Chapter 17: The Kamado Brothers Depart X A Legacy of a Thousand Years
"Two days? That long?"
"Bro, I don't need new clothes," Nezuko said with a gentle smile, her eyes curving just like their mother's. "We should use the money to buy more food for the little ones."
"We're getting the clothes," Roy stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And thanks to yesterday's hunt, we won't be lacking for food for at least two weeks."
"But still..." Kie's face was etched with worry. "Why do you need to go all the way to Sagiri Mountain?" The town at the foot of their own mountain was more than large enough to sell two days' worth of charcoal.
"To learn something," Roy said, taking a bite of his rice ball. "Tanjiro is old enough to help out now. The family doesn't need two full-time coal miners. I thought I'd see if I can learn a trade to bring in some extra money."
He couldn't mention the demon. He certainly couldn't mention the Demon Slayers. Not with Takeo and Shigeru right there. The lie, a skill honed by years of Zoldyck training, came easily.
But it was a lie that Kie and Tanjuro, who knew their son, could see right through. And Tanjiro, who had seen the demon with his own eyes, knew it for what it was. Bro is lying, he thought, sneaking a glance at Roy, only to quickly look down at his soup when Roy's sharp gaze met his.
"You don't need to worry about that," Kie said softly. "Nezuko and I can weave baskets. We can sell them in town for enough to buy new clothes."
"That's right, Bro!" Nezuko added, pulling a beautifully woven basket from under the table. "I've gotten pretty good at it!" The neat little patch on her own sleeve was a testament to her skill with a needle.
"You're amazing, Nezuko," Roy praised her, before his eyes shifted to Tanjuro, who had remained silent throughout the exchange. He then turned back to his mother, his resolve firm. "No. I have to go."
He played his final card. "Maybe... I can find a way to cure Father's illness down there."
The words hung in the air, and Kie's objections died on her lips. Tanjuro's sickness was the shadow that loomed over their entire family. If there was even a sliver of hope...
Nezuko and Tanjiro glanced at their father. Tanjuro, silent, reached into Nezuko's weaving basket and picked out a single, thin needle. He closed his hand around it and stood up.
"Eiichiro," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Come with me."
The weight of the snow had bent the branches of the pines low. Tanjuro, wrapped in his thickest haori, led the way off the veranda and around to the back of the house. Roy followed in silence. The two sets of footprints they left in the fresh snow were erased by the wind moments after they were made.
"Hold out your ear," Tanjuro said, revealing the needle. "This will sting a bit. Be brave."
He deftly pierced Roy's earlobe. The pain was a sharp, brief prick, like a mosquito bite, and then it was gone.
Roy watched as his father carefully removed the Hanafuda earrings, the legacy of Yoriichi Tsugikuni, from his own ears. He gently threaded one through Roy's newly pierced lobe. "As a father, I don't have much to give you," he said, adjusting its position. "But I can give you this. This is our family's inheritance."
He stepped back, his voice a quiet prayer. "May the God of Fire watch over my son. May he keep you from sickness and harm, and grant you a safe journey."
The earring dangled from Roy's ear, swaying in the cold wind. Tanjuro smiled, the same way his own father had smiled at him when he was a boy. "It suits you," he said. "You look strong."
Roy's throat felt tight. He wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come. All he could manage was a raw, heartfelt promise. "I will find a cure for you, Father."
Tanjuro simply clapped him on the shoulder. "Go on now," he said, turning to leave Roy with the sight of his thin, frail back.
The boy stood alone for a moment, silent. A clump of snow fell from a branch above, sliding down the collar of his gi with a chilling touch. He took a deep breath and followed his father back.
By seven in the morning, the Kamado brothers were ready. The two pheasants, still too stupid to crow at dawn, were cooped in a basket. The boys had their own baskets of charcoal on their backs, flasks of hot tea, and a bundle of rice balls. Tucked into their belts were two sharp hand-axes. Since Snow-Walker couldn't be brought into this world, the axes would have to do for protection.
Kie fussed over them, tucking in Tanjiro's collar, tightening the scarf around Roy's neck, her words a stream of motherly worries. "Be careful on the road... If you see trouble, walk away... Don't stare at crowds... It's better to pay for an inn than to sleep in the mountains..."
"Mother, it's okay!" Tanjiro blurted out, too excited for his first trip down the mountain to be patient. "We're not leaving forever! Don't worry!" He patted the axe at his side confidently. "If we run into any trouble, I'll protect Bro!"
"The best way you can help is by not getting in his way," Kie said, giving him a fond but exasperated look. She turned back to Roy, her eyes filled with a deep, unspoken plea. "Take care of your brother."
Roy just nodded. His gaze swept over his family—Kie, Tanjuro, Nezuko—and finally rested on his grandmother, who had just emerged holding a sleepy Hanako.
The baby, her eyes still half-closed, reached her little arms out to Roy. He walked over, unafraid of the sleep crust in the corners of her eyes, and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. "I'll be back," he promised his grandmother.
The old woman smiled and nodded, sitting down on the veranda to watch them go. As their small figures began to recede into the snow, she felt a hot tear trace a path down her wrinkled cheek.
"Kie," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I have this feeling... that the boy who leaves us today is not the one who will return."
Kie stood in the snow, wiping her own tears away with the back of her hand. "I should go check on Takeo and Shigeru," she said, avoiding the old woman's gaze. "They'll throw a fit when they realize their big brother left without them." She turned and disappeared into the house.
The snow began to fall faster, harder. The vast courtyard, a gateway to the endless forest, was empty now, except for the solitary figure of Tanjuro. He stood in the falling snow for a long, long time, his eyes fixed on the path his sons had taken.
Long after they had vanished from sight, he began to dance.
The Hinokami Kagura. "Dance," "Blue Heaven," "Raging Sun..."
He moved like a spirit of fire in the heart of the blizzard, his form a swirl of grace and power.
But this time, the Hanafuda earrings were no longer there to dance with him. That ancient symbol, the thousand-year bond between Yoriichi Tsugikuni and the Kamado family, had been passed on. It had a new master now, one who was embarking on a new journey.
A journey that would carve a new path through history, one that not even the originator of the style could have ever foreseen.