Age: 14 — Late Summer
The scar on my back throbbed as I swung the hatchet, splitting firewood with more force than necessary. Sweat dripped into the bandages Mother had wrapped tightly around my torso. Behind me, Rokuta giggled, chasing a butterfly through the sunlit clearing.
*Clang.*
Tanjiro's wooden sword clattered to the ground. "Again," he demanded, wiping dirt from his cheek. His stubbornness mirrored mine, but his hands trembled.
"Your stance is too wide," I corrected, nudging his foot with mine. "Balance here, not here."
Nezuko hovered nearby, clutching a basket of herbs. "Satoshi-nii, you shouldn't be—"
"I'm fine," I lied, tossing the hatchet aside. The wound pulsed in protest.
***
The village festival buzzed with life. Paper lanterns swayed above the streets, their golden light blending with the sunset. Hanako and Shigeru tugged at my sleeves, begging for candied apples, while Takeo marveled at a street performer's fire dance.
"Look, Satoshi-nii!" Hanako pointed at a stall selling masks. "That one looks like you!"
A fox mask stared back, its red paint chipped. *Cunning. Dangerous.* I shoved down a shudder.
"Kamado!"
A merchant waved me over, his cart piled with charcoal. "Your mother's order—extra for the bonfire."
As I loaded the sacks, a chill prickled my neck. Across the crowd, a woman in a lavender kimono watched me. Her smile was too wide, her eyes reflecting lantern light like a cat's.
***
The taiko drums began at dusk. Villagers circled the bonfire, clapping as dancers twirled in yukata splashed with indigo and crimson. Nezuko joined them, her laughter blending with the flute's melody.
Tanjiro tensed beside me. "That woman… she's following us."
The lavender kimono glided through the crowd, always just out of reach.
"Stay with the others," I ordered, slipping into an alley.
She waited in the shadows, her voice syrup-sweet. "Little flame. How brightly you burn."
My hand flew to the hatchet. "What do you want?"
"To play." Her nails elongated into talons. "You've made such *noise* in the dark."
***
The first strike shattered a sake barrel. Villagers screamed, scattering as she lunged.
*Hinokami Kagura—Third Form: Blazing Universe.*
I pivoted, flames roaring in my veins. Her claws grazed my shoulder, drawing blood.
"Satoshi-nii!" Tanjiro's cry cut through the chaos.
The demon hissed, recoiling as Rokuta's candy apple hit her face. "Annoying brats!"
*Fourth Form: Rising Scorching Sun.*
My hatchet cleaved air as she vanished, reappearing atop a rooftop. "This is just the beginning," she sang, dissolving into mist. "The night loves a stubborn flame."
***
The bonfire crackled, now a pyre of splintered stalls. Nezuko cradled a sobbing Hanako, while Takeo brandished a stick like a sword.
"We're leaving," I said, voice brittle.
Tanjiro gripped my arm. "You're bleeding again."
"I said *we're leaving*."
***
That night, fever dreams came.
A man with sunrise eyes danced in a field of snow. His blade traced constellations, each step a poem. *"Breathe with the fire,"* he whispered. *"Not against it."*
I reached for him—
*Thud.*
Rokuta sprawled across my chest, clutching a crumpled drawing. "I made this! It's you fighting the bad lady!"
Crude stick figures wielded fiery swords. My throat tightened. "Thanks, little spark."
***
At dawn, I knelt before Mother, the smell of charcoal and pine sap clinging to Father's haori. She sat by the hearth, mending Hanako's torn yukata, her needle steady but her knuckles pale.
"I need to go," I said, the words brittle. "To train properly."
Her needle paused mid-stitch. "Why you want to train ? she asked
My went a little dry as I said "To protect us"
She looked at me and asked "To protect us from what?"
The fire crackled. Rokuta's laughter drifted from outside, oblivious.
"That woman at the festival," I began, but Mother's sharp glance silenced me.
"A madwoman," she said, voice taut. "Bandits, perhaps. Why would that force you to leave?"
Tanjiro hovered in the doorway, his eyes wide. "She wasn't human, was she? Her eyes… her nails…"
Nezuko clutched Shigeru's hand, her face pale. "Satoshi-nii, what *was* that?"
I hesitated. *Demons*. The word lodged in my throat. To name them would make it real—for them, for Mother.
"There are… things," I said finally. "Things Father knew how to fight. I need to learn."
Mother set aside the fabric, her gaze softer than the embers. "Your father danced to honor the gods, not to wage war."
"The dance *is* the war," I said, fists clenching. "And I can't fight it here."
Hanako tugged at Mother's sleeve. "Is Satoshi-nii going to be like Papa? Dancing in the snow?"
Mother's hands trembled—just once—before she adjusted my haori. You still haven't answered my question but trust you to know that you're doing it for us but return before the first snow," she whispered. "And dance well, Satoshi."
Tanjiro stepped forward, stubborn as always. "I'll protect them. But when you come back… you'll tell me *everything*."
***
The path was steeper than I remembered.
*Breathe with the fire.*
Snow crunched beneath my boots. Ahead, a cave yawned open, its walls scarred with ancient charcoal drawings—dancers with blades of flame.
*Not a prayer. A legacy.*
Somewhere, a crow cawed, its cry echoing through the pines.