Chapter 4: Fleetingly
"King Gilgamesh, if you don't mind me asking…?"
"Go ahead. Voice your thoughts."
"What are you doing so far away from the Demon Slayer headquarters?"
Sip. "Ah, this tea isn't quite up to par, but no matter. To answer your question, leaving the scene for a while is a good way for me to scout the situation across Japan. It gives me my own perspectives outside the reports I receive."
Tanjiro swallowed the rice he had put into his mouth after feeding Nezuko with some as well, her bamboo mouthpiece taken off. Hassan noticed that she had quite sharp, pointed teeth; the last place she saw the mouthpiece was in the sink. "I see. That makes sense. I suppose that thinking that you just wanted a break was quite impertinent of me, then, though I wouldn't blame you if you did. It has been very busy, after all."
King Gilgamesh let out a chortle, and it almost sounded disgruntled to Hassan's ears, though it might simply be an audial tic that the golden man carried as far as she knew.
Tanjiro continued, "I'm just worried about little Kiriya. Are you sure leaving him behind to handle the workload while you're gone is a good idea?"
"Normally I would berate you for questioning my wisdom, but your concerns are well-founded, Kamado. Although I have my new duty as the acting head of the Corps, I am not a permanent replacement. Ubuyashiki has had enough rest since I first came by. If anything, he ought to use the introspection I expect him to have undergone during the period to improve his strategy with dealing with the ongoing affairs."
King Gilgamesh put down his chopsticks over the rim of an empty bowl as he put in the final slice of fish into his mouth. Chewing and swallowing, he resumed, "Even so, I would have told him to send Kasugai crows to alert me of anything too important for him to do alone, but with them being ill at the time, we just have to put our faith in him. He will grow to be the next Head, after all. Nay, he already is."
Saburo raised an eyebrow at that behind a cup of tea, drinking its content through the steam that rose from it. "That is a little irresponsible of you, in my humble opinion, King Gilgamesh. Although this may not be your own organization, nor your own country, you were assigned the duty and accepted it voluntarily, no? However, if you believe that this is the best course of action for the time being, I can see that your deep wisdom will not let them down. For now, I shall give you the benefit of the doubt."
"Fuhahaha! I'm glad you understand!" Hassan flinched slightly at the second clause, as did Saburo. "I would have had you executed on the spot for that insolent tone you adopted, but for looking after the last Storm Slayer for me, I will pardon you."
They continued their meal, before noticing that the king had stopped. "You finished your meal very quickly… King, if I may, would you like some of mine?" Tanjiro offered, feeling bad that he did not prepare more.
"I am fine, Tanjiro. Thank you for your concern." Across from Hassan he sat, with his eyes closed and back straight. Though he may be of great arrogance, his conduct backed his demeanor. "One simply has no opportunity to savor their meals as king. Once the plates are set before him, he has no choice other than to finish as quickly as he can, for more work awaits him. I suppose that that habit arose from my time as a ruler."
Looking closer, Hassan…noticed…that he was beautiful. Perhaps it had been the manner of their first encounter earlier; the distance between them and the snow that was falling had obscured her view of his countenance, but now that she was able to take a closer look, she could not help but find herself staring.
No, this is haram! Hassan pulled away making herself look at the food prepared for her instead, which was still more abundant than the rest's due to how she had been preoccupied with stealing looks at the king ever since they entered the house again. She felts eyes burning into her the first time she looked away in shock at what she had done, but nobody in the room indicated that they saw her…except perhaps, someone unseen.
From atop Tanjiro's lap sat a small Nezuko, short enough to conceal herself from view where Hassan sat, but tall enough to peer over the edge at the young woman. Hassan might not know, but Nezuko herself knew what she had been doing.
Nezuko's stealthily oppressive gaze broke off when she turned her attention to Tanjiro as he shifted underneath her. "If everyone is finished, please turn them in to me," he said with a smile as he rose gently, his young sister hopping a bit away from his thighs to begin collecting emptied plates and to-be-washed utensils from around the room for him. "I'll take care of cleaning them!"
Inwardly, Hassan complained, still flustered from her internal crisis. You kid me! she thought as she tried to salvage the much that she had yet to have eaten and picking them up between her chopsticks, but her relatively new introduction to the utensils made it difficult for her to keep the food in the air long enough to let them enter her mouth, especially when she was panicking.
Before she knew it, she felt Saburo's tray beside her taken away by someone, followed by the drop of two small feet on the floor by her. With apprehension, Hassan slowly turned to make eye contact with the girl standing in wait. Nezuko puffed up her chest in response and held out her hands.
Hassan was about to hand over the plates to her in defeat, when Tanjiro called out to her as he picked up King Gilgamesh's plates; "You can take your time with your meal, Miss Hassan. I can wait till you're done."
She nodded in thanks, hopeful again, till she turned back to her tray…with empty bowls and plates in place, Nezuko chewing on something, a few grains of rice sticking to her cheeks. As she swallowed she gave her an innocent look. King Gilgamesh let out a hearty laugh at that, making her realize that he must have seen everything that happened—without saying anything.
"Nezuko!" Setting aside the plates on a cabinet by the kitchen sink, Tanjiro dried his hands off on a towel and made light strides across the wooden floorboards of the room. "I'm sorry, Nezuko doesn't usually act like this! She was never naughty towards anyone…." At that, Nezuko froze up in her spot, before moving to hide under the table, which she could easily slide under without even having to crouch in the slightest bit—something Hassan, for a reason she would not like to think about, envied. She and Saburo followed where she went based on her stature through the table's surface, till their eyes landed at the king's side, staying close to the foreign man.
He hummed in fascination and amusement, caressing the girl's head lightly, wiping her face with a napkin. Then he said something that surprised both Hassan and Saburo: "How interesting that this girl still retains some of her inhibitions as a demon, despite having been cured into returning to becoming a human….
"Well, whatever." The blond man stood up, prompting Nezuko to grab a tiny handful of his clothing, though she did so only gently. The light in the room was blocked as he rose, turning him into a slight silhouette in the dim evening to her. The voice that he would then speak in was different from before—"Hassan…or, should I call you the Hassan of Serenity? Who, or what exactly are you?"
[]
Something in her heart would not let her calm down, no matter how much she tried—no, did she even want to try?
"Miss Hassan, please calm down!"
"Hassan, what is going on!?"
"Rahh?"
The way her heart beat—it felt hypnotic to her limbs, luring an attack outside from within the depths of her body. In a fist, she held Gilgamesh's collar, and in the other, the ōdachi that she pulled out from inside his robe. She held it by its sheath—something new that they must have put on it the night before, where Tanjiro tightened his fingers around its handle and the tip, wresting it from her control without taking it away—something she did not doubt he could do judging from the sheer amount of strength on the other side of the length.
Nezuko tried to push Hassan off of their guest, but without her demonic strength, she could not even budge the dark woman from her spot. Saburo watched from where he stood and tried to get through to her from afar, yet his words landed on deaf ears, while Gilgamesh himself stared back at her with unfeeling, piercing eyes. The way he looked at her indicated not the slightest bit of apprehension or fear. He probably knew what she could do—anyone who knew that name would—yet, despite that, he remained unmoved; something that irritated something within her.
They stayed that way for a while, the air hanging over them tense and deafeningly silent, till eventually, the lethal assassin, Hassan, pulled away, reluctantly. It was not of her own true volition, however—her backing away was influenced by something within the king's presence, which had become far more eerie than it had been from the moment they first met.
Anger and fear and confusion still burned in her heart at the evocation of that name, but she stood down nonetheless, taking a few steps backward in tip-toes. Saburo furrowed his brows at the sudden change in atmosphere that had taken place earlier, trying to understand where Hassan's left foot disappeared to…before he realized that it was hidden underneath the floorboards, somehow, revealed when she stood up straight in the end.
"Then it is true…," muttered King Gilgamesh after the pause of silence. He accepted the sword that she left in Tanjiro's hands, holding them observantly. "Since this is the Blade of Calamity, you truly are a phantom from the past." His tone was somber, almost distasteful, but the solemnity of what he just said belied the courtesy he treated the ōdachi with.
"Phan…tom…." Saburo sounded conflicted behind her for a moment, before his voice changed to sound apathetic halfway through saying the word alone.
Putting away the sword, the golden man answered him, "I do not suppose that a Japanese villager living in the countryside would know much about the history of the Middle East." Hassan shuffled her feet uncomfortably, biting down on her lip without meeting anyone's eyes. "Listen up as well, Kamados, this shall be your introduction to the Storm Slayer you'll be supervising: She is a Hassan, or an Old Man of the Mountain; a generational leader who led a cult of Muslim assassins who brutally murdered their political enemies in the past." He raised a finger—accusatory—to point at her, whose gaze, cast down toward her feet, was concealed by shadows behind her bangs.
"She was known as the Hassan of Serenity, a mistress in the art of poison."
With that, the one of the many memories that the name had almost evoked within her finally broke through the barrier her assault had erected in her mind.
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He was limp in her arms, unresponsive, silent. His eyes were open, but they did not see. Under his skin, his heart signaled no pulse, and at the edge of his lips, there was froth gathering—and dripping down her still arm. She did not move; she only watched, half in disbelief, and half in quiet understanding of what she had just done.
Her eyes were empty, yet she wanted to scream. Her breath was even, yet she wanted to thrash. Her chest was trembling with sobs, yet she wore a laugh. They said that behind closed doors, one could be whomever they truly were. Yet, for her, who had been born to embody poisons and toxins, fate had resigned her to carrying out the duty of the Hassans; of the Hashashins.
She had wanted to embrace the man in her arms, but could only savor the warmth that was rapidly slipping away from him—something that had happened too many times, with many other men. None of that had needed to happen, and she had wanted no part in it nonetheless, but as a tool, she knew full well that if she ever fell short of her duty…
"Then the one called the 'Founder' would take your head. Am I wrong?"
At the name, Hassan flinched, looking up in response to the gentle tone of voice from the king. A lone tear separated itself from her lash in the motion. It did not eat away at the wood of the floor. Tanjiro hugged Nezuko close to him; the girl had a look of concern etched onto her face. She could not see what Saburo was doing, but she knew he must be listening intently, albeit quietly.
"The one known as the Hassan among Hassans," he continued, maintaining her eye contact—for some reason, she couldn't look away, only listening. "The first Old Man of the Mountain; the founder of the cult of assassination… He hunted down the Hassans who indulged in worldly pleasures instead of practicing the order's beliefs and embodying them.
"…It must have been hard for you, child."
Her heart calmed at those words, and only then did she notice how loud her breaths were ringing in her ears. Dry, empty breaths. She sucked in as much air as her lungs allowed, and soon she realized that she was holding back sobs. Though her vision suddenly blurred at what he said last, something warm bloomed in her chest. It was a pleasant feeling, unlike anything she felt when she was a hashashin.
She wiped her tears away, and slowly looked toward Saburo, catching a glimpse of a soft smile on Tanjiro's face as she turned. He was sitting down again, smoking his kiseru, almost nonchalantly…almost. He had a thoughtful look on his face, despite his shut eyes seeming as though dreaming. "I've known, Hassan," he began, with a deep sigh, puffing out a miniature cloud of smoke that scattered into the air of the room. "Not the whole story, but I've picked up on enough of it while we lived together."
He gave her a kindly smile. "It is all in the past. To me, what matters, Hassan, is that you're here now."
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King Gilgamesh sat himself beside Saburo under the full moon and hung a leg over the engawa, the way the latter did as he smoked. Its gentle, blue light illuminated the leaves of the trees surrounding the Kamado Estate.
"The moon is bright tonight," Saburo commented. "I've never seen it this bright in many years."
In the sky, surrounding the moon like a frame, were dark, phantom wisps of clouds, like disembodied smoke. The snow that rested on the ground looked like a clean blanket over a soft bed, but the previously concealed brown wetness that stuck to the sole of Gilgamesh's geta as he lowered them into it broke that illusion fairly quickly.
"It's quite an honor to have you join a commoner like me, King Gilgamesh," he said in greeting, somewhat despondently.
"Do not make a mention of it," the foreigner said as he settled down beside him. "I am only doing as I please here. I have no need for luxuries outside my own country. Are you not usually someone who stays inside when the clock strikes eight, Mister Saburo? Unless you believe that the presence of the Pillar-in-making will insulate you from any demonic harm as long as you stay here?"
He grunted with a slight hint of mirth in his throat. "You see through me easily, though you must also admit that those clairvoyant eyes of yours are reaching below their threshold when used on a humble villager such as me."
The Envoy from Uruk folded his arms close to his chest, relaxing himself with a trace of a smile gracing his features. "Such eyes are not needed to make that inference, Mister Saburo. It is also the same for your lie earlier this evening."
"What might you be referring to?"
"I'm talking about the falsehood you slipped to Serenity. Your lie." He turned his previously downcast eyes toward the moon. "You never actually saw a killer in her all this time, did you?"
"…No. I just saw a normal person in her. Youthful. Full of life. Gentle and compassionate… I imagine it was how she would have lived her life in the past, if she could.
"But I still do not understand what you told us last night, when you found us during the aftermath of the demon's attack." Saburo's brows formed a deep scowl, and his mouth turned downward in a frown, lines deepening between his cheeks. "You called her a phantom… Does this mean that—"
"I have made it more than clear, have I not? This Hassan of yours is a Storm Slayer. We do not know much about them yet, but we have a centralized headquarters to fight back against the Globalized Storm Phenomenon in the Dutch East Indies," the king almost snapped back, continuing on without breaking a sweat, but was mindful enough of his pace to keep Saburo's mind at attention. "Reports from around the world that circulate through there in the Eastern hemisphere all indicate the same thing: Apparitions of the mythical and concrete pasts have shown themselves in the present, holding greatswords of the respective cultures they manifested in. Hassan herself displays all those characteristics, does she not, especially now that we all have verified her true identity?"
There was a terse silence between them. King Gilgamesh did not yet address his main concern, and the both of them knew it. Saburo was a sharper man that he would appear; that much was apparent then, that Gilgamesh had had the time to familiarize himself with the cautious approach the aging man took to everything.
They both did nothing for a while; Saburo had put aside his kiseru, and all they could hear was the silence flowing through the night air. The moon no longer seemed so bright anymore.
He sighed quietly, and finally let go of his bated breath.
"Yes. At the end of all this, Hassan will most likely disappear."
The king had lived long, and seen through many things most men and women would not be able to in ten lifetimes. He had been delivered grave news of death by his people, and announced difficult times to come to them in return. The expressions that they would wear would often be wracked with despair, or solemn, with pained tones underlying their sense of duty to respond, yet the king saw through all of it, always. He himself had grown desensitized to it, admittedly.
Saburo himself was no different, but he responded quickly. "I see," he said, and nothing more. It was an uncommon tactic to cope; a quick response eliminated the time in which one could dwell on the matter. Before he knew it, the man had already puffed out a cloud of smoke into the air, larger than any he had made before. From where Gilgamesh sat, the cloud swirled into a spiral where the moon hung in the sky, and like the lives of all those he had overseen in the past, disappeared wonderfully, quietly, discreetly.
Fleetingly.