Chapter 10 - Chapter 10: The Weight of a Name

The silence was the first violation.

For more than a month, Tasuke village had lived inside a hurricane of sound—the ceaseless, maddening shriek of a thousand raven throats, a vortex of black wings that had choked the sky and starved the soul. Now, the quiet was a physical weight, so profound it felt like a new kind of drowning. It pressed in on the ears, a phantom scream that promised the noise could return at any moment.

The cycle had turned, bleeding into the First Phase of Waxing Twilight. Above, the sky was a near-black canvas, a vast and indifferent expanse awash with the deepest indigos and bruised purples, like old contusions that refused to heal. The persistent, chilling drizzle of the Raining Season continued to fall, each drop hissing as it struck the glowing embers of homes that were now little more than skeletal black frames. Smoke, thick and greasy with the scent of wet ash and sorrow, curled from the ruins, staining the air and mingling with the waterlogged earth, turning the ground to a thick, black paste.

From the doorway of the only remaining communal hall, Elder Roki watched his broken world. The cavernous space had been transformed into a makeshift infirmary, the air thick with the scent of woodsmoke, blood, crushed herbs, and the cloying smell of damp wool. Inside, the flickering firelight illuminated not a static tableau of grief, but one of desperate, determined survival. Those few with any healing knowledge moved between the wounded, their faces grim with focus as they tended to injuries with torn cloth and salvaged remedies. Others sorted through meager supplies rescued from the scorched skeletons of their homes—a half-full sack of grain here, a pile of soot-stained blankets there. Beyond the doorway, under the weeping mist of the twilight sky, the few remaining able-bodied men were engaged in the solemn work of burying the dead, their shovels turning the saturated soil into a thick, gray slurry.

Yet, even as they worked, they all bore the same haunted look. A shared, silent memory hung in the smoky air, replaying behind every pair of eyes. They had all seen it: the woman in the dark blue kimono moving through the mud and the rain, the fabric stained and torn from her ordeal. They had witnessed her single-handedly dismantle fifteen armed men, her movements a blur of impossible, reactive grace—a brutal dance of survival choreographed by the split-second warnings of her curse. She was their savior; Roki knew every soul working, weeping, or wounded in this hall owed her their life.

But they had also seen what came with her.

He looked past the ruins, his gaze sweeping over the new landscape of their existence. The siege had not vanished; it had transformed. The chaotic, circling maelstrom was gone, but the ravens remained. Thousands upon thousands of them. They were perched on the jagged remains of every burnt-out home, lined up like silent sentinels along the splintered barricades, and crowded onto the bare, skeletal branches of the ancient oaks that bordered the village.

These colossal trees, once part of the Shadow-Wood's dense wall, had been scorched by the bandits' fires. The flames had devoured their leaves and blackened their mighty limbs before the rain came to hiss them into silence, leaving behind towering, soot-stained skeletons. Now, a murder of black wings wore these dead branches like a funeral shroud, their collective gaze a million obsidian beads watching the survivors. It was not an act of peace. It was an occupation.

A quiet cough broke his reverie. A young woman from Higashimori, clutching a sleeping child, bowed her head to him.

"Elder," she whispered, her voice rough with thirst and fear. "What… what is she?"

Roki's gaze shifted past the huddled survivors, drawn toward his own home near the center of the devastation. It was his house, yes, but it was no longer his alone. Of all the structures, standing or ruined, the ravens guarded it most fiercely. Their silent, obsidian forms blanketed its roof and the trees surrounding it, turning the elder's home into the very bastion of their cursed savior.

He turned his gaze from the unsettling sight back to the terrified woman, his expression unreadable. His voice was a low murmur, meant only for her and those huddled close, yet it carried the weight of a proclamation.

"I don't know," he admitted, his honesty stark. "A curse... a savior... a harbinger of death. Perhaps she is all three." He paused, his eyes sweeping over the faces of his people before landing back on her. "But I will find a solution."

The finality in his tone made the young woman from Higashimori flinch back, and a new, tense silence fell over the group. His jaw tightened. The fear in their eyes was a poison, but it could also be a catalyst. He would not let it paralyze them. He would not let them starve, forgotten by a world that had already written them off as dead. He would forge this fear into the foundation of a new strength.

His purpose now a solid, cold weight in his chest, Roki turned. His heavy footsteps echoed in the crowded communal hall as he moved towards the exit, his shadow long and distorted in the flickering firelight. He stepped out into the chill, damp air, the rain having softened to a persistent, weeping mist.

The mist swirled around him, as cold and cloying as the uncertainty clouding his mind. His promise to find a solution felt like a lead weight in his gut. He had seen it with his own eyes—the woman commanding a murder of ravens to descend and kill the bandit leader. A singular, precise act. But was that true command, a master pulling a string? Or was it merely a reactive spasm of the curse that clung to her like a shroud?

The question plagued him with every step. Was she the master of the storm, or just the eye within it?

His destination was his own home, a short but harrowing walk through slick mud and deep, ash-filled puddles to find the answer.

He entered the main room of his house, a space that now served as a makeshift infirmary and command center. His wife, Sayaka, was on her knees by the central hearth, diligently cleaning the wooden floors of the mud and grime tracked in from the ravaged world outside—a small, defiant act of order against the overwhelming chaos. Her head snapped up as he entered, her eyes wide.

His gaze met hers, and in the weighted silence, he saw the question she dared not ask. Without prompting, he gave her the only answer he could. "I may have a solution," he said, his voice a low rumble. He gestured with his chin down the short, dark hallway. "But it depends on her."

Sayaka's lips parted, but no sound came out. She simply stared at him for a long moment, then gave a single, sharp nod. Placing her cleaning rag neatly to the side, she rose and followed a respectful pace behind him, a silent witness to whatever was to come.

The room was sparse, containing little more than a sleeping shikibuton on the floor. No One lay there, still and pale, her breathing shallow. She wore the clean, charcoal-gray kimono Sayaka had given her, its simple, silver embroidery like frost on a cooled ember. She was the picture of utter exhaustion, a living weapon momentarily silenced. The toll of the previous night's battle, of pushing her body to its absolute limit, was etched into the profound stillness of her form.

Roki knelt beside the shikibuton, his old knees cracking in protest. He hesitated, then gently placed a hand on her left shoulder and gave a slight shake.

The reaction was instantaneous and violent. A sharp, ragged gasp of air tore from her lungs as a tremor of pure agony shot through her body.

Outside, the oppressive silence of the village shattered. A wave of agitation ripped through the raven host—a sudden, chaotic rustle of a thousand wings, a chorus of guttural caws echoing the pain she felt.

Her eyes fluttered open, the world a meaningless blur of gray and brown. As her vision sharpened, the face of Elder Roki swam into focus, his expression a mask of grim resolve and concern.

"We owe you our lives," he began, his voice steady despite the unnerving sound from outside. "No one can dispute this." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "But this… your protection…" He gestured vaguely to the world beyond the walls. "It is a weight my people cannot bear. Their spirits are breaking under the gaze of your guardians. I am asking you… if you have the power… can you command them to leave us? Can you set this village free?"

His words hung in the air. No One's focus drifted from his face to the wooden ceiling above. Can I? The question echoed in the void within her. The ravens were a part of her curse, an extension of her pain. She had commanded them once and only recently, an act of desperate will. But all of them? An entire legion born of her trauma?

A new thought pushed through the haze of pain and doubt, sharp and clear. She was not just the eye of the storm. She was not just a passive anchor for this curse. She was the storm. They were an echo of her will, an extension of her soul. They were hers, and hers alone, to command.

A subtle shift in her breathing was the only outward sign of her decision. She closed her eyes and focused, not on the pain in her body, but on the thrumming, collective consciousness of the flock. She reached out with her will and gave a single, silent command: Go.

The world exploded in a deafening, volcanic eruption of sound. A thousand wings beat the air at once as the entire murder of ravens launched into the sky, scattering in every direction like a burst of black shrapnel. For a full minute, the sky was a churning vortex of black wings, a sound a physical force that rattled the entire village. Sayaka cried out and covered her ears, stumbling back against the wall.

A new silence descended, this one absolute and profound. For the first time in a month, the only sound was the steady, lonely drumming of rain on the roof, a quiet rhythm in the sudden, empty sky.

With the ravens gone, No One felt a brutal wave of exposure wash over her, a feeling of being naked and defenseless in a way she hadn't felt before. Her sight, her very consciousness, fractured into a thousand fleeing perspectives as the ravens obeyed her command, soaring over forests, rivers, and mountains she had never seen. But even with her gaze stretching across the world, she felt a sudden, crushing loneliness. They were all she had. They were the only companions who had never hurt her, never judged her, never abandoned her.

And she had just sent them away.

Choosing to remain silent, she felt a warmth streak from the corner of her right eye. A single tear for her lost guardians. She let the profound exhaustion claim her once more, her mind taking flight with the ravens that no longer watched over her, leaving her utterly and completely alone.

After Roki and his wife, Sayaka, left the room, a new, profound silence settled over the house—one of absence rather than oppression. With a shared, weary glance, they silently acknowledged the sacrifice the woman had made.

A new silence descended, this one absolute and profound. For the first time in a month, the only sound was the steady, lonely drumming of rain on the roof, a quiet rhythm in the sudden, empty sky.

From the communal hall, a tentative quiet was broken by a single, questioning shout from outside. "They're... they're gone!"

The doors were thrown open. The villagers, who had been huddled in fear, slowly emerged into the rain-soaked twilight. They looked to the sky, their faces a mixture of disbelief and dawning, ragged relief. Where there was once a churning vortex of black, there was now only the bruised, empty sky. Scattered across the mud-caked ground were thousands of raven feathers, the only physical proof of the nightmare they had endured. The relief was too much for some; they fell to their knees, their sobs of gratitude lost in the rain.

Elder Roki and Sayaka stepped out from their home to witness the scene. It was then that a man, his face smeared with soot and grim determination, pointed to the pile of bandit corpses.

"The curse on the sky is gone," he yelled, his voice raw. "Let us cleanse the curse from our ground! Let's burn the bodies of these bastards, and their filth with them!"

A guttural cheer of agreement rose from the crowd. It was not a sound of pure joy, but of fierce, defiant survival. The men began the grim work of dragging the bandit corpses into a single heap in the center of the village. The women and even the children moved through the mud, collecting handfuls of the black raven feathers.

Soon, a massive bonfire roared against the gloom, its heat and light a welcome rebellion against the cold rain. The flames consumed the bodies, and one by one, the villagers began to toss the feathers into the inferno. It was not a celebration, but a somber, determined ritual—an act of reclaiming their home, of purging their fear, of declaring to the indifferent sky that Tasuke village had survived.

Sayaka watched them, her arms wrapped around herself as she stood beside her husband. "They see a savior now," she whispered, her gaze fixed on the fire. "But for how long, Roki? How long until their fear of her returns? I worry."

Roki didn't take his eyes off the pyre, the firelight reflecting in his weary eyes. "I worry too," he admitted, his voice low and heavy with a feeling that went deeper than a leader's duty. He thought of the broken girl sleeping inside his home, the child fate had brought to them. "She is just a girl, Sayaka, lost under the weight of that curse. A savior's title is a fragile shield."

He finally turned to his wife, his expression hardened with a new, powerful resolve. "That is why this village needs more than a savior. It needs walls. It needs soldiers. It needs the strength to protect its own."

He placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent promise. "And that is what I will get for us."

Leaving Sayaka to watch over the grim ritual, Roki turned and walked back into his home, his purpose a solid, cold weight in his chest. He went to his small writing desk, his plan clear. He would not just rebuild a village. He would forge a fortress, strong enough to protect the daughter he had never had.

The cycle turned, and the bruised, near-black sky of Waxing Twilight gave way to the cold, stark clarity of High Twilight. The world was now bathed in a diffuse, shadowed illumination, the sky a vast expanse of luminous, pearlescent silver-gray. This unforgiving light streamed through the rain-streaked, grime-caked window, casting the devastation of Tasuke in sharp relief and illuminating the dust motes dancing over Roki's ink stone.

He ground the ink, the circular motion calming, focusing his mind. He was not writing a plea for help. Pleas were for the weak, and they would be ignored. He was forging a political tool. A simple merchant carrying a desperate note would be dismissed as a beggar, his message lost in the endless tide of suffering that washed against the Shadow-Wood's borders. But a message delivered by a slayer from Midorimori—true masters of the ancient woods who dealt with the primordial threats of the wilderness—that was another matter entirely. Such a message would carry the implicit authority of their powerful organization. It would be a summons, not a plea.

With a grim smile, he touched the tip of his brush to the ink. He was using the slayers' own mercenary pragmatism as a weapon. They would agree to this because a stable, fortified village on their northern flank was good for business, a buffer that would cost them nothing. He would use their reputation to build an army, and his army would build a village that would never need to pay their exorbitant fees again.

Just as he was painting the final characters of his signature, a new sound cut through the quiet hum of the village—the distant, rhythmic rumble of wagon wheels and the sharp braying of a mule. A caravan. The first in over a month. A knot of urgency tightened in his gut. He quickly folded the letter, dripping hot wax onto the seam and pressing his personal seal into it before the wax could cool.

He stepped outside, the pouch of coins for the courier heavy in his hand. A single, sturdy wagon, flanked by two armed guards, had stopped at the ruined perimeter. The merchant and his two guards were not just gawking at the wreckage, but at the strange, solemn scene unfolding within. In the center of the devastation, a massive bonfire roared against the twilight, casting long, dancing shadows. A crowd of villagers stood around it in a grim, silent vigil. The portly merchant's heavy wool cloak was darkened with rain, his mouth agape with disbelief. His guards were even more tense, their hands gripping the hilts of their swords as their eyes darted from the silent, empty rooftops to the unnerving ritual below.

"By the indifferent sky," the merchant breathed, turning as Roki approached. "Elder, what happened here?"

"Bandits," Roki said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "They were dealt with."

He offered no further explanation, letting the man's imagination fill the gaps. He presented the sealed letter and the pouch of coins. "I have a task for you. This letter must be delivered to the Demon Slayer village of Midorimori, deep in the southern forest. This pouch will pay for your trouble and then some." Roki's gaze was heavy, his voice dropping with a solemn finality. "See that it arrives safely, merchant. It holds the key to a new future for my people."

The guards exchanged a nervous glance. Midorimori was a long and dangerous journey. But the merchant simply looked from the pouch, to the letter, and then back at the utter devastation of the village. His pragmatic mind was already at work. A ruined village was a loss of business. But a village that had survived this, and was now seeking aid from a powerful slayer clan… if it recovered, it would be a vital trade link in this hostile part of the world. A small risk now for a great reward later.

The merchant took the letter and the heavy pouch. "A grim task, Elder," he said, his tone shifting to one of business-like respect. "But our path takes us south. We will see it delivered."

With a nod, the merchant climbed back aboard his wagon. The wheels of the wagon churned, pulling free from the sucking mud of Tasuke's perimeter with a final, wet groan. Hamasaki Koji, a merchant whose portly frame was clad in durable but fine-quality wool, did not look back. There was nothing left to see but ruin, and ruin was bad for business. He clutched the precious letter from the village elder, its wax seal a small, hard promise of future profit in a world where such promises were becoming increasingly rare.

He glanced at his guards, the two figures who represented the single greatest expense of this harrowing trade route. On his right sat Yamashita Genzo, a tall veteran in his fifties whose weathered face was a roadmap of past battles, the most prominent feature a scar cutting clean through his left eyebrow. The rain did little to alter his appearance; his short, black hair was pulled back in a tight, disciplined ponytail that shed water easily. His scarred leather armor was patched and worn. His hand rested calmly on the seat beside him, inches from the hilt of the massive, five-foot ōdachi that was propped securely against the wagon's side. His silence was a comforting, professional weight.

On the left, perched more like a nervous bird than a guard, was Aoki Hina. A wiry young woman in her late teens, she had a fierce, proud intensity in her eyes. The rain had plastered her blonde hair—normally a choppy bob with layers and pointed ends—to her cheeks and forehead, making her look younger and more vulnerable than the fierce intensity in her eyes would suggest. Her lighter armor was newer, her shortsword and buckler practically gleaming compared to Genzo's well-used gear. She was still scanning the tree line, unnerved by the ghost town they had just left behind.

Hina shuddered, pulling her damp cloak tighter around her shoulders as she stared back at the ruined village. "I've never been in this part of the wood before," she said, breaking the heavy silence. "My old caravan master stuck to the eastern trade routes, near the fishing villages."

"The northern half of the wood is what I know," Genzo added, his voice a low rumble. "I never had much cause to venture this far south."

Koji sighed, the sound heavy with memory. "It's been a few years since I last passed through Tasuke. It was a humble place, but... it was alive." He shook his head grimly. "Now it's just another ruin, like the northern temple. It seems no corner of the wood is safe anymore. What's next?"

Hina jumped at the sound of his voice. "The rumors were true, then. About the raven siege."

"The northern temple was just rumors, too, until we saw the ashes with our own eyes," Koji sighed, shaking his head. "Now Tasuke… What's next?"

His question hung in the air, unanswered. They traveled south, the oppressive canopy of the Shadow-Wood a constant presence to their east, its leaves dripping a ceaseless, monotonous rhythm onto the wagon's canvas roof. The road, a slick track of mud and stone, was eerily quiet. Some hours later, their fears were confirmed as they came upon the remains of the southern temple. Like its northern counterpart, it was a blackened husk, its sacred gates splintered and its prayer halls open to the bruised and indifferent sky. Koji's heart sank. Another stop for pilgrims and travelers simply gone, another source of commerce turned to ash.

They continued on, the road leading them toward a long, stone bridge that spanned a deep, rocky gorge. Genzo, who had been silent for hours, suddenly spoke, his voice a low gravel. "This is a perfect spot for an ambush. It's too quiet."

"Quiet is good, isn't it?" Hina countered, her hand tightening on her sword.

"No," the veteran said, his gaze sweeping the rocks and trees that provided ideal cover. "This is goblin road. It feels wrong."

The veteran's unease unnerved Koji. It reminded him of a different bridge on a northern trade route, weeks ago. That road had gone quiet, too, just before a goblin ambush had erupted from the rocks. He had a vivid image of Hina, overconfident in her speed, charging ahead and being swarmed. She'd been pulled down, a goblin's rusty blade at her throat, before Genzo had moved like a thunderclap, his massive ōdachi cleaving through two of the creatures and sending the rest scattering into the woods.

As if sensing his thoughts, Hina's face flushed with color. "They ambushed us," she said defensively to no one in particular. "I was careless. It won't happen again."

Genzo simply grunted, his eyes never leaving the shadows.

The silence that followed was heavier than before. An empty road was proving to be more unnerving than a dangerous one. As the sky bled into the third cycle of Waning Twilight, its palette shifting to dark violets and deep charcoal grays, a new light appeared in the distance, a warm smear against the gray sheet of falling rain: the steady, golden glow of lanterns.

"Inaho," Koji breathed, a wave of relief washing over him.

As they drew closer, their relief turned to astonishment. The village wasn't just standing; it was thriving. Its streets, paved with dark river stones, were webbed with channels that guided the rainwater away, leaving them slick and gleaming but free of the deep mud that plagued other settlements. The perimeter fence was new and strong, the fields looked tended, and smoke curled from the chimney of every single home. It looked more prosperous than it had two months ago. It made no sense.

Tired and road-weary, they guided the wagon into the village. The guards at the gate were alert and well-equipped. They stabled the wagon and mules for the night and made their way to the village's only inn. Pushing through the heavy wooden door, they were met with a wall of welcome heat. The air inside was steamy and alive with the smells of roasting meat, spilled ale, and damp wool drying by a large, roaring hearth. The main tavern room was just closing up, the last of the locals heading home as tables were being wiped down.

"Just need two rooms for the night," Koji said to the innkeeper, his mind reeling from the contrast between this vibrant village and the utter ruin of Tasuke.

"You're in luck. Last two I have," the innkeeper replied, handing them wooden keys.

They turned in for a much-needed rest, Koji sharing a room with Genzo, and Hina taking the other. They slept late, rising as the soft light of the Waxing Twilight's Pale Ascent painted the world in muted lavenders.

Greeting each other as they descended the wooden stairs, they found the tavern's main room was now alive with the low murmur of conversation and the clatter of wooden cups. A handful of other travelers and locals were scattered amongst the tables, breaking their morning fast. They sat down to a hot meal, the first in what felt like an eternity. Business could wait.

The waitress who brought their steaming bowls of rice porridge was the same thin woman Koji had seen the night before. Her face, though still etched with a deep weariness, had a resilience in her eyes that was absent from the other villages.

"Enjoy," she said with a small, tired smile.

"This is a welcome sight," Koji replied, gesturing around the lively room. "The roads have not been kind. We passed the northern temple, and then Tasuke village… both in ruins." He let the statement hang in the air.

The woman's smile vanished, replaced by a guarded expression. "The rumors travel fast, then. They say a woman, one who is followed by a murder of ravens, is the cause of the destruction." She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. "But I will tell you this: that same woman came to Inaho. She saved us from a demon that would have starved us all. To this village, she is a hero. We do not believe the dark stories."

She looked at him intently. "You came from the north. Did you see them? The ravens?"

Koji stroked his chin, the image of Tasuke occupied by a silent, feathered army flashing in his mind. He chose his words with a merchant's care. "We saw nothing out of the ordinary, my dear. Only the ruins you mentioned."

Against the steady drumming of rain on the inn's roof, a harsh, bitter laugh cut through the air from a nearby table. A gaunt man with haunted eyes, nursing a cup of cheap sake, turned to face them. "Quiet? The road is quiet because she killed everything on it."

Naomi recoiled as if struck. "Isao, hold your tongue."

But the man, Isao, ignored her, his hollow gaze fixed on Koji. "I am from Tasuke. I fled nearly a month ago. That 'hero' of yours held my village under a siege of black wings. She is the one who burned Hayakawa to the ground. She is the one who burned both temples. She is a demon wearing a human face."

"That's a lie!" Hina shot to her feet, her stool scraping loudly against the wooden floor. All conversation in the tavern ceased. "We just came from Tasuke! Elder Roki said it was bandits who destroyed the village, and they had been dealt with!"

"Hina." Genzo's voice was low and calm, but his hand on her shoulder was a vise of iron, forcing her back into her seat. He looked at Isao, his expression unreadable. "We only know what the elder told us."

Isao sneered. "Roki was a fool. He was harboring her for saving some refugees from Higashimori, blind to the curse he invited into his home. It was only a matter of time before she consumed Tasuke as well. The fact that any of them survived is the only surprise. I got out as soon as I could."

Just as the tension was about to snap, a small boy darted into the tavern, making a beeline for the waitress. "Mama!"

It was Toru, Naomi's son. He stopped beside her but his eyes were locked on Isao, his small face fierce with indignation. "She's not a demon! She's brave and she's strong! She killed the giant snake! You're just scared!"

"Toru, that is enough!" Naomi admonished, her face flushing with embarrassment. "Do not interrupt. Go back outside and play." The boy shot a final defiant glare at Isao before reluctantly retreating. Naomi turned back to the table, her loyalty clear. "He… he is only a child. But he is not wrong."

Koji sat back, stroking his chin as his mind reeled. A demon-slaying hero who burns temples. A cursed woman who saves villages. An elder who lies about bandits. The stories were a tangled, contradictory mess. When facts were this murky, it was bad for business.

He put on his most amiable merchant's smile, breaking the tension. "Well, the past is the past. A shame, all of it. But we are here on business, and it seems Inaho is doing quite well for itself!" He turned his full attention to Naomi. "Is Elder Seiji available? Now that your village is prosperous again, I have goods to trade and coin to spend."

Naomi nodded and went back to work, her expression a complicated mix of gratitude and worry. Koji and his guards finished the rest of their meal in a thoughtful silence, the conflicting rumors weighing heavily on their minds. When they were done, Koji left a few extra coins on the table for the service and motioned for his companions to follow.

As they passed Isao's table, the bitter refugee shot them a final, dismissive glare and waved a hand at them as if to shoo away flies. Koji and Genzo ignored him, pulling the hoods of their cloaks up as they exited the inn, but Hina, walking last, turned back for a split second and stuck her tongue out at the man before disappearing through the doorway.

Outside, a steady but gentle rain was falling, but it did little to slow the village. Locals bustled along the gleaming stone streets under conical straw hats and oiled-paper umbrellas. Koji scanned the activity. It had been a long time since his last visit, a trip cut short by the village's obvious poverty. Now, it was thriving. He located what he remembered to be the elder's home—a well-kept house, larger than the others but still modest—and led the way.

As he approached the entrance, the door opened and Elder Seiji himself was on his way out, nearly colliding with them. The old man's face, a web of deep lines, broke into a wide, surprised smile.

"Koji!" Seiji exclaimed, his voice warm with genuine pleasure. "By the sky, it is good to see you, my friend!"

Koji grinned, patting his own ample belly. "It has been far too long, Seiji! I must say, your village is looking well. The food is certainly better than I remember!" He let out a hearty, booming laugh that made a few nearby villagers turn and smile.

"These are my companions, Yamashita Genzo and Aoki Hina," Koji said, gesturing to his guards, who offered Seiji a respectful bow. "They're newer to my service. My last guards… did not survive an ambush near the Imperial Palace some months ago."

Seiji's smile faltered, a shadow of shared sorrow passing over his face before he nodded. "The roads are not what they were. Welcome, both of you. Please, come in." He beckoned them inside, where they gratefully shed their damp, heavy cloaks, the air in the elder's home warm and dry in welcome contrast to the chill outside.

Just as they stepped into the main room, a graceful woman with kind eyes and silver-streaked hair entered from a side room carrying a tray with steaming cups. It was Seiji's wife, Lady Chiyo.

"Perfect timing, my dear," Seiji said. Chiyo offered a warm smile and motioned for them all to sit, placing the tea cups before them.

"My thanks," Genzo said, his voice a low rumble of appreciation after taking a sip. "This is the finest green tea I've had in a long while." Hina, still stewing over the argument in the inn, simply nodded in silent agreement, the fragrant steam warming her face.

Koji, ever the merchant, took a sip before getting to the point. "We are here on business, my friend. Seeing your prosperity, I thought you might have need of our wares. I can offer trades of soy sauce, miso, vinegar, salt… perhaps even some dried seaweed from the far eastern coasts, if you're interested."

"Your timing is impeccable," Seiji replied, his eyes bright. "Our rice fields have yielded more than we've seen in years. We have a surplus of rice, but a dire need for other ingredients. But tell me, Koji, you travel far. What have you heard of the rumors? The ones about the cursed woman followed by a murder of ravens?"

Koji's business smile faded. The only sound in the room for a moment was the gentle patter of rain against the windows as he set down his finished tea cup with a soft click. "We have heard them, but only since arriving in your village. We passed through Tasuke on our way here. The village is in ruins, Seiji. Both temples, north and south… burned to the ground. Some in your inn say this woman is to blame, but others call her a hero. I don't know what to believe."

Seiji's eyes widened in genuine shock. "Tasuke has fallen? My dear friend, Roki… He was all I had left from there."

"Elder Roki is well," Koji clarified quickly. "He and a handful of others survived. He claimed it was the work of bandits, but he offered no details." Koji began to stroke his chin. "He did say one thing, though. There were no ravens. The flock that man in the inn spoke of was gone."

"Is that so?" Seiji mused, leaning back. "Perhaps it was bandits. It is easy to blame a strange savior for the sins of common brigands. She saved Inaho, Koji. We owe her a great deal. It would not do to slander her name without proof."

Genzo spoke up, his thoughtful gaze fixed on the table. "That's an insightful point. If bandits destroyed Tasuke, it is likely they did the same to the temples. A lone, armed woman would be an easy scapegoat if she was the only one left standing after an attack."

"That sounds more believable," Hina added, latching onto the idea. "I don't know this woman, but she sounds like a hero who is being blamed for things she didn't do!"

Seiji chuckled softly. "She is a very strange hero, I will grant you that. She didn't even accept a single coin for slaying the serpent demon that was bleeding us dry."

Koji's mind swam. A hero who refuses payment? A curse that saves villages? A scapegoat who commands birds? None of the pieces fit. He shook his head, clearing it of the confusing puzzle, and stood up, retreating to the one thing that made sense in this chaotic world.

"Well! Business, then!" he declared, his hearty laugh returning, though it didn't quite reach his eyes this time. "Genzo! Hina! Bring the supplies from the caravan. We will give this good village all that they need… for the right price, of course!"

"Inaho thanks you for your patronage, Koji," Seiji said, rising to his feet as well. "Our storehouses were nearly bare of everything but rice. You have saved us a great deal of trouble."

Genzo and Hina bowed once more and left the elder's home, their footsteps firm with renewed purpose as they went to fulfill their command.

By the time their business with the elder was concluded, the sky had shifted into the Luminous Veil, the first phase of High Twilight. The pale rose and silver hues from the morning solidified and a hint of muted, tarnished gold began to thread through the silver-grays, casting the world in a stark, clear light. Under this unforgiving glow, Genzo and Hina, having shed their heavy, wet cloaks to work more freely, moved with practiced efficiency. Their movements were sure despite the slick ground, and the persistent drizzle soaked the cloth portions of their tunics while beading on the worn leather of their armor. They hauled sacks of salt and barrels of miso from the wagon to the village storehouse as Elder Seiji directed the placement.

Koji and Seiji stood under the shelter of the home's wide eaves, watching the final goods being unloaded. The hum of a prosperous village—a distant blacksmith's hammer, the laughter of children—was a comforting sound against the soft hiss of the rain.

"There is one more thing, old friend," Koji said, his voice dropping to a more serious register. "Before we left Tasuke, Elder Roki entrusted me with a letter."

Seiji turned to him, his curiosity piqued. "Roki? I am relieved to know he is well, but he is a proud man. He does not ask for help lightly."

"He didn't," Koji confirmed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "But he insisted I deliver this letter directly to the Demon Slayers in the south—to Midorimori village."

Seiji's brow furrowed. That was an unexpected and significant destination. "To the Verdant Guard? Did he say what business a broken village could have with the masters of the deep woods?"

"No," Koji admitted with a slight shake of his head. "He was quite vague, spoke only of a 'new future'. Frankly, the coin he offered for the trouble was more than convincing. How could I refuse?"

A silence fell between the two old friends, a shared puzzle with no clear solution. The conflicting stories of a heroic curse and a framed savior swirled in the air around them, as intangible as the cold light.

"We're finished!" Hina's voice called out, cutting through their thoughts.

Koji nodded, the moment of reflection over. He turned to Seiji and offered a deep, respectful bow. "It was good to see you and your village thriving, old friend. Truly. But we must go. Be careful. These are troubling times."

Seiji returned the bow, his expression one of warm sincerity mixed with concern. "And you, Koji. The demon slayers do their best to keep the roads clear, but demonic activity has been growing stronger nonetheless. Proceed with caution." He looked Koji in the eye, a hint of weariness behind his wisdom. "Perhaps the next time we meet, the world will have offered us the answers we both seek."

Koji gave a final, solemn nod of agreement. With that, they were off. Genzo and Hina climbed onto the wagon, now significantly lighter, and Koji took the reins. Leaving the warm, golden lights of Inaho village behind them, Hina couldn't help but look back. She saw the bustling, rain-slicked streets, the sturdy homes, the smoke curling from the chimneys, and wondered what it must have looked like before—beaten, terrified, and starving—and what it must have been like to see the strange, masked woman arrive to save them all.

The caravan pulled away from the warm, welcoming lights of Inaho, the sounds of the living village fading behind them. Ahead, the road was a lonely, gray ribbon winding through the oppressive quiet of the Shadow-Wood. An unsettling silence had fallen, replacing the normal chatter of birds and rustle of unseen things in the undergrowth. Genzo's hand never strayed far from his sword hilt, his veteran eyes scanning the path ahead with unwavering focus.

As they rounded a wide bend cut between moss-covered, rain-slicked rocks, Koji pulled the wagon to an abrupt halt. In a small clearing just off the road, a tense drama was unfolding. Five goblins, their green skin pale with fear, stood back-to-back in a tight, desperate circle. Their rusted, broken weapons gleamed weakly in the twilight. Circling them with a low, fluid grace were four sleek, panther-like demons, their black fur glistening with rain, the color of the deepest hues seen only in the Deep Twilight.

"Shadow Stalkers," Genzo breathed, his voice tight. He and Hina were already on the ground, taking a defensive formation in front of the wagon.

"But why are they circling the goblins?" Hina asked, her own weapons held tight, her knuckles white.

"Looks to me like they're hungry," Koji said from his perch on the wagon, his voice grim. "Don't let your guard down."

One of the Shadow Stalkers, growing impatient, broke from its circling pattern. It launched itself forward, a blur of living darkness, tackling a goblin to the ground. The goblin shrieked, a high, piercing sound that was cut short as the demon's jaws clamped down, severing an arm at the shoulder in a single, brutal bite.

The goblins' fragile discipline shattered. Screaming in a guttural rage, the remaining four turned on the one feeding panther, swinging their crude weapons wildly. It was the mistake the other three Stalkers had been waiting for. With silent, deadly efficiency, they pounced. Chaos erupted. Claws sank deep into frail bodies, and blood sprayed onto the forest floor, mingling with the downpour to form crimson rivulets in the mud. One by one, the goblins fell, their desperate struggle ending in a symphony of slaughter.

One of the feeding Shadow Stalkers looked up, its eyes glowing with a faint, predatory light. It snarled at the wagon, a low warning rumble, before returning to its gruesome meal.

"Get back on. We'll go around them," Koji ordered, his voice steady.

"What if they charge us from behind?" Hina asked, cautiously readying herself.

"They have their meal. They won't waste the energy on a harder fight," Genzo stated, his experience overriding her fear. He was already mounting the wagon. "A full belly makes even a demon lazy."

Hina hesitated for a second longer before hopping back on. Koji snapped the reins, and the wagon sped past the horrific scene. Hina looked back and saw that the Shadow Stalkers made no effort to pursue, entirely consumed by their kill.

"You were right," she said, a note of awe in her voice. "How did you know they wouldn't follow?"

Koji and Genzo shared a look, a brief chuckle passing between the two older men. "Sometimes it's best to let the darkness feed on itself," Genzo explained.

"Better them than us, Hina," Koji added grimly. "A lesson every traveler in these woods learns eventually."

They continued south as a steady, wind-driven rain began to fall. The sky began its slow bleed into the first cycle of Waning Twilight, the world painted in smoky grays and muted plum, the horizon holding the last, faint hint of dying embers. It was under this funereal, weeping light that they came upon the ruins of Hayakawa.

Every home was burned down to the ground. The devastation was absolute. Rainwater pooled in the charred foundations, reflecting the bruised sky. Scattered amongst the blackened timbers were bones, picked clean and half-submerged in the black mud.

Hina gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in horror.

Genzo clenched his jaw, his face hardening into a mask of cold fury. "No burials. No pyres," he spat, his voice laced with disgust. "Just left to be carrion. This wasn't a raid. This was an eradication."

Koji stared at the scene, his merchant's mind finding no logic in it. "Bandits take loot. They occupy strong buildings. They don't burn everything to the very soil." His thoughts, unbidden, returned to the rumors. "But what if it was the mysterious woman? What reason could she have for such utter destruction?" The question plagued him, an unforgiving itch in his mind for which he had no answer.

They passed through the ghost village without a second thought of stopping, the silence of the dead pressing in on them as the twilight deepened and the downpour intensified.

As hours passed on the road, the world outside the warm glow of their wagon's lantern plunged into the first cycle of Deep Twilight. The sky was almost entirely consumed by darkness, a suffocating blanket of obsidian black and deep charcoal gray, with only the faintest undertones of indigo to distinguish it from utter blackness. Ahead, a cluster of lights promised sanctuary, their warm glow distorted by the sheet of falling rain. Ochiai.

The caravan was met at a sturdy gate by two grizzled guards. "State your business," one of them grunted, his hand resting on his axe handle.

"Trade and a night's rest," Koji announced, projecting an air of harmless commerce.

The guards exchanged a look, their eyes sizing up the merchant and his two companions. "Fine," the first guard said. "Dismount. We'll see to the wagon. The inn's the big building in the center. Can't miss it."

The trio followed his instructions, making their way through the dark, muddy village streets, their boots sinking into the grime. They soon saw it: a large, two-story building of heavy timber from which sounds of shouting and raucous cheering spilled into the night. As they approached, the noise grew, a wave of chaotic energy.

They pushed open the heavy door and were met with a wall of heat, sweat, and the smell of ale. In the center of the crowded room, a ring of roaring men surrounded two others who were trading clumsy, drunken punches, their boots slipping in a slurry of tracked-in mud and spilled ale.

"Why isn't anyone breaking this fight up?" Hina yelled over the din, her voice a mixture of panic and righteous indignation.

Koji and Genzo walked straight past her, their eyes already scanning the room for an empty table. They found one in a corner and Genzo motioned for a serving girl.

Impatient and aghast, Hina charged towards the brawlers. "Cut it out, you two! Stop fighting!"

The men ignored her, continuing to swing wildly. Hina grabbed one from behind, hooking her arms under his to restrain him. The other fighter, seeing the opportunity, took full advantage and landed a heavy punch to his opponent's gut.

"What are you doing, woman?" a man in the crowd roared at Hina. "You're costing me my coins!"

"Hold him tight so he can beat him into the ground!" shouted another.

Cheers erupted as the man Hina was holding took another punch square on the jaw, his eyes rolling back as he went limp. Hina, shocked, dropped the unconscious man and spun on the victor. "I said cut it out! We don't need to fight in here!"

One of the furious gamblers shoved her hard, sending her stumbling back onto an empty table. "What did you do that for?! I lost a lot of coin because of you!" He swung a clumsy fist at her. She reacted instantly, sliding off the table and using his momentum to grab his arm and throw him over her shoulder. The man crashed onto the table she had just vacated, breaking it in two with a loud crack, sending shards of wet wood and a spray of cheap ale across the floor.

More cheers erupted as the conflict devolved into chaos, with other small fights breaking out. Another man lunged at Hina, tackling her to the floor.

"Quit fooling around, Hina!" Genzo shouted from their table, his voice cutting through the noise with practiced authority.

"Are you going to eat with us tonight, Hina?" Koji added mockingly, taking a long sip of his ale.

"In a minute!" Hina grunted, rolling on the floor with her opponent. Before long, she gained the leverage she needed, pinning him and landing a single, sharp punch to his jaw. A tooth flew through the air, glinting in the torchlight before disappearing into the saw-dusted, muddy floor.

A moment later, Hina made her way to their table, breathing heavily, her hair a mess. She grabbed the tankard of ale waiting for her and took a huge gulp, wiping a smear of blood from her lip with the back of her hand. Genzo just shook his head slowly while tearing a piece of roasted chicken from the bone.

"Did you win?" Koji asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Yeah!" Hina said, gasping for breath between bites of chicken. "I beat up two of them." She took another swig of ale. "That's what they get for picking a fight with me, those bastards!" Feeling victorious, she devoured her meal, patting her full belly, finally ready to turn in for the night.

Koji placed some extra coins on the table to cover the meal and the broken table. He waved down the waitress, a woman who looked completely unfazed by the brawl.

"Two rooms, please." She hurried back with a pair of wooden keys and pointed them towards the stairs.

The trio ascended the creaking steps, leaving the din of the tavern behind. Koji and Genzo entered their shared room while Hina took the adjacent one.

Koji dropped his pack with a heavy thud and bolted the door, the sound echoing in the small space. As he began to change into a simple sleeping yukata, he glanced at the silent veteran.

"She has a fire in her, that one," Koji grunted, shaking his head.

Genzo, already seated on his sleeping mat, merely nodded. "Her fire is unfocused. The noise of a brawl can be useful, however. Men grow loud and careless when distracted by blood and ale." He paused, his gaze distant. "There are whispers among the mercenaries. A new resistance is forming in the south. They speak of a great war to retake the north."

Koji stopped, his yukata half-tied. "War..." He walked to the small, grime-caked window, staring out into the dark, rainy street. "A double-edged sword for a man like me. War creates a desperate need for supplies—food, steel, salt... a fortune to be made." He sighed, his breath fogging the glass. "But it also burns villages to the ground. There is no profit to be made from ashes."

Meanwhile, in the adjacent room, Hina sought a different kind of peace. She poured a bucket of steaming, herb-infused water into the deep wooden tub, the fragrant steam filling the small space. After shedding her armor and grime-soaked clothes, she sank into the heat with a deep sigh of relief, the warmth seeping into her sore muscles. She hummed a quiet, happy melody to herself, the sounds of the brawl and the weight of the road melting away as she finally allowed herself to relax.

The night passed in the relative safety of Ochiai's walls.

They left the chaotic warmth of the inn, stepping out into the damp chill of the Threshold of Light, the third phase of Waxing Twilight. Above, the oppressive dark had softened to muted lavender, and a fragile, ethereal blush diffused against a backdrop of low-hanging, silver-tinged rain clouds. Forgoing breakfast after the hardy meal the night before, the trio sought out the home of the village elder in the world's first fragile luminescence.

It was not hard to find. Perched atop a hill at the back of the village sat a house larger and more finely constructed than any other, a clear statement of power. As they approached, Koji, remembering the fierce pride of Ochiai's leadership, straightened his tunic. Genzo and Hina fell into a respectful formation behind him.

Their knock was answered by an elegant woman in a fine silk kimono, her silver-streaked hair styled immaculately. This was Lady Asami, the elder's wife. Before Koji could speak, a strong, clear voice came from within. "Asami, who is it?"

Elder Takeda appeared behind his wife. He was a man whose age was betrayed only by the lines on his face; otherwise, he was impeccably groomed, his robes clean and his posture straight. He looked them over with sharp, discerning eyes.

Koji, though he had been here before, offered a deep bow. "Elder Takeda. I am Hamasaki Koji, a traveling merchant. It has been some years since my last visit." Genzo and Hina bowed low as well.

"Hamasaki," the elder said, the name stirring a vague memory. "I recall. Welcome. You find Ochiai in a prosperous state. Enter." He gestured them inside, and they gratefully removed their sodden cloaks, stepping from the wet chill into the pristine warmth of the elder's home.

Inside, they were led to a sitting room. "We have come to trade, Elder," Koji announced, getting straight to the point. "We carry silks from the northern villages, fine incense and perfumes, various metal goods, and a stock of both common and rare medicinal herbs."

Elder Takeda nodded, stroking his clean-shaven chin. "A fine inventory. We have need of such things. We will trade." After a brief, efficient negotiation over payment, the business was concluded. As Lady Asami poured tea, Koji adopted a more casual tone.

"Elder, if I may be so bold. The roads are more troubled than I have ever seen them. We hear many strange rumors. Have you heard any tales of a cursed woman, one followed by a murder of ravens?"

The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. The elder's pleasant demeanor vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp fury. "That abomination," he spat, his voice tight with loathing. "We have more than rumors. We have the truth. Her name is Kinichi Kimiko. She was born into the Demon Slayer village of Akamura."

Koji, Genzo, and Hina's eyes widened in unison.

"She's a Demon Slayer?" Genzo questioned, his voice laced with disbelief. "That cannot be. Why would a slayer be cursed? Why would she be the cause of such destruction?"

"Because she is a monster," Elder Takeda snapped, his eyes flashing with what looked like genuine fear. "We received an official report from Akamura themselves. She was cast out at a young age for murdering her own family. Akamura's mercy in merely exiling the creature has doomed us all. It is only a matter of time before her vengeance consumes more of this land."

Hina gasped. "She murdered her own parents? But… she would have been just a child. How could a child do such a thing, especially to demon slayers?"

Koji's mind reeled. He finally had answers, but they only spawned a dozen more questions. He began to stroke his chin, but the elder shot to his feet.

"I will not have that name spoken any further in this house," Takeda declared. "The discussion is over. Guards!"

Surprised by the sudden hostility, Koji started to object. "Elder, if you would just—"

He was cut off as two guards entered the room. "Escort these merchants out. Their business is concluded."

"But—!" Hina protested, but Genzo put a firm hand on her arm, his expression a clear warning to remain silent. They were led briskly from the mansion.

Once they were out of earshot, Hina's frustration boiled over. "He's hiding something! There is no way a child could kill her own parents, not if they were demon slayers!"

Genzo shrugged, his face grim. "It does not sound right. But he is the elder of a great village. His word carries weight."

"Genzo is right," Koji said, his own mind a whirlwind. "We must accept his words for now. But there is more to this story than what he is telling."

They arrived at their wagon, where a village guard instructed them to deliver their trade goods to the storehouse on the other side of town. After their wares were unloaded and logged, the guards saw them to the gate and wished them safe travels. Pulling the hoods of their cloaks up against the persistent drizzle, they mounted the wagon.

As the wagon began to roll away from Ochiai's imposing gate, he looked to his companions, his voice firm with a new resolve forged from the unsettling revelations. "Our next destination," he said, his voice cutting through the morning air. "Midorimori village. We will get the answers we seek there."

The declaration hung between them as they pressed south. As hours passed on the road, the soft lavenders of the morning's Waxing Twilight bled away, giving rise to the stark, clear light of High Twilight's first phase. Its unforgiving glow filtered through the dripping canopy of the Shadow-Wood, illuminating a road that the constant drizzle had turned into a slick track of mud that clung to the wagon's wheels. A heavy silence settled over the trio, the only sounds the rhythmic creak of the wagon and the steady drumming of rain on its canvas roof. The new destination did little to quiet Koji's mind; with every league that passed, the conflicting tales he'd gathered—of a hero, a curse, and now a patricidal monster—only echoed louder, a tangled mess with no clear answer.

It was Hina who finally broke the quiet, her voice softer than usual.

"You know," she began, looking from Genzo's stoic profile to the back of Koji's head. "We've been traveling together for a few months now. I feel like I know the precise rhythm Genzo uses to clean his sword every night and exactly how much salt Koji likes in his porridge… but I don't really know either of you."

Koji's shoulders relaxed slightly, but he didn't turn around. Genzo remained impassive, his eyes on the wet road ahead.

Hina took a breath, deciding to forge ahead. "The road seems quiet now, safer than before. Maybe it's a good time for introductions. A proper one." She paused, gathering her thoughts as the rain pattered against the roof.

"I was born in Sekimori, a small town near the southeastern edge of the Shadow-Wood, under the protection of the slayers from Aomizu. I saw them sometimes… so strong, so free. I knew I couldn't be one of them, but I didn't want the life of a farmer's wife either. I wanted to see the world, to live by the sword. So, I joined a merchant's caravan and traveled with them for years."

Her voice grew distant, colored by memory. "For years, my old caravan master stuck to the eastern trade routes, trading goods between the fishing villages. But he got ambitious. He heard stories about the fortune you could make selling salted seafood to the northern garrisons. We took a daring trip inland, heading for the fortified village of Ishikabe… That's when it came out of the trees. An Ogre."

Genzo's head turned slightly at the mention of the high-level demon.

"It was chaos," Hina continued, her voice trembling slightly. "It tore the wagon apart with one swipe. Killed the horses. My friends… the other guards… they tried to fight it. I was the only one who made it out during the retreat. I was running for my life when they arrived… the slayers in white armor, from Shiroyama. They saved me, killed the beast, and escorted me to Ishikabe."

She fell silent for a moment, the sound of the rain filling the void. "I stayed there for months, living in the 'Hearth and Hoe Inn.' I felt… broken. I had failed my merchant, my friends. I thought my life was over. Then, one night, another merchant came in, looking as beaten as I felt. He sat at the bar, and I overheard him vowing that he wouldn't give up, that he would get a new caravan, new guards, and go right back out there."

She looked directly at Koji. "I was drunk. I stood up and called you an old fool. I told you my life was over, that the demons had won. I remember… I remember punching the table and just crying."

Koji's voice was quiet when he spoke. "I remember."

"You walked over to me," Hina said, her voice thick with emotion. "You put a hand on my shoulder, and you asked me to join you. You promised we would survive. I looked up at you, this man who had also just lost everything, and I said, 'You're a fool… but I can't protect you on my own.'"

A rare, small smile touched Koji's lips. "And I told you that you wouldn't be alone."

"The very next day," Hina finished, looking now at the silent veteran beside her, "you came back with him. You held out your hand, and… I took it."

The story settled in the quiet air of the wagon. On the road ahead, the long shadows of the trees stretched like grasping fingers through the gray mist. After a long moment, Genzo gave a single, slow nod—a sign of profound respect.

Koji cleared his throat. "I did not know the full extent of it, Hina. I am glad I found you in that inn."

The revelation of Hina's story settled in the wagon, forging a new, deeper silence between them, punctuated only by the drumming rain. The road south from Ochiai stretched on, a wide, well-worn path cutting through the ancient woods. Koji's words of gratitude hung in the air, a quiet acknowledgment of the shared trauma that had brought them together.

Hina, her own story now told, turned her curious gaze to the stoic veteran beside her. "What about you, Genzo? You've never said where you're from."

For a long time, Genzo offered nothing but silence, his eyes fixed on the muddy road ahead as if it held the memory itself. The air in the wagon grew heavy, thick with the weight of Hina's unanswered question. Koji finally broke the stillness, his voice low. "You don't have to, friend."

After another moment, Genzo seemed to come to a decision. He let out a slow breath, his voice a low, gravelly monotone that was a near-perfect counterpoint to the hiss of the rain. It was as if he were recounting a story that happened to someone else entirely.

"I was born in Murasaki-kage, the Village of Purple Shadow, in the northwestern swamps."

Hina's eyes widened. A slayer village.

"Like all children there, my training began early. I was a Scout by ten, patrolling the mists. I made a name for myself. By thirteen, I was given command of my own three-person slayer squad. By seventeen, I was leading one of the village's elite six-person squads."

Hina let out a small, involuntary gasp. She was sitting next to a legend.

"For years, my life was nothing but missions and hunting," Genzo continued, his voice flat. "Then, a decade ago, everything changed. The demon lord seized the Imperial Palace, and the elite of Akamura were wiped out. A joint operation was formed. My village and the slayers of Shiroyama were to avenge our comrades and retake the capital. Two elite squads were sent to ambush the Palace. I led the one from Murasaki-kage."

He fell silent, the memory a heavy shroud.

"The mission," he said, his voice now barely a whisper, "was a catastrophic failure. Of the twelve slayers who entered those walls, I was the only one who returned."

Koji and Hina listened, captivated and horrified, the rain outside seeming to intensify with the gravity of his words.

"Before the mission, I had formally requested to be considered for the position of village elder. I was respected, and I expected no challengers. But I returned alone, having failed. My village has a harsh code: succeed, or die a hero's death. Survival, in the face of such failure, was seen as cowardice." He looked down at his own calloused hands. "They believed I ran. They stripped me of my name and my rank. I was given a choice: ritual suicide to reclaim my honor, or exile. I chose to live."

He had become a nameless wanderer, a broken warrior drifting through the very lands he once protected.

"Like you, Hina, I eventually found my way to Ishikabe. It is the only real sanctuary in that blighted region. I was in the 'Hearth and Hoe Inn' the night you were there. I heard a loud merchant, a man who had lost his livelihood and his men, swearing he would not be beaten. He was looking for guards." Genzo finally turned his head, his gaze meeting Koji's. "I decided a man with that much foolish resolve could use a proper guard."

Koji let out a low whistle, a sound of pure astonishment. "A captain of the elites… guarding my silks and salts." The irony was immense.

The weight of Genzo's history settled over the wagon, a heavy, unspoken thing. Hina stared at the quiet veteran with a new, profound respect. Koji, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, felt the walls he'd built around his own past begin to crumble. They had shared their burdens with him; it was only right he share his in return.

He cleared his throat, his voice softer than they had ever heard it. "You said you were from Sekimori, Hina," he began, the statement hanging in the damp air.

"Yes?" she replied, her curiosity piqued.

"My home was not far from there. A small fishing village on the coast of the Abyssal Ocean. It was called Shiosai."

"That's so close to my home!" Hina exclaimed.

"That's right," Koji said with a sad smile. "My village was poor, Hina. Not from lack of work, but from the endless cost of survival. We were attacked continuously from the Shadow-Wood on one side, and from the Abyssal Ocean itself on the other. Demon Serpents… ugly things." He sighed. "The slayers from Aomizu practically lived in my village, but their protection bled us dry. I loved the roaring of the sea, but I lost my family to those serpents. After that… I chose a different life. A life on the road selling valuables seemed better than an endless struggle to sell fish, only to give every coin to the slayers who kept us alive."

"The code is harsh," Genzo said, his voice a low rumble. It wasn't an excuse, merely a statement of fact. "But that is the life of a Slayer."

"Do you miss fishing, Koji?" Hina asked gently.

A genuine, wistful look came over Koji's face. "I miss it very much," he admitted. "When I retire, I want to live near the ocean again. Spend my days catching fish. Not to make ends meet just to pay slayers, but to actually profit from my work, to enjoy what's left of my life."

"I'll join you, if you'll have me," Genzo said quietly, looking out at the passing, rain-streaked trees.

Koji's hearty laugh returned, but this time it was full of genuine warmth. "I would be honored, my friend!"

"Will you go back to Shiosai?" Hina asked, her voice full of hope.

The warmth vanished from Koji's face, replaced by a deep, familiar sorrow. "No," he said softly. "Shiosai is gone. It was destroyed by a horde of demons years ago. They were no longer able to pay the slayers. The village took matters into its own hands… and perished for it."

Hina went quiet, her gaze falling to the floor of the wagon. The silence was thick with shared tragedy. Then, she looked back up, her young face set with fierce determination, meeting Koji's eyes.

"We'll find a new fisherman's village to retire in," she declared. "Don't you worry!"

Koji looked from Hina's fiery resolve to Genzo's quiet strength. For the first time in a long time, the future felt like more than just the next business transaction. It felt like a promise. He smiled, a true and hopeful smile, as the wagon continued its journey south, carrying three broken people who were slowly, together, becoming whole.

The world was now painted in the dramatic and foreboding spectacle of Waning Twilight's second phase, known as the Bleeding Sky. The sky was streaked with stormy grays and deep indigos, while shades of blood-rose bled into bruising purples. Under its stark, wet gaze, the trio's wagon trundled south from Ochiai. The heavy revelations of their shared pasts had settled between them, forging a new, unspoken understanding. For a time, the only sounds were the creak of the wagon wheels and the soft hiss of the rain.

As they cleared a high ridge overlooking a vast valley, the forest fell away, and through a sudden break in the heavy clouds, an impossible sight stole the breath from their lungs.

Rising from the endless sea of trees in the distance was a sheer, colossal cliff face, a vertical wall of stone that dwarfed the mountains around it, its lower half shrouded in swirling mist. And built directly into that cliff was a city. It was a breathtaking, geometric marvel of stone balconies, fortified walls, and towering spires, all carved from the mountain itself. Even from miles away, they could see the faint, golden flicker of thousands of torches, a beacon of order against the gloom of the Shadow-Wood.

"By the bruised sky…" Hina whispered, her voice filled with pure awe. "What is that?"

Koji, equally stunned, could only shake his head. "I don't know. It wasn't here the last time I traveled these roads, years ago."

"The Aegis Citadel," Genzo said, his voice quiet and steady. Both Hina and Koji turned to look at him.

"I overheard some off-duty mercenaries talking in the tavern last night," he explained, giving Hina a pointed look.

Hina's face flushed with color. "And what did they say?" she asked, humbled.

"They say it is the new Imperial Palace," Genzo stated, his eyes fixed on the distant fortress. "The heart of a new resistance against the demon lord who holds the old capital in the north. Its defense is anchored by the slayers of the Southern Alliance—Midorimori, Aomizu, and Akamura. The ultimate goal, they say, is to wage war. A grand pincer attack, with the western, northwestern, and northeastern slayer clans joining in to reclaim what was lost."

The sheer scale of the revelation was staggering. This wasn't just about scattered villages surviving; this was about a world preparing for war.

"You heard all of that while I was making a fool of myself," Hina murmured, her embarrassment palpable. "You have sharp ears, Genzo."

Koji let out a chuckle, breaking the tension. "Indeed. It seems our guards are good for more than just breaking tables." He grew serious again, his merchant's eyes gleaming as he stared at the distant Citadel, the gears in his mind already turning, calculating the immense political and commercial opportunity it represented.

"The new Imperial Palace," he mused aloud. "Well, then. We'll have to pay it a visit when we come back from Midorimori. What do you say?"

Both Hina and Genzo voiced their eager agreement. Their personal quest for answers about a single, mysterious woman had suddenly intersected with the grand, sweeping movements of nations and armies. The road ahead had just become much more interesting.

For Hina, the world seemed to shrink with every mile. The broad, reassuring road from Ochiai dwindled to a mere suggestion of a path, hemmed in on all sides by the colossal trunks of ancient trees whose leaves drooped, heavy with rain. The Shadow-Wood pressed close, its canopy so dense that the Waning Twilight was reduced to a few stray beams piercing the gloom like silver threads.

As the sky finally darkened into the oppressive inkiness of Deep Twilight's first phase, a cold mist rose from the damp ground, clinging to the trees. The road came to an abrupt, baffling end at the base of a sheer, rain-slicked cliff face.

"Is this it? Are we lost?" Hina asked, her voice tight with confusion as she scanned the impassable wall of stone and tangled roots.

Koji consulted his memory, trying to recall his last trip to this region years ago, but the landscape was unfamiliar. "The path should continue south…" he murmured, his voice trailing off in uncertainty.

It was Genzo who spotted it. He dismounted the wagon and walked to the edge of the woods, pointing with his chin. "There."

Hina and Koji followed his gaze. It wasn't a road, not really. It was a barely-there path, more like a game trail, winding directly into the deepest, most intimidating part of the forest. The path was beaten down, yet still full of hardy grass, a sign of infrequent but steady passage.

"Midorimori would not announce its presence with a wide road for all to follow," Genzo stated, his meaning clear. This was the way.

With a shared, hesitant glance, they decided to pursue it, guiding the wagon slowly onto the overgrown path. The air immediately grew cooler, the sounds of the open road swallowed by the profound silence of the ancient forest, punctuated only by the soft dripping of water from the leaves above.

They had not traveled for more than ten minutes when it happened.

One moment, Hina was watching the back of Genzo's head as he walked point. The next, a figure was simply there, standing in the center of the path, having appeared from the swirling mist like a phantom. The figure was clad in the standard black uniform of a slayer, but their shoulder pauldrons and armguards were a mottled, deep forest green, dark with moisture and perfectly blending with the wet shadows of the woods.

Hina's hand flew to her sword hilt as she realized another slayer, a mere silhouette against the downpour, was perched on a branch directly above them, and two more had melted out from the trunks of the trees on either side. They were surrounded, completely and silently outmaneuvered by these true masters of the ancient woods.

The slayer in the path, clearly the leader, stepped forward. Their face was lean, their expression as stern and unyielding as the ancient trees around them.

"You are a long way from any trade road, merchant," the slayer said, their voice a low, sharp whisper. "State your purpose."

Koji, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, stepped forward, his voice calm and respectful. "We mean no intrusion. I carry a letter from Elder Roki of Tasuke village. It is for the Elder of Midorimori, and for his eyes only."

The lead slayer's eyes, sharp and discerning, lingered on Koji for a long moment before giving a single, curt nod. "Follow us," he said, his voice a low command. "And do not stray from the path."

Without another word, he turned and led the way, two of his slayers falling in behind the wagon, their presence a silent, formidable escort. As they moved deeper into the woods, a strange and wonderful transformation occurred. The oppressive silence they had grown used to began to lift, replaced by the calm, relaxed chirping of unseen birds taking shelter in the high canopy. The air, once thick with tension, now carried the clean scent of damp earth, pine, and moss after a fresh rain.

It was a pocket of impossible peace in the heart of the grim Shadow-Wood. Hina looked up, her eyes wide with wonder, and saw a flash of forest-green armor high in the canopy as a slayer ran effortlessly along a massive, dripping branch, disappearing into the leaves. On the ground, two more slayers, likely scouts, jogged along a parallel trail, their movements swift and silent.

This wasn't just a forest; it was a living, breathing fortress, every tree a watchtower, every shadow a potential guardian.

Their escort led them to the top of a gentle rise, and through a break in the trees, they saw it. Midorimori.

It was not a simple village. It was a massive, well-fortified city, built in perfect harmony with the colossal forest. An immense wall of sharpened, dark-wood logs, interwoven with the trunks of giant, ancient trees, formed the outer perimeter. Watchtowers, cleverly constructed on platforms built into the tops of these sentinel trees, were manned by keen-eyed guards in green.

As they were led through the main gate, the sheer scale of the city within was revealed. This was the first time Hina and Koji had ever been inside a slayer village, and it was nothing like they had imagined. Buildings with living roofs of moss and grass, heavy and vibrant green with rainwater, were nestled amongst the giant trees. High above, rope bridges swayed in the damp air, connecting elevated structures. Down below, the streets, paved with smooth river stones, gleamed like polished jet in the torchlight, bustling with people.

Koji and Hina's heads swiveled from left to right, trying to take in all the new sights. Slayers with their signature green armor moved with purpose, carrying weapons to be sharpened or jogging in disciplined formations. But there were just as many civilians: blacksmiths hammering in open-air forges, their bellows sending steam into the cool air; women tending to large communal gardens; fletchers selling arrows from market stalls; and even children playing games with carved wooden toys under the shelter of wide eaves. It was a complete, self-sufficient society, hidden from the rest of the world.

"I… I thought it would be a grim military camp," Hina whispered, her voice full of awe.

"The amount of trade here…" Koji murmured, his merchant's mind reeling at the sight of such a thriving, isolated economy.

Their escort paid their gawking no mind, leading them through the heart of the city toward a central structure, the largest of them all, built around the base of a truly ancient, colossal tree whose branches seemed to touch the sky. This was clearly the seat of power. This was where they would meet the Elder of the Verdant Guard.

The lead slayer escorted them into the Elder's home, a vast chamber carved from the living heartwood of the colossal tree. The air smelled of old wood, beeswax, and dried herbs, a dry sanctuary from the wet world outside. Polished roots served as benches, and the walls were adorned not with tapestries, but with ancient, moss-covered slayer armor and the formidable skulls of vanquished demons.

They were halted in a quiet antechamber. "The Elder is occupied," the guard stated. "Wait here."

The trio stood in a tense silence, the only sound the calm, melodic chirping of birds taking shelter in the great tree's canopy high above. Hina shifted her weight from foot to foot, while Genzo stood as still as the ancient wood around them. After what felt like an eternity, another slayer appeared. "The Elder will see you now."

They were led into a large, circular study. A man who could only be Elder Fudo stood with his back to them, studying a massive map of the Shadow-Wood that was pinned to the wall. He was old, with a long, white braid running down his back, but his posture was straight and his presence commanded the room.

"Elder Fudo," Koji said, his voice echoing slightly in the chamber. He, Genzo, and Hina all bowed deeply. "I am Koji, a traveling merchant. I was tasked by Elder Roki of Tasuke to deliver this letter into your hands."

Koji stepped forward and presented the sealed scroll. Elder Fudo turned, his eyes sharp and perceptive, and took the letter. Without opening it, he placed it on a large, flat stone that served as his desk.

"Your duty is fulfilled, merchant," he said, his voice calm and final. "The guards will see you to lodging for the night. You may trade with our quartermaster in the morning." He turned back to his map. The audience was over.

The escort guards stepped forward. "This way."

As they began to lead the stunned trio out, Hina's voice, tight with desperation, cut through the quiet chamber. "Elder, I beg you!"

Everyone froze. Fudo turned back around slowly, a single eyebrow raised in surprise at her outburst.

"Forgive my impertinence," Hina rushed on, her heart pounding. "We have traveled so far. We have seen villages burned and heard so many stories. Some say a woman is a curse, others say she is a hero. We came all this way… please, we only seek the truth."

Elder Fudo stared at her for a long, silent moment. He let out a deep, weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire forest. He raised a hand, and the guards halted.

"Wait," he commanded softly.

He walked to his stone desk and sat down. From a fold in his robes, he produced a pair of simple reading glasses and placed them on his nose. He then picked up Roki's letter, broke the wax seal, and unrolled the parchment. The chamber was utterly silent as he read, the only sound the soft hiss of rain outside the high windows.

To the Honored Elder and Slayers of Midorimori, the Verdant Guard,

I write to you from the ashes of Tasuke village. Our homes have been cleansed by fire and our numbers by steel, the work of bandits who now trouble this world no more. We are few, but we endure.

This letter is not a plea for pity, nor is it a contract for your esteemed services. It is a summons. A summons to any of strong arm and unflinching will who may hear it. To the traveler who finds no solace in the road, to the warrior whose sword arm is restless, to any soul who wishes to build something that will last, I say this: Tasuke is being reborn.

For those with the courage to answer this call, there is land to be claimed, a home to be built by one's own hand, and a chance to forge a new generation from the embers of the old. We offer a foundation and a future, but the walls must be raised and defended by those who choose to make this their own. We seek not subjects, but founders.

You, masters of the deep woods, know better than any how the shadows lengthen and how the demonic tides rise with overwhelming ferocity. Our vision is to forge Tasuke into a self-reliant bastion—a northern bulwark that can hold its ground, easing the strain on the scattered protectorates of the Shadow-Wood. A strong village here is a light in a darkening wood, for the benefit of all.

Therefore, I do not ask for your swords to fight our battles. I ask for something more potent: your voice. I ask that your slayers, whose words carry the weight of authority where a desperate elder's might be dismissed, spread this summons in your travels. Inform the strong, the brave, and the disenfranchised that there is a place for them here, should they have the grit to claim it.

For this service of passage, find enclosed payment for the courier. We ask for nothing more.

In Grim Hope,

Elder Roki of the New Tasuke Village

Fudo carefully rolled the scroll and placed it back on the desk. He looked over his glasses at the trio, his gaze lingering on Hina.

"Roki's plan is ambitious," he said, his voice a low rumble. "And your passion is earnest, child. You seek the truth about Kinichi Kimiko, the outcast from Akamura. The truth, as the slayers know it, is a tragedy, not a simple tale of heroes or monsters."

He leaned back. "A decade ago, the demon lord who now holds the Imperial Palace single-handedly slaughtered an elite slayer squad from Akamura. When the demon left, he brought the sole survivor back with him: a five-year-old girl named Kinichi Kimiko, bearing his curse mark upon her forehead. Her very presence was deemed a catastrophe that led to the death of the village's finest warriors. Akamura, shamed and broken, chose not to execute a child. They left her to fate, sending a message to all slayer villages of the cursed girl and their own relocation. We all assumed the wilderness would claim her."

He shook his head slowly. "But she survived. Against all odds, she reached the age of sixteen and left the village on her own accord. Not a season passed before rumors reached every slayer clan of a mysterious woman, followed by a murder of ravens, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake."

He looked at them, his eyes filled with a grim, weary certainty.

"Kinichi Kimiko is a vessel for a demon lord's power. She is a danger to us all. She must be put down."

Hina stood frozen, the elder's words extinguishing the bright, simple image of her hero. Yet, in the ashes of that idea, a new, more complex one began to ignite—not of a hero, but of a victim. A terribly misunderstood girl who had somehow survived the impossible. She had to know more. She had to see her with her own eyes.

Koji, recognizing the finality in the old slayer's tone, knew the audience was truly over. He offered another deep bow. "Thank you for your wisdom, Elder Fudo. We will trouble you no further." He motioned for his companions to follow, turning to leave the chamber.

They had taken only a few steps when Fudo's voice, calm but sharp, cut through the silence.

"Merchant. Leave the man who stands on your right."

Koji and Hina stopped, turning back in confusion. Elder Fudo's gaze was not on Koji, but locked entirely on Genzo, who had frozen in place.

"Your reputation precedes you, though it has been a decade since your name was spoken aloud," Fudo said, his voice quiet but echoing with authority. "The way you carry yourself, the stillness in your eyes… I have seen it before. There is only one clan that forges warriors with such discipline. Murasaki-kage." He paused, letting the weight of his recognition settle in the room.

"Master Kagemori Jubei."

The name, spoken with the honorific of a master, struck the air like a thunderclap. Hina's jaw dropped, her eyes darting between the unreadable face of the man she knew only as "Genzo" and the stern Elder. For Koji, it wasn't shock, but the dawning, stunned recognition of a half-forgotten legend. Kagemori Jubei. He'd heard that name whispered in taverns years ago. They said he'd single-handedly defeated a swarm of orcs and their ogre leader in the northern village of Kitasaka while his squad was occupied with another threat. To realize the quiet, reliable veteran at his side was that same legendary figure sent a different kind of jolt through him—not of surprise, but of profound, staggering awe.

"It is a shame what happened to you and your comrades during that fateful day," Fudo continued, his voice softening with a hint of respect. "But to see a warrior of your stature wandering these lands as a common guard… it is a waste. Your will to survive is a testament to your strength, not a mark of cowardice."

He leaned forward, his offer clear and direct. "I have a place for you here in Midorimori, Master Kagemori. I am forming a new elite squad. They need a leader with your guidance and experience. Our ways differ from your own clan's, but that is precisely why we need you. Help us learn."

Before Genzo—Jubei—could even process the offer, Hina cried out, her voice filled with a panicked fear of abandonment. "You're not going to leave us, are you?"

Koji immediately put a firm hand on her shoulder. "Hina," he said, his voice low but insistent. "This is between Master Kagemori and Elder Fudo." He gave her a gentle but firm push toward the door, guiding her out of the chamber. Hina looked back one last time, her eyes pleading with Genzo's unreadable face before the heavy wooden door closed shut, leaving the two slayers alone.

The moment they were outside, Hina spun on Koji. "Are you just going to let him leave us like that?" she demanded, sadness and betrayal welling up in her eyes.

Koji could only shake his head, his own mind reeling. "Genzo is a grown man who can make his own decisions," he said, his voice heavy with a pragmatism that sounded like coldness to Hina. "If he wants to join them, to reclaim the life he lost, who are we to say he can't?"

His reasonable words were the final straw. Feeling utterly betrayed, Hina turned and darted away, running blindly out of the Elder's dry, warm home and into the cold, unforgiving rain, disappearing into the unfamiliar, bustling streets of the slayer city.

"Hina, wait! Hina!" Koji cried out, but she was already gone, swallowed by the purposeful crowds. He was left standing alone in the shadow of the great tree, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on him. He scrubbed a hand over his face, the frustration a hot knot in his chest.

A legend. Of course. His quiet, reliable guard was a walking legend, and a man like Elder Fudo could smell that kind of value a mile away. And just like that, with a few quiet words, everything had fallen apart. The best guard he'd ever had—a man he'd just promised a future to—was likely gone. Hina, who he'd pulled from her own despair, had vanished into a city of killers because her heart was too big for this cursed world.

He stared at the imposing walls of Midorimori, a bitter taste filling his mouth. It was always the same story: a small pocket of peace, erased in an instant by the ambitions of greater powers.

"Always business," he muttered, his words a quiet breath of resignation lost in the noise of the bustling street. His breath misted in the damp air. "It always comes down to a business deal."

With a final, weary sigh, he turned toward the inn. There was nothing else to do but gather information and wait.