Not long after he began forming memories, Kamado Tanjuro realized that he was different from others.
He had not inherited his father's outstanding physique, nor his mother's appearance.
Born frail, with a dark scar on his forehead, he was an anomaly.
It was precisely because of this that his parents chose not to have any more children, leaving him as the youngest in the family.
Even as his older siblings gradually became able to live independently, he would grow exhausted simply from standing too long.
Yet none of this troubled him. He had a family that loved him, and for Tanjuro, that alone meant there was nothing more he needed to ask for.
That began to change when he was four years old, when his parents first allowed him to go and watch the New Year's prayer.
That was the first time he saw the Hinokami Kagura.
His father stood beneath a sky filled with falling snow, holding something in his hands as he performed the prayer dance.
Tanjuro watched, utterly absorbed. Gradually, his breathing fell into step with his father's movements, and once the two were fully synchronized, the frigid air that normally stabbed at his lungs grew gentle, while the weakness in his body quietly receded.
His mother's voice followed.
"Look, Tanjuro. This is the Kagura dance that has been passed down through our family for generations. You must make sure to pass it on properly in the future."
"Yes. I'll remember it."
"Tanjuro, see the patterns on your father's clothes? Aren't they beautiful? Those are patterns meant to pray for peace."
"Patterns… for peace?"
"That's right. Because we're a family that works with fire, we dance the Kagura at the start of every year to pray for blessings. Still, it's really hard work—our hands and feet turn bright red from the cold. We're already getting on in years, but we still insist on dancing ourselves."
[Red?]
Cradled in his mother's arms, Tanjuro stared at his father's body—formed of muscle, bone, and veins—and froze.
[What… am I seeing?]
It was the first time Kamado Tanjuro doubted the world as he perceived it.
After that, Tanjuro asked his father about the Kagura dance.
"Well… it's said to be adapted from the sword techniques of a very powerful swordsman our ancestors once knew. Your grandfather's Kagura was truly something to behold. Unfortunately, I only learned the outer form—I can't do what your grandfather said, unifying the movements with the breath."
"Unifying… breath and movement?"
"Yes. When the weather gets a bit warmer, I'll teach you properly. After all, the Fire God really did make Tanjuro's body better, didn't he? Ah, right—here. This earring is yours now. It's a treasured heirloom that's been passed down with blessings. It'll watch over Tanjuro and keep you healthy as you grow up."
Tanjuro accepted the earring. Thinking of how his breathing had subtly changed over time, and how his body had gradually improved, he nodded.
At fifteen, Tanjuro performed the Hinokami Kagura by himself for the first time. When his breathing and the movements of the Kagura became one, he experienced a sense of ease he had never known before.
Even amid ice and snow, he felt neither cold nor fatigue. As long as he continued to move according to the established rhythm, it was enough.
At nineteen, Tanjuro married his wife, Kie—the daughter of a tailor—and they soon had children.
However, during the first New Year after his eldest son Tanjiro was born, Tanjuro followed tradition and performed the Kagura dance in the midst of wind and snow. When he fell gravely ill after finishing, he finally realized, hazily, that Breathing Styles were not entirely without cost—they were a way of borrowing from the future.
If a person could live to be a hundred, then using Breathing Styles would likely shorten that lifespan by roughly one-fifth, leaving them with only around eighty years. In exchange, however, they gained an extraordinary body—just as Tanjuro himself had never again been plagued by his congenital frailty after learning the Breathing Style.
After realizing this, Tanjuro stopped using the Breathing Style altogether, hoping only to spend more time with his family. But as soon as he ceased using it, the weakness he had been born with returned. In just three short days, he went from being unable to do heavy labor to struggling even to stand for long periods.
Looking at the worry in his wife's eyes, and the clear, innocent gaze of his eldest son, Tanjuro made a decision in his heart—
[For this family, I can't fall yet. I can't let them worry. I'll just slowly reduce how often I use the Breathing Style.]
He never told his family about it. Instead, he devoted himself even more carefully to teaching his eldest son, Tanjiro.
Even so, Tanjuro never knew whether he should pass the Breathing Style on to his children.
As he continued to reduce his use of the Breathing Style, his body gradually grew thinner and weaker over the years. Worried about his father, Tanjiro began working alongside him, burning charcoal and carrying it down the mountain to sell.
Though it pained Tanjuro to see his son shouldering such burdens at such a young age, he never stopped him. He knew that he didn't have much time left, and when he was gone, Tanjiro would be the only man left in the household.
[If only I had a little more time… Making a child barely ten take on all this is far too early…]
"Hey, Tanjuro! Selling charcoal again with Tanjiro today?"
Tanjuro looked up at the speaker and nodded with a gentle smile. "Yes. The New Year's almost here, so we're trying to sell more charcoal now and make things easier when the time comes. You seem pretty free yourself, Yasumori."
"Haha, you're not wrong!" The man called Yasumori laughed. "Give me some charcoal, then. Even though we've got that electric thing now, the old stuff just feels better to use. Two baskets."
"Alright. Tanjiro, do you remember what I taught you before we came?"
"Yes, I've got it." Tanjiro, who had been waiting nearby, immediately sprang into action. "I'll carry it to the back for Uncle Yasumori, right?"
"Ah, that's right. Sorry to trouble you, Tanjiro."
"It's no trouble at all. I'll be done in just a moment."
"I'll leave it to you, then."
"Oh, right—there was a strange child in town today, asking about your family…" Yasumori said, stroking his chin. "I told him the way up the mountain. Didn't you run into him on your way here?"
"We didn't, but… a child?" Tanjuro frowned slightly. "Did something happen to one of my siblings' families?"
"No, no. His hair wasn't that deep red like yours. He looked more like a noble's kid who snuck out to play." Yasumori waved his hand. "Probably heard some story and ran off on his own. The way he described your family—red hair and eyes, charcoal burners, living up in the mountains—it was obviously you."
"I understand. I'll keep an eye out," Tanjuro said with a nod. "Thank you."
"Father, Uncle Yasumori, I'm finished."
"Oh my, our Tanjiro really is capable," Yasumori said, ruffling Tanjiro's hair before handing him a pouch of money and a small bag of sweets. "Here you go."
"Huh? But these sweets—"
"They're for Nezuko and the others. My family runs a sweets shop—we've got plenty. Just take them."
"Yes, thank you, Uncle Yasumori." Tanjiro smiled and carefully put the sweets away. "Nezuko and the others will be really happy."
"How is it? Have you gotten the rhythm down? Can you keep going?"
"Yes!" Tanjiro nodded vigorously. "I can do it! Father, please rest properly!"
"Alright. I'll wait here for you."
Tanjuro smiled gently, though the sorrow in his eyes could not be concealed.
[I'm sorry, Tanjiro, for making you shoulder so much at such a young age…
God—if you truly watch over this mortal world, if you can hear my prayer amid the countless lives of this world—then please, grant me a little more time.
Call it fear of death, or attachment to this world… just please, give me more time to stay with my family.]