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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In short, I was busy and didn't have a lot of motivation.

In any case, though, I'm over three months late. I sincerely apologize for the delay.

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Basking in the majestic rays of the late evening sunlight, a stunning image of hay and tall grass enclosed this particular meadow; the natural light of the sun illuminated the locality with its galvanizing and illustrious blaze.

The lush greenery and cultivated fields exuded an atmosphere of serenity and perpetual tranquility. With such an exalting picturesque, one would suspect that the quaint scenery of this particular locality would be commensurate with the ambiance and the general sentiment situated within the vicinity. Or, to put it simply, an evocation of peace and sobriety on behalf of this heath should intuitively facilitate such fervors within anyone who seeks to set foot on this land.

However, despite the cumulative characteristics that defined the physique of such features, no such saccharine feelings could possibly be discerned.

A young girl stood wistfully in the moor. She stood with a perturbed, yet solemn posture; with malice towards none, but no powerful evocation gestures of sympathy towards every remaining soul—for she had not forsaken herself.

She stood, accoutered in an aesthetically pleasing kimono, with a sorrowful physiognomy. She stood in silence as a requiem for the fallen, and as an equivocation for her emotions. She stood in a position of privilege but also yearned for something far beyond her human capabilities. She pleaded; she asked Kami-sama for forgiveness.

She simply stood because she was both the casualty and the culprit, receiver of deceptions and deceiver of loved ones, both the victim and the one culpable...

What is it that you long for?

"..."

Surely, you must have something; something you desire, something you contemplate, or something you regret...

"I wish to see them again, but I know it's not possible..."

How so?

"Because they are forever gone; relegated—by the hand of time—to shards of a distant past."

Are they now...?

"Yes, otherwise this painful sensation would go away."

Would you prefer for it to disappear?

Yes... But I must face reality.

Sometimes, one must elude reality if their aspirations are to be met.

"But the reality is reality; it's the truth."

Only if you fancy the truth over a beautiful lie...

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"Shinobu? Shinobuuuu! Oii! Moshi Moshi?" A soft, yet palpable voice called out.

Shinobu groaned as she wriggled around the periphery of her bed.

"Rise and shine! It's morning!" the voice expressed with zeal.

Shinobu, however, didn't have the courtesy to reciprocate such enthusiasm; for, she covets a long, comprehensive lull amid an extremely busy week.

Unfortunately for Shinobu, this particular morning was not lenient enough to bestow upon her the entitlement of a prolonged period of repose.

These abstract constraints were made tangible for Shinobu when, in a gratuitous act of rousing her from sleep, the curtains were abruptly lifted and blinding, irradiating light of the sun briskly flooded into the room as if a cascade were to be suddenly located at the circumcenter of the area.

"Yeowch!" Shinobu winced as she experienced a sharp pang to her eyes—which had not yet attenuated to the scintillating shade that had now environed the entirety of her room.

"You can be late for school~" the girl said almost cheerfully.

Shinobu murmurs, "What time is it, Nee-san?"

"Six~" Kanae—the eldest daughter of the Kocho household—gleefully replies.

"Nee-san, you do realize that the high school officially starts at 8, right?" Shinobu answers with a hint of exasperation.

"All the more reason to get up early!" Kanae exclaims.

"Wha—no, it's not," Shinobu said sternly.

"Oh! Did you forget?" Kanae asks.

"Forget? Forget what?" Shinobu queries.

"Oh dear, you did forget..." Kanae, almost espousing a sense of lamentation, says.

"Wait!" Shinobu immediately perches herself into an upright posture, "What exactly did I forget..."

Shinobu, an academically fastidious student, was not one to forget even the most frivolous of things; especially concerning schoolwork or other aspects of her pedagogical institution.

"Here, I'll show you downstairs," Kanae replies as she makes her way towards the exit.

"Gimme a sec, I'll be right there," Shinobu complies as she readies both her corporeal and mental state away from the slumber in which she had relished to a considerable degree.

"Alrighty~" Kanae's voice trailed away as she descended the stairway.

Shinobu sighed, "This better not be some assignment I forgot to do."

The official residence of the Kocho family was an edifice that was situated along the fringes of suburban Yokohama. 

The structure was erected in 1958; procuring a modern, western-style house that had become the vogue within the housing industry of an 'Americanized', post-war Japanese society. 

While still harboring the idiosyncratic facets of a traditional Japanese complex—such as the Genkan section of the household; where residents or visitors alike are compelled to remove their footwear as a prerequisite for their subsequent entrance into the building—the overall configurations and outline denoted within the original blueprints alluded to design that evoked the overarching sentiment of modernity—a reflection of the country's tremendous progress from the ashes of the Second World War.

With the house retrofitted with the latest modern equipment—from a comprehensive sewage apparatus, electrical grid, a garage, and consumer or luxury goods such as television sets, refrigerators, and washing machines [the "Three Sacred Treasures" (三種の神器), though air conditioning would soon become one of the Three "New" Sacred Treasures during the Izanagi Economy of 1965-1970]—the atmosphere of modernity is not only the real estate market but also the prosperous postwar Japanese economy was ubiquitous. 

Furthermore, instead of relying on the building materials that previously constituted traditional Japanese structures—which, unlike Western structures, were almost entirely made out of wood—the availability of cheap imported materials from resource-rich centers such as the United States or Australia (thanks to free trade arrangements enumerated within the Bretton Woods Agreement and GATT) provided the market with a stockpile of plentiful raw materials (such as metal) to construct sturdy, incombustible edifices that could simultaneously be purchased by the Japanese consumer at a cheap price.

In short, the state of the family's abode was an attestation to the state of the Japanese economy and its people in this new, post-World War II era of history.

As Shinobu sluggishly walked down the stairs to the ground floor, she heard chatter amongst the individuals present at the dinner table along with some distorted resonance that was quite obviously being emanated from a television set.

"—Prime Minister Satō had recently commended members of the Committee to Reelect the Prime Minister in light of the upcoming election—" the TV broadcaster continued.

Shinobu, despite her lethargy, gradually approached the dining room—where her father, Kocho Jiro, and Kanae were enjoying a pleasant meal for breakfast as her mother, Kocho Keiko, produced and procured the sumptuous repast to the table.

"Good morning Otōsan, Okāsan," Shinobu yawned as she greeted her immediate family members—her father and mother, respectively.

"Good morning," Jiro, her father, answered as he was perusing a local newspaper.

"You're up early," Keiko, her mother, remarked as she prepared the rice cooker, "breakfast will be ready soon."

"Okay," Shinobu acknowledged as she stationed herself onto a chair—one that was adjacent to the table.

"Oh right, what were you gonna show me?" Shinobu turns to Kanae.

"Show you what?"

"You said I forgot something."

"Oh right, I only did that to get you up early," Kanae replied.

"Wait what."

"Yeah, I couldn't think of anything better," Kanae smiled almost sheepishly.

"You've gotta be kidding," Shinobu, now full of indignation, said.

"Compose yourself," her father says in a dull fashion as he skims through the pages.

Shinobu then sighs, "Alright, I'll let you off the hook. For now."

"I appreciate it!" Kanae replied with gaiety.

"That wasn't a compliment," Shinobu says in an aggravated manner.

"Less arguing, more eating," Keiko suddenly interjects as she situates a bowl of rice in front of Shinobu.

"—the latest economic forecasts indicate a GDP growth rate of 10.9% for the fiscal year 1966; the highest since the Korean War—" the anchorman meticulously delineates in the background as the television set concurrently operates whilst the family enjoys their scrumptious breakfast.

"Any news on the election?" Kanae asks her father.

"Nothing new; Prime Minister Satō is obviously going to win," Jiro said placidly.

"What about the poll numbers?" Keiko added.

"Sixty-five percent for Satō and twenty-five percent for the Constitutional Democratic Party," said Jiro.

"Those are quite large margins," Shinobu commented.

"Yeah, I haven't seen these numbers since Prime Minister Ikeda's victory in 1958—and, even still, Ikeda's numbers don't match up to Satō's right now," Jiro recollected.

"It's especially surprising considering how the Liberal Democrats suffered from the Wiretapping Scandal in the '58 election cycle; and yet, here they are now with a guaranteed path to victory," Keiko opined.

"I heard the kids at your school are members of the Committee to Reelect the Prime Minister, Shinobu," Jiro turned to his youngest daughter.

"Yeah, almost everyone is pro-LDP (Liberal Democratic Party), but only the most politically active are members. In any case, though, none of them can vote since the minimum voting age is 20," explained Shinobu.

"Are you a member?" her father inquired.

"No. Besides, the student body isn't formally recognized by the committee as a legitimate component of the apparatus; they only informally campaign with very little consultation with government officials."

"If they can't vote, then no need to appeal to the younger voting bloc," Jiro delivered an ad libitum.

"I think that's enough politics for today," Keiko avers as she perches onto a chair and settles herself for breakfast on the dining table.

"Agreed!" the vivacious primogeniture sister concurred—for, she was not one to be attuned with the intricacies and contentious nature of politics.

"So, how's school going?" asked Keiko.

"Midterms are coming up for me, so it's been a little stressful. Otherwise, nothing new," said Shinobu.

"Is that why you were up late last night?" Kanae inquired.

Just in the nick of time, Shinobu let out a small yawn, "Not really, that was for some Student Council paperwork."

"I heard they're having Elections for the Student Council this week," Kanae commented.

"Yeah, there's an election every school year. It just so happens that this year's student council elections are to be held relatively close to the nationwide General Elections," Shinobu explained.

"In that case, don't you have to run for reelection?" asked Keiko.

"Yeah, my class has to reelect me since I'm one of their two representatives to the student council. However, that shouldn't be a problem, since it's ONLY one class. On the other hand, the student council President is reelected through a schoolwide election—i.e., everyone votes. But all the other members of the council don't vie for reelection in that specific manner," Shinobu clarified.

"I see, what about you, Kanae?" Keiko turns to her eldest daughter.

"Oh, Shinobu and I basically have the same niche, except we represent different classes—not to mention grade levels," she replies.

"Huh, that's awfully close to how cabinets and legislative assemblies are established in the national government," said Jiro.

"Well, it is designed to expose students to the behaviors of real-life politics," Shinobu responded.

"Oh dear, aren't you stressed out with all that extracurricular work, Shinobu?" Keiko expressed her concerns.

"I'm fine Okāsan. It's just that I'm extra busy this week thanks to midterm exams," Shinobu assured her mother.

"No need to underestimate her, Keiko. I'm sure our little girl is doing just fine," Jiro grinned.

"Anata, you can't just disregard her like that," Keiko politely rebuked.

"Okāsan, it's fine. I've been doing this for a while now, so there's no need to be worried. Besides, it's not like I lose sleep every consecutive night," Shinobu reassured.

"See? She's doing just fine," Jiro exulted.

Keiko sighed, "And what about you, Kanae?"

"I'm doing just fine~"

"What about prep work for your college exams? Are you studying well?" Jiro asked.

"Yep! They're in a couple of months, but it's best if one starts early," answered Kanae.

Keiko smiled, "Good to hear."

"I'm proud of you two; excellent grades, commitments to extracurricular work, and prodigious efforts in securing a good prospect. You girls have a bright future ahead of you," Jiro commended.

"Thank you, Otōsan," Shinobu responds.

"Thanks, Otōsan," Kanae replies.

"—in light of the Treaty on Basic Relations between Japan and the Republic of Korea of 1965, the Foreign Minister had recently announced that a summit will be held in Taipei, Taiwan between Taiwanese President Chiang Kai-Shek, South Korean President Park Chung Hee, and Prime Minister Satō. The points of discussion that will encompass the duration of the talks will include the contentious nature of Korean-Japanese relations, Red Chinese and North Korean aggression in the region, and military commitments for the war in Vietnam—"

"Why is the TV on?" Shinobu questioned as she lifted a ball of rice with her chopsticks and then promptly consumed it.

"It's a good background noise," said Jiro.

"You always say that, yet you never listen to it," complained Keiko.

"That's why it's a good background noise; you don't have to always listen to it, but you can if you want," Jiro replied.

"Then what's the point if you're not paying attention to it?" Keiko admonished.

"But I DO listen."

"Really? Then tell me what they were discussing just a while ago."

"Define 'a while ago,'" Jiro ripostes.

"Don't even try to play smart with your wife, Anata," Keiko retorts.

"But how am I supposed to know what you mean with that vague statement?"

"What I said doesn't matter, it's the fact that you're willing to spend so lavishly on this month's electricity bill," Keiko snaps back.

"How does leaving the Television set active lead to wasteful spending?"

"All I'm saying is that you should at least try to live somewhat frugally," said Keiko.

"You're one to talk; spending money on useless items like an air conditioner."

"For your information, air conditioning is NOT useless."

"It is expensive and certainly costs a lot to maintain," countered Jiro.

"Do you wanna die of a heat stroke?" Keiko quips.

"Why can't you just keep the windows open on a hot summer day, that should suffice."

"Because there might not be wind blowing."

This trivial banter between mother and father is nothing new for the Kocho family, nor should it be new for any regular household. Thence, why Shinobu and Kanae were simultaneously amused by these recent developments between their parents; it highlights how quarrels between the family almost always appear to be jocular performances that either bemuse or entertain the audience—in this case, Kanae and Shinobu. This primarily occurs because of how the point of contention that is being argued over is so insignificant or inconsequential; thus, making the dispute almost redundant.

Shinobu couldn't help but giggle as she witnessed this minor squabble between her parents, "Now I can see why Nee-san and I argue a lot."

"You guys have been such good role models for us~" Kanae added.

Keiko sighed, but it wasn't one out of exasperation, but one out of relief and delight, "You two girls are too kind, it reminds me of how good-natured I was before I met your father."

"Was that a personal attack against me?" asked Jiro.

"But oh well, we have an old man to deal with now," Keiko, ignoring her husband's question, says to her daughters.

"Wait, I'm old now? Are there strands of white hair on my head or something?"

Kanae smiles, "Rest assured Otōsan, there aren't any."

"Whew, thanks Kanae. You almost scared me there, dear," said Jiro.

"Considering your current age, I think your worst fears will become a reality soon," Keiko replies.

"Wha—you're clearly calling me old now," said Jiro.

"It's true~" Keiko replied in a very kindly, cute-like manner.

"Haha, don't worry Otōsan, you'll still be our father regardless of how old you are," Kanae pronounces.

"I second that," Shinobu adds.

"You guys are the best daughters a father could ask for!" Jiro, in a jubilant manner, yells as he hugs them both.

"Otōsan... you're crushing me," Shinobu, while grateful for the gesture, points out.

"We have an emotional father hehe," Kanae mentions.

"Hey! I wanna join the family hug!" Keiko announces as she concurrently embraces her family.

It was a very wholesome moment for the family; the hugging, despite how tight it was for the recipients, had procured a joyous occasion for members of the Kocho family. Though the family had a propensity to contend with several minor issues, it was still a tight-knit family.

It was a happy family.

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Of course, since it was indeed a school day, both Kocho Shinobu and Kanae were stipulated to attend their respective classes by eight o'clock AM.

Thus, after concluding both their brief moment of familial intimacy and their breakfast, the two girls took their leave from the abode.

"Ittekimasu!" Kanae called out as she and Shinobu were leaving via the front door.

"Itterasshai!" their mother called out.

"Good luck in school!" their father shouted.

"Oh! Don't forget to pick up salmon for tonight!" Keiko added.

"Hai!" Shinobu acknowledged as she shut the door behind her.

And off the two went.

Although the country was rapidly developing, there was still decrepit infrastructure and dilapidated buildings that were ever-present throughout this expansive city. In some precincts, the roads themselves have not yet been paved despite government efforts to upgrade every single thoroughfare in every major city in Japan. Thus, as Kanae and Shinobu make haste to their preordained destination, they will encounter some dirt roads within parts of the city that may seem somewhat 'developed'—an indication of how change requires effort, resources, and, most of all, time.

However, that is not to say that there's no progress being undertaken at the moment. With massive government financing, local districts have received plentiful funds and capital to swiftly enact major initiatives to modernize their physical structures and modes of transportation. Throughout Yokohama itself, there is almost always a major construction project underway at any given time of the day; measures that are indicative of the changes that have happened, are in effect, or will occur for the duration of the decade—a process that will ultimately convey the metamorphosis of this small, island nation into an economic powerhouse.

These two contrasting images can accurately depict the inconsistent and contradicting elements:

The early morning rise had inaugurated the nascent school day. 

Thus, a concourse of students—notwithstanding their personal dispositions on whether the school is a modus vivendi arrangement—enter the school grounds using the front gates; the entryway into an environment notorious for its strict rules that are universally implemented throughout the school grounds. 

Although clubs were in operation, and some were to take sessions before school, hardly anyone could be spotted in the hours before the commencement of the school day. Nevertheless, clubs constituted an integral component of school life; after all, it is highly recommended that a student joins a 'productive' club to help further their academic or athletic career.

The school was situated on a little hill, but the acclivity lacked anything of an excessive characteristic—as it would be very inconvenient to build a school on highly elevated terrain. Nonetheless, it was a hill; there still existed an incline of some sort. 

The school looked like your typical Japanese school, with gates that surround the perimeter, three big rectangular—though, it is not entirely rectangular, as the buildings do extend in odd directions if needed—three-story buildings that are elided by six skyways and are located right in the middle of the school grounds. They are positioned so that—if you were flying above—the three buildings would almost form a triangular shape, except the vertices of that 'triangle' would be left open and a garden would be present in the center; which is quite luxurious for a school. 

Additionally, there exists a track field that is situated behind the rectangular "Primary" buildings. If you were looking at the front gates, two large, interconnected buildings that act as the gymnasium are located to the left of the two rectangular buildings—again, if you were looking directly at the front gates. And finally, there are also various buildings for other uses—mainly clubs. As for the remaining space, it is either grassland or forests.

Compared to other schools, this was a pretty unusually big school. 

With lots of room to spare, as some woodlands are present on the campus. In fact, it looked more like a college campus than your ordinary high school—though not exactly to the extent a campus would encompass. 

Obviously, the reason for a school to be able to obtain this much land in the suburbs of Yokohama is due to the reputation and prestige it holds. Being one of the top schools in Japan, affluent families are induced to send their children to study there. Moreover, the quantity of property tax collected equates to the plethora of funds allocated for the school—due to the residents being quite wealthy.

Students normally exit the school by going down a road that leads into the city—where a train, bus, taxi, or any sort of transportation would be ready for these kids. 

But, with a portion of enrolled students having access to varying degrees of opulence, cars were the main form of transportation for such enrollees. The myriad of cars was an anomaly in Japanese society and history; the consumer-oriented economy was but a contemporary notion concocted in light of a post-war, democratic society with a rapidly growing economy and easy access to cheap petroleum.

In the meanwhile, since a vast majority of the student body isn't consigned to such upper-class economic status, everyone else is prompted to walk—since the distance between home and school wasn't awfully long.

Shinobu, who came from an upper-middle-class family, opted to walk. But, it didn't really bother her, as she had a copious amount of time to be with her sister, Kanae.

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Shinobu

Pandemonium erupted in each of the many halls of the school building. Since there were three buildings—with 1st, 2nd, and 3rd years assigned to each one of those edifices—this commotion was rampant throughout the entirety of the school. The main impetus for this clamor can be attributed to the fact that classes commence at exactly eight o'clock; any student who fails to act punctually will be marked tardy. Thus, everyone is frantically walking—since anything beyond that is forbidden within the hallways—to get to class on time.

Since I was in my 2nd year in high school, I had to bid Kanae—who was a 3rd-year student—a temporary farewell as we parted ways for our designated buildings.

Upon entering the classroom, I spotted Kanroji Mitsuri—a fellow peer and close friend of mine.

A young, voluptuous woman, Mitsuri's pigmentation can be described as fair—as her skin appears to be as glossy and velvety as an emollient cream. The textures and complexion on her face consist of round, light green eyes with long eyelashes; with a small, but conspicuous mole situated underneath each of the aforementioned eyelashes. Her coiffure is characterized by a long, pink hair that evanesces into a neon green color upon arriving at the midway point of her braids—denoting the three thick braids along with five shorter clumps that hang over her face like bangs.

To say that she is the striking image of a beautifully attractive female would be an understatement; almost every male in the grade, from the looks of it, longs for the day when they can be at least 2 meters close to their goddess.

"Ohayō gozaimasu, Shinobu-chan!" Mitsuri hollered as she waved to me.

I eventually make my way and greet her, "Ohayō, Mitsuri-chan."

"Ne ne, I heard that Sakamoto Kyu's new album is coming out soon!" Mitsuri said excitedly.

"Who?" I asked.

"YOU DON'T KNOW?!?!" she nearly screamed—a riveting mechanism that caught the attention of the entire class.

...

"Oh! Hehe! Sorry everyone!" she repeatedly nodded her head—a substitute for a formal, traditional bow.

Being a relatively shy person despite her amicable, easy-going personality, Mitsuri's embarrassment was tempestuously egregious for her; she loathed being inducted into such a confrontation within social interactions.

Thankfully, though, the classroom returned to its antecedent atmosphere and a multitude of colloquies.

"But seriously, you don't know!?" she said more quietly now.

"Uh... yeah..." I replied.

"Shinobu... You may be smart, but you lack any knowledge on pop culture!" Mitsuri exclaimed.

"I mean... It's that bad...?"

"YES!!!"

...

"Gomen nasai everyone! I apologize again!" Mitsuri once again asked for their pardon.

By the grace of God, they did. The class ignored her endeavors and resumed their activities.

"Anyways, he's one of the most famous Japanese singers! In fact, one of his songs, "Ue o Muite Arukō"—his most famous one—managed to not only top the charts in Japan, but also in several countries; it became one of the world's best-selling singles of all time! It sold over 13 million copies worldwide! Also, The song reached the top of the Billboard Hot 100 charts in the United States in 1963, and was the only Japanese-language song to do so!" Mitsuri, exhilarated by the implications of a familiar subject, ranted.

Author here: Seriously, check out "Ue o Muite Arukō" (1961) (better known as "Sukiyaki" in the English-speaking world)—it's a damn good song.

"Wow..." my voice trailed.

"Amazing isn't it!!" she said with avidity.

"I'm honestly more amazed by your ardor than anything else," I quip.

"Whaaa—! You're supposed to be amazed by the song, not my love for Sakamoto Kyu!" Mitsuri replied almost childishly.

"Haha, sorry Mitsuri-chan," I said.

"Oh! How about you come over to my house this weekend and listen to the song—since I already have a copy of the recording," Mitsuri suggested.

It didn't take me long to conjure up an answer, "Sure, I'd love to."

"Yessss! Now I can enlighten you in the ways of our beloved Sakamoto Kyu!!" she said in an outburst of eagerness and passion.

"So, who's this Sakamoto Kyu..." a low, monotone voice suddenly spoke.

"Ah! Obanai-kun!" Mitsuri correctly identified the voice.

"Ohayō gozaimasu, Mitsuri-chan, Kocho-san," Obanai bows.

"Ohayō, Iguro-san," I greeted.

Iguro Obanai, a close friend of Mitsuri, is a student in our class. Even though I've known him for quite some years now, I wouldn't classify him as a 'close friend'. Albeit, I have become acclimatized to his quiet, discreet nature along with his laudation of and appreciation for Mitsuri. So great is his veneration of Mitsuri that I suspect he harbors romantic feelings for her.

Now, I'm not an expert on these matters, but I'm also not completely brainless nor am I blind to Obanai's interest in Mitsuri.

This is why, with Mitsuri expressing her 'love' for a famous singer on this particular occasion, I am keeping an eye on Obanai and his reaction to her tendencies.

"So you were talking about—" Obanai started.

"Sakamoto Kyu! Yes!" Mitsuri interrupted, "he's the absolute best! Amazing songs, a phenomenal voice, and good looking too!"

Oh boy, I wonder how Obanai's gonna deal with this; he's not one to easily capitulate when confronted with competition of any sort.

"Oh... I agree," Obanai replied.

"Really!?" Mitsuri asks for clarification.

Really? Wow, that was unexpected. I hardly thought Obanai was one to follow pop culture trends.

"Yeah, I have one of his albums at home. "Ue o Muite Arukō" is my favorite," he expounds.

Mitsuri, with her two palms and sets of fingers, almost instantly grabs Obanai's hands and lifts them to a higher elevation—holding them at an eye-level altitude.

"Wha—" Obanai, clearly flustered, says aloud.

"Obanai-kun, you are truly a great friend! You understand me!" she declares.

"T-Thanks," Obanai said in a sotto voce manner—he was disquieted by the fact that the woman he was rather fond of was indeed holding his hands.

I feel like a third wheel right now.

"ARHRHRHHRH!!!!!!" someone yelled out from the courtyard.

"Huh?" "What was that?" "Someone's outside..."

The students within the classroom ruptured into a state of confusion and inquiries.

"There's someone outside!" a girl by the windows shouted.

Everyone—including Mitsuri, Obanai, and me—congregated behind the windows to pinpoint the source of this disturbance.

"Oh god, it's that first-year again..." someone mentions.

"KORRRRAAAAA!!! WHO WAS THE BASTARD THAT ATE MY LUNCH THE OTHER DAY!!! COME DOWN HERE!!!!" the boy, in a raucous tone, announces to the entire school.

"Inosuke! What the hell are you doing! Everyone's gonna hear you!" another male voice, though not physically visible, called out.

"SHUT UP DICKHEAD! YOUR COWARDLY ASS CAN GO SCREW ITSELF FOR ALL I CARE! I WANT EVERYONE TO HEAR THIS!!!" Inosuke—the irascible voice—chastised.

Hashibira Inosuke. I shouldn't be surprised.

"Ehhh?! Are you retarded?!" the same squirmy, dithering phonetic pattern called out.

While close to everyone was left utterly confounded by the immediate developments, I, on the other hand, was au courant with this procedure.

Therefore, I could comfortably identify that voice of oscillation and vacillation to be none other than Agatsuma Zenitsu—a first-year student; famous for his spineless personality.

"SHAD UP," Inosuke roared back.

"Inosuke! You shouldn't disturb everyone!" a more calm, yet equally demanding voice cried.

"STAY OUTTA THIS GONPACHIRO!"

Ah, Kamado Tanjiro. And Inosuke obviously botches Tanjiro's name when it comes to pronunciation and elocution.

"This guy has seriously lost it! He's gonna get us all in trouble!!" Zenitsu laments.

"OI! NOW WHICH OF YOU SONS-OF-BITCHES ATE MY LUNCH!!" Inosuke shriek.

"You shouldn't use that language, Inosuke!" Tanjiro calls out.

"FUCK OFF!"

"Inosuke, if you don't come back by the time I count to ten, I'm going to have to take drastic measures!" Tanjiro warns.

"SHUT UP! THIS IS BETWEEN ME AND THE LITTLE SHIT WHO ATE MY BENTO!"

"Geh, he's lost it," Tanjiro, appalled by this ostensible display of vulgar and crass behavior in the public domain, says.

"W-What are we gonna do?!?!?! We can just let him screw us over like this, or else we're all gonna be in big trouble!!!" Zenitsu wails.

"I think we'll have to use force," Tanjiro, with great reluctance, avers.

"ARE YOU CRAZY!?!?! I DON'T WANNA HAVE A BRUISED FACE AND BROKEN BONES!! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT HURTS?!?!?! JUST THINKING ABOUT IT MAKES ME WANNA DIE!!!" Zenitsu, in a manner almost as loud and rowdy as Inosuke, complains to Tanjiro.

"Wow, I didn't know that the First-Year group was full of idiots," a student opines.

While I am well-acquainted with Zenitsu, Tankiro, and Inosuke—as they are also my kouhais—I can generally agree with, and hold a consentient opinion to, the sentiment embraced by that random stranger; this is really getting quite ridiculous. I can't imagine embarrassing myself like that in front of everyone.

"OI! WHO THE FUCK IS YELLING?!" yelled Sanemi Shinazugawa—a Third-Year student who is as obstreperous and tactless as the First-Year student he is reprimanding—from the Third-Year building.

"I AM HAHAHHAHA!" Inosuke replied.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP THEN."

This is getting out of hand, too many insolent players are getting involved in this inconvenient situation.

"NO, YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH!" Inosuke, in an effort to prevent the feeling of chagrin or powerlessness, yells back.

"HUH? YOU THINK YOUR SCRAWNY FIRST YEAR ASS CAN TALK BACK TO ME?! HUH?!" Sanemi, invoking the traditional practices and conceptual understanding of a seniority-based hierarchy, rebukes.

"I COULDN'T GIVE THREE SHITS ABOUT YOUR ELDERLY STATUS!"

"I can't watch this anymore. Inosuke, I'm warning you: get back here or else..." Tanjiro exhorts.

"SHUT YER TRAP, MONJIRO!" Inosuke retaliates.

"It's Tanjiro!" Tanjiro corrected.

"KENTARO!"

"Tanjiro!"

"TONTARO!"

"Tanjiro!"

Oh dear, are they ever going to stop?

"ITADAKI TONTARO!"

"Kamado Tanjiro!"

"SHAKAKIRI GENGORO!"

"Kama—what?" Tanjiro, hearing Inosuke's erroneous articulation, said out of confusion.

"This is like watching children argue over the most insignificant of things; it's quite aggravating," Obanai said in a pique.

"I wonder how they'll resolve this..." Mitsuri, conversely, said out of concern.

"You guys suppose we ought to go out and mediate a settlement?" I proposed.

"Regardless of what we try, these fools won't stop. Only the presence of a teacher will end this madness," Obanai said coldly.

I sometimes forget how austere and tepid Obanai can be in the absence of any attempts at appeasement towards Mitsuri—probably because I'm almost always around Mitsuri; thus, I usually only see only one aspect of his multi-faceted personality.

"Classes are starting soon," someone points out.

"Oh man, you're right," confirmation is given.

"What should we do? Should we head for our seats?"

"By the way, where are the teachers? Shouldn't they be stopping those guys outside by now?"

The state of the class—among the many others—is in disarray; no one is sure what to do in the absence of any mechanisms to uphold and enforce the stipulated guidelines.

"HEY! DON'T IGNORE ME, DIPSHIT!" Sanemi yelled.

"FUCK YOU!" Inosuke shouted back.

"Is Sanemi insane or something? He's going to get punished as well," I note.

"He's always been insane," Obanai remarked.

"GAH! I'M SORRY INOSUKE! I ATE YOUR LUNCH!" Zenitsu suddenly yelped.

Oh, dear.

..

..

"NANIIII???!?!??!?!?!" Inosuke shrieked.

"Holy hell, this is getting interesting," Obanai, surprisingly tantalized by this occurrence, says.

"Eek! This is like the moment when the close friend betrays the protagonist in those thriller novels!" Mitsuri eagerly states—it appears she's in a trance with her fantasy in lieu of paying attention to the material world.

"It was right there, and I was hungry! I thought it was fine if I ate it!" Zenitsu bawled as he pleaded his guilt.

"Wha—why would you eat someone else's food, Zenitsu?!" Tanjiro, revolted by his close friend's conduct, criticizes.

"I WAS LIKE VERY HUNGRY! ISN'T THAT A GOOD EXCUSE?! LIKE, WHAT ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO DO WHEN YOU'VE RUN TWO MILES BECAUSE YOU WERE SLACKING OFF IN GYM CLASS AND THEN YOU REALIZE THAT YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH MONEY BECAUSE YOU ACCIDENTALLY SLEPT IN TODAY?!?!?! WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO!?!?! STARVE TO DEATH?!?!" Zenitsu, in a very whiny manner, evokes his breathless and effortless spiel.

"I don't think you would starve to death if I'm speaking honestly..." Tanjiro observes.

"You..." Inosuke growls.

"Inosuke? Are you okay?" Tanjiro asks.

"YOU LYING, COWARDLY FAT FUCK! GIVE ME MY LUNCH BACK!" he roars as he quickly runs over to land a punch on Zenitsu.

"OH SHIT, HE'S GONNA KILL ME!!! HELP ME TANJIROOOO!!!" Zenitsu desperately supplicates his comrade.

"Inosuke! Calm down! We can talk this through!" Tanjiro attempts to appeal to a diplomatic solution.

Unfortunately, Inosuke was not one to consider such peaceful resolutions to these predicaments.

Inosuke continued charging toward Zenitsu.

"Oh shit! The First-Year's gonna punch his friend!" a student mentions.

"Is a fight gonna break out?"

"Where are the teachers?"

"Damn, youngins go all-in with provocations these days."

"FIGHT! FIGHT!"

"This might get interesting!"

The entire school is now engrossed in what is to happen next.

I, on the other hand, was genuinely concerned about the well-being of my kouhais.

"Inosuke! Compose yourself!" I yell, but I fear he might have not heard it.

"We should intervene," Obanai—initially hesitant—finally declares.

But, before any of us could even begin running down the staircase and into the courtyard, we heard a loud, obtrusive sound—the sound of a person; it was feminine, "Inosuke!"

Inosuke abruptly halted in order to scan the area as a means to identify the individual calling out his name.

The person was none other than Kanzaki Aoi, a First-Year student and a student council representative for class 1-B. She is also my kouhai.

"Tch, it's you," Inosuke, for once, isn't yelling at the top of his lungs.

"So this is what happens when I let you out of my sight," she sighs.

"Shut up! I'm not a little kid!"

"But you sure are acting like one; fighting over a bento," Aoi sternly replies.

"But it was mine! And this fucker right here ate it!" Inosuke glared at Zenitsu—who, shivering at Inosuke's direct and indirect insinuations, promptly hid behind Tanjiro to elude his gaze.

"And he's also your friend; are you willing to beat up a friend?" she poses a question.

"Ach..." Inosuke refused to respond, probably because he couldn't answer in the first place.

"And you, Agatsuma Zenitsu," she instantaneously turns to face the timid boy.

"H-Hai...?"

"Your stupidity is what caused all of this in the first place. Properly apologize to Insouke," she said with a serious countenance.

"H-HAI! Sumimasen deshita, Insouke!" he obeyed as he delivered a very formal bow in conjunction with his formal apology.

"Haha, that's what you get!" Inosuke, enjoying the sight of Zenitsu's penance, laughed.

"And you, Inosuke! You apologize to Agatsuma-san for trying to physically hurt him!" she countered.

"What!?! Wh—"

"No excuses! Do it. Now," she scowled.

Inosuke gave out an exasperated sigh and then subsequently bowed, "Gomen."

"More formality and do a better job with the bow!" Aoi demanded.

Inosuke begrudgingly fulfilled her orders and bowed once again, "Sumimasen deshita, Zenitsu."

"Good," said a satisfied Aoi.

"Gomen nasai, Kanzaki-san! Sorry for dragging you into this!" Tanjiro bowed.

Aoi then suspires, "Next time, do a better job at preventing these outbursts of rage; you're the last line of defense between any semblance of order and all-out chaos."

"Hai!" Tanjiro acknowledges.

"Whoa, the kid stopped," a commentator says.

"Whew, looks like nobody's gonna get hurt."

"Aw darn it! I wanted to see a fight!"

"These First-Years really are something; they're either total buffoons or mature adults."

"Seriously though, where are the teachers?"

A crisis had been averted and a debacle was deescalated thanks to the astute, quick-witted, and decisive actions of Aoi. She indeed harbors a witty, shrewd judgment and a resolute character to complement it; all of which play to her advantage during a dilemma that is conducive to causing stress within one's mind.

"That kid is good," said Obanai.

"She's the only one who can tame the great beast," I jest.

"Hey Shinobu," said Mitsuri.

"Yeah?" I answer.

"Don't you think that they look cute together? That Hashibira boy and Kanzaki girl? I mean, look at it! He didn't shout at her or anything and he even was willing to follow her orders! And she was—" she then gasps and then whispers, "It's the perfect couple."

"Uh..." I was left perplexed, but not particularly surprised—after all, it's kinda Mitsuri's thing to pair couples together left and right.

"Kyaa!! Don't you agree?" she asks.

"Yeah... Sure..." I reply.

"What about you, Obanai-kun?" she queries.

"... I agree," he responded.

He's going with the flow, agreeing with everything that comes out of Mitsuri's mouth.

I smile.

Oh well, at least everything's normal now; everyone's having a pleasant time and I'm in a good mood despite my languor.

Overall, every day felt like a good day. Having fun with friends, family, and even in school.

Seeing the neighborhood, city, and country adjust to these changing times provides one with an optimistic outlook on the future.

I was enjoying everything in life.

I was happy.

..

..

..

..

"Shinobu... Shinobu... Oiii Shinobuuuu!!"

I unveil my optics from the eyelids.

"Nee-san?" I say sluggishly as I rub my eyes.

"It's getting quite late," she informs.

"Huh?" I was immediately roused.

I check my watch and groan, "Great, a two-hour nap. Just what I needed."

"Hehe, at least you got some rest," Kanae stated.

"I guess, plus I don't have any homework. So, I guess I'm fine then," I conclude.

"Gooood~ Now, since I have Cram School starting soon, can you pick up the Salmon from the market tonight?" she requests.

"Sure... I thought you didn't have Cram School today?" I inquired.

"Well, one of the sessions was canceled the other day and then postponed today," she apprises.

"Oh... Alright then," I say.

"Well, in that case, I'll be off then. Ja ne!" Kanae says as she takes her leave.

"Bye," I simply reply.

After a few seconds of stillness in the dim, empty classroom, I finally rise to my feet.

"Well, time to get going then."

..

..

The starlit sky enclosed the school under its magnificent and enthralling glaze as the moon rose from its slumber—while the sun settled in the distance. 

The aroma of a heavy, yet colorful scent was contrived in light of the summer humidity's nighttime hours. 

Miles away, the luminescent street lights and profuse pandemonium prevalent within the confines of the Greater Tokyo area and its surrounding prefectures could be distinguished from the hilltop of this academic institution. 

The city, while exuding both the energy and loud reverberations of an enormous metropolis, paled in comparison to the erratic critters and croaking of the wildlife that identified the surrounding habitat and forest as their permanent home. 

This, much to the annoyance and contempt of students and staff alike, included the army of mosquitoes—for whom awaited an opportunity to initiate the extraction and consumption of red blood present under the skins of their human targets.

After picking up the salmon from the fish market, I was making my way home. Thus, I was transporting both a shopping bag that carried salmon, along with my school bag.

I yawn, "I shouldn't nap for too long, nor should I sleep at school; it's both inconvenient and uncomfortable."

But then, Thump

Just as I was giving a monologue to myself, I tripped on a deep crack that was present on the surface of the concrete sidewalk.

My entire body swung downwards, and the two bags concurrently went flying.

My school bag had fallen down the hill—where it lay along the Sagami River banks.

Recuperating from my fall, I immediately picked up the shopping bag and rushed down the declivity as means to retrieve my school bag.

Eventually, upon arriving at the embankment of the river, I managed to repossess my bag.

But I saw something else.

There was a strange configuration on the surface of a green, luscious hill. I spotted a brown rust of metal along with the natural green of moss and other plants that had enveloped it. I gave it a look and then subsequently walked over. 

At first, it didn't seem like much; some sporadic rust here and there, but it was mostly the natural Earth that I was looking at. 

However, swaying my feet left and right to cause an abrasion on the foliage and rust, I removed the moss and greenery only to find an opening.

This was very interesting. It appears to be an old lateral pipe... But the question is: how old?

However, it's getting dark... And I should be heading home now.

But, my curiosity got the best of me this time. This tunnel was simply too intriguing to miss. Besides, I have a flashlight that I could use—so that should come in handy.

As I entered the pipeline, I noticed that, while the ingress was indeed relatively short in height, the lateral pipe which it permitted entry didn't harbor synonymous characteristics with regards to its apotheosis as the entrance did. 

The immediate entryway was a metallic tunnel in which the adjacent walls constituted what was left of this tattered, old pipeline. 

Moreover, while the aperture that embodies the physical configurations of the entrance did provide countenance with regards to vision through what little sunlight could possibly transfer its photons over into the tunnel, the passage remained caliginous and almost impossible to distinguish its idiosyncratic, tangible components due to the lack of natural light. 

Despite that, I paid no heed and partook in a continuous hike into the cavern to which the darkness lay. 

The synergy between the perpetual darkness and the crisp, numbing breeze that occasionally sought to traverse the elongated pipeline brought forth an aura that was both ambiguous—in the backdrop of a vague setting—combined with ambivalent indecisiveness as to whether fear, malice, or curiosity should reign supreme within these metallic corridors.

I felt a little concerned about the milieu to which I had found myself, but I wasn't one to adhere to superstitious beliefs that only conjure up fanaticism and other malignant emotions. So, I ignored the atmosphere and marched on.

As I continued my trek across the conduit, I made a note of how I'm probably gonna be late for dinner—thence incurring the wrath of Okāsan.

After a minute of walking, it was plainly obvious that the lack of natural light had formulated a situation upon which the ability to fully execute a comprehensive observation of the surrounding purlieu had been effectively nullified. Meaning, I had to use my flashlight now.

Eventually, after an excessive amount of walking, I reached my destination: the exit.

However, upon entering the foyer-like antechamber, it seemed as if all the characteristics that pertained to the preceding environs—straitened, crepuscular, odious, and so on—underwent a substantial alteration that converted the atmosphere, ambiance, and physical arrangement of the room's multi-faceted array of configurations into some else entirely. 

For one, the drop in temperature was almost immediately reversed as I stepped foot into the chamber; the chilly climate that encompassed the antecedent passage completely revamped into a more suitable, tepid temperature that was neither too warm to facilitate sweat nor too cool for one to doubt the supposed warmth of the contiguity.

Moreover, unlike the cold, decrepit undercurrent that was palpable within the lateral pipeline, this new locality procured a more lively, corrigible setting in which the tension from the previous passageway was diluted to a more sustainable and acceptable level. 

Abstract notions aside, the room was a visually, enthralling sight that harbored riveting traits in order to draw the attention of any given observer. 

There existed a mini-reservoir in the circumcenter of this cavern, complete with freshwater, lush greenery, and some living organisms whose habitat constitutes the entirety of this picturesque cave within the confines of the Earth. 

The water emanated a strange luminosity of a combination of light green and light blue—cyan blue, to be exact. 

Such a visual scenery effectuated a scenario in which one would expect to occur in a natatorium, but, alas, this is a natural occurrence and not one artificially contrived by human beings. 

It was an alluring sight, almost as if one had entered an entirely different world due to the sheer discrepancy between the tunnel and the cavern. 

The only source of natural light, it would appear, originated from within the pool itself. As a result, the room was engrossed with the illumination of a greenish-bluish radiance that engulfed the entirety of the vicinity. 

Furthermore, the presence of the luscious green plants—that, with the exception to a large concentration around the reservoir, were distributed quite evenly throughout the room—amplified the effects of such coloring upon the rest of the cave.

It was a most extraordinary observation—one that would enrapture anyone as a matter of fact.

I simply stood there, gawking at such beauty unbeknownst to man—one which has laid beneath one of the biggest cities in Japan.

"Why hasn't anyone seen this place?!" I deliver my soliloquy.

This is especially surprising considering how heavily bombed Yokohama was during the Second World War. It was astonishing how such a natural wonder lay beneath modern civilization and survived the depredations of the outside world.

As I admired the beauty of this quaint setting, I made my way to the opposite end of the grotto—where I arrived at the crossroads of two passageways: either take a left or right turn.

Unfortunately, the passage that supposedly provided access to the tunnel on the right was concealed. Upon closer inspection, I found that rubble of rocks had obturated any possible entryway into this particular section of the cavern.

So, I chose the left path.

The entrance's apotheosis in terms of height wasn't as extensive as the antechamber, but it was tall enough to permit my entry. Thus, I felt confident enough to continue on my little journey.

As I was walking, the calm, soothing atmosphere and milieu of the luscious, green reservoir had all but dissipated; all to be replaced by the same morose and somber that could simultaneously be attributed to a starless night sky or a cloudy day without raindrops to entice one's mind and spirit. 

It was, essentially, a reversal back into the conditions prevalent within the metallic conduit; a depreciation in almost all aspects, as one could say.

Then, I stopped.

There was this odd sense of familiarity. It's as if I've been here before.

Why?

Was it a feeling of deja vu? No, I felt as if I was legitimately here before—as if I've explored everything that had come before this subsection of the cave.

But why now? Why didn't I feel it earlier?

Why did I feel nostalgic all of a sudden?

What were these feelings?

It was a strange feeling; on one hand, it was the feeling of serenity and at peace with oneself. I was living in a peaceful, prosperous time with my closest friends and family by my side. I had everything I ever wanted. 

I felt at ease, I felt like all of the woes and the scars of my past had vanished. All the stress, all the hatred, the sadness, the yearning for comfort, the desire to be at peace once and for all... All were gone...

But, at the same time, I was confused. Those capricious, cynical emotions left the stage to make way for an emotion I have not felt in years, the wistful feeling as I reminisce of the past and the longing for reconciliation with myself. 

A feeling full of nostalgia encompasses me as images rush into my head of the days when happiness didn't supersede duty, when old tales uttered by the elders had manifested themselves, and when I descended into madness as I failed to protect my loved ones.

But why?

Why was I feeling these sensations when I've never experienced them in the first place?

What was the cause of them?

Is the memory of a forgotten past? A foreboding future? Or the memories of another era?

It was an unusual combination of embracing the tranquility and the realization that the hopes, aspirations, and purpose that once brought equanimity were forever gone. And yet, my future WAS hopeful, it WAS full of aspirations, and it had brought equanimity to me.

So why was I feeling so melancholic?

Then, I stared at the fragmented wall; a wall that couldn't have been fractured by any natural occurrences by the looks of it.

Then, for some godforsaken reason, it hit me.

A name.

"T-Tomioka..-san..." I say poignantly as if I had lost something beyond any degree of importance.

"W-Why... Why does it hurt when I say this name... Who are you, Tomioka-san...?"

I felt an abnormal sensation stinging in my chest; as if something of great importance had been lost; something I revered and cherished, only for me egregiously falter and allow for its ultimate demise—to permit my shameful lack of resolve to precipitate the occurrence of such events.

It was the pain of something I had known but had forgotten.

I collapsed to the ground, landing on my knees.

I watch as droplets gravitate downwards to my lap. Those were tears trickling down from my eyes...

Why am I crying...

"Sorry," I blurt out, "I'm sorry... Everyone..."

The sharp sting of guilt strikes my chest.

The guilt stemmed from the fact that the world was living through an ugly reality.

While I was living through a beautiful lie.