Tokyo was a maze.
Not the kind that led you on and stranded you with dead ends and wrong turns, but the kind that engulfed you whole, the city itself acted like hedges that you could never peer over, an open but still closed maze.
The city was also always in motion. Akuru learned this fact fast.
Everything moved around him; people seemed to never have a glimpse of time to appreciate the now. It seemed that everyone always had a place to be. To him who had thrived in the calm of a village, it truly did feel like an ever-changing, encompassing maze. He moved with the mass and let Tokyo dictate the tempo.
As Akuru moved with Tokyo, so did the sounds of Tokyo. It came in layers.
The rumble of wheels on rocks as rickshaws passed through the middle of the streets. The never-ending hum of hollow thwack of wooden sandals as the mob was active during the day, muffled murmurations could be heard from every direction. Many voices clashed, vendors shouted about chestnut and tea sales, while he heard an apprentice shoemaker yelling for more lacquer, distant muffled sounds of a railway telegraph office from some far away radio were all clashing into a mix of noise. Akuru aptly named it in head the city noise. All of it just kept bombarding him until his ears learned to distinguish between them all without his conscious deliberation.
It was the beating rhythm of the city beneath.
His breathing settled into the rhythm that kept his attention afloat without draining him. With each inhalation, the world around him expanded; with each exhalation, the nonsensical chatter thinned. It was a useful and subtle effect, sharpening the corners just enough. Eliminating the small pauses that arise from being in a new place. He could now walk the streets for hours this way and truly settle into the beat of the city.
He was off rhythm with the city, but he was slowly getting his metronome there.
Huginn preened and bobbed on Akuru's shoulder, happy to simply wander around an unfamiliar place. The raven observed it all with a greedy interest and let out a small pleased croak when they arrived in a broad boulevard with buildings half in traditional wood and half in brick and stone with Western fronts. They had arrived at Ginza. A brick town within the city. The people of Tokyo were ignited into a larger buzz than before; it was the buzz of shopping.
He was drawn towards the beat and not away from it. The district was full of the scent of oil, smoke, and incense. Paper lanterns were hung from posts even before the sun was down, their faces depicting names and pictures of acts.
Akuru had wandered to the theatre area of town. Posters of kabuki, comedy sketch performances, and the touring company's lineup for the coming week were everywhere. Bills pasted on billboards depicted faces outlined with makeup, while flyers were strewn about with some odd product. Two men were enthusiastically debating the skills of one actor, while two geisha flowed by with perfect choreography, their giggles a subtle sound that wove through the chaos.
The streetcars rang out, the sound of metal on metal, harsh and loud. Akuru observed one go by, the driver's hat low, people grasping skillfully at the brass bars. He had never seen anything like it, but the conversations he had with the many people he met had painted an image that looked very similar to the scenes he was looking at. These electric routes were recent, modern, and the city wore them like ornaments, shining with usefulness. Tokyo was presenting itself as open enough to accommodate outside thoughts.
Then he once again saw the rickshaws, two-wheeled with emaciated men pushing hard with their powerful, contracting calves; passengers huddled modestly under parasols or against the cooling late evening air. Horse-drawn carts were slower, filled with fish boxes and porcelain boxes, the occasional motorcar, discreetly showy, with its strange, coughing engine. Akuru wondered how it worked.
Markets comprised a range of scents. The fish market on the side wall of a canal struck him first with a reviving, sharp aroma that evoked the memory of the small pond in his childhood; a frozen, rocky, salt-and-preserved-fish smell. There was a tuna cut open in a manner that was almost a personal ritual to the cutter; its meat shone, and the onlookers stood transfixed, as if in worship. Closer to the vegetable stands, the atmosphere was moist and green; pickled plums dried in the sun on wooden racks, and scallions bound in fists of tied twine. There was a corner stand with fried croquettes that developed a pungently fragrant aura; the chef was laughing as a child accepted a stick of them with a face radiant as the sun. Akuru bought one and let its warmth engulf him; the basic comfort of having access to food was a blessing to anyone.
There existed bookstores filled with woodblock print books and poetry books alongside Western magazines, pages filled with foreign lettering that nonetheless vibrated with curiosity. There were even perfumed letter-writing stations offering rice paper, lengths of it that one might use to compose a letter to be carefully folded for a loved one.
Akuru entered the store for a brief period of time, deciding that he would finally satisfy his curiosity about what a lunar eclipse was. It took a few questions to get a book that would explain it to him, but after that, Akuru got sucked right in. His mother had taught him how to read, and for that fact, he was happy; it was just unfortunate that he didn't get much time to read. Only after understanding what had happened that night and what caused the blood moon, was he satisfied and left the store.
As he left, it looked like the sun barely moved. Akuru decided that he would continue to assimilate with the city. Huginn had told him that his partner hadn't arrived yet.
Nearby, in a photography studio, a gentleman posed for his portrait under the diligent supervision of a man wearing an apron, adjusting the strap and directing him with precisely chopping, teaching motions; it was inexpensive and wonderfully human. The name, 'Carte-de-Visite,' written awkwardly in Frence-Japanese, meant that new things had arrived and were clearly intended to stay. He was oddly excited for what it would mean.
Akuru saw people dressed in layers as he walked through Tokyo. Kimono sleeves touching kimono sleeves, and then collars and frock coats, as Western influence filtered through the general population. There were hair decorations every once in a while and, on occasion, small hats that originated from outside Tokyo. Children were running by, exchanging wooden playthings with echoing laughter.
There were telegraph offices with unforgiving clerks and low counters that folded down for message composition, all typed by hand and dispatched in strokes of news, be it good, bad, or indifferent. There existed a couple of alleys lined with small shops. Each one has its own unique environment with its own flavour of craftsmanship.
Each little thing stealing his attention.
He walked slowly into Nihonbashi, sensing the weight of trade. It was here that coins were exchanged at the steady beat that had sustained Tokyo's expansion all these years; business was wealth, wealth was import, import were cloth and silk and tea. The silk merchants moved as if they were men with secrets about the value of fabric, almost as if it were loot. Akuru let his fingers trail over a roll of colored fabric as he walked by. It was cool and recalcitrant, expensive as it was meant to be, but he knew why this place was alive; because business here tied the country to itself and the world.
As noon oozed into the afternoon, the sun dug its hot fingers into the back of his neck. The Autumn sun was flashing a glimpse of summer heat. He ducked into a teahouse from a narrow alley that reeked of steam and waste. The building itself was low-sloped, and horizontal mats stretched along the room for the customer to sit on. The owner, a round-faced woman whose hands moved quickly, poured a cup of tea for him with the care that made the act a tiny ritual in itself. He sat cross-legged, appreciative of the small calming pause in his adventure of the big city. Regulars filtered in and out of the shop, greeting each other with curt nods, exchanging information about a job or a memory of a quiet childhood. A group of young students, dressed in Western-style suits, filled the teahouse with conversations. It was a nice symphony of conversations inside the teahouse.
Akuru left his payment on the table and got up. It was an enjoyable break, but he still needed to explore. Not just cause of the mission, but also because it was enjoyable, he didn't have much time to explore such a large city outside of a mission, so he was going to milk every moment as much as he could.
Akuru had been warned before that the capital was different, more frenzied, and almost alien compared to any of the towns he had wandered. He found this only partly true. The key difference, he decided, was not chaos, but variety, a thousand tiny economies superimposed upon one another. Every area had its rhythm and its silence, and he could move to and fro, feeling the city alter its pace.
He walked through the Dedicated district, where shrines existed amidst a sea of people, each praying at miniature altars, coins falling through gratings, heads bowed in a calculated tilt of the head. There was the lazy rise of incense, and Akuru bowed automatically at one of the shrines, sensing the drifted air the faint tang of sandalwood.
In a residential street, he discovered a hot tub facility, whose warm waters shone from within like an underground lake, tempting him for a split second. Yet even if this walk was more for himself than he'd admit, it was still under the sense of duty. He settled instead for observing the mist from the hot tub chimney eddying against the blue sky above. People around him continued to work. As a crying child was pacified by a granny who seemed to know all the antidotes to tears and wounds. These things grounded the city. No matter where he went, humans would still be the same.
As evening light grew weaker, Akuru moved toward the center of the city, where new brick buildings had sprung up over the last several decades. Business premises lined these avenues, arrayed with imports of watches, silverware, and books. A coffee shop with white lace curtains poured music of pianos out onto the street; inside, men with formal hats sat on chairs no higher than tables, drinking coffee and speaking heatedly with lowered voices. Trams purred down rail lines set deep into asphalt, with families lounging on the curves as if they had mastered their domain.
He finally found what Tokyo did best, holding a thousand different lives, like a string of messy, glinting beads. All in harmony.
Streetlights turned on, then more, then in an organized ripple effect that caused the city to bloom. The gas lights first shone with a warm and yielding light. Then came the lantern lights in shops as owners turned them on. Trying all they could to maximize their sales.
The sun was about to set, and it was also the time when Huginn told him that his partner had arrived in Tokyo. Akuru followed Huginn as the crow flew without pause. It seems Huginn was just as excited to see his partner, or maybe he was excited to see the other crow. Who knows?
All Akuru could think about as he moved to his partner was how Tokyo going into the night was definitely a sight to see. Maybe he could convince his partner to join him on a trip around the city during night. Maybe this was their first time as well, they could even use the excuse of the mission to have fun. He decided that he would try and convince them to join up with him for a continued adventure.
Huginn slowly moved closer to the ground until he eventually landed on his shoulders. There were still plenty of people around where Huginn had led him, so he didn't really know who exactly his partner was. They would probably have a sword, right?
That should be enough of a giveaway, just in case Akuru looked over to Huginn to see if he knew which person his partner for the mission was. Huginn tilted his head towards him in a questioning manner.
"Which one, Huginn?" he spoke out in a whisper, talking to a crow wasn't the most normal behavior, and he didn't want to look crazy while there were plenty of people around.
Huginn lifted his head like he finally understood what he was asking and moved his head in a certain direction. Akuru looked over, and there was a small clearing next to a sweets stall; there were a few people who were loitering around the stall. Akuru started to wander over, wondering who this person would be.
By the time he was a few meters away, he finally noticed a sword that had been tucked away so it didn't seem obvious, a move that Akuru had done as well when he entered the city. Announcing that you had a sword in such a big city wasn't the smartest move one could make. His gaze moved to find the owner of the sword.
He finally saw her.
She was sitting at the edge of the stall, her body loose in a way that was looked intentional, rather than careless, as if the constant hum of the city noise couldn't affect her. The glow of the lanterns illuminated the white cloth slung over her shoulders, a haori with the wings of a butterfly design, colors seeped gently from white into turquoise, and then into a soft pink. The fabric rippled ever so slightly as she shifted her body, as if the very air was handling her tenderly.
Her body was tall and thin, taller and thinner than the majority of the girls Akuru had seen atleast, but there was a quiet elegance in her movements. If he had to guess Akuru would say that she was near his age, but he would never ask unless it was brought up, he wasn't foolish. Her uniform of a Demon Slayer was clean and well-maintained under her Haori, dark and correct, buttoned correctly at the waist.
Her hair cascaded down her back in a dark and silky fashion that reached her hips and two shorter lengths that lay across her shoulders. The bangs that restricted her face were rounded and reached just past her ears, allowing her features to be exposed as if she had no idea that she was being observed. The butterfly-shaped clips that kept portions of her hair back were edged in green and pink. They looked rather cute.
As she turned to look at him, Akuru was taken aback.
Her eyes were a pale violet shade, lighter than he had been led to expect, with a deeper color pooling at the center like ink dropped into water. They slanted slightly towards the edges of her face, wide and bright, catching the light from the lanterns in minute flecks of white. There was no hardness in her expression, no probing or judgment, only a warm attentiveness, as if she actually saw him, not just looked at him.
Her lips, subtly painted a reddish hue stood out on her rather pale skin, smiled even before she opened her mouth to speak. It seemed like the default mode with which she greeted the world.
"Hello there, you seem familiar," a voice so gentle and unhurried it didn't feel real for a second, spoke out.
Akuru was almost confused when she stopped speaking. He didn't want to admit it, but he had been paying a little bit too much attention to her lips.
"I wish I could say the same back, but I'm sure that'll change during this mission," he replied with no pause.
Just cause he had lost his train of thought for a second didn't mean he wasn't going to be polite.
"Oh, it seems only one of us had an eye for the other during the Final Selection," a smile filled with mischief was what accompanied her reply.
Now, Akuru was confused; he thought he knew everyone who had been in his Final Selection. Especially if that person happened to be of a close rank to him. Well he did assume that she was near his rank at least, maybe that wasn't the case?
Wait, now that he thought about it, there was someone who had killed almost the same number of demons as him during the Final Selection. He remembered that a few people had talked about someone who used flower breathing, someone who had saved plenty of people. He never got to meet them then, but perhaps today would be that day.
He sat down next to her in the stall. She shuffled slightly to give him some space. He was curious about what he could get from the stall, but before that, he knew he should finish this conversation. Looking over to her, he replied with.
"Do you use Flower Breathing?"
She smiled a more genuine, easy-going smile.
"It seems I'm not that forgettable. It's nice to meet you, Kobayashi," she closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side slightly as her smile became fuller, "I'm Kanae Kocho."
Akuru stared at her blinding gentleness. It was almost too sweet.
"It's nice to meet you, Kanae."
Akuru told no lies. It was nice to meet her.
The sunset looked more vivid to him as the sun finally let way to the night.
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Authors Note:
In the Demon Slayer universe I think it's generally accepted by fans that the universe is set sometime 1910s Japan. Also that most likely WW1 didn't happen in the universe. So I took both of these factors and tried to write about Tokyo as accurately as possible .
Hopefully I could paint 1913 Tokyo in a way that it felt realistic and made sense for that time period.
As always I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
:)
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