"Nii-san, we're going to Mt. Sagiri to learn how to slay demons, right?"
"I heard from Grandpa Takeya that there are demons down in the foothills, and people who specialize in killing them. Those people should be on Mt. Sagiri."
Sakata Takeya was Father's friend, a tailor who supposedly moved to Tokyo years ago and fell out of touch. Roy only vaguely remembered a big-bellied man with a lush beard who liked wearing a double-breasted vest.
"It's me, not you," Roy said, ambling along with the bamboo basket on his back. On his left ran a river called the Wangchuan—the River of Forgetfulness. Follow it west and you reach the town at the foot of the mountain.
"Why won't you take me?" Tanjiro panicked, jogged ahead, and spread his arms to block Roy. "Nii-san, you promised to train me. You can't go back on your word!"
I promised to train you; I didn't promise to teach you a Breathing Style.
Tanjiro's body was still too frail. If you tossed him into the Zoldyck estate, even Mike wouldn't bother with him; he'd only be on par with the normals camping at the butlers' villa, desperate to join the staff.
So before he had a solid grasp on a Breathing Style, Roy decided to raise Tanjiro the way his family raised him—at least lay the groundwork before Tanjiro ever touched breathing.
"Okay." The foolish otōto had no idea what was coming. He whooped and flailed with excitement.
A heartbeat later—he was stunned.
"Nii-san, are you sure?"
"Reach the town by noon?" "Can a person even do that?" Normally a charcoal run—down and back—took four hours. Roy was demanding they cut the travel time in half. Tanjiro had no idea how.
"Run," Roy said simply.
If walking won't do it, run—weighted runs with a basket of charcoal. Nothing better for cardio and conditioning.
In front of Tanjiro, Roy loosened his ankles, then stepped toward the rushing river. "You run on the bank," he said without looking back. "I'll run on the water.
"Be there before noon."
"Run on the water?" Tanjiro stared, thinking he'd misheard.
Then he saw Roy, basket and all, leap into the river. He yelped and lunged to grab him.
"Nii-san, I won't learn, I won't! Okay? Just come back up!"
The boy was nearly in tears. He'd never felt this guilty—It's my fault. If I hadn't forced Nii-san to train me, he wouldn't have done something so reckless…
"Crying counts against your time," Roy called.
"Eh?" As Tanjiro sank into despair, a familiar voice cut through. He looked up—
—and saw Roy step into the river, sway a couple times, then stand steady on the surface.
"Water-walking"—a little trick from Zigg's notes on Nen morphology. Imagine your aura spread like duck webs and coat your soles; then you can scamper over the surface like a duck.
Sure enough, Roy pulled it off. His long deep-red hair rippled in the wind as he left the slack-jawed Tanjiro behind and shot forward, etching a fine line across the water.
"Nii-san—wait for me!" the iron-headed kid finally came to his senses. Laughing and crying at once, he didn't even wipe his tears, letting them dry in the wind as he pounded after Roy.
[Reminder: "Nen Morphology" column activated...]
["Morphology" +0.05 … +0.05 … +0.05 …]
Whether riding the waves or making them, he wasn't sure; as long as the panel chimed, it was something to smile about.
According to the book, besides "water-walking" there's "cliff-walking," "hookless fishing"… All of it focuses on changing Nen's form to overcome the constraints of nature…
"In other words—human will can beat the heavens."
Roy pondered, then tried Silent Gait—and skimmed the surface as if it were solid earth, trailing afterimages and startling a flock of egrets.
"Kyuu—!"
The egrets burst skyward, shedding a few tail feathers.
Gasping hard, Tanjiro watched with inexpressible envy. I want to be as cool as Nii-san…
Fired up, he bellowed and quickened his pace.
Soon the brothers could see the town through the trees—rows of wooden houses packed tight, dogtoothed roofs. Closer, they heard hawkers' cries and mules snorting.
Moments later, they arrived.
Roy glided ashore with an easy step. Behind him Tanjiro collapsed, chest heaving like a broken bellows. Two dumplings sailed into his hands.
"Eat something. Rest a bit." Whatever else, he was his little brother—even in this cognitive world, he wasn't a beast of burden.
After a brief break, Roy led Tanjiro into town. Thanks to Tanjuro's goodwill, the Kamados had a decent name; without calling out, they sold both baskets of charcoal quickly. At the market, Roy bought two outfits for Nezuko, some candies for Takeo and Shigeru, and a rattle-drum for Hanako. Time slipped by, and it was afternoon before they knew it.
Tanjiro stopped dead in front of a smithy.
"Nii-san, why don't we spend a little and get you a sword?"
The memory of Roy cutting down Sato Takeichiro was still vivid. Tanjiro couldn't shake the feeling that if Nii-san had held a blade instead of a hoe, it would have gone even smoother.
"Stop staring. Demons don't die to ordinary steel," Roy said. He'd already asked a regular for directions to Mt. Sagiri. He glanced back at Tanjiro.
"Oh." Tanjiro hitched the basket and followed. "The lady selling mushrooms said if we cross the southern ridge, that's Mt. Sagiri. There's a shrine up there—we can spend the night."
Right—an overnight at a shrine built to lure demons. Should be lively.
Roy narrowed his eyes. He could almost smell the thick reek of blood already.