Minamino Hirochi was an ordinary man, a speck of dust among billions. Beyond his family, no one would care—now there was one more: Roy.
Palming that copper coin, Roy walked through the deep, lonely mists of Mount Sagiri and opened his panel, allocating Minamino Hirochi's "Life Energy" to "Physique."
[Reminder...]
[Physique: 10.55 → 11.55]
"Hiss… hiss…"
Thin heat steamed from the crown of his head…
Tanjiro trudged behind him, stepping deep then shallow; at one point he looked up—and blinked in surprise. Roy seemed to swell a size. He rubbed his eyes and looked again—Roy had "shrunk" back. Maybe the earlier "swell" was just this foolish o-dōdō seeing things.
'Weird… did I just not sleep and start hallucinating?'
Tanjiro hurried a couple steps, circled to Roy's front, and peered closely. Seeing Roy's brows knotted tight, as if still shadowed by Mr. Minamino's dispersal, he asked with concern, "You okay, Nii-san?"
Should he say he was fine?
Roy couldn't agree. He hurt like hell. Just walking was draining the last of his strength.
A sudden increase in Physique manifests directly in the body as… accelerated cell division, tighter bone density, thickened cardiovascular tracts, muscle fibers tearing and regenerating…
A process that should unfold gradually and imperceptibly—over a year, two, even five or six for an ordinary person—Roy forced through in a single breath.
The price—
He had to brace against a cedar to rest a moment.
"Here, water." Tanjiro tipped a gourd to Roy's lips.
Roy finally felt a little better, patted his back, gauged the sky, and pressed deeper into Mount Sagiri.
Sagiri is famed for year-round fog; in winter, snow falls incessantly, temperatures drop below freezing, even ice fog appears.
Tanjiro's nose was cherry-red. He wiped ice flecks from his bangs. Hard to imagine anyone choosing to live in such hardship. At worst, be like Minamino Hirochi and settle at the foot of the mountain—it'd be much more comfortable.
"Nii-san, would anyone really choose to live here?"
"These slopes almost never see the sun. You can't find a single green shoot. It's colder than our place."
Their own mountain had no mist. Their cabin faced the sun on a southern slope; at least daytime wasn't so bad…
"Hardship breeds greatness." Roy tossed Tanjiro a dangling, contextless line and, as his gaze roved, glanced at a birch to the right front.
On its branches stood two figures, one big, one small. Beautiful eyes flickered under fox masks, surprised…
"Hey, Sabito, did he notice us?" The small one was a girl.
She wore a kimono patterned with flowers, about eleven or twelve, bare calves despite the season. Her fox mask sat askew on her head; catching Roy's glance, she froze.
"Unless we approach, no one can notice." The older one was a boy of fifteen or sixteen.
He wore a white haori over a tortoiseshell-patterned under-robe of orange, yellow, and green. Long pink hair spilled over his shoulders; one corner of his fox mask bore a gouged scar.
"Right. Even Master Urokodaki can't see us."
At her master's name, the girl's mood dimmed. Many times she'd stood at his side—watching him eat, sleep, carve, stare into space—hoping one day for a reply. But—
No matter how she followed or called, he never sensed her.
Maybe this life would just be like that…
"It won't." Sensing her change, the boy gently patted her head. "Have faith in Master, Makomo. Look—people still come to learn."
"But Master doesn't want to take anyone…" The girl named Makomo hugged her knees and squatted, her lovely green eyes going dull…
"Master is grieving…"
"He can't bear to watch anyone else go to death because of him…"
"That thing has eaten so many it's only getting harder to handle…"
"Even you…"
"Yeah. Even I couldn't beat it." The boy picked up her words, looked down as Roy and Tanjiro passed beneath the birch, and fell silent…
In a blink, the two slipped away into the misted woods.
Roy noted their movement; his ears twitched, sun earrings swaying. Without them realizing, he tucked their words into his heart.
This was the purest soul, crying out the truest cry…
Roy hitched his basket, grabbed Tanjiro—this klutz had stepped in a snow hole and nearly twisted his ankle.
Fortunately, the deeper they went, the more the view opened. Through the thick fog, a strand of morning light began to filter—also…
Bathed in that light,
an old man sat alone on a stump, carving.
He wore a tengu mask, chisel and mallet in hand. "Ka—ka—ka…" Woodchips flew. Even when sound came from behind, he didn't look back.
As if only in the world of craft could he fill the cracks in a heart damaged by grief.
"Nii-san, someone's there."
"I see."
Roy stopped Tanjiro from disturbing him.
He shrugged off the basket, took out a hoe, cleared a patch of ground, and lit a fire on the spot for warmth.
The gourd was empty; after giving Roy a sip earlier, Tanjiro imitated him—scooped snow into the gourd, threaded a branch through the handle, and hung it over the flames. Soon it was bubbling.
"Why don't they go inside?"
Just then, the girl reappeared, sitting with her back to the old man, chin in hand, eyes full of curiosity at Roy and Tanjiro.
The boy with the scarred fox mask stood beside her. In the trees behind, indistinct figures emerged one after another.
Their faces were blurred, fox masks all the same. Some watched the old man carve, some dozed against the door frame, some snatched at a sparrow flitting past. One even…
Walked toward Roy and Tanjiro and circled them boldly—until—
Roy swept him with an offhand glance. Startled, the boy staggered back several steps…
Nearly toppled face-first into the fire…
"Haha—quit it, Shinsuke. You really think anyone can see ghosts?"
"Who's messing around!" The boy called Shinsuke scrambled up, indignant, waving his right hand before Roy's eyes. Seeing Roy give no sign, calmly peeling a dango, he exhaled, spun, and leapt at the friend who'd teased him…
"Fukuda, you jerk! I'm gonna rip that mouth of yours—"