a sudden burst of energy enters into my system, and the stress that was only recently writhing is now suddenly washed away like a shell on the seashore. 

My body is no longer oscillating between a want for sleep nor the fatigue that drowned me during the vigil. Instead, it feels like what had just occurred in the duration of the previous few days was all just a distant memory to be forgotten. 

My dexterity feels unlimited and my natural state had conceived a level of adroitness that one could have never imagined under these delicate and negligible circumstances that were certainly not in my body's favor.

I feel more and more inclined for the procurement of the one, considerable inhale that I must undertake in order to fully contrive this sacrosanct procedure.

Then, I took the leap of faith; with my teeth clenched up, and with only a small aperture dictated by the lips on the sides of my mouth, I summoned a stupendous surge of oxygen and charged forward—surprising both humans and demons of my blistering speed. 

With my left hand adjusted so that it was situated on the uppermost segment of the scabbard, the thumb was resting right beneath the Tsuba (Guard) of the blade where the uppermost joint touched the foundation of the Tsuba; awaited orders for the eventual unsheathing of the Katana for its usage on the right hand.

With great speed, with each following second, I approach closer and closer to the enemy positions.

I ready my right hand, I ready my scabbard, and I utter the incantation, "Zen Shūchū no Kokyū (Total Concentration Breathing), Shi no kata: Uchishio (Fourth Form: Striking Tide)!"

The swordsman makes multiple consecutive slashes while twisting their body in a flowing fashion similar to a harsh tide. (Source: Kimetsu No Yaiba Fandom Wiki, "Water Breathing.")

Under the span of mere seconds, my thumb pushes Tsuba upwards to unfasten the blade. Following that, my right hand grips the sword and unsheathes it from the clutches of its scabbard and into the outside world. 

Then, I raise my sword as I speak the incantations, and perform the magnificent display of power and substantial mastery in my swordsmanship.

With a two-handed grip on my Katana—the right hand being positioned right above the left hand—in the Hasso No Kamae stance, I thrust onwards and released the blade's incredible power in the form of a single slash that aimed to eliminate all the present individuals standing before me.

In a matter of three seconds, I charged forward and leaped to conduct a fast-paced cleft against each of the consecutive demons facing me. 

The trajectory of my run hitherto the leap allowed for the jump to be supplemented by a strong projectile; a vital facet of Fourth Form posture I must satisfy for it to be most effective. An enthralling, light blue image of a tidal wave appeared to complement the irrevocable slashes I had concocted against my adversaries. 

My maims were so nimble and swift, that a spectator would not be able to tell if I did slash my enemies.

But mutilate the demons I did, as, immediately afterward, five demons fell to the ground and disintegrated as my blade mangled a plethora of lacerations upon the group of demons facing me.

It should be noted, though, that despite the presence of the supposed water waves, they are all but illusions. 

Breathing Techniques don't actually generate elemental compounds that are bequeathed to the user; instead, those visual images are merely apparitions of the manner in which the user expounds and executes their respective breathing styles. 

For example, the liquid water I seemed to have engineered is simply a reflection of my fighting demeanor; my blade and body move like waves or like liquid water. 

So no, I'm no magician... But I am a skilled swordsman.

After I had completed the incise, I landed on my feet in the Seigan No Kamae resting stance to conclude the offensive. With a majority of my weight concentrated on the rear leg, and the leading leg holding the body in an upright posture. My shoulders are relaxed and reduced to a lesser elevation as I hold my Katana at a 45-degree reference angle with respect to my stomach. By doing this, I am ready to intercept the attacker's advance—should they go for it.

"B-Bastard!" three demons lunged forward to land a hit against me.

In response, I leaped into the air and evaded their assault. With the three demons distracted by my sudden movement—and thanks to my great jump upwards, I was situated directly above them—I used this window of opportunity to promulgate another thrash against my enemies.

"Ni no kata: Mizu guruma (Second Form: Water Wheel)!" I yelled as a wave of liquid water sought the image of the circular spin I initiated to pounce the three demons at a vertical angle.

With this vertical spin supported by a circular motion, I aimed for the necks where the idiosyncratic physique of these blood-thirsty monsters' bodies facilitated a weak spot for which slayers could utilize to their advantage should they prefer a short engagement with the enemy.

In part due to the fixed position of their bodies after they attempted to strangle me when they lunged ahead, their necks were completely exposed at my upraised, elevated height and point of view. 

Thus, my vertical Water Wheel attack had the freedom to simultaneously behead all three demons in one single thrust with splendor and ease. 

Which, I promptly did with my circular motion producing enough momentum to proficiently chop off all three heads through a carefully, focused slit aimed at the necks.

As I gracefully landed from the recent move, my sword was bent downwards and my back was fixed in an irregular, contorted posture that was not a suitable stance if one wished to parry an incoming attack.

So, I transitioned my arms upwards, fixed my back in an upright pose, and shifted my bearing to the Hassō-no-kamae combat stance. In this position, my left foot is forward, and the sword is held pointing upright with the hilt in front of the right shoulder. Meanwhile, the blade is sloped slightly to the posterior of my right shoulder. 

With this, I can respond to any attack from any given direction.

"DIE!!" an extensively large demon, about 10 feet (Roughly 3 Meters) high was towering over me as he threw a jab with his right hand.

Still maintaining my combat stance, I quickly eluded his blatantly failed attempt to deliver a finishing blow by making long strides over to another position.

The demon's erroneous move allowed for me to obtain a beneficial disposition—from a military standpoint—with the Kissaki (Point / Tip) of my blade now directed towards his sides at a perpendicular position; if a line were drawn from the Kissaki to the ribs of the demon, it would form a nearly-perfect right angle in relation to another imaginary line drawn adjacent to the ribs.

Therefore, I readied myself for another strike against the enormous demon trying to recollect himself from the humiliating revelation of his insufficient attack.

"Ichi no kata: Minamo giri (First Form: Water Surface Slash)!" I shout as I eject myself from my specific locus, aiming for the demon's neck.

With all of my willpower, I call upon the prodigious amount of oxygen needed for the proceeding breathing style by inhaling a great deal thereof. 

As I feel less weight pressing down on my weary legs, my internal energy reserves overseeing an incremental increase, and the synergy in my arms allowing for a greater degree of immense movement than ever before, I lift my sword and prepare for the final takedown.

For the First Form, I needed to make adjustments to my stance: instead of wielding the Katana with both of my hands, I instead disjoined this coordinated effort and only allowed the right hand to garner a firm grip on the weapon. 

From there, I crossed both arms in an X disposition with each of them standing above the opposite shoulder—with the right arm hovering over the left shoulder, and the left arm hovering over the left shoulder. 

This specified arrangement was an effort to allow for more momentum to be built up in anticipation of the instance in which I release the sword against my combatant.

A majestic blue wave reappeared with small particles of water droplets sprinkling from the sides like a great waterfall.

Finally, following a few seconds of running, I reached an acceptable distance from the demon to exhibit the full brunt of my sword against its neck. 

I swing my arms—both of which were present and loitering around on opposite shoulders—back across to their respective orientations; the sheer power of that single move produced the excess momentum required for the eventual beheading of the demon. 

Like cutting through soft, unrefrigerated butter, there was little viscosity when my blade viciously tore through the bones, flesh, and innumerable contents that constituted the sturdy neck.

SLASH

The demon's head went flying into the darkness as I quickly landed back onto the ground with my Hassō-no-kamae combat stance ready to counter an incoming attack from another enemy...

That is if there was an enemy to counter in the first place... Because I can't seem to find any within a fair distance.

I scan the area, looking for any signs of the profuse legions of demons that I could've sworn I saw back in the burrow.

"Huh...? That's weird..." I say amidst the confusion.

I subsequently lifted my blade—which was drenched in blood—to a position situated right above my left shoulder; with my right arm partially concealing my face. 

Aggressively swinging my Katana—which was held by my right hand—in a left-right motion, the sword instantaneously shifts from the space above my shoulder to a posture where the Kissaki (Tip) of the blade is nearly touching the grime ubiquitously plastered on the grass-lacking ground. I then promptly sheathe the Katana back into its scabbard.

Despite the absence of demons, something more ominous nagged me: the lack of any indications to showcase the presence of human beings in the vicinity. I could not hear nor see any of my fellow slayers in the surrounding foliage or shrubs. I even glanced over to the burrow, only to find no riveting features to designate the existence of human beings in the locality.

"Sabito?" I call out.

This isn't normal... Either the demons fell back for whatever reason—even though the sun isn't up yet—and the gang left for somewhere safe, or I'm going insane...

Then,

STAB

That was the incontrovertible sound of a blade making contact with the flesh of a sentient being...

I feel a sudden push against my lower abdomen. A force greater than that of a trivial jab had been imbued upon by bowels. 

Within seconds, this simple nudge had escalated into unmitigated, unadulterated, and excruciating pain that suddenly and relentlessly rushed in to beckon the susceptible and unexpecting nerves that pervaded throughout my body. 

The immediate and foul throbbing that ensued within my stomach and the intestinal region was insurmountable; no other pain experienced beforehand could possibly hope to attain the level of despair and strain saturated into my nervous system as the one orchestrated by this one puncture into a vulnerable expanse of the human anatomy.

"ARRGGHHH!!!" I collapsed to the ground and landed on my knees as the pain was too great to ameliorate.

To my horror, I spotted the Mono-uchi segment of a Katana protruding out from my abdomen, soaking and dripping with my blood. I couldn't register what had just happened; I was in a state of shock and disbelief, not even the pain could drag me back to reality.

Then, the blade was abruptly pulled away from the aperture constructed by its own doing. The sheer force at which the blade was withdrawn was unfathomable; the pain—already irresistibly torturous—only intensified while a cascade of blood spilled from the requisite organs administering the myriad of obligations needed for a fully functioning human body.

My throat felt warm, and I started coughing out blood. However, it's made worse by the fact that every wheeze my chest desires amounts to a world of agony for my bowels. Thus, as I coughed, I also winced in pain as the anguish and suffering encroached upon the stability and fortitude of my mental and physical states—stretching them to the limits.

I finally collapse and prostrate myself to the ground.

"Wr-wr-wr... Who—wr..." I tried to enunciate words, but it was of no use...

"Look at yourself... Look how pathetic you look," a familiar voice calls out from behind; probably the perpetrator of this catastrophe.

It can't be...

"Did you really think you'd be absolved from all of your crimes? HAHAHA! Don't make me laugh!"

Sabito... that's you, isn't it?

"Of course it's me you dumb fuck. And now, you're going to pay for all the crimes you committed," he replies.

Crimes...? What have I done?

"Don't you remember? You're the one who killed me," he says angrily as his distinct phonetic pattern was invariably altered; with this new tone exuding emotions ranging from that of anger, fear, and distaste.

What? No, that's not true...

"Oh no, it's one hundred percent true. And you know it. I had to sacrifice myself to save your scrawny ass! Tell me, while living a comfortable life in the Corps, did you ever consider at what expense such a distinguished life came at? Do you think subjecting yourself to redundant habits such as brooding, abstaining from the pleasures of life, or vigorous training sessions is enough to make up for killing both your older sister and best friend? Do you ever feel guilty?"

I do feel guilty... I feel it every day... It hurts, it stings, but I never want to forget this guilt... Because I fear that the moment I do disregard it, I will have disrespected both you and Nee-san. I miss you both so much that words cannot describe just how much I wish to see you two smile again... But I know that day will never come... And it's because of me...

"Good. Never forget that etching pain, for you and only you are culpable for everything that has happened thus far."

I cough out blood again. To make matters worse, I'm drastically losing my eyesight—my vision's turning blurry as definite shapes are convulsing and gaining an irregular appearance.

"Never forget the sins for which you have committed because you are the bastard who allowed the corpses of your loved ones to rot in the fiery depths of hell. But don't worry, we'll leave an extra spot for you down here..."

I'm sorry...

"Apologies are meaningless. And your worthless life deserves to be a living hell."

..

..

..

..

THUMP

My eyelids immediately widened and I remained still and was completely disoriented, as I was reeling from the horrible pain I just experienced.

I panic, where am I? Am I still bleeding? Where's Sabito?

Oh right... I'm on a train... I'm still alive... It was just a dream... An obtrusive bump from the train track woke me up from my slumber.

I was in a passenger car, situated somewhere in the middle of the carriage where a plethora of rows of seats was available for the patrons—I was away from the aisle, sitting by the window on the right-hand side of the train. 

Unlike other facets of life in 1910s Japan, trains harbored a western-style design and ambiance to them; a sign of changing times and the growing western influence on a country undergoing rapid industrialization.

The coach was relatively medium-sized with little to no amenities available for the passengers; as all that there was on the car were rows upon rows of black, leather-coated, wooden seats for the clients. 

Moreover, there was uniformity with regards to the arrangement and the manner in which the plethora of seats was organized: each 'subdivision' of the seating arrangement was situated in a distinct fashion so that each pair of settees on each side of the aisle were inclined to face each other. Between each 'pair,' there existed no space to provide consolation to personal bubbles due to limited area available for such leisures; basically, seats would be back-to-back with a bordering duality while also being positioned directly opposite to a seat right across by an upwards of 2 feet (61 cm).

However, I continued to feel that inexplicable sensation persistently stinging in my chest. As if the pain had never left—and never will—leave me peace; I am forever in its despotic clutches. However, unlike real oppression, the cause of this distress is from within; I am exposing myself to such circumstances willingly without a shred of doubt. 

I sometimes wonder if it's morally righteous of me to ask for leniency and internal peace...

My thoughts are interrupted by an extraneous force pushing against my left arm.

It's Kocho... She's sleeping on my arm...

The sweet aroma of Wisteria could be distinguished as I took notice of the savory smell that served as one of Kocho's defining features; after all, she does extensively utilize—and is an expert on the inner workings of—Wisteria compounds and its many alternative uses. 

Makes me wonder how much diligence and innovative spirit had to be poured into overcoming the numerous barriers and tribulations she encountered with respect to vying for a spot amongst the Hashiras in light of deficient physical strength. I can't help but praise and respect her for that.

I should wake her... But, I don't think she'll appreciate me dictating her sleeping schedule. So I should probably just stay quiet and act as if I'm sleeping to not cause a shock when she wakes up.

Yeah, good plan. Let's go with that.

..

..

..

..

..

..

Shinobu 

I felt warm... I felt caressed... It was soothing as if all of my woes were simply washed away by a tidal wave... My feelings were awashed with a mix of emotions ranging from relief to satisfaction with the many dimensions of life—including its faults and beauties. 

Like the burden of my grievances and unbridled malice was suddenly lifted from my shoulders by someone else.

Standing upon the precipice of a waterfall, I spotted an outline from the distance—it looked human. This person seems to have masculine features, indicating that this individual is a man, and he has a missing arm too.

Was this person behind it? Behind all of this?

Who was it? Who are you? Why did you help me?

Why me?

"..." the being didn't answer the heaps of questions I threw at him.

Please, I want to know.

"You already do," it responds before fading into the light.

I woke up.

I scour my surroundings only to remember that I was on a train to Yokohama and that I had a mission to complete.

Oh well, just another day as the Insect Pillar.

Anyways, who would've known that there'd be a pillow lying around he—wait a minute...

It was at that moment that I realized that my head was reclined to Tomioka's left arm.

This whole time, I had been using his arm like it was some pillow... Tomioka, arm, sleeping, pillow...

I immediately withdraw from the alluring and warm grasp of his arm.

"W-What a-am I d-doing?" I, with an incoherent speaking pattern that is far different from my distinctive one, stammered through my words. My head was spinning with a myriad of thoughts on the implications of this particular action—I had no such interactions with anyone else before.

I felt my cheeks go red, and my overall composure lost its impeccability as I was utterly flustered and embarrassed at the thought of what I had just done.

Hold on, is Tomioka awake? Otherwise, I think it would be better to just simply commit seppuku at this point.

I carefully lifted my head to catch a glimpse of Tomioka's face; he was fast asleep.

Oh thank Kami-sama, he's sleeping. Despite the good news, I was still distraught by my lack of authority over the random and haphazard actions that I recently undertook in what could've been a disaster for both my image and self-esteem. And especially when it comes to Tomioka.

I don't know what's gotten over me today, first Tomioka's stupid antics and my inner conscious thinking it would be funny if I were to be sleeping on his arm... It's all because of him, why?

Before any further elaboration could've been amalgamated for the sporadic thoughts, I heard a little chuckle followed by some commentary: "Oh, my apologies, I couldn't help but adore this wonderful image of you and your lover cherishing each other."

The source of this dialogue came directly opposite from me—since each pair of seats on each side of the aisle were positioned so that they were facing each other. It was a relatively old woman, probably somewhere in her late forties to early fifties. She was smiling whilst exuding a jubilant atmosphere unlike any other—however, she wasn't vibrant in a manner that espouses an eccentric personality; rather, her spirited nature was more a direct result of the calm and serene disposition of her own volition. 

The makeup of her face—while there were signs of aging and the physical toll of time itself upon her longevity—still harbored the physique and character of a woman in her middle years. The same could be applied to her hair, which did begin to somewhat conspicuously display certain strands of white hair on the fringes of her hairline, but generally maintained the intrinsic black color when viewed at an acceptable outlook. Her eyes, though seemingly young and colorful on the surface, had undoubtedly seen a lot in her long life; enough to lose its inherent colors. 

Such descriptions are only possible to materialize with many inquisitions on the part of the examiner—fortunately, that is something I have a knack for.

I smiled, "Oh no, you're mistaken, he's not my lover at all. We are just business partners."

"Hmm? So what was that whole ordeal with you turning red at the sight of him? Hmmmmm??" she queried.

Oh shoot, she must've obviously seen that considering the fact that she was directly facing us.

"Ah yes, I was just feeling a little warm—and my face tends to light up when that happens," I reply, keeping my composure and smile in check.

"You sure about that?"

Wow, she sure is persistent for an elderly lady.

"Absolutely," I say.

"Haha, alright, alright, I'll let you off the hook," she laughed.

Meanwhile, I just sat there puzzled at these recent developments. It was quite abnormal to see a stranger—much less a respected elder—act so casual and be so sociable to the point where they would initiate a random conversation.

"So where are you heading?" she asks.

"Kanagawa Prefecture, and you?" I said.

"Ooh, Kanagawa? I'm just going to Hachioji. I don't suppose you're going to Yokohama, are you?" she replies.

"I am actually, how'd you guess?" I inquire.

"Plenty of travelers are heading for the big cities; since, you know, all the jobs are being churned up in the factories there rather than the rice fields in the countryside. Better prospects in urban areas during these changing times, eh? In fact, most of my children are planning to, or have already moved to big metropolitan centers like Tokyo, Osaka, Yokohama, and Nagoya. Crazy isn't it?" she explains.

"Y-Yeah... I've heard about the migration. So, I'm guessing you live in a rural prefecture?" I question.

"Oh yeah, I live in the Gifu Prefecture—my family is traditionally peasant. However, with the kids moving away I'll have to rely on uncles and cousins to help with the farm work. I'll tell ya, my little runts have the audacity to be more concerned with making money than they are helping their old mother here!" she exclaims.

I laugh, she seems to be the type I could chat at any time, anywhere no matter the circumstances. Conversing with her is quite entertaining and can pass the time since a long train ride is tedious and will either result in a nap, or absolute boredom. 

The former being a source of embarrassment, and the latter being quite disconcerting. So, why the hell not; where's the harm in having a laid-back conversation with your fellow elderly citizen?

"What's your name?" I ask as I control the laughter.

"Akihiro Yui, and you?"

"Kocho Shinobu," I answered.

And thus, a long, amusing, and absolutely hilarious conversation ensued. The lady shared stories of her wacky youthful days in Meiji-era Japan, how she met her husband, laughable and chaotic anecdotes of trying to parent five children, and how those same children are faring nowadays. 

Furthermore, with an immense amount of time we had on our hands, she also dispensed tales of her family's history and how they were affiliated with the many aspects of Japanese history. It was all very fascinating and engaging.

"So then my husband, Akihiro Hiroto, arrived at the police station to ask them just ONE question—if he could take a picture of the police station. And the officer at the desk replied that he needed to get a confirmation for such an action. He then informed my husband that it would 'only take about twenty minutes, so just take a seat here.' So, my husband waited, waited, and waited. Soon enough, over an hour had passed, so he chose to just leave and come back the next day. He came back the next day, and he asked if he had permission to take a picture. The officer replied that he just doesn't know yet because his superiors had to confer to their superiors, who then had to confer to their superiors. Now, guess how many months he had to wait to just take one photo," she continues.

I, in anticipation, guess, "A week?"

"Not even close, he had to wait TWO whole months!" she laughs.

I chuckle, "That's quite insane."

"Yeah! In fact, Hiroto-san decided to just take the damn picture anyway two weeks in," she snickered.

"Wow, that must've been horrendous!" I exclaim.

"Indeed it was! Hiroto-san once angrily complained that 'If this is the true extent of Japanese bureaucracy, then the entire damn government should resign on corruption charges!'"

"Really puts things into perspective," I comment.

"My husband was a shrewd one, I'll tell ya. Anyways, enough about me, what about you? How's the family doing?"

Within that very moment—as soon as she spoke those god forbidden words—I almost lost poise and nearly dropped the smile plastered on my face. My heart dropped as soon as I heard her request for an update on the condition of my blood relatives, an update which hadn't been tended to for years upon years. 

Should I tell her the truth? Or should I lie and not ruin this amicable discussion and mood? I do not know which one to choose, and I am afraid that I will inevitably regret it either way. Just when I was having a swell time, this damned topic had to come up! 

Not that I blame Akihiro Yui for it, but such a conversation is bound to be uncomfortable and unsettling for both parties depending on the response I give.

If I choose to tell her, she will be in a very egregious position; she'll probably want to cease conversing with me right then and there.

If I lie, then I will have lied to a genuinely good person—a notion I can't seem to accept.

Either way, I won't be satisfied.

"Um... They're... Uh..." I try to stall, wanting to buy time to come up with a proper and appropriate response to her question.

However, before anything could've been executed, Akihiro's face then furrowed and she looked down as if she were guilty of something. After a few seconds of the constant and unceasing noise of the train's motion, she finally looked up with a concerned look on her face.

"Tell me, child, did something happen to your family?" she suddenly asks.

My mandatory smile immediately falters in light of her words, and I gaped at her in astonishment. How'd she figured out? What was that just now?

"Y-ye—" I try to formulate the necessary words.

"Please, do not push yourself. If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine," she interrupts.

"No... It's okay, I just didn't want to burden you with a morose conversation about my dead family. It's funny, huh? I was sure I could've fooled you with a fabricated story. But, alas, I underestimated the ever-observant eyes of the senior population and their eternal wisdom," I forced a smile.

"You poor child... Losing your loved ones must've been hard," she says softly.

"Yes... Yes, it was," I quietly replied.

Akihiro then took a moment to internally deliberate over something before resuming the conversation, "You know why I was able to see past your bluff?"

This piqued my interest because I'm usually excellent at keeping my emotions in check, "How?"

"The look in your eyes... It's the same look I had when I was your age," she answered.

"Same look?" I gave it some thought, before quickly realizing the obvious, "you lost your family too?"

"Yes, a cholera outbreak took their lives when I was just thirteen. Had to move in with my aunt and uncle. I was an absolute mess, I couldn't accept their deaths and remain in a constant state of lamentation, grief, and disorientation. It was a pernicious cycle that greatly affected my livelihood and attitude towards life during my early years," she elaborated.

"What changed it?" I asked.

She smiled, but it was one with a hint of sorrow and regret, "When I met my husband, Hiroto-san. He dragged me out of that rabbit hole, and brought light to my dark world."

"Your husband, huh?" I ponder, did it really only take one person to change everything? To bring hope in a supposedly hopeless predicament that is life?

Do I have anyone of that sort?... No, I don't think I do.

"That's a wonderful husband you have," I call upon a smile again.

"Yes, he was everything to me; he was kind, loyal, respectful, and supportive. I initially stubbornly rejected his calls for reprieve towards me and chose to ignore him instead. I thought that he was just wasting his time on a hopeless girl like me. However, he persevered and refused to give up no matter how many times I declined his kindness and offers of olive branches. Eventually, I caved in and finally opened my eyes as to how foolish I was and how praise-worthy Hiroto-san was. He was truly a remarkable man; he unconditionally loved his wife, his children, and his family like any father would do. He was my sole torchlight in the dark cavern, he was my everything because I owed him everything. I owe him for granting me a loving family, a prosperous life, and for putting me on the right path in life. I loved him with all of my heart, and so did the kids..."

Something felt off, as further supplemented by the extensive use of past tense words—especially 'was.'

"Where's your husband now?" I decided to inquire.

"Hiroto-san? Ah... He passed away fifteen years ago during the Boxer Rebellion as a naval officer in the Imperial Navy."

Oh no, I've touched a delicate subject. I shouldn't have pried, I don't want to upset Akihiro-san.

"I'm... I'm sorry," I say, trying to be more articulate, but only being relegated to simple phrases.

"Don't be," Yui smiled, "but it certainly does hurt whenever I am reminded of his passing—which just so happens to be every day. It makes me wonder as to why I miss him so much... Is it because I loved him so dearly? No, countless wives loved their husbands as much as I did, but lost them to war, disease, or old age. Even so, they managed to move on and lead their respective families in their husband's stead. Meanwhile, I can't seem to forget and accept such a reality; it's thirteen-year-old me all over again... I think it's because I took him for granted. I acted as if Hiroto-san was not just a pivotal component of my life, but also a permanent one. And that, my friend, is where I went wrong. I deluded myself into thinking that he was always going to be there no matter what, that he was never going to leave me nor the family to our own. But, again, I failed to reconfigure and was henceforth subjected to perpetual sadness and misery. I failed to identify a key lesson in life: to cherish your most valued things before they slip from the grasps of your palms. I never considered the possibility that Hiroto-san won't ever return, and I pay the consequences for that now."

Before I could reply, the train blew its loud, obtrusive whistle shortly before the conductor walked in to procure an announcement, "NEXT STOP, HACHIOJI! PLEASE PICK UP ANY PERSONAL BELONGINGS BEFORE EXITING THE TRAIN!"

"Well," Yui composed herself, "this is my stop."

"Oh..." I said, disappointed.

If I am honest, in the short duration of knowing each other, I've never met someone so solemn, so optimistic, yet so pessimistic, and, most of all, someone for whom I could easily converse with as if they were family... Family... This is the closest thing I've gotten to a familial bond ever since Nee-san died. And with such a short time, and with much haste, it must eventually come to an abrupt end—like all good things. I feel empty, is this really the extent of my luck and happiness in this world? Sweet, but short; fulfilling, but inevitably draining...

Yui stood up, and I did the same—hoping to see her off.

As the two of us wiggled through the crowd on the carriage and towards the entrance, Yui turned around to face me for what is quite possibly the last time we'll ever see each other.

She smiled, I reciprocated.

"Akihiro-san..." I want to say something, something grand and long-lasting to conclude this incredible part of our journey.

However, before such things could occur, Yui hugged me, "Kocho-san, thank you for taking the time to talk to me."

I hugged her back, "Yeah, and thank you for sharing your stories."

We let go of each other.

She smirks, "You should ask your so-called 'business partner' out."

She was obviously referring to Tomioka, to which, I unintentionally blush, "L-Like I said, it's nothing like that..."

"Just remember Kocho-san, you will only realize the true value of something after you've lost hold of it. Just as I lost the love of my life, you will only notice how truly important something or someone is after they've passed. So, I urge you: take action now, so that you won't regret it later. Because, that way, you can live a gratifying and fulfilling life to its fullest with no shred of doubt in mind. Cherish every moment, so that you won't have to do so when it's too late. This is all coming from personal experience, so please, trust me on this," she explains.

I nod in acknowledgment.

"ALL ABOARD!"

Yui then steps off the locomotive just as it starts to move again.

The two of us waved at each other until she was only a spec of dot in the distance.

My journey continues nonetheless.

I contemplate the words of wisdom presented by Akihiro Yui; what was she implying? Is there something important in my life that I just don't see yet?

As I walk over to my seat, I see a sleeping Tomioka resting peacefully by the window.

I smile at the sight, not out of obligation, but out of my own free will.

Why do I genuinely smile around you, Tomioka-san? Maybe I'll soon learn... Soon enough, I will know...