It was dawn.
It was only when the sun had barely crested the tree line that Akuru finally stepped out of the cramped storage shed where the villagers let him rest. He hadn't truly slept, mostly drifting in and out of shallow dreams. Compared to last night's sorrow, the village breathed like a creature that had survived a wound, shakily, but alive.
He stretched his arms, wincing as the muscles in his shoulders protested. His uniform still smelt faintly of smoke and demon blood. The villagers, for all their confusion, had been grateful enough to insist he stay until today. Haruto had already left, heading north; Akuru had watched the retreating sunlight trailing behind his retreating silhouette until the trees swallowed him.
Haruto talked about a different mission that called for his blade. He was sure something would come his way soon, but to see Haruto had to leave so soon after a mission was surprising. Clearly, Haruto was a little bit higher on the priority list than him. He deserved it. He's definitely a good guy. Akuru didn't mind; he was confident he'd get popular at the workplace soon enough.
Though he wasn't sure if he really wanted it that much, if he was going to be forced to go on another mission right after this one.
Akuru exhaled, letting the cool morning air settle his thoughts as he stepped into the central square.
The villagers were already up despite the hour, sweeping rubble into baskets, retying fallen lanterns, reconstructing any broken homes. They wore varying faces, some exhaustion, others a mixed expression between aching and tentative relief. Many wore still faces, tackling their turmoil inside. Silently.
First to spot him was a middle-aged woman, who bowed low.
"Demon Slayer… thanks again."
Akuru knelt immediately, palms out in reassurance.
"Raise your head, please. None of what happened was your fault."
Her shoulders quivered. Tears clung to her lashes but didn't fall.
Others closed in around him.
Clearly, these people didn't tire of wishing for his thankfulness yesterday.
He kept conversations with them for a while before quickly excusing himself.
As he walked away in an attempt not to burden himself with the apologies of others, which were far too uncomfortable to hear in person. A small boy strayed closer towards him.
Akuru instinctively steadied him by the shoulder. The child looked up with wide, curious eyes.
"You're not scary, like Mama said yesterday," the boy whispered.
Akuru smiled slightly.
"I'm glad."
"Will the bad shadow come back?"
He shook his head, "No. Not ever again."
The boy took that explanation with the unquestioning acceptance only children show, and ran off to chase a chicken which most decidedly did not want to be chased.
Akuru watched him go, the edges of his fatigue wreathed in sudden warmth.
He was ready to go.
He had spent enough time here, and the longer he stayed here, the longer he would serve as a reminder. The Demon Slayer Corps was already in place, ready to help these people recover. The kakushi were far more helpful then him now.
If a mission didn't come to him, he would simply wander around until he was useful. Beauty was always waiting to be found, so why not spend his time searching for it.
God, if he could wander around Japan and just paint the sights he saw, Akuru would die happy.
As Akuru was lost in his own thoughts about where to walk first, the chief found him.
"Please, slayer, stay for longer. We can't let you leave so early."
Akuru could only give the same smile that one gives to their grandparents whenever they tried to overfeed them. Reluctant, but they couldn't dare show it since they understood the position of love that it came from. Akuru was stuck, but he knew that he had to leave, and he was never good at saying goodbyes.
So why not say his goodbyes to the chief, thus he wouldn't have to worry about saying goodbye to everyone.
The chief would explain it to everyone, right?
Gosh, he could be such a genius sometimes, Akuru gloated in his head, as the chief started to look at him in growing confusion about why he wasn't replying.
"Ahem..., I'm sorry, Chief, I have a new mission, there are more people I need to save," Akuru coughed into his fist, trying to avoid his embarrassment.
He was lying about new missions, but it would be the best way to get out of the village without being rude.
Akuru could have told the truth to the chief, and he wouldn't have minded. Akuru was far too people-pleasing to understand that, though.
"I understand then, please take this with you on your journey," the chief spoke out solemnly.
The chief puts a small, folded cloth bundle into Akuru's hand.
"Dried persimmons. For your journey. Please take them."
Akuru hesitated, then took them in both hands. Bowing as he did.
"Thank you."
Akuru gathered all of his things with the help of the chief, trying to leave before he gathered too much attention.
They both walked to the village entrance in silence.
Akuru faced away, turning once more before walking to the road.
"Be careful," he said, "and… look out for each other."
The chief bowed with a smile, heart full of gratefulness. The chief would remember the young boy who had helped his village, and he wouldn't let the village ever forget him.
And then Akuru began to walk.
The dirt road went west, lined by cedar trees whose shadows slumbered far across the path. The air was crisp, with that sort of coolness that almost hurt as it entered the lungs. After his first mission, reality felt sharper.
Every stone underfoot, every rustle of leaves, the chirping of early birds.
Hours went by under the symphony of sound and sight of the beautiful world around him.
His geta smacked the earth rhythmically. Just Akuru, the weight of memory and thought, and the wide, watchful world.
CAW
Oh, and Huginn too.
He had found him only a few minutes into his walk away from the village. Akuru had doubted that Huginn would even follow him, considering the royalty-like treatment he was getting from the villagers.
Huginn had found him and instantly landed on his shoulders, and before Akuru could even get a word in, he had fallen asleep instantly. Clearly, this damn crow had eaten plenty of food and then fallen to sleep like it was under some food coma.
If he weren't so damn cute, he would have kicked him off his shoulders ages ago.
For a time, he walked in silence, the steady pace calming his mind.
He passed roadside markers, tiny shrines no bigger than a man was wide. Most were faded from the rain and sun, the wooden tablets cracked with age. But one caught his eye.
Cleaned recently, its paper charms bright white, and at its base rested three neatly arranged incense, each in its own little container.
Akuru slowed.
They were painted in red, mostly with delicate strokes, and flowers were depicted on the side of the containers.
Names, dates, and prayers were what was written. Offerings to the dead.
He hunched down before them.
Someone had left oranges. Someone else had left a folded crane. A soft breeze came through, rustling the tiny paper talismans that hung from the shrine's roof. They whispered like soft voices.
He put Huginn down, the damn crow still fast asleep.
He offered his dried persimmons to the shrine.
Akuru pressed his hands together and bowed his head.
For the people whose names were depicted.
For the villagers who had died.
To the demon child, who never had the chance to grow up.
For those he could not save and for those yet to be saved.
By the time he opened his eyes again, a still quiet had seeped into his chest.
Not peace, not yet, but something gentler.
He stood and began walking again.
Akuru walked, not lost but guided by nothing else but the morning sun and the resolve he had carried forward from the day he learnt about demons.
Akuru continued following the dirt road westward, feeling the gentle pull of morning carry him away. The sunlight filtered into mottled gold patterns, warm on his cheek, cool on the back of his neck. His footsteps remained steady under contemplation.
After nearly an hour, the quiet flow of the forest path began to change. The trees thinned, replaced by rolling farmland. Slopes of bright green stretched across the valley, dotted with scarecrows wearing straw hats and faded kimono sleeves fluttering in the breeze.
It was quiet.
Almost too peaceful.
Akuru's instincts stayed half-alert, noting every rustling stalk and every distant crow call. But gradually, as the farmland opened wide beneath the morning sun, his shoulders eased.
Up ahead, a broad dirt lane crossed the main road. A pair of oxen stood beside it, grazing lazily, while a farmer knelt beside a cart whose front axle had snapped in half. The young man muttered to himself, rubbing a hand through his hair as if trying to pull solutions out of the air.
Akuru paused.
He had nothing better to do today. Huginn was still asleep, so no mission anytime soon. Why not?
Akuru took a step toward the farmer.
"Need any help?"
The young man jerked upright in surprise.
"O-Oh!"
His gaze darted to the Nichirin sword. His eyes reflected a moment of fear before it passed just as quickly.
"I- yes, yes! please. The cart broke right as I was heading to the next town for supplies. The axle's cracked straight through."
Akuru crouched beside the cart. The wood had rotted at its center, weakened by age. A simple repair wouldn't last.
"You have any more boards?" Akuru inquired.
The farmer blinked before scrambling to a small shed nearby. He returned carrying a plank and some rope.
"Will this do?"
"It will," Akuru said.
The next twenty minutes passed in calm, rhythmic labor. Akuru cut the plank to size using his sword. Carefully, without breathing, he simply used the sharp edge to form, then helped lift the cart so he could brace the replacement piece beneath its frame.
The farmer was starry-eyed in amazement. No fear in eyes to be found.
"You're so strong… You must be some renowned samurai!"
A samurai makes sense considering the sword Akuru held on his waist; he decided to go with it.
"Most of the time," Akuru said quietly, "though sometimes I help fix carts."
The man laughed then, relief coloring the sound.
When the work was done and the axle once again sturdy, the farmer bowed so deeply his hat nearly fell off.
"Thank you, thank you! Let me pay-"
Akuru raised a hand.
"That's not necessary."
"But-"
"I did it because you needed help. That's enough."
The farmer hesitated, then bowed again, more humbly this time.
"May the gods grant you safe travels, Samurai-san."
Akuru nodded politely and went on his way. His little journey had at least helped one person.
He continued his walk, with a slight spring in his step. Akuru didn't see anyone else along the road as the morning air faded away. Huginn finally woke up, he rested a bit more on his shoulders before he went out to stretch his wings. Akuru told him to come back before evening came.
By midday, the sun had climbed high, warming the earth until shimmering waves rose above the road. Akuru removed his haori which he had taken from home.
The haori was a masterpiece of shifting heavens, its outer fabric dyed in a soft, gradient blue that deepened toward the hem, like the sky easing from morning into dusk. Wisps of white clouds drifted across the back in delicate brush-stroke patterns, airy and gentle, as if painted by the wind itself. But when the light caught the inner lining, an altogether different world revealed itself: a sweeping star-studded night, rich indigo fading into black, scattered with tiny embroidered constellations that shimmered like real starlight trapped in silk. Together, sky and night met at the seams, creating a garment that felt as though the day and stars wrapped around the wearer.
He folded it over one shoulder. Sweat clung to his collarbones, and the straps of his pack pressed uncomfortably against his back.
He considered stopping at the next stream to drink.
Before he could find one, however, faint music drifted from beyond the bend in the path.
A shamisen.
The notes were surprisingly gentle, wandering through the air like drifting petals. Akuru followed the sound until he found the musician sitting atop a large, flat stone. A woman, perhaps in her late twenties, dressed in travel-worn robes with a woven hat shading her eyes. Her shamisen glimmered in the sunlight, patched in places but well-loved.
She stopped when she saw him.
"Ah. A traveler," she said with a smile warm enough to soften the heat of the day, "and what seems like a samurai at that. Rare to see one so far out in these quiet lands."
Akuru bowed politely.
"Good afternoon."
"Care to share some shade?" she asked, patting the stone beside her. "I have rice balls, simple, but edible."
He had already given his dried persimmons long ago. He also hadn't ate breakfast before he left, in a rush to avoid the awkward goodbyes he's have to give to the villagers. Akuru hesitated just long enough for his stomach to answer for him in the form of a low growl.
She laughed.
"Sit, sit. I won't bite."
Akuru sat.
The musician handed him two rice balls wrapped in cloth. Akuru thanked her, then unwrapped one. The texture was clumsy, clearly made on the road, but hunger made it taste wonderful.
She resumed plucking the strings of her shamisen, easy and slow.
"You look tired, Samurai-san."
"It was… a long night," he mumbled after finishing the food in his mouth.
She nodded knowingly.
"Ah. I passed through a village east of here a week ago. Their shrine felt… uneasy. As though something lingered. Did you resolve it?"
Akuru looked surprised. But replied nonetheless.
"Yes."
"Hm," she played a soft, melancholy chord. Good. The land will breathe easier for it."
Akuru looked over at her for a moment, but put away her oddly perceptive perception to the back of his mind.
They sat together in quiet harmony. Akuru ate his meal; the woman played her song. Birds chirped in the treetops, and the warm breeze carried the scent of summer grass.
After several minutes, the woman spoke again. Her voice contemplative.
"You know, Samurai-san, lately rumors speak of many strange things."
Akuru looked over.
"Strange?"
"Yes," her fingers danced across the strings, shaping a low, eerie tone, "they say the moon is sick. Or angry. Or hungry. Stories vary."
Akuru sat up straight.
She continued.
"They say the moon will become red this month. Blood red."
Confusion washed over Akuru.
"A… blood moon?" he asked with curiosity.
"Yes," she smiled lightly, though her eyes revealed unease, "Old folktales say such nights blur the boundaries between the living and the dead. Superstition, of course, but superstition often follows truth. When the sky changes, so does the Earth."
Something like that, it didn't feel right to Akuru.
Perhaps it truly wasn't.
The musician plucked one final note. Soft, fading, almost mournful before lowering her instrument.
"Samurai-san," she said gently, "wherever your journey leads you next, walk it with caution. The world is shifting."
Akuru bowed deeply.
"Thank you. I will."
She offered him a final smile before packing her shamisen. As she began to walk in the opposite direction, she called back.
"And if we meet again, I'll write a song for you. Strong-hearted boys deserve a story."
Akuru blinked, startled, but she was already gone around the bend.
He breathed out softly.
What an odd premonition.
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Author Note
Japan had abolished samurai during the 1800s, thus in the demon slayer universe they probably didn't exist. But I took some creative liberties and decided that it would be the best reason any demon slayer would have a sword without explicitly stating demons exist.
Also hopefully people noticed what the blood moon truly is. It is a real phenomenon and I've done quite a lot of research trying my best to get the timings right with when the demon slayer universe would see the blood moon.
If anyone want's to have a guess what specific year this blood moon is in take your best guess!
My only hint is I've had to change the month as the seasons wouldn't match what the story has right now.
Anyone that can guess it, I will promise to answer any one question about the novel to the best of ability I can!
I hope you liked the chapter!
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