Years later, when the whole world had become my enemy, and I was in wonder of how it ever came to be, I was to remember that faraway afternoon when I met Kanae Kochou for the second time.


Sometime, somewhere.


I awoke from my nap in a field of white chrysanthemum with a startle, only that it wasn't a field of white chrysanthemum but a too-clean, very medical-looking room, with rows of beds to my left, to my right, and there was the smell of detergent, ivy, and rose perfume. I was lying on my back, then I raised my head a little, and saw it: the hair like ebony silk, the beautiful mouth, the two butterfly clips that shone every colour in the half-light. She had eyes pink as quartz, like wet stones, and at once they were shimmering and totally transparent.

Her name was Kanae Kochou, she was sixteen-years old. Standing over my bedside, she held out something to me, and I took it. It felt cold, glassy, elongated. A caramel liquid swished inside. I asked what it was, and she answered this:

"Welcome back, Giyuu," Kanae said. "To celebrate, let's have a Coke."


July 1915
A day, five hours, and thirty-seven minutes after Nishimon Uzui's passing.


So that's how we met. Over a bottle of Coke and over my half-dead body.

In the next three minutes I learned exactly three things: that I was being housed in the great estate of Tsubone Endou, that I was there because I'd been stabbed through the heart by parties unknown, and that it was Shinobu which dragged me over here.

With a distance between us we're inclined over the rails of the veranda onlooking the sea, according to Kanae built into the medical faculty as to allow patients to get a view of the outside world, for the sake of upkeeping their mental health. I had woken up with a dead leg and so leaned because I was too prideful to let Kanae help me hobble over here; she leaned because it was comfortable. In both our hands we held the fizzy-brown glass-contained concoction, 'Coca-Cola', as per the label. I'd been dressed over into a mint-coloured hospital gown. The afternoon sun was still. There was no sound.

"Did you know?" Kanae started. "This Coca-Cola thing's an American drink. Tsubone tells me this stuff's not good for me, but it was invented by a pharmacist, so it can't be that bad, hmm?"

She swirled the bottle in her hand as she said it.

"Why'd you call it Coke, then?" I asked.

"It's just easier to say. A contraction."

In hindsight the mention of it may have brought to mind Tengenmon, or Tengen, and the wishy-washy, mixed bag of memories tied to him, but if I was being honest, really honest, which I rarely am, I was thinking very little of the past few days, very little of myself, very little of this wacky American potion with two names, very little of the view of the ocean that was intended to be magnified by the construction of this veranda…

Very little besides the girl next to me.

And dare I'd say it might've the first time in a long time that I felt a true initiative to talk with someone.

But what to say, what to say?

It's been so long.

Too long.

Like an oral given in the first semester due in the second semester, which I'd forgotten to rehearse for. It's times like these, I reckoned, that I wished I had the power to see the future.

Right. There's an idea.

State the time you've been apart from each other.

"It's been… uh, two years, Kaemon."

"No, three. And it's Kanae."

Shit, a bad start. But before I could loathe it Kanae's turned in my direction, still leaning over the railing, chin in her palm. I felt myself wane under her eyes.

"Shinobu told me all about your guys' past few days. Pretty eventful, huh?"

Eventful, yes. Maybe too light a term to describe it, but eventful.

"Yeah…" I said. "Where's Shinobu now?"

"I don't know. Somewhere around here. Maybe she's with Tsubone. She can't keep still."

I silently agreed.

"Maybe it's 'cause she's anxious again," Kanae said.

I paused. "For me?"

"No. The day you were stabbed was the day we operated on you and declared you safe. So no worries."

It came back to me, then, that these sisters were doctors-in-training.

"How were you there?" I asked. "Shinobu told me you were on some kinda mission."

"We were. Tsubone and I. Somewhere in the area. But we were nearly home when Shinobu came running in… with you, half-dead. Tsubone immediately operated you, and I watched. Passed scalpels and stuff. I saw you get cut open, you know. You've got a good heart."

"Uh, figuratively or literally?"

"Literally, Giyuu…"

Was I crazy for asking such a question? Is that why Kanae took me to this balcony? Moreover, wasn't Kanae the weird one for saying that?

"Shouldn't you…" I continued. "Shouldn't you tell Tsubone that I've woken up, then?"

"I should, yeah. But later. She's busy and I'm busy."

Busy with what, I thought out loud. Drinking Coke? Hanging out with me?

"Busy with you," she said.

She was completely on my mark and I was jovially taken aback for it, though I didn't show it. I was allowed to linger with this jovial-ness a bit because what followed was a silence. It wasn't awkward, per se. Kanae had run out of things to say and I had yet to run into any of my own. So this was a needed silence, one could say. What another could say is that it was a useless quiet that served no purpose than to let the misconceptions that would eventually arise pass by unchecked. It's up to interpretation, but not for me, because Kanae's already by the door, waving me over, forcing the progress of time to continue lurching on.


Kanae Kochou walked like a preppy girl, with fisted hands at her sides and with a vigorously upright posture. She wore heavy, wooden-soled shoes that click-clacked down the wooden halls of the Endou estate and which provided an ironically authoritative shadow to the substance of her ever-evanescent presence, akin to some sort of glass doll.

A glass doll with contradictions.
A contrarian.
Though an opaque one too, I should add.
Because even if I had said earlier that when I looked into her eyes for the first time I saw that they were so strikingly transparent and so really welcoming –
I found that in our seaside convo, I had failed to make a dent in that 'evanescent' presence, supposed to be so fragile. I was too dull and I could not break the ice; and I felt inexplicably disappointed for it, even though I normally hated talking to anyone my own age.
Maybe I was the contrarian here.
Only God knows, and God won't tell me.

In any case, what's gone is gone and what's done is done. We're finished talking, and Kanae's led me down a few hallways to a room that smelled no longer of floor cleaner but of old metal, dust, and expired lubricant. But the scent of ivy lingered, even here.

"It's part of my job to do this…" Kanae said. She motioned towards the contents of the room: a worn scale, a dulled silver examination table, a tape measure, a bunch of tools I couldn't name. And a pen and paper, which she took up.

"Tsubone mandates that every patient that passes through here needs to get a physical exam done. Taking your height and weight and stuff. Also a bunch of other personal details. So…"

She pointed to the scale, firstly.

"Get on."

Now you should know that never in my life have I considered myself particularly fit. You don't see it under all this clothing, but I'm actually pretty skinny. Call it adhering to the classic Japanese beauty standard (slender figure… pale skin… long legs), but I'd rather attribute it to a lifetime spent without any formal regiment of exercise, and just maybe, and adolescence in which I was half–starved, half of the time.

Nevertheless, the reading came in as 56 kilo's (123 lbs), and coupled with a modest height of 169 centimetres (5.54 feet), my 'BMI' was 19.6, whatever that meant. According to Kanae, it was 'decent'. Then she stuck a few rods under my tongue, wrote a few numbers on her pamphlet, then stuck some more swabs in my nose and ears and dipped them in liquid and wrote some more numbers down. It was all very methodical, and maybe too clinical for my tastes if not for, I guess, Kanae being the one to perform it. I don't know why. It's another inexplicable thing.

The final test came: a blood sample. She drew a vial of blood from my right hand and mixed it with some kind of acid – then I warped out a bit from the sudden loss of iron – until my vision stabilised and I saw Kanae scribbling down a wall of calculations, and when asked what it was she said this:

"I'm figuring out your oxygen saturation."

"…You can do that?" I replied, not choosing to ask why.

"Don't ask how. Tsubone came up with the method. Here…"

By appearance finished with the calculation, she underlined her answer: 45. 45 what? She topped it off with a '%' sign, but still it remained indecipherable to me. When inquired, Kanae snatched the paper and turned away from me. Over her shoulder I watched her re-do the whole calculation, re-insert every formula, re-evaluate every answer, and for fear I'd done something wrong I froze and shut up. Then she spun back round in her wheeled chair, paper in hand.

Still, at the bottom of the page, 45.
45 percent.
45 percent of what?

"Giyuu…" Kanae said. "You… you're fine? You feel fine?"

"Fine?" I repeated.

"You don't feel weird in any way? Like, light-headed? Dizzy? Anemic? Are you anemic?"

She scrutinised me.

"But your face's the right colour…"

"Wait, wait, Kanae…" I waved her off. "What are you talking about?"

"Your oxygen levels!" she shouted back, like the urgency of the result was supposed to be obvious to me. "It's supposed to be 95 to 100 percent, but you…"

She pulled out another paper and re-did the calculation one more time. Still, 45.

"Forty-five," she recounted to herself, more distressed.

"Maybe…" I proposed. Maybe you did the calculation wrong? But I wasn't going to tell her that. "Maybe try my other arm?"

We did so, and with our tongues in our throats we took another sample of my blood, dipped it in the acid, wrote down the numbers and did what we needed to do with them, and the final result came:

A whopping 97 percent.
A!

Woo-hoo, I thought. "Woo-hoo!" Kanae said. "Woo-hoo," repeated Youma. And Youma was there. But he told me not to pay any mind to him.

"I got a scare there, ya dig?" Kanae said. "I thought you were, you know…" but she didn't finish.

"I'm digging what?" I replied.

"Giyuu, no, I meant…" But she didn't finish that either. In any case, we were done now, seemingly. Kanae packed her things and walked to the door but did not go out of the room. Instead, she went to the coat hanger. I only noticed, then, the white lab jacket she wore. And in those few seconds I saw her in it dare I say it suited her immensely. Truly, a preppy girl. But then she slid out of it and exchanged it for a different haori on the hanger.

One; quite wing–like.
Insect wings, to be specific.
Iridescent, just like a pair of them are.
Shiny, too, and strewn with black veins.
Maybe even –
Like a butterfly's wings.
And when she put it on –
All of a sudden, preppy girl had become pretty girl.


胡蝶 カナエ
Kochou Kanae
"butterfly, fragrant"


The final challenge had been mounted, so to speak. I'd forgotten to mention this, but according to Kanae during our rail-side talk Tsubone had seen my demon-slaying track record, had taken an interest in me as a result of it, and thus wanted to have a chat. The story was obvious B.S., and Kanae's unconvincing tone as she recited it made me wonder if there weren't ulterior motives at play, and that I wasn't stressing enough over the matter. But, I wouldn't want to rack my newly-restored heart with worry, hmm? So I put the thought aside.

Cue the outside of the Endou estate, wildly lush, searingly warm. And ivy everywhere.

Standing before the great gardens of Tsubone Endou the scent of ivy vine mingled with the wet heat to become an intoxicating, stew-like mixture to my senses, and I followed by instinct Kanae through sidewinding clearings of forest, zig-zagging flagstone paths, a complex that was as iconically criss-crossed as it was overgrown. It became hard to believe that all this was contained between four palisade walls, hence, why I saw none of it from the outside. A fitting, but corny description, I guess, would be…

That it was like a whole new world.

It was then that Shinobu's impassioned words of the night before flashed through me:
"The world is ours!"
…Along with it, my nocturnally-made-up plan to flee from her.
And immediately the guilt hit me.
But too late, Giyuu Tomioka.
'Cause you're already here, standing before this lady christened Tsubone Endou.
And now there's nothing you can do to stop the onset of everything else.


趙名疑
Endou Tsubone
"wealth, root"


WATER HASHIRA TSUBONE ENDOU sat under the tree of sweet chestnut whose huge trunk and wide, tattered crown dwarfed her short and narrow figure, and yet it did not wane the indomitable presence of the woman that was immediately apparent when I came into the vicinity in the littlest. Her ochre eyes tracked me as I followed her motion to sit before her at the table, and when I had been seated and the world which I'd entered became still again she opened her porcelain mouth and imparted to me the words of a second lifetime:

"Welcome back, Giyuu," Tsubone said. "To celebrate, let's have lunch."


Well, the whole thing probably wasn't as dramatic as I made it out to be, if we're speaking objectively. Then again, it's an entirely subjective matter. If you wanted to picture the scene in some kind of way, then you'd have to visualise either what I've told you, the subjective, or go and ask someone else who was present there that you'd trust enough not to add embellishment to the story, the objective. But know this: never mix the two. Pick one, and stick with it. The subjective in comparison to the objective should remain a comparison. For the moment you let what you deem of most value blur with what the world deems of most value, is the moment when the gears of the finale will start to turn.


She spoke with a foreign zing, this Tsubone Endou. And – speaking objectively now – she was beautiful in the diligent, dignified way. She had irises like ochre glass, and a complexion so pale it magnified the contours of her slim face, cheekbones that were like ridges, a jaw that was sharp and strong. There was the jet hair, too, no longer free-flowing as Shinobu had described it, but tied up, like a preppy girl. But to call her a 'girl' would be doing her and my conscience a disservice. The magnitude of her yet unspoken character was larger than any lable I could give her.

Until it wasn't.

"You like it?" Tsubone asked. "The food."

We're having breakfast al fresco beneath the coolness of the chestnut tree – well, breakfast for me, lunch for them – just Tsubone, Kanae, and I, because Shinobu was nowhere to be found and Youma had dipped for parts unknown. A colourful motley of dishes was displayed before me, none of which I could name, because the composition and taste of them was not Asian as I knew it.

"…Yeah."

But it was good.

"And you're sure you're feeling better?" Tsubone said again. Likewise, yes, I meekly repeated. Then she turned her focus to Kanae, and gaze became glare.

"You were supposed to come get me when he woke up. What were you doing?"

"Things," Kanae answered, unapologetic. "All the things you would've done."

"His oxygen saturation? His blood pH? The depth of his breathing? His weight? His height? His BMI?"

"A pH of 7.35. Breath depth of 600 millilitres. 56 kilo's, 169 centimetres. BMI of 19.6. His oxygen saturation…" – all this medical jargon flew over me – "…97 percent."

"Fifty-six kilo's… one-sixty-nine centimetres…" Tsubone said to herself, and she shook her head. "Too little. But never mind that."

– A sharp change of subject.

"Your mission went well. I heard about it from Shinobu."

Tsubone's now smiling. A genuine smile, with no coyness behind it.

"…Relatively," I replied.

She set down her chopsticks, finished. I did the same.

"I had a mission in the area, too. Kanae and I."

"She told me already."

"Hmm. Then that's convenient. Shinobu's just like Kanae, too. Proactive in the way of talking. Chitty-chatta. Even if this time... I had to squeeze some details from her."

Her tone was ominous.

"She ran off, plain and straight. On a mission she was not yet ready for. And you let her do so. But there's no use in getting riled up about it. What's gone is gone and what's done is done. Just know... I've taken notice."

...More ominous now. It sent shivers through my sleepy bones.

"You said she was talkative. How so?" I asked, trying to switch the topic.

Tsubone relented. "Well, she was the one who poured everything about the mission to me. Nishimon, Tengenmon, all of that. In scary detail. She has a good memory. Though, I find it strange. She also, maybe inadvertently, revealed that you all had an encounter three years ago. I never knew about this. But it doesn't matter. I don't needa know everything."

…Neither Kanae nor Shinobu had said anything to Tsubone about me? Was I that forgettable?

No.
Now that the cat's been spilled –
The beans have been let out the bag –
Did that mean Shinobu told away my whole backstory, too?
For I never liked people knowing my origins, and I was very selective of who to tell it.

"She told me…" Tsubone said. "That you were miserable back then. For no reason. Or maybe there was a reason, and she didn't tell me. But anyway. She says that you've gotten better now."

"…I have?"

"Apparently. And it's probably true. Leave it to a child to tell things how they are. But, she also told me that you've got no motivation as a demon slayer, which I find so strange."

She looked to Kanae.

"It was Kanae who pointed it out to me. I don't look through these… 'demon-slayer rankings', but she does. You know, those ones delivered by crow. She's a Hinoto, and when she was looking through the stats of her rank just yesterday, she saw that you'd become the number two Hinoto, just below her."

I did not understand the magnitude of what Tsubone said.

"And when I looked through the archives it said that only the day before yesterday you were the number three ranked Kanoe. Hinoto is the seventh rank, and Kanoe is the fourth. Do the math, and by killing a single demon, you advanced three ranks. And let it be known that has never happened before."

Tsubone took out a packet of cigarettes – there were demon slayers who smoked? – and delivered one to her mouth. What was it with adults always smoking before a big reveal? Did it make them feel cooler, less conspicuous? Is that where they got their answers? By sucking them out of the tobacco leaves? I wouldn't know. Tsubone lit it and watched her cigarette as it sizzled a while.

"I should stop," she said. "But I'm old already. It's not worth it. But you…"

She stared at me, and her ochre eyes brimmed for the first time.

"You're still young. And even though you're strong, there're people out there stronger. People looking to cut your youth short. And now that you've killed Lower Moon One, more people'll be after you. You get it, boy? So that's why I'll ask you this…"

Then she got up. Why was she standing? Another precedent for a substantial moment?

"Giyuu…


why


not


become


my


Tsuguko?"


Tsuguko.
継子.
Quite literally 'successor'.
A successor – to a Hashira.
An apprentice, among other things.
Not necessarily of the same breathing style, but it's a perk.
But why choose me, out of all the others?
I didn't kill no demon, even though that's what every sign pointed to.
Happenstance. Serendipity. A misunderstanding.
I wasn't skilled enough to be nobody's Tsuguko. And I didn't want to, anyway.
I was a nomad. A free dog.
I didn't want to live in with some Hashira,
In their good estate,
Eating their good food,
Living their good lives. Training all the while.
Because I was young and the world was mine!
Why should I tie myself down here with this menile bunch of higher-ups!
Wait –
Didn't Shinobu say the same thing?
That the world was ours?
Shinobu…
Wants to see the world.
And she wants me to accompany her.
No, no, that doesn't matter.
She shouldn't be a reason for me staying here.
I already reckoned that I was going to leave her.
Meaning, the only sensible thing to do now is to follow through with my own promise, and deny Tsubone.
But –
And there's a 'but' –
Maybe, if I got Tsubone to train me –
It'd be one step closer to reaching my and Youma's goal.
Because Nisegami Douma was unthinkably powerful.
And to kill him I had to be equally as powerful.
I bet if Youma was here he'd say the same thing, too.
But that's just one aspect nailed down. One pro to many cons.
But what cons?
Only… 'I don't wanna be a Tsuguko 'cause I don't wanna live with no arrogant Hashira.'
The heck's wrong with you, Giyuu?
You're fifteen! Supposed to be a man! Mature already.
What's that word Youma always says? Ego.
Get rid of your ego.
And another phrase he uses.
Don't lie to yourself.
Don't lie to yourself Giyuu.
You hate being hungry. You hate being cold.
Every night you dream of a big house, a nice bed.
Plus salmon. All the salmon you can get.
And what's this about an arrogant Hashira?
Tsubone's been nothing but kind to you.
You said it yourself, even.
That there're breath of water users better than you, and yet she chose you.
So, really…
Just do the logical thing here.


Do the logical thing,


and


deny!


accept!


After all that, how could I refuse?


MIYAMOTO SHŌ was her name. The name of the lady I was to take up 'shadow training' with. That being a term Tsubone coined in the moment to describe 'very few people actually know about your huge promotion, so I'll have you spar with an already existing Tsuguko in order to cement your new position to those who're still doubtful of your validity.' Whose Tsuguko exactly, she didn't tell me. To quote Kanae she was 'very nice' and 'very sweet' and very plenty of other pleasant adjectives. And of course, very pretty. Though in the few hours we spent together I was ingrained with the impression that she saw everyone in the same blindingly positive light.

"I've already sent a letter to her," Tsubone departed to me. "You just need to show up. Kanae knows the way. It's not far."

So I was back to following preppy girl, but this was a sooner trip. According to my invisible watch and the numerous turret clocks around the estate passing over my head, under five minutes. Wherever I'd been brought, the grip of ivy here was weaker, in its place flowers I could not name, and the air smelled of warm, bubbling honey. A house stood here alone, in the interminable heat. The calibre of the humidity seemed to turn the white walls into trembling tofu, and my legs, still lame and raw from my slumber, quivered with it. It was exactly noon, and the heat had just begun.

Kanae wiped the sweat from her face with her fingers and went forward and knocked on the door. I lingered in the back, below the useless shadow of an exhausted tree. I did not hear the steps, and hardly saw the slight creaking of the door. Kanae beckoned me over. I tried to see through the crack whoever was on the other side.

"It's Kanae," Kanae said. "With the new boy."

"In this heat," a lady-voice replied. "Well, can't help it."

Then the door opened all the way, and from the one moment I saw Miyamoto Shō I was as smitten as a junior is to his benevolent senior.