walk steady on this cruel world's path

By: Aviantei

Part Six:

"The Color of Thunder"

Now, far be it for me to assume, but I feel like I can take a pretty accurate guess at what you're thinking. Namely: Rairi, how the hell did you not realize you were in the Kimetsu no Yaiba/Demon Slayer universe? And, you know, that's a fair question. I mean, come on, the Demon Slayer Corps? It's in the name!

Well, I had an explanation for that. I didn't hear Japanese as if it were translated to English—I was fluent after my little time travel shenanigans. The Corps were the Kisatsutai, while the Japanese name of the manga/anime series translated closer to The Blade of Demon Destruction, if you wanted to get literal. The comparison hadn't even crossed my mind.

Of course, I know there were other clues. The Total Concentration Breathing system? Taishō Era Japan? The fact that I was living with a canon character who just happened to have a different hair color when I met him? Any of those things should have tipped me off, right?

Those are all excellent points, too, but I assure you there's a reasonable explanation for it all, though I don't know if it'll make you any happier:

I have never watched nor read Kimetsu no Yaiba.

I know, I know! It's worth the time, I'm sure. I'd seen some clips of the animation, and, yeah, I get what everyone's going on about, I swear, And, in my defense, it was on my to be watched/read list! You know how it is; there's just so many series out there, and only so much time. If I hadn't been stuck in Taishō Japan for the past two years, maybe I would've gotten to it!

So, yeah, I knew jack crap, other than some of the main character designs and like? Two names?

Nezuko, because everyone loves Nezuko.

And Inosuke, because the whole Ino and boar head thing that made it easy to remember.

Zenitsu had not been one of those names, for the record. But once I saw him, saw the combination of his hair with his haori, it became obvious. Not like I could do anything with this newfound knowledge anyways. I didn't know the canon. I couldn't change anything on purpose. So all I had done was recognize I was stranded in a shōnen and—my life was going to continue as normal?

Ah, shit, am I a background character? What if I got dumped into the role of someone who dies? I could have gone my whole life without knowing this, fuck!

Just like when I'd gotten dumped here, there wasn't much else I could do but roll with it.

"I have an important announcement to make."

While Sensei hadn't ordered me a feast, sitting down to a proper meal at home felt so much like bliss that I hadn't bothered to complain about it. Dinnertime was almost through, and I'd been pestered by Kaigaku to explain how Final Selection had gone. I'd toned down the details enough to not lose my appetite (or send Zenitsu from the room screaming), but I let Sensei speak up during a lull in my story telling without a fuss. Taking the hint, Kaigaku and Zenitsu also listened at attention.

"With Rairi passing Final Selection, they're the first of you to become a Demon Slayer," Sensei said, and I felt that little flutter of pride I got whenever Sensei deigned to grace one of us with a compliment. "Kaigaku, Zenitsu, I'm sure that you two will pass as well. That said, I'm also sure that you lot will likely be the last group of students I get the chance to teach."

Zenitsu had teared up within seconds. "Jī-chan, don't say something like that—"

Sensei raised a hand, and Zenitsu cut off his protest. "I'm getting old, Zenitsu. The three of you are exhausting enough as it is. Even if I live long enough to train someone else, I don't think I could keep up with it." I held back a snort. If I were Sensei, I would have tossed my ass out from the start for being such a pain. "That said, I will finish training you both, Zenitsu and Kaigaku, so you don't need to worry about that."

Kaigaku harrumphed, though it wasn't with as much force as usual. "You better. I'm not done showing you what I'm capable of just yet."

"But if you're gonna finish training us," Zenitsu said, a worried crease forming in his forehead, "why bring it up?" Sensei paused, as if he'd known the question was coming but wasn't looking forward to it. Kaigaku, realizing that Zenitsu had a point, leaned forward a bit in his seat, a deeper frown than usual slipping onto his lips. My mind flashed through the possibilities—and then landed on one.

"This is about a successor, isn't it?" I asked, my voice meant to be at full volume but coming out as little more than a whisper.

It was a touchy subject in some ways, so we tended to avoid it. Well, I think it would be fair to say that we also avoided it because none of us wanted to imagine Sensei dying and needing a successor to take his place. But the fact remained that we were his pupils, and we'd never heard anything about any of his other students still being alive. Sure, there were other Cultivators out there who passed on Thunder Breathing as one of the core Total Concentration styles, so it wasn't like the form would die out or anything, but someone would still need to take on the position at this house whenever Sensei passed on—and I don't think any of us wanted this place—our home to fall into to the hands of a stranger.

The question was then: who would he pick?

"You're correct, Child," Sensei said, and that didn't do anything to push away the tension in the room. While Zenitsu's confidence level had improved over the past year, I don't think he could imagine himself taking over as Sensei's successor. Kaigaku would have jumped at the opportunity, but he was still in training until he finished his last six months under Sensei's tutelage. And then there was me. The eldest disciple, the only one of us who had made it to the Demon Slayer Corps.

At the realization, my mouth decided to dry out like a goddamn desert, despite the fact that I'd finished off a bowl of soup not even ten minutes ago.

He wouldn't seriously pick me, would he? I didn't even want to think about how much more of Kaigaku's rivalry I'd have to put up with then. And, well, on a less self-centered basis, I didn't feel worthy of the title. If one of the others received it, I would congratulate them with no hesitation.

"If I'm being honest," Sensei continued, the three of us hanging on his every word, "none of you is capable of shouldering this responsibility." When Kaigaku bristled beside me, my hand snapped out to grab onto the sleeve of his kimono. "Zenitsu has only been able to master the first form of Thunder Breathing. In contrast, Kaigaku can perform the other five, but has no grasp on the first." As expected of two people who'd just had their weak points said out loud, neither Zenitsu nor Kaigaku looked pleased. "As for Rairi, they can perform all the forms, but their power is lacking and their overall control in combat needs work."

I grimaced, because Sensei was right. I'd spent so much time on working in an enclosed environment that it had been difficult for me to adapt to fighting live enemies during Final Selection. Though Kaigaku had yet to beat me in sparring, he was much better than I was at offsetting his form just the slightest amount to throw me off guard, not to mention he could overpower me in a contest of raw strength any day. I had learned to work well enough around my weaknesses, but was I at the level of mastery needed to take Sensei's place?

No way in hell.

"However," Sensei said, the word carrying so much weight that I swallowed loud enough to be audible, "the three of you complement each other's weaknesses well. Between the two of them, Zenitsu and Kaigaku have a mastery of all the Thunder Breathing forms that's more than enough to teach by example. And Rairi has the temperament suitable to teach others." Sensei opened his eyes, his gaze carrying over the three of us without any tells to indicate whom he had chosen. "And it's for those reasons that I will entrust the three of you to carry on for me when the time comes."

It may have only been seconds, but it felt like each of us took several hours to process that statement. Or, well, at least I did, as if Sensei had dropped a rock into a lake from one end and I was waiting on the other end for the ripples to reach my shore, for the water to slip over the sand and onto my toes.

Oh.

It was an unconventional approach, sure. But it wasn't like it was out of the question. Sensei had been a Hashira once; he could do whatever he damn well wanted so long as it benefitted the Demon Slayer Corps. And he did have a point, that none of us were worthy of the position on our own just yet—but together, maybe we could be? The idea of the three of us working together to pass on our sword style… I liked that image a lot.

A smile tugged on my lips, and I glanced to Zenitsu, hoping to give him some reassurance (because the uncertainty was written all over his face)—and then Kaigaku stood up, his kimono sleeve ripping out of my hand and the empty dishes atop his meal tray clattering as they spilt onto their sides.

"You've gotta be kidding!" Kaigaku tended to get frustrated and bark out all his problems, but that was the first time I'd heard him sound enraged, rather than just irritated. "I could accept it if you said that Rairi-senpai would be the one to take over! They're strong enough to handle that responsibility. But if you think that scum—" He glared at Sensei, his arm swinging out to point at Zenitsu, who ducked his head in shame "—is worth such a title, I won't accept it!"

"Kaigaku!" I said, raising my voice. He looked to me, still seething. "You know better than that. Zenitsu is a student, just like you are. If Sensei says—"

"Of course, you defend him!" My jaw clicked shut in shock. Kaigaku was a pain in the ass, there was no doubt about that, and we'd bickered a lot in the early days. But none of that had ever escalated to a full-blown shouting match, and he'd always shown me at least the basic level of respect as his senpai. "Does it make you feel good, standing up for him all the time? If you didn't spend so much energy on coddling him, maybe you would have gotten good enough to be the successor on your own!" Funny, how I had survived a battle with a demon far beyond my capability, but I couldn't make a single move in that moment. Still, my mouth opened, as if that would make the right words come out. Before I could say anything, though, Kaigaku scoffed, turning on his heel. "Forget it. Rairi-senpai, I don't want to hear you of all people make any pathetic excuses." And, with all the speed of a student of Thunder Breathing, he was gone from the room, the door slamming behind him.

I gritted my teeth and pushed myself to my feet to follow after him and give him the ass kicking he deserved. "Now listen here, you little shit—!"

Something—a hand—caught on the back of my haori. I could still see Sensei in his seat, so that left one option. When I looked over my shoulder, Zenitsu had grabbed onto me, though his head was bowed so that I couldn't see his expression. The trembling in his voice when he spoke, however, told me everything I needed to know. "Senpai, don't," he said, sounding so broken that I couldn't protest, "I'm not worth the two of you fighting over."

"I'll talk to Kaigaku," Sensei said, standing, and I felt a guilty rush of relief that I didn't have to solve all the problems on my own. While Sensei's earlier words had filled me with a sort of pride, I felt even less deserving of them than before. It wasn't all about swordplay; situations like this were the sort of things that teachers had to put up with, too. "You two don't need to worry about the mess here. I'll call Kimiko to take care it." And then he was gone, and I helped Zenitsu back to his room, at a loss for what I could do to make anything better.

I know you were just thinking ahead, but please don't die just yet, Sensei, I prayed, the three of us can't make it without you.

As expected, the next few days were awkward as all hell. Sure, we all attended training (I, more out of habit than anything else), but the usual ease between us had melted away. For the next two days, Kaigaku didn't bother to challenge me to a sparring match, and it was so out of the ordinary that I felt off balance. Zenitsu looked guilty every time I managed to catch sight of his expression. Sensei pushed us as usual, though, as if nothing had happened. He, at the very least, wasn't going to budge in his decision over his successor.

I, on the other hand, would have given the honor up in a heartbeat if it meant things could go back to normal.

Not that things could go back to normal. Soon enough, I'd receive my Nichirin sword, and then I'd start my duties as a Demon Slayer. The months would pass, and Kaigaku and Zenitsu would also move on to Final Selection, and then they'd start their duties and travels, too. The life we'd gotten used to under Sensei's roof was already slipping away, our "normal" soon to disappear and shift into a new routine.

I tried to pretend that the thought didn't make me taste bile, and I gripped onto my sword tighter as I finished working my way through the motions of the forms, trying to keep my breathing steady despite the nausea. Judging by my reaction to finding a demon hunched over the body of a fallen test taker back at Final Selection, I was going to have to deal with fighting while feeling sick a lot. Might as well use what I could to get used to it, and the time left to practice in a safe environment was short.

"Spar with me."

I looked over to see Kaigaku standing about a meter away from me. We hadn't spoken since our argument, because he didn't stay within my vicinity for long unless he had to (mealtimes and training had thus become very awkward), but there he was. His nose was scrunched up, like he'd smelled something gross—though maybe taking the high road and reaching out to me to fight was a similar experience for him?

"Sure," I said, and adjusted my position. Gone were the days where we needed to use bokuto; we'd progressed enough that Sensei permitted us to use live blades when sparring. Kaigaku's own sword flashed in the sunlight as he got ready. On the sidelines, Zenitsu fretted—at least until Sensei knocked him in the side with his cane and got him back on task.

I could see it in Kaigaku's eyes, the way he was desperate to prove himself, the way he desired strength with everything he had. He wanted to be recognized for that—which was why getting put on the same level as Zenitsu, who was his lesser in terms of skill had irritated him so much. And while he'd been upset, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd pushed that down for the sake of using me as a steppingstone, as an opportunity to grow before I wouldn't be around anymore.

And so, as a senpai, I returned his opening blow to fight him with everything I had.

Among all the drama at home, I'd almost forgotten a very important fact:

I was going to get a magic sword of my own, which was lit af.

And so, a little over two weeks since the end of Final Selection, I had my first encounter with one of the Demon Slayer Corps' swordsmiths.

It took me several moments to control myself so I wouldn't burst out laughing at the sight in front of me: a person sitting on the tatami mats wearing a kimono with a swirling, smoke-like pattern and a red hyottoko mask. The mask's extended mouth and winking face dropped out any of the majesty of the situation, but hiding their identities was essential for the Corps' swordsmiths. After all, the demons could eliminate the smiths who knew how the proper way to make Nichirin swords to reduce our ability to fight them.

Still, I wonder why they picked the hyottoko design…? I thought, before I realized that didn't matter in the goddamn slightest. My swordsmith could wear whatever they wanted so long as I got a magic sword in the end.

"I am Hanai," the swordsmith said in introduction, their voice a rich bass. As a valued guest, we'd invited them in for some tea. Sensei and I were in attendance, and Zenitsu had come, too, following after us. I'd almost expected Kaigaku not to show, but the curiosity of seeing a Nichirin blade in person seemed to have won out over his displeasure over the succession. Hanai reached over their shoulder, and they pulled the sword, beautifully lacquered sheath and all, from a cloth carrying bag. The main color was a purplish gray, with golden ornamentations and a white tsuba, small triangles forming in the gaps of the gray wrappings over the hilt. The pattern and design, I couldn't help but notice, were the same as Sensei's blade from his time as a Hashira, which I'd on occasion handled in practice. "Rairi-san, this shall be your blade. I look forward to seeing what color it will be."

Since Nichirin swords would change color in accordance with their first user, a Slayer's new blade often determined whether they would continue to use their current Breathing Style or if they should shift gears. Of course, there were exceptions out there, such as rare red swords and the odd black. If I'd known anything about the Kimetsu no Yaiba canon, maybe I would have had a preference based on that knowledge, but, seeing as I didn't, there was only one thing I hoped:

I would like my blade to be like Sensei's.

I still had a clear memory of the first time Sensei had shown me Thunder Breathing, of the absolute mastery he'd performed the forms with, not a single wasted movement. Though all the sword styles taught by the Demon Slayer Corps were refined for combat more than anything else, I had been entranced by the beauty of that show—and the metallic yellow of Sensei's blade shimmered just the same as any precious metal, just another breathtaking addition on top of his already gorgeous swordplay.

"Go on," Hanai said, offering the sword to me. I reached out my hands, the smoothness of the scabbard almost slipping across my palms as the familiar weight of a weapon sank into them. With a practiced ease I'd learned over the past two years, I gripped the sword by its handle and drew it from the scabbard. With care, I placed the protective covering aside and held the Nichirin blade with both hands, the tip pointed towards the ceiling as the weapon gleamed a clear silver for the last time.

Though it wasn't necessary, I let my breath sink into the familiar rhythm of Total Concentration and waited.

From the hilt up, the blade shifted in tone, as if an artist were drawing a brush upwards in one skillful stroke. A shimmering yellow glimmered in the sunlight that came in through the windows, and I caught the sigh of relief in my throat before it could leave my mouth.

"Like master, like student," Hanai said, and I blushed from the praise. Sensei made an approving sound in his throat. I continued to stare at the sword, trying to impart in it some sort of well wishes for the future. Though it was impossible to tell through the hyottoko mask, it felt as if Hanai were surveying the room, surveying us. "Well, if you ever need maintenance, let your Kasugai Crow know. Nichirin blades can go through a lot, but they're not invincible."

"Thank you," I said, for once too humbled to snap back with anything smart. At this rate, I was going to lose my edge.

"If your sword isn't in good shape, that puts you in danger. As far as I'm concerned, keeping you Demon Slayers alive is my duty as a swordsmith." Admiring Hanai's resolve, I dipped my head in a bow of thanks before moving to return my new sword to its scabbard. Hanai turned, the extended mouth on their mask pointing a direct arrow at Kaigaku and Zenitsu. "I expect I'll be forging blades for the both of you soon enough. Don't be too hard on them all now, Kuwajima-dono."

Sensei waved a dismissive hand through the air. "I'll be as hard on them as they need to be to succeed. Now, are you heading out or are you staying around long enough to mooch a meal off of me?"

"Well, if you're offering, Kuwajima-dono," Hanai said, and I didn't need to see their expression to guess that they were wearing a victorious smile, "then how ever could I refuse?"

[Author's Notes]

Hello and welcome to late update hours, brought to you by my being officially on vacation from work for a week. I am here to assure you that this week's chapter of walk steady is here and (mostly) on schedule.

Thanks to x7porkchop123w, Steel Guardian (Guest), Srikar.a, amgs, AloneInAChair, Amnine, ILikeFoxes828, LillyxJudal, Spenge, Mardi (Guest), blazer303, Krios530, Graham D- Trey, flevantein, yvonne-eevee22, and maximilianoismiranda for the favorites, follows, and reviews! You're all delights. Have I mentioned that you've already pulled this fic into my top five for favs and follows as well as the top ten for reviews? What. The. Heck.

Ah, yes, Kaigaku's attitude issues in full swing. This fic will give him a larger character arc, but the direction it's going will be a secret. And speaking of secrets...

It's time for a Taishō Era Secret! Hanai is somewhere in their early thirties and, like many of the other Corps swordsmiths, has been practicing the art since they were young. Their teacher was the swordsmith who originally made Kuwajima's swords when he was still the Roaring Hashira. Hanai will (ultimately) also make Kaigaku and Zenitsu's swords, with plans to make them all a matching set. Bonus factoid: While Rairi is nonbinary, Hanai is closer to agender, even if they don't quite have the language to express that.

Next time: And so the demon slaying job goes, Disciple Fight: Round Two, and Hekireki Issen: Niren. Please look forward to it!

-Avi

[03.13.2021]