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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It was a blistering summer day.

The colossal expanse of the sun envelops the acreage with its scorching rays.

The sweltering heat and the moist climate, wrought upon by the complementing humidity, had now invaded every aspect of the landscape: The wooden edifices in town had become intramural furnaces that amplified, not assuaged, the tormenting temperatures; the vast heath to the west of the municipality, with its paucity of shades, was open ground for copious cases of heatstroke; the denizens themselves have either tried—and, in most instances, failed—to retain their daily routine under these strenuous conditions, or sought to find refuge from the heat by plunging into the nearest river or pool of water.

Mosquitoes and other insects, relishing in the damp wetness, have begun a large exodus from their respective habitats nearby the local water reservoirs to the population center in an attempt to accrue as much blood as possible.

In the midst of all that, a young boy sat under the cover of a lonely maple tree. In his solitude, he was lying supinated on the rich meadow grassland.

Pondering the events that had thus transpired in the duration of the day, the boy was lost in thought.

He felt a slight tickle as a bead of sweat fell from his temples.

'I've got nothing else to do today... I've finished all my homework... I don't have my part-time job...' he was thinking.

'Maybe I could purchase a watermelon today. I think Nee-san would appreciate it when she returns from work,' the boy's eyes lit up at the notion.

*Shuffle* *Shuffle*

He heard footsteps overtly making contact with the grass.

In light of this, he chose to lift himself up and stand on his feet.

He could now see three older boys approaching him—they were from his school. Each of them is about a year older than him.

"Oi, Smile, we've got something for you to do," one of them spoke.

"And what's that," he replied.

"None of your concern, come on," the first answered.

"I won't go unless you tell me."

"You little shit, is that how you talk to your seniors?!" a second yelled.

"Now now, no need to get angry, Kenji," the third boy said as he made his way over to 'Smile'.

He places his arm around the boy's shoulder, "Cmon Tomioka, we're only asking a favor as your friends. Whaddya say, huh?"

"You guys are hardly one," Tomioka Giyuu replies.

"Well, without us, you'd be an outcast—a lonely little shit no one would talk to," the boy replied nonchalantly.

"You only hang around me because I lend you my completed homework assignments," Giyuu ripostes placidly.

"What was that?! Huh?!" the second shouted.

Giyuu pulls the arm off his shoulder, "Go bother someone else."

"You don't have a choice in the matter, Smile," the first boy announces.

The irony of the title 'Smile' is that it's a misnomer; Giyuu rarely ever smiles around anyone except for his sister, but some of his more mischievous peers have taken it upon themselves to label him by such an inaccurate description. The primary reason for the usage of this denomination is simply to mock Giyuu's secretive and reserved nature—a behavior he habitually demonstrates at school.

"I'd rather not get in trouble for something I didn't do," Giyuu replies.

"Since when did we EVER get you into trouble?" said the third boy.

"I know you guys were the ones who pulled the ill-mannered prank on that girl," said Giyuu.

"Yeah, well rich snobs get what they deserve."

"I do find it distasteful, though, that I get the blame for your ignominious antics when I never had any part in it," Giyuu countered.

"Igno-... Igno-what?" the usually-boisterous, second boy asked in confusion.

"It means undignified," Giyuu answered.

"Oh."

"So don't expect me to be obsequious towards you like everyone else," Giyuu added.

"Obseq...?" the second boy questions once again.

Giyuu exhaled, "It means being obedient."

"You really like being a smartass, don't you?" the first boy insults.

"Says the dumbass," Giyuu retorts.

Provoked, the same boy seizes Giyuu by the collar, "I don't think it's smart to disrespect your seniors."

"And neither is coercing your kouhais."

"You really haven't learned anything about respect, have you?"

"Only when it comes to people who earned that respect."

"And who taught you that? Your mommy?"

"Sister," Giyuu corrected. "And I would be more than happy to enlighten you with some of her lessons."

The third boy suddenly, in a gesture of remembrance, smacks his fist with the alternate palm, "Oh, your sister! She's a real hottie!"

"She's gotta be making some money off that fact alone," the second boy adds.

"What?" Giyuu, perplexed, queries.

"How else would a woman make money? I'm betting she's a bitch, all right," one comments.

"Haha! An unashamed whore!" another laughs.

*Clash*

Giyuu aggressively tackled and pinned one of them to the ground.

He then proceeds to savagely beat the living hell out of the boy while also—with a bellicose attitude—scornfully berating him.

*Bam*

"You dare—!" Giyuu lashes out as he lands a punch.

*Bam*

"—lie through your teeth—!" another punch.

*Bam*

"—against my sister!!" another punch.

"Son of a bitch!" Giyuu hears a voice from his rear.

He then felt a jolt from behind as one of the provocateurs forcefully pulled him back.

*Whoosh*

Giyuu is callously thrown and sent flying in the opposite direction.

*BANG*

His back slams against the trunk of the maple tree, the impact of such damaging Giyuu's senses and perception.

"Well boys, I reckon we should teach Mr. 'I-love-my-sister-so-much' a little lesson of our own, eh?" the first boy propounds.

"Teach him respect," the third adds.

"FUCK HIM UP!" the second—the one who was battered by Giyuu—angrily roared as he himself got up and wiped the blood off his broken nose.

Giyuu tries to elude them but is unable to either mentally overcome the painful throbbing that—in the aftermath of that crash landing—pervaded throughout his body or muster the physical prowess that is required for this situation.

*Bam*

One of the delinquents pounces on Giyuu.

*Bam*

Another kicks him.

*Bam*

The third punches him.

This arrangement continued and repeated for the next ten minutes...

..

..

He was utterly bloodied and physically broken.

Giyuu was limping as he attempted to make his way home.

'Nee-san's gonna be pissed when she sees me like this...' he laments.

'Dammit! I don't wanna trouble her...'

He thinks.

An idea pops up: 'Okay, what if I didn't come back home for the night and instead treated my wounds; that way, Nee-san won't have to worry about anythi—...'

'Wait no, that's even dumber than going back home in the first place.'

Giyuu sighs, 'I'm gonna be a burden either way...'

*Slip*

'Oh shi—' Giyuu tripped.

*Thud*

"FFFFF—" he tried his best not to curse.

He staggered to his feet, swaying a little, and then resumed his trek.

"Ow..." he instinctively says as each step forward demanded greater muscle movement—something that induced pain of the highest order.

"Giyuu-san! Is that you?" a man called out.

Giyuu looked over his shoulder only to find Satō Eito—a close friend of his sister's—waving at him. It appears he's pulling a wagon that is packed full of an assortment of mechanical parts and other materials originating from his artisan workshop.

He makes his way over to Giyuu.

"Hey, what's u—?" he abruptly stops.

His smile dissipates and his cheerful deportment makes way for a pensive posture.

Then, he slowly walks towards thither and takes a good look at the wounded physical state that was conspicuously present on Giyuu.

"... What happened?" he inquires in a more serious tone.

"I fell down a flight of stairs," Giyuu answered.

"And you didn't seek medical attention?"

"It's fine."

Eito then situated both of his hands on Giyuu's shoulders, "Who did this..."

"No one."

"Don't lie to me, Giyuu-san," the manner in which he spoke espoused a sense of urgency.

"..."

"Giyuu-san, you can talk to me," he adds.

"What does it matter?" Giyuu counters in a gush of vitriol. "You should be more concerned about how people bad-mouth Nee-san all because she and I are orphans! This shitty town can do all it wants to me, but I can't stand it when they go after Nee-san!"

Eito's face furrows, "I understand. I really do... But that doesn't mean you're allowed to beat yourself like that. Remember, your sister loves you more than anything in this world. She's looking out for ya as well, so it would do good for you to recognize that."

"I thought she loved you more?" Giyuu asked innocently—he is, after all, still a young boy learning about the intricacies of this world.

"REALLY?!— I mean, ahem, that's not important," Eito, with a flustered expression, answered.

He continues, "Anyways, what I meant is that you shouldn't put yourself in harm's way."

"Why not?"

"For one, your sister is gonna be worried sick when she finds out about this."

"I know..." Giyuu said in a disheartened voice.

"And two... Actually, I'll tell you later. You should be getting home; you're bleeding pretty badly," Eito suggests with a look of concern.

"..."

"Here, get on my back," Eito crouches and motions for Giyuu to accept his proposal for a piggyback, "I'll walk ya home."

"What about the wagon...?" Giyuu questions.

"Ah, don't worry about that; it's just useless junk anyway. Here, get on," Eito says with a smile.

"Ok..." Giyuu acquiesced.

..

..

The red ball of flame was due to settle beyond the horizon.

The temporary darkness, but ethereal beauty, of the night sky was nigh upon the residents of this quiet part of the Earth.

Eito was walking at a steady pace to prevent any extreme forms of discomfort from being incurred upon Giyuu.

"Does it hurt?" Eito queries as he tries to adjust his passenger in the most comfortable position.

"Kinda... but that's mostly the bruises themselves," said Giyuu.

"Ah... Alright. I'll try to keep this pace."

"..."

"So, who landed the first punch?" Eito suddenly asks.

"... I did..." Giyuu reluctantly answers.

"Did they threaten you or your sister in any way?"

"No..."

Eito sighs, "Ah... Well that's no good, is it? It's wrong to punch someone just because of what they say—regardless of whether it's bad or not."

"Why?"

"Because the moment you lose control of your emotions is the moment you lose entirely. It doesn't matter if you win or not. What does matter, however, is that you had the moral high ground but lost it when you couldn't control your temper," he expounds.

"You only fight to protect the things you love. Nothing more, nothing less..." he adds.

"You know..." Giyuu starts.

"Hm?"

"You're sounding like those old monks at the shrine," Giyuu pokes fun at Eito's rhetoric.

"Wha—... Now I know why your sister complains about how you don't listen to her at all," Eito retorts.

"She's clearly exaggerating, I follow her directions all the time... kinda..."

"Kinda? When I was your age, I NEVER EVER listened to my parents or elder siblings."

"Satō-san, I fail to comprehend what you're trying to achieve here; are you encouraging me to be more rebellious or what?" Giyuu quips.

"Good point haha... I don't know what I was saying there," he chuckled.

Giyuu smiled, "I'm beginning to question your famed intelligence."

"Well, young Giyuu, even smart people have slip-ups at times."

"Although, I've only ever heard Nee-san say you're smart. So there might be a source of bias there..." Giyuu ponders.

"Please Giyuu-san, don't try to destroy what's left of my dignity," Eito jests.

"However, I always believe in Nee-san's words, no matter what," the young boy proudly proclaims.

"Always?"

"Well, except for when she tried to convince me that Santa was real. Didn't think a 21-year-old with a fake beard would be coming and going every Christmas," said Giyuu.

"Wait, I'm 21 years old."

"My point exactly."

"Also, that beard was real! It was hand-crafted by yours truly," Eito invokes his self-gratification.

"Uhm... that seems pretty fake to me..." Giyuu replies.

"Wait! That's not the point! You already knew that Santa's fake?!"

"Since I was four, yes. Also, you suck at acting."

"Hey! It's not my fault that I never had any experience with it!" Eito exclaimed.

"Now I'm beginning to wonder why Nee-san fell for someone like you..." Giyuu muttered.

"I can clearly hear you," Eito called out.

"Just marry her already. You're 21 and she's 20—so you guys are old enough—and you've known each other for over eight years," Giyuu suddenly propounds.

"M-Marriage?!"

"Are your ears full of wax or what?"

"No way! It's just that... well... you see..."

"Coward," the boy suddenly says.

"Hey! I'm thinking about it, alright?"

"Then what's stopping you?"

"Well... I think what's stopping the BOTH of us is... you," Eito says hesitantly.

"Me?"

"Yeah. Your sister is too worried about leaving you and I'm too afraid about you as well," he admits.

"..."

"We just don't wanna abandon you... so..."

"Just do it, you chicken," Giyuu says.

"... I don't know if I should be rejoicing or feel humiliated at the fact that I was slandered by a ten-year-old..."

"If you love her, and if she loves you, then it's pretty obvious. You don't need my permission for anything," Giyuu explains.

"You must really care about your sister, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know you have that part-time job even though Tsutako has forbid you from doing any of that business."

"... Please don't tell her," Giyuu supplicates.

"Haha! Look who's begging now!" Eito had a comically impish look.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"..."

A brief transitory period of silence ensues as the two calm themselves down in the aftermath of that humorous exchange.

"Y'know... You're quite mature for a kid," Eito remarks.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you're crazy smart, but also have a very phlegmatic character—quite a calm demeanor. Basically, what I'm trying to say here is that, at times, I feel like I'm talking to a fellow member of my generation rather than Tsutako's baby brother," Eito says melancholically.

"..."

"That's why... it's okay to be a kid sometimes. Don't think that you have to carry the world on your shoulders. You're only ten. And you still have a bright future ahead of you."

"..."

"You are allowed to cry, y'know?"

"I'm not crying," Giyuu sniffled.

Eito gives a solemn grin, "Like brother, like sister. The two of you are always so hard on yourselves. Tsutako blames herself for not giving you a normal life, a normal childhood. And you are too worried about being a burden to her."

"But I am—... I'm so weak... I couldn't even win against those jerks... I won't be able to protect Nee-san..." Giyuu choked out his words in between sniffles from crying.

"And that's fine. No one's asking you to do the impossible alone, Giyuu-san. I'm here with ya, I too wanna protect your sister. After all, in the end, we only want you to be safe and in good health..."

"Hey, Satō-san, can you do me one favor?" Giyuu quickly comports himself, though he's still not in a state of equanimity.

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell Nee-san about this..."

"Because you don't wanna worry her?"

"Mhm..."

"Okay, but just this one time, alright? If I ever catch you like this, then I'm telling your sister every detail to the tiniest bit!"

"Understood," Giyuu nods.

"Good grief, you really are one hell of a kid. Some parents would love to have you over their hectic kids," Eito jokes.

"Is that... supposed to be... a way to comfort me. If so, you're doing... a terrible job," Giyuu hiccuped between his words.

Eito chuckled, "Jeez, you really hate thanking people, do you?"

Giyuu let out a little giggle, "Yeah, I guess that's true..."

"But seriously though, you need to have better ways to comfort ten-year-olds," he jests.

"... Sumimasen, I'll do better next time," Eito curtly replies.

..

..

*Knock* *Knock*

Tsutako's attention turns to the entrance door, 'Must be Giyuu. What was he doing out so late?'

*Click*

She unlocks and slides the shoji screen door open.

"Eito!" she says, surprised.

"H-Hey..." Eito replies sheepishly, not able to contain his blush.

Tsutako couldn't help but turn red as well, "W-What are you doing out here so late?"

"Ah well... About that..."

As if on cue, Giyuu's head pops up from behind Eito's shoulder.

"Hi... Nee-san..." Giyuu greets faintly.

Upon seeing her younger brother's condition, Tsutako's eyes widen, "What happened?!"

"OH! Yeah! About that! Uhm," Eito spots Giyuu's glare, "he fell down a flight of stairs! It was really crazy, y'know! I had to carry him all the way here!"

'Damn, I'm a grown man getting intimidated by a kid...' Eito internally laments.

"That doesn't matter, get him inside!" Tsutako orders as she heads for another room. "I'll get some medicine and bandages. Bring him to the bathroom!"

"Yes ma'am!" Eito complies.

Eito and Giyuu both look at each other and smile.

"Oh, we somehow got away with it!" Eito snickers.

"Haha, yeah!" Giyuu responds with glee.

"Cmon, let's get ya fixed up," Eito proceeds into the Tomioka abode.

"Yeah..." Giyuu smiled.

Though he was still injured, Giyuu felt as if the pain had already gone away. Whether it be his sister or Eito, he knew they would always be there for him no matter what.

And, for that, he was grateful for what he has thus far in this life. Though a life without the guidance and love of a mother or father did have its demerits, Tsutako and Eito—to him, at least—were the loving parents he never had.

He felt at home.

He felt at peace.

May such days continue forever, he prayed.

May he find eternal happiness here.

..

..

..

..

..

..

CLANG

As soon as the demon's fist made direct contact with Giyuu's Nichirin blade, there was a metallic ricochet that echoed throughout the chamber.

However, instead of immediately withdrawing as any normal slayer would do, Giyuu maintained his sword's pressure against the enemy's right hand.

"RAAH!!" the demon raised its left hand and went in for a punch.

BAM

To the enemy's surprise, it managed to land a hit on Giyuu's head—the Hashira didn't even try to elude the attack.

Unfortunately, much to the enemy's consternation, that strike didn't even phase the Hashira—he continued to slowly cut through the demon's knuckles.

"ARRRGGGHH!!" Giyuu let out his battle cry as he finally pierced through the demon's fist.

SLASH

Giyuu's sword managed to slice the enemy's right hand in half while also slitting a large portion of its forearm.

The Water Hashira stumbled following the attack as he had to exert a great deal of force into that laceration.

But, with his animalistic instincts, Giyuu was quick to turn around and parry another assault undertaken by the demon's remaining left arm.

CLANG

The Nichirin Blade protected Giyuu's body from the attack.

But, in a feat of unforeseen maneuvering, Giyuu removed his left hand from the katana's hilt and subsequently employed it to punch the enemy.

BAM

He aggressively punched the enemy square in the face.

The strength of his single strike was enough to push the demon's entire, but weakened, body across the room like a projectile.

WHOOSH

The hunk of meat and flesh went soaring.

SPLASH

It finally alighted onto the surface of the slough.

But before it could physically arise, Giyuu's clenched hand briskly greeted it upon arrival.

BAM

"ARGH!" Giyuu grunted as he made powerful, trenchant pummels against the demon's temples—indubitably crushing its forehead into shreds.

Blood and spittle were gushing out of each wallop like a fountain of water.

You are weak.

BAM

"ARGGH!!" another punch.

You couldn't save her.

BAM

"RAHHH!!" another punch.

Just like you couldn't save anyone else.

BAM

"RAAAHHH!!!!" another punch.

You were always useless.

BAM

"ARRRGHHHH!!!!" another punch.

Worthless.

BAM

"GRAAHH!!!!" another punch.

Just die already.

BAM

"AAAARRGHHH!!!!!!" one final punch.

At this point, Giyuu had exacted so much weight into his consecutive blows that his knuckles had already developed blisters as deep as a knife's wounds.

Giyuu planned on going through with another punch, but the enemy's right arm had already regenerated.

Giyuu, unaware of this development, took a direct hit from the oncoming fist.

BASH

It smacked him directly in the ribs.

"ACH!" Giyuu coughs out blood.

The Water Hashira was forced to back away due to the severity of the wound he sustained.

Unlike demons, if a human incurs some form of damage, then that will become an impairment for the rest of the engagement.

But the Pillar did not yield. No. In fact, he was emboldened by such an affront to his superior swordsmanship.

He makes a sudden movement and aggressively swings his sword.

SLASH

His maneuvers procured a large perforation against the demon's rib cage.

This, however, confounded the demon. The enemy had anticipated a strike towards the head. So why the torso?

The answer is more rudimentary than one might think.

Giyuu simply isn't thinking while he's fighting

This explains why he's moving haphazardly and audaciously in the field of battle.

His fighting style isn't like the one he employed in previous fights. It's not the formal, scrupulous maneuvers he rigorously and fastidiously strived to master for years on end.

Instead, it's all unorthodox. His techniques have neither a technical nor rational angle to them; they are just uncoordinated, impromptu movements that are adjusted not to the strategic disposition of the user, but more to the emotional state of such thereof.

In other words, Giyuu's contorted movements and ridiculous strength resembled less of a valiant, seasoned warrior, and was more akin to a literal monster that has been abruptly awakened from its slumber.

There are no battle stances, no adroitness with every swing, or any Breathing Techniques. It was just a man fuming with unprecedented anger and his steel katana.

"RUUAHH!!" the demon came charging.

Giyuu, with his current mental state, unconsciously decided not to evade this oncoming swoop. He hoisted his arm and readied himself for an opportunity to deliver his blow.

The demon, as it was running, concurrently raised its fist and aimed to hit the Water Hashira as well.

BAM BASH

They had both punched each other.

Giyuu hacked out blood, while the Demon's entire sinistral side of its face was indented.

The demon directed most of its strength against Giyuu's chest—it knew that particular area wasn't in the best of conditions. Thus, by harming the pectoral region even further, there's a possibility that it can damage Giyuu's very heart.

On the other hand, Giyuu targeted the head once more; he was hoping to render the enemy blind and incapable of using its sense of hearing or smell.

*SIZZLE*

The demon's body was melting once again.

It panicked. Why is this happening? It assumed that its self-resuscitation powers had saved it from the worst, so then why is it relapsing?

Shinobu's poison, and especially with the sheer amount it had within its systems, had proved to be more potent than it previously presumed.

Meanwhile, Giyuu seemed to be completely unaffected by the demon's clobber against his chest—even though he was clearly covered in his own blood.

Thus, with his intense, furrowed countenance and an unquenchable thirst for blood, he promptly pushed his katana forward and maimed the enemy right in the chest.

"AUUGHH!!" the enemy yelped in pain.

Giyuu shoved the sword even deeper into the enemy's cardiac region.

The blade was sharp enough to cut flesh as if it posed no resistance. At once, a fountain of red came from the wound, the ebb and flow in time with a terrified heart, injuring the demon all the more indiscriminately.

The enemy could not process any of this immediately.

It was staring directly into Giyuu's blue, yet colorless, eyes.

It was astounded by its determination, by its stubbornness.

It knew now. It knows why it couldn't keep its guard down around him.

The demon was experiencing something it had not felt in centuries: Fear.

It was afraid of this man.

No, this was no man. This was a literal monster.

Something has grown inside of him, and it will not stop until its enemy is killed and utterly decapitated.

How ironic, Giyuu is becoming more of a mindless monster than the actual brain-dead monster.

Giyuu descends into madness as anger taints and slowly morphs his soul into an engine of hate and destruction.

He was losing himself to the rage.

Slowly, but surely.

..

..

..

..

..

..

Shinobu

I heard someone weeping, but it's faint.

His voice sounds so familiar...

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." he repeated over and over.

I can hear him!

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." he whimpered, his cadence quavering.

Who is he...? And what is this feeling?

Who are you?

Tell me...

The voice is fading away. It's as if his calls were speeding by on a moving train. For only a few seconds, I am allowed to listen to this gentle voice.

No...

Don't leave yet... I still need to know.

Please...

Just one more time...

"I'm sorry..." my pleas were granted.

I came to a sudden realization.

"Tomioka-san..."

..

..

..

..

"T-Tomioka!" I was roused from my slumber.

I finally remembered. Tomioka-san is in trouble!

I need to get up and save him!

But then, I noticed something. Something very different.

No, it wasn't just 'something' that was different.

Everything is different...

The smell, the sounds, the touch, and, of course, the sight.

Everything. Every single particle. It had been altered. It was as if I were in another world, but I somewhat recognized where I was—it wasn't too foreign.

It was some room made of wood. Except, it seemed to be decrepit and dilapidated from the ages.

I appeared to be perched onto the warm embrace of a futon mattress. I'm still accoutered in my Demon Slayer Corps uniform, but my katana is missing...

I was also encased in a multitude of other blankets as a means to prevent the heat from otherwise eluding me in this cold, numbing winter weather.

Also, it was cold. Ridiculously cold.

The icy cold temperatures were potent enough to sting the very lungs of any animate being.

"Who the fuck is Tomioka-san?" A very gruff, masculine cadence called out.

It was an extremely deep, hoarse voice—almost as if the man in question had a sore throat.

I turn to my left only to see this bearded old man, probably somewhere in his late forties to early fifties.

He was frowning, exuding a very tense atmosphere with his glare.

The makeup of his face showed signs of aging and the physical toll of time itself upon his longevity. The same could be applied to his hair—facial included. The old man has black hair, but there's also a faint white tinge to it; tinctures of white strands of hair are beginning to change the holistic constitution of the hair's hue.

In other words, he began to somewhat conspicuously display certain strands of white hair on the fringes of his hairline but generally maintained the intrinsic black color when viewed at an acceptable outlook.

His eyes, devoid of any color, had undoubtedly seen a lot in his long life; enough to lose their inherent colors.

He was holding a Kiseru smoking pipe in his left hand. He then subsequently lit a match and situated the pipe into his mouth, where he inhaled the poisonous fumes of the tobacco and exhaled the smoke.

"Did you hear me, pipsqueak?" he repeated.

"Pip—? What?" I was completely lost.

"Ah, what the hell. Get some rest," he sighed.

He then slowly stood up and then made his way to the shoji screen door.

"Ano, pardon me!" I say. "I know it's rude of me to ask this, but, since I'm unaware of the circumstances, may I inquire as to the context of all of this?"

He turns around. It was only then that I noticed that he was missing his right arm. He only had his left arm.

"You mean you forgot everything?" he queries.

Forget? More like I have no goddamn clue.

I nodded.

He exhales loudly, "Shit. Okay. Alright. I found you down near the crevice. I have no idea how the hell you got your scrawny ass up this mountain—"

"Mountain?!" I blurted.

"Yes, now will you let me finish or what?" he says passive-aggressively.

"Sorry," I reply.

Mountain? I'm on a mountain? How did I get here? What happened? How long has it been since I passed out? Is Tomioka-san okay? What in the living hell is going on?!?!

"Anyways, I got no clue how you got up here other than the fact that you broke your ankle. So, I had to take you in lest you freeze to death in that god-forsaken blizzard out there," he explains.

"My ankle... is broken...?" I take a quick look under the blankets.

Crap. He's right. My right ankle is covered in bandages. And it kinda hurts more than anything else.

"Yeah. So, tell me, why the fuck are you up here?" he interrogates.

He sure likes to be crude...

"I... don't know..." I answered.

"Ah shit, is that what kids do nowadays?"

"What?"

"Climb up mountains and partake in stupid survival games or some shit."

"I said, I don't know," I reiterated, slightly irritated.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, pipsqueak," he said languidly.

What the hell is that nickname?!

"May I ask that you call me by my given name?" I ask.

"What's your name," he replies.

"Kocho Shinobu."

".... I'll stick with pipsqueak," he answers.

"Wha—! Why?" I protested.

"Because your name sounds like a sack of dogshit to me," he says back.

This motherfu—

A vein emerges from my forehead, "Well, I apologize for my indiscretions, but I should be going now."

"Going? Where?"

"Yokohama."

He sighs, "Stop joking."

This man is getting on my nerves...!!!

"... What? What's with that funny look?" he questions.

"I thank you for your assistance, and will be eternally grateful for your goodwill, but I must be going now," I announce.

"Little girl, you really don't know?"

This motherfucker called me little...

"What?" I said in an exasperated manner.

"Yokohama is quite far away."

"So what?"

He breathes out a cloud of smoke from his pipe, "I don't think you understand. We're not even on the island of Honshu."

That statement alone shocked me, "What'd you say?"

"This isn't Honshu. We're on the island of Hokkaido—the northernmost island of Japan. What's more, we're not even close to any of the rail lines; we're in the middle of nowhere."

WHAT? HOW?!

Wait, what's the date? What year is i—

"It's January 15th, 1934, the seventh year of the Shōwa Era," it was as if the man had read my mind.

Though my face seemed unaltered on the outside, my insides felt weak; it was as if I was undergoing the shock of being shot in the chest—except, this time, its origins weren't that of the physical realm.

"I think... I think I'll go back to sleep now," I rest my head on the pillow.

"Alright, suit yourself," the old man says as he slides open the door, shuts it, and then leaves the room.

I was left alone.

No word was spoken, no sound was contrived, as only the reverberation of the wind outside was the primary source of any discernible noise.

Everything had fallen apart once again.

No... It can't be...

No...

Tomioka-san...