Chapter 2 — Tanjiro, Grandpa Saburo
Tanjiro stared at Ken, who had collapsed right in front of him, half his body already buried in the snow. He froze for a moment.
"Y-you're not hurt, are you?"
Setting down the rice balls in his hand, Tanjiro hurried forward to help Ken up—but Ken had already lost consciousness.
"H-he fainted?!"
Seeing Ken pass out just like that, Tanjiro stood there in a daze, unsure of what to do.
"Grandpa Tamura, do you know which family he belongs to?" Tanjiro asked the elderly man he had just helped.
The old man merely glanced at Ken once and immediately understood who he was.
"He's an orphan who wanders around the town. No family."
"Then what should we—" Tanjiro had intended to ask what they should do, but seeing the faint trace of disdain in the old man's eyes as he looked at Ken, the words caught in his throat.
By now, others on the street had also noticed the commotion and turned to look.
They only watched quietly, whispering among themselves. Not a single person stepped forward to help.
Tanjiro realized he couldn't trouble everyone. He turned back to the old man.
"Grandpa Tamura, may I leave my charcoal and basket with you? I'll come pick them up tomorrow."
"Of course you can. But Tanjiro, are you planning to take this child home?"
Tanjiro scratched his head. "I can't just leave him here, can I?"
Hearing that, the old man's gaze toward Tanjiro softened.
Though he was unwilling to involve himself and create trouble for his own household, he was still glad that Tanjiro was willing to lend a hand. What a kind child.
"But your family isn't well-off either, Tanjiro," the old man couldn't help but remind him.
"Mm. I'll share half of my portion with him. I'll try not to trouble Mom or the others," Tanjiro said seriously, without the slightest hesitation.
"…He probably fainted from hunger. Feed him some rice balls first. Use tea to help him swallow."
"Thank you, Grandpa Tamura!"
"It's nothing. As for you… ah." The old man sighed softly when he saw the sincerity in Tanjiro's eyes.
"What a good child…"
...
When Ken woke up, he found himself lying inside an old house. An elderly man sat with his back to him, weaving a bamboo umbrella.
"Where am I?"
Hearing the voice behind him, the old man set down the half-finished umbrella and turned around.
"You're finally awake!"
"You are?"
"You can call me Grandpa Saburo. Lie back down. I've cooked some porridge for you. You'll feel better after eating."
With that, the old man prepared to step out and bring the porridge in.
"Please wait!" Ken struggled to sit up, panting twice before catching his breath. "Grandpa Saburo… where's my sword?"
"Your sword? I put it away for you. One moment."
The old man left the room and soon returned with a bowl of thick porridge. In his other hand was a katana—Ken's Ryūjin Jakka.
The moment Ken saw Ryūjin Jakka, the tension in his chest finally eased.
The old man brought over a small wooden table and set the porridge down in front of Ken. But instead of drinking it immediately, Ken reached for his sword.
"Did your father leave this blade to you?" the old man suddenly asked.
Ken remained silent.
Seeing this, the old man became even more certain of his guess.
A ragged child clutching what appeared to be a valuable katana, fainting from hunger in the street—he could more or less piece together the story.
"This sword must be very precious to you, right?"
After all, it was likely his father's keepsake…
The old man added that silently to himself.
Ken nodded.
Of course it was precious! His Ryūjin Jakka had nearly been swallowed up by that shameless excuse for a system.
"The past is the past. Don't dwell on it. Drink your porridge and focus on living well from now on—that's what matters most."
The old man wanted to comfort him, to tell him not to cling to tragic memories, but saying too much might only reopen old wounds. So he left it at that.
Ken simply nodded in response.
As he drank the porridge, he found something strange. He had fainted from hunger earlier, yet now he didn't feel particularly hungry at all…
"Grandpa Saburo, were you the one who carried me back from town?" Ken asked casually while sipping the porridge.
He remembered nothing after fainting.
"No. Tanjiro carried you here. He originally planned to take you home, but it was already getting late."
"Carrying you, he wouldn't have made it home before sunset."
Clatter!
The empty porridge bowl slipped from Ken's hand, crashing onto the wooden table and shattering into pieces.
"Ta-Tanjiro?!" Ken's eyes widened as he stared at the old man.
"What's wrong, child?" The old man had no idea why Ken suddenly looked so terrified.
"Where is Tanjiro now? Where did he go, Grandpa Saburo?!" Ken urgently demanded.
"I told him to leave you here with me so I could take care of you. He said he'd come get you tomorrow."
"Of course, if you'd rather stay and live with this old man, that's fine too."
"So Tanjiro… went back." Ken's gaze slowly turned vacant.
The old man didn't understand what Ken was so afraid of, but he tried to reassure him anyway.
"Don't worry! Without having to carry you, Tanjiro can make it home before dark."
"He's walked that mountain path for years. Nothing will happen. You'll see him tomorrow morning."
"Before dark…?" Ken looked through the propped-up wooden window. The sun outside was sinking behind the mountains.
His entire body began trembling.
He realized something terrible was about to happen…
And because of his appearance, that event might now change in some unpredictable way—heading toward an even more horrifying and desperate future.
Clutching Ryūjin Jakka in his arms, Ken's heart trembled as well.
He was deeply grateful that Tanjiro had saved him.
But with his current strength, he stood no chance against Kibutsuji Muzan. He needed time to grow stronger!
Maybe he could wait until everything had settled… and then save Nezuko.
Take care of Nezuko, grow stronger step by step, and in the end, avenge Tanjiro's family by killing Kibutsuji Muzan…
Yes! That was the best outcome Ken could think of—perhaps the best choice available to him right now.
So should he just lie down here and wait for dawn…?
Since earlier, a voice had been echoing in his mind—his own voice.
Ken: "Even if you go now, it's already too late…"
Ken: "You're too weak. Going won't change anything…"
Ken: "Give yourself a few years to grow. You'll make Kibutsuji Muzan repent at Tanjiro's family's graves…"
Then why am I still trying to convince myself to give up?
Why?!
Why?!!
Why?!!!
Ken: "..."
"If you want to go, then go. Why are you asking me? I don't care whether you live or die!"
"Mm. Thanks."
"Heh."
The Ryūjin Jakka in his arms gave off a faint warmth, snapping Ken out of that strange state.
He stared at the blade for a long moment… then said softly, "I'll be relying on you later. I'm no match for Kibutsuji Muzan."
Seeing Ken, who had been murmuring to himself just moments ago, suddenly stand up and look at him, the old man couldn't quite react in time.
"Grandpa Saburo, is there any more food at home?"
Even if I die, I'm dying on a full stomach!!!