5

Hayara Ichinose is dreaming.

A baby was born on a cool Wednesday evening, his parents made trouble of remembering the exact date. The year was 1895, as Japan neared the turn of the century, great advancements in technology and culture were being made, rapid progress had propelled its self into all facets of Japanese life. The only exception seemed to be the large town in which Ichinose was born into, the family which ruled over the town originated from traditional daimyo roots, like most of the power still present in the country, however they've had to take on a more bureaucratic role after the large amount of reforms enacted in the middle of the 19th century, rendering all daimyos in Japan null.

This family used their influence to project their conservative ideas onto the town as much as they could, the modern technology seen all over was extremely limited inside, an unfortunate by-product of this traditional push would be a large portion of the town falling into poverty due to a variety of factors such as older methods not resulting in a sufficient crop yield.

The demon slayer opened his eyes to his mother gently resting him in her arms, a warm sentiment which helped to block out the piercing cold winds which whipped in from each and every crack and hole that seemed to be embedded on the walls of their house. His father was patiently sat, leaning over him with a wondrous expression.

"What should his name be, honey?" Ichinose's mother queried with a pleasant smile.

"The son of a great Ronin like me should be one of sole strength, riiiight?" The young father could barely contain his excitement at the prospect of his new son.

Both of them had barely turned 19, quite young to be having a family by modern standards. The two had a nervous yet passionate expression etched upon their face as they gazed in awe at the chubby cheeks of their baby, the surreal warmth of bringing such pure life into the world blocked out all the pain and worry from the outside, their sole focus was inward, looking at the new rather then the old. Both of them at this moment had made a pact to themselves to protect this child with all of their energy, before having this unwanted child they were already under money stress, the idea of a baby was daunting at best, however seeing this miracle melted all anxiety away for the pair. Only love remained for Ichinose.

"You're a bit late to be a Ronin don't you think? At least I wouldn't classify guarding merchant's stock as being one..." Ichinose's mother reciprocated his father's brag slyly.

"Uh huh... you seem so resistant to the idea of your husband being a great warrior don't you." He'd scoff, attempting to put on a fake frown to make it seem like he was offended.

Hayara began to cough. Setting in a panic within the pair, they'd thought he had caught a cold or something due to the prominent icy air permanently circling in and out of their house.

"Please grab the stove and bring it over dear, he's cold" The mother ordered with a worried inclination to her voice.

"Right away, of course!" Ichinose's father rushed over to the other side of the room, almost tripping over their dining table in the process, luckily he was able to clumsily regain his composure before falling face first onto the floor.

He bent his knees, lifting the heavy metal stove up, it would not be used often inside of the Ichinose household. Wood for burning was hard to come by in this town, however they'd use it without hesitation for their son. He set down the large black frame down with a small crash, if he put it down any harder it would have probably shattered their frail flooring, much to his mother's dismay. Wood would be slotted into the stove in an instant by rough and dirty hands, those belonging to his father. He blew gently on a small spark located in the centre of the cold metal case, it grew and grew, cultivating its self into what looked like blazing orange paint which licked and spit at the window of the stove, an attempt to escape and destroy and burn like fire does, however controlled just enough to instead nourish life. The baby boy's coughing ceased as the warm palette of the fire's light shone onto his plump face, casting a small shadow which crept throughout the room.

"Hayara." She noted.

"Hm?" The father questioned, a tad confused.

"Our boy." The mother continued, satisfied with her answer.

"What does it mean?" The boy's father commented once more, Japanese names often had intricate meaning based behind each of them.

"It doesn't have any meaning, it's his name to put meaning on as he lives his life, we shouldn't take that from him." She would re-assure her husband.

"Huuh, I didn't realize you were capable of such wisdom honey..." He'd snort, before lightly flicking her in the forehead, causing a small rowl.

"And I didn't realize you were a domestic abuser..." She huffed, garnering a guttural chuckle from her husband. They'd kneel in front of their son for a while longer whilst an icy air bombarded their small house, they didn't mind it so much though. The crackling of the fire mixed with his mother's sweet humming sent him into a deep slumber as all faded to black.

The boy spent the first years of his life in decent comfort, his father would often be absent, off on another mission, as it turns out, he was an actual bodyguard for merchant convoys, the man was well-versed in kendo and somewhat knowledgeable towards marksmanship, taking those contracts would earn the family enough money to get by, even if it was only by a hair.

Ichinose made a habit of looking out of a crooked window on the top floor, the sights and sounds of the world had become a great object of curiosity to the boy, who was now 4 years of age. He was a fast-learner when it came to his vocabulary, already a proficient user of the language, able to communicate about most things with his parents, well, mainly whine, he was a big whiner. His frail hands tapped against the splintered wooden frame of the window with which he used to observe the children playing outside, a slight melancholy as he was too scared to ask and join in, he was naturally shy after all. Large footsteps alerted him to the presence of his father, now 22 years of age, he had grown in some partial facial hair, and was looking even more rugged, like a hero of old, Hayara had from an even earlier age regarded his dad as an inspiration, he fights to protect others, and when he couldn't sleep his dad would be the one to often read him bedtime stories regarding his time guarding merchant convoys, about various altercations he had to solve and great problems he got into. Each story had the boy awe struck.

"Hayara, whatcha peeping at? Hmmmmm?" His father closed in, grabbing the boy and hoisting him up in the air, spinning him about whilst the child burst into wild spouts of laughter, until eventually he felt a little nauseous. His strength proved too much in the end, leading to him overdoing a lot. Hayara was set down gently to prevent him projectile spewing everywhere and after a couple of seconds the relieved father was luckily not covered in sick, he shot the boy a thumbs up and a great smile, he always would when he was proud of him.

"Thanks for not throwing up on me like last time..." The man ruffled his stiff yet wild hair, his head looked similar to a desert tumbleweed in how each strand of hair burst out of the roots.

"Something's up, even a muscle head like me can tell." He'd poke at the boy's head mockingly for a second, but it was really to get his attention.

"I'm too scared to play..." The boy responded with a near silent tone.

"When you take up swordsmanship with me, you won't be scared of anything, trust me!" His father would confidently shout, though it seemed to have worked to no avail on the boy as he was still woeful.

The father would clear his throat, bending down on one knee in order to reach Hayara's level.

"Look at me when I tell you this, it's important." The man stated seriously.

Hayara stared with a sharp nod in acknowledgment.

"Don't be afraid to go out there, you've gotta be like a big tree.." The father would extend his arms out as if he was an actual tree. This gained a small chuckle from Hayara.

"Big trees don't worry about scary things and even when they face lots and lots of difficulties, like a massive storm, they keep growing because of all that rain, I need you to be like that for me, do you think you can keep on growing?" He'd cup his ear with his hand as if expecting an answer from the boy.

"Yes, I can!" The child confidently snapped.

"Good! Now go on out there, just make sure not to bruise them up too much, you're my warrior son after all." The father brandished a thumbs up towards his son, they were finally able to make a breakthrough in their boy's development, moments later he would be sure to rush to his wife to tell her all the good news, and of course that it was up to his wisdom only as the catalyst to Hayara's social discovery. The child took his first steps to the front door alone, he went up on his tip toes in order to reach the handle, nervously sliding the door slowly open to reveal a sun-baked outside. Light glistened off of the boy's eyelids and shone towards the other children playing nearby, like a guiding beacon it carried him forwards with every step revealing a new confidence never seen before in him. A playful smile finally found its way onto his face.

"Can I play?" Queried Hayara his legs jittered slightly, he tried his very best to keep the nerves down, however they were on a constant assault, it was as though his emotions wanted to burst out of his skin.

"Huuh? I've never seen you here before." One of the children spoke, he was around 2 years older then Hayara. The hesitation in the boy's voice had almost broken down Ichinose, he was ready to burst into tears.

"Buzz off, go eat something before you come back to us, if you played with us you'd get snapped like a stick, in fact!" The largest kid would shout before running towards a petrified Hayara, the large boy struck him straight in the stomach and Ichinose's small frame was sent straight into the floor, children as old as 8 were now beating down on the defenceless 4 year old, his only option was to curl up like some insect and desperately wait for his father's help, he would come, he knew it, he'd get rid of all the bad things happening to him.

20 minutes later a bloodied Hayara stood up, he no longer had the energy to cry in response to the pain of his injuries. He limped sluggishly back towards his house whilst whining like a suffering dog, the only thought in his mind was that he should have never listened to his father. A mangy leg dragged in the mud as he uselessly slapped against the front door of his house. Hayara's mother responded to the constant banging on the door, her confused face peeked through the sliding door, the sight of it brought the boy immense comfort, even if he could only half see her due to the state of his eyes after the beating he had sustained.

"Dad lied to me, make me feel better please." Were the trembling words that fizzled from his bleeding lips.

The mother rushed instantly to embrace her son, tears like a waterfall rolled down and onto the floor, almost enough to turn the dirt underneath her into thick mud, in mere moments the boy was whisked inside and sat on the table, any make-shift bandage on Earth was attempted by the woman, due to their background they did not have a lot of medicine to work with, however Hayara's mother was both crafty and precise, fashioning bandages out of the cloth from her own clothing.

"You'll be alright, you'll be all better, I promise, I promise." The mother's shock at her son's state made her repeat herself, both for the comfort of herself and Hayara most likely. She was beside herself in torment for letting this happen to her joy.

"What happened?!" The Father burst through the backdoor, he was tending to the firewood behind their house.

"LIAR!" Hayara would scream at the top of his lungs, spit swirled with blood and lashed out from his mouth as he spoke, he began to thrash around, tears once again bombarded the child's face as he squirmed in a fit of rage and confusion. The father rushed over to tend to his son, but was brushed off by slaps from the spindly arms of Hayara, he wanted nothing to do with him, he wanted his father to pay for lying and letting those kids hurt him so much.

The whining child was sent to bed by his mother early tonight, his father was not present to read him another story, as it seemed at the moment the boy never wanted to look into his father's face again. The two parents downstairs sat opposite each other on the small dining table which occupied a large majority of their space despite its miniscule size. They say compact homes can be cozy, well not theirs. His wife sighed, causing him to speak up first, his voice thick with somberness.

"I'm sorry, this is all my fault, I wasn't there, and after saying all of that to him?" The usually rugged and proud man sat slouched, his head in his hands as he tore at his hair harshly.

"Dear, please don't apologize to me, you'd ought to apologize to him, I'm expecting you to be strong for him." His wife's every word left her mouth like a healing song, filling the man's ears with a harsh but true sweetness unlike he's ever heard from anyone else.

"Well, we'll see. As long as I still have you both." The father responded, his sombreness cleared up somewhat, but not enough to have absolved himself of being absent on this day.

It turned out Hayara holds long grudges. He openly ignored his father for over two years, sticking like glue to his mother who he would mainly tend to the garden with, the boy gained a great interest in each of the beautiful wild flowers that occupied each mound of dirt within their tiny box of a backyard. He would spend hours laying down and inspecting each one, down to the very petal. He'd assist with the watering, the re-planting and going with his mother to purchase things. Even on the father's side, distance accelerated due to his demand away from the house when it came to his occupation. He had to go in order to protect his family financially, above all else that was his goal.

On a soothing autumn night, a branch off of a tree would be displaced, belting off of the thin walls that composed their house, this loud sound awoke the 6 year old Hayara, who rubbed his eyes cautiously, he did not favour loud noises, nor the dark, so waking up at night due to a loud noise was certainly a cause for alarm, sweat beaded down his forehead as his head swivelled around the pitch black bedroom, his hand cupped to his ear so he could be extra vigilant against any noises. For him the dark set off all sorts of nightmare scenarios in his head, the void of black he saw was a dark canvas for anything to happen after all. Monsters, ghouls, demons, ghosts. Very scary.

A noticeable creak made its presence known as the sound echoed throughout the small house. Hayara froze on the spot, like an arctic tundra had possessed his body and sent his veins spiralling into icy cold. His nerves thawed out when he speculated it could just be his father or mother, just as he had finished thinking that. A shadowy figure filled the door-way in which he had affixed his gaze. It's black outline seemed both limited and unending at the same time, it stood out and blended in perfectly with the darkness it resided in.

"Fuck. There's some little brat up." The strange man spoke, his deep and guttural voice felt like it growled from out of his lungs.

Ichinose expelled a scream like no other, like some banshee shriek it resounded through every facet of the building they were in, and it was a whistle for his parents to finally awake, a flickering lantern sparked light through a crack in the parent's bedroom door, swift yet heavy footfall reverberated in the floorboards as something came down the hall. The shadowy figure had now entered the domain of Hayara's bedroom, it was truly over. He would be devoured by this monster. A bright flare cast its self and exposed the shadow, it was a normal man, he was middle aged and disfigured by what it seemed. However the man who had exposed him was none other then Ichinose's father, who was now barrelling towards the intruder. The culprit naturally extended himself, bending his legs and going in for a slugging punch with his right hand towards the man's face, however Hayara's dad ducked under this with ease, he had been honed in kendo for years after all. He was an extremely proficient fighter. And before another thought could be transmitted by the boy's brain, his father dashed into the intruder, his forearm folding over the man's neck like it was malleable putty, the headlock was tight, you could see the reddening of the man as his veins were seen squirming and bulging out of his skin like worms.

Both of the men began to lean over slowly, the intruder no longer had the strength to stand it seemed, and in the next moment the two were thrashing around on the ground, the man's once guttural voice faded into slurred gargles. The last death throes had erupted as he kicked about for the last time. There was only one man in the room now, Hayara's father. The expression on his face could only be described as pure vitriol, he felt hate, absolute hate towards the fiend that had attempted to harm his son, and he had dispatched that threat effectively. The man would and just has killed for his son. He was there this time, he was present. And even though a dead man lay in front of this 6 year old, there was no fear, all that remained was absolute adoration. A starry glint filled the boy's eyes, they began to glaze as tears formed at the corners of each.

"I'm so sorry... please forgive me, you were always my hero." Hayara spouted through his tears as he ran to his father, he practically leaped into his arms, and they shared a hug for the first time in two years.

"I promise to always protect you, do you hear that?" His father began to shed stark tears, rare for him. This was all a little too much, however he was beyond glad this was finally sorted.

"Please teach me the sword, I want to be a great warrior just like you." Hayara pleaded, his fists clenched hard in anticipation.

"Of course, but you've got something wrong, you won't be like me, I'm certain you'll be much better." He shot another one of his iconic thumbs up to Ichinose, it was clear he was proud of his son above all else in this moment, Hayara recognised that and the stream of tears running down his face only intensified at the realisation. His mother burst in straight after, intent on holding her child in her own arms as well.

"I've made up with dad... I'm sorry for causing so much trouble, sorry..." Hayara steadily repeated the apologies, that was the least he could do after all, he owed his family so much, he couldn't just take them for granted anymore just because they made mistakes. They're humans just like him.

"You do need to get to bed though young man!" His mother stated loudly, gaining a nod of attention from Hayara, who promptly tucked himself in ready for slumber.

He didn't need a story this time either, as he kept replaying that scenario earlier in his head, until he ultimately fell asleep.

'Dad is my hero.'

Over the next few months, Hayara had a newfound interest, one he invested a great deal of time and effort into, actually, at this point in his life it was his sole determination, it was to improve his swordsmanship. Even though he was six, a small wooden sword was given to him by his father in order to train properly. It was light enough to swing all around the place. He would practice the same swing over and over according to his father's instructions, the downwards swing. He was told that if you repeat one move over and over and over, then you would be unstoppable, and so he did just that. Day after day he would swing the wooden practice sword downwards, until either his arms or legs gave out. He would often deal with large aching pains now, however he shrugged it off, if he was to become a great warrior like his father, then pain needed to be something to ignore!

Not only would he train techniques as shown by his father, he would also openly spar with him from time to time, Hayara asked his dad not to hold back and that he would be able to handle a full-fledged fight, however he always did hold back by a great deal for obvious reasons. Progress was rapid with the boy, and he was soon actually making contact with his father during those frequent bouts, if only for one time during the entire session. All of this reached it's zenith on Hayara's celebration of his 7th birthday.

"Hayaraaa!" The boy's father shouted for joy, clapping his hands together to get his attention, him and his mother were all gathered around the table.

"Happy birthday to you, make sure to blow out the match." The soft voice of his mother resounded in his head, she had always been a comforting force in his life, he was glad for all he was given, even if he was not as well off as most other children in this world.

Hayara proceeded to blow out the makeshift matchstick candle on his cake, and all of them proceeded to chow down on it moments later, they absolutely demolished it, seeing as it was a rarity to have any sugary delicacies, save only people's birthdays. The treat was absolutely prized, the family enjoyed every bit of it.

"We can't wait, forget about your food going down, you're coming to spar me now!" The father insisted, a sly smile imposed on his face.

"If he throws up over you it's your fault." The mother coldly reciprocated.

"I'll just block it with my sword..." The man seemed a bit nervous about that scenario actually occurring.

"I won't throw up!" The boy seemed a bit irritated at the notion of him not being able to control his stomach.

The two stepped through their small abode, insistent on this duel, Hayara was going to put his upmost effort into this one, as he was excited to get it over with, and possibly get his first proper victory against his father. He had never won unless his father was caught off-guard. They had travelled out the front of their face, the boy being a bit apprehensive about sticking around near their house as he still had keen memories of the beating he had received at the hand of those horrible children. Nonetheless he charged through his fears, too focused on bettering himself as a warrior, his eternal goal. They both stood opposite each other, dirt audibly grinded against their shoes as they shifted on the spot, ready for a hard fought battle, Hayara was unbelievable for a seven year old, it was like his father was fighting some teenage apprentice in their local dojo, that's just how good he was. All the prouder it made the man though. The pale wooden poles they called swords were drawn respectively, and when they had finalized their preparations, the spar began. Hayara burst off, quick on his feet as he sprinted towards his father with a glint of excitement glazed over his irises. His old man had not moved, intent on impressing the boy by acting so nonchalant during the fight, however things transpired rather differently then what the father was expecting, the boy held his head high, his nostrils flaring as they took in as much air as possible, and the child seemed to take on a frown, however this wasn't out of anger or hate, his face was the picture of focus as he rushed forwards.

His father had predicted a lunge into his chest by the small child, and reflexively he pivoted his back foot, intent on rotating his entire body next in order to slide past the wooden stick that was about to poke him. The boy extended his arm and sword outwards for a split second, before his grip grew slightly limp, and his arm twisted around, followed by the sword to the side, carrying it upwards and diagonally into a slash.

'He went half in on the lunge and changed it? Did my boy just feint me?' Such thoughts would have probably bubbled inside the man's head over the disbelief regarding the performed move.

His father's footwork had shifted in order to avoid the predicted lunge, which meant at this moment, it would be impossible to roll out of a slash, and he'd also break a hip trying to duck under it. A million scenarios flashed through the seasoned fighter's head, he opted for a block instead naturally. The father's wooden sword was brought down in an instant, his wrist swirling to allow for the mock blade to find its mark on the surface of the boy's opposing sword. An audible whack resounded as they used this opportunity to respectively backpedal, distancing themselves a few feet from each other once more. Hayara's father raised his head in surprise as his son seemed to stop all his movement, observing his face drop as he projectile spewed on the floor.

"GAH!" The Dad raised his sword in a meagre attempt to block, none of the sick actually reached him anyway though.

"Sorry dad... my fighting fell short." Hayara spoke solemnly as he stared at his own sick pooling on the floor with a crunched expression of disgust on his face.

"Only thing that fell short was your stomach boy, you were incredible, though perhaps we should have listened to your mother's advice..." Hayara's father hooted, his cheerful smile maintained despite vomit almost finding its way onto his shoes.

The pair quickly gathered back inside in order to enjoy the rest of the night, and as Hayara stepped through the doorway, he noticed something peculiar, a large object was wrapped head to toe in cloth and propped against the dining table. The boy realised that this must have been his present and excitedly scuttled on over to tear off the coverings with haste. A finely sawed down wooden box was unveiled by the unwrapping, which he slid open the case to. It was his very own Katana. A glint reflected off of the shining surface of the blade as he drew it, a sparkle that was only matched by the glee in the boy's eyes.

"Not bad for a blade, is it son?" The Father spoke, his expression soft.

"Not bad at all, thank you so much!" Hayara resounded as he began to run around the Livingroom with the sword in his hand, much to the dismay of his two parents.

"Hayara, could you come here?" The father would gesture for the boy to come over.

"Uh huuuh?" The Boy playfully asked of his father

"I want this blade to not only be a present, but a small lesson to you, I'd like you to understand that it is a tool for defence, not utter violence, with it in your hands you are vowing to protect your loved ones, not to kill others who are also loved in some battle, it is only to keep the ones near to you safe, do you understand? This sword is an important oath, it is your heart, and how you use it really does reflect on your very soul."

"I get it, father." The boy passed off, wanting to spend more time with his sword rather then hearing his father's boring monologue.

"I know you don't get it, but you will in the future, at the very least keep these words in that great big brain of yours for now!" He'd ruffle the boy's hair, earning a hearty laugh out of him.

"Your father was always wise when it came to his words, I'd listen to him if I were you, even though he's stupid in everything else he does." Hayara's mother sputtered with a laugh.

"And your mother was always hurtful when it came to her words." His father hung his head in clear pain at the woman's remarks, earning a laugh from both the mother and son.

Gentle evenings passed by just like the breeze that they always brought along with them, Ichinose and his Father bided their time training with the sword, with the boy eventually learning how to handle the large metal blade without succumbing to its weight instantly. 2 years had passed without much notice to the boy, who was happily in his own world of family.

"So, boy, I know you've been interested in my job for a while, how about you take it for a spin? You're coming with me as my own personal guard for our next merchant convoy!" The Father enthusiastically asked.

The mother's expression turned rather glum quickly as she heard this.

"Won't it be dangerous?" She'd inquire with an earnest and concerned tone.

"It'll be completely fine, this isn't one hundred years ago after all, our job is essentially ceremonial at this point, no bandits to protect from anymore." The dad shot up a thumbs-up of approval towards the two, as if that'd convince them, well, Hayara was certainly convinced.

"Fine, but you stay close to your Father on this little trip, do you understand my boy?" The Mother would gently warn, though her words were soft, they certainly carried a hint of authority to them, making the child listen to her speech intently.

Hayara cheered, his Father egged him on by picking him up and flying him around the kitchen on his shoulders, almost knocking off a stray candle much to the Mother's dismay.

Training continued, sweat poured and injuries were suffered, however despite his young age the boy pushed through intent on finally going out in the world, properly. He knew how to defend himself after all, if those bullies came, he'd send them all off with a concussion. The labour paid off, as finally the day rolled around, Hayara had barely slept a wink, waiting for dawn to break over the hills and light to fill his small room for him to leap from his covers and rush down the stairs in a burst of energy, he wasn't a morning person usually, however such an event would roused him from out of his morning grogginess, as he reached the living room, he noticed both his Father and Mother already awake, as they usually were, his Mother tending to the kitchen as sweet smells of breakfast wafted out from it, and his Father at the table, a great big grin on his face as he looked at the boy.

"Someone's finally up, this lazy one has overslept." He'd spout out sarcastically much to the boy's confusion.

"But... I got up super early for this?! I promise I'm prepared." Hayara was trying to defend his 'oversleeping' in order to prove his worth and still be able to go on this trip with his father.

"It's a joke son, perhaps I've got to teach you some of your father's wit aye?" He'd shoot another grin, an audible scoff was heard echoing from the kitchen at this.

"Eat up." The Mother brought in a hearty, steaming pot of stew from the kitchen, a heavenly smell emanated from out of the bowls as the stew was poured in them.

The three would begin eating, the Father and Son respectively chowing down on their food in order to get out the door the quickest, the father's wife shot daggers at the grown man eating as if he was some kind of baby, this caused an end to the eating competition, which devolved into a quiet, respectful family meal.

"Done!" Hayara hopped up from the table, almost knocking his bowl off in the process, a quick reprimand from his mother before he sprinted for the door.

"Not without me you're not!" His father shouted after him, sprinting to reach the door as well.

"Just... be safe you too!" The mother sighed, these two were a great deal of work.

Hayara and his father wandered outside, his mother's flowers dotted the outside of their house, beautiful white petals, the boy looked at them for a moment, they were reminders of his phase where he gardened with his mother, whilst being a call-back to a painful time, they still retained great beauty to him, and plus, they are his mother's favourite flower. Each stem whipped and danced in a quiet breeze.

"There they are." His father's word rang out and disrupted the flower gazing, the boy looked up to be greeted by a creaking open air carriage, dragged along by two horses, upon it were a group of scruffy men and women, they looked like the sort of things that hid under rocks and logs, and when you lifted them up, they would scuttle away, in the nicest way possible.

"I'd like you to meet my noble samurai, responsible for protecting your food on its travels, day in, day out!" He seemed overly enthused about the group, he read their profession as if announcing for a royal's arrival.

The horses stopped with a sharp tug on the reigns, the doer of which was a crusted man of 40, he wore a straggly beard on his face already peppered with grey.

"Howdy Taro, this little scruff your son?" He'd smile through chipped and yellow teeth

"Sure is-" Hayara's father was interrupted by a resounding slapping sound.

"WHAT HAVE I FUCKING TOLD YOU ABOUT STOPPING THE HORSES SO SUDDENLY, MY PUSSY PRACTICALLY JUMPED FROM MY CROTCH AT THE JOLT." The hot-headed woman had slapped the man right on the centre of his bald head.

The man had to rub his head in pain at the sudden strike, the woman had quickly forgotten about her anger and instead refocused towards the two on the ground with an unexpected change in tone.

"Is that your son Taro!? Well isn't he such a little cutie, awwww." She was doe-eyed at the boy, but then once again switched back to hostile when she found her eyes on his father.

"I didn't know such an ugly fuck could produce something so cute." She'd slap the back of the man reigning in the horses as if to make her joke funnier, causing him to lurch forwards in pain once more.

"Hayara, this is Keiko, and perhaps she should stop swearing around children?" His father attempted to scold, only earning a laughing response by Keiko.

"Of course, but I'm doing it for your son, not you." She would reaffirm harshly, as she proceeded to point over to the bald man tending to the horses.

"And this is old man Masaru." Keiko spun with a laugh as she sat back down in the carriage.

"I can introduce myself, you know, and I am no old man." He'd argue back, daggers in his eyes aimed themselves at the woman now sitting with a smile.

"Wow! So i'm not even the youngest here anymore... what a shame." A young looking boy sighed, he was around 15.

"My name's Isamu, by the way! Nice to meetcha." The boy would cheerfully call out from the back of the carriage, that seemed to complete those who bothered to introduce themselves to Hayara, the rest were either sleepy or too drunk to respond, quite the group.

"Anyways, get up here, we don't have all day." Keiko reprimanded Hayara's father.

"Yeah yeah, quit bitc-" Taro stopped himself just out of earshot of the girl, both for his and Hayara's sake, luckily she hadn't noticed Taro's insult.

They both clambered onto the carriage, Hayara had his trusty sword gifted to him by his father on his hip, his father picked up a splintered bolt-action rifle from the floor and slung it around his shoulder.

"I like your sword, it's pretty nice, your father give you it? I have my own little thing, it's neat right?" The young boy would babble on to Hayara whilst waving his revolver around with a prideful grin.

"Well... it's nice to meet you all, my name's Hayara." He'd seem reserved, a steep comparison to the excited boy who stumbled out of his house.

"Welcome on, Hayara." Was almost said in unison by the group, with Keiko being the exception, as she was too busy swearing at Hayara's father for accidentally hitting her forehead with the butt of his rifle.

Hayaras coy nature melted off of him, being replaced by a bright and energetic boy brimming with anticipation for what was to come, Masaru pulled on the reigns softly, the horses began a trot, kicking up a small cloud of dust from behind the carriage as they carried it forwards. Ichinose felt incredibly cool sitting around all these amazing people.

"So who's our contractor for today?" Taro queried to Masaru, who turned to look at the man, almost crashing into a fence due to not focusing on the road, the group let out a collective shout at the man, who instead opted to talk to Taro whilst actually looking ahead this time.

"Seems we've got some out of town travelling merchants to convoy with this time, they're worried about bandits, we've only got to escort them fifty miles or so until they reach the next town along, pretty bog standard so don't expect a whole lot of pay this time." Another collective shout at Masaru after this terrible news.

"`Spose we've got to scrounge for whatever jobs we can these days." Keiko grumbled.

"50 miles is a whole day then, you've got to be brave my boy, we'll be riding in the night too, that's when all the scary Yokai come out you know." Taro attempted to scare the boy, however this only gave him more resolve it seemed, Hayara was just overjoyed to be here, ghosts or bandits didn't matter to him.

The carriage buckled and rocked as it traversed the jagged road towards two larger carriages, a group of eloquently dressed people lurked around them, all turning to look at their group who now approached.

"Some fancy ass merchants they are." Keiko scoffed

"Don't be rude, they could have you executed if they're nobles, but that wouldn't be so bad-" Taro would get clipped around the ear as he tried to finish, earning a laugh from Ichinose.

There seemed to be two groups, one was an affluently dressed collection of robe-wearers, they wore all kinds of expensive jewellery and seemed to be on edge, always shuffling or flinching, the other was much more interesting, all had swords upon their hips, ornate looking katanas, some of them different colours, however they all maintained a uniform, a standalone white belt and black coat, with words signed into the back of their clothes reading "DESTROY" this group was the first to react and walk up to the carriage as it stopped.

"Greetings, I assume you're the other group the merchants had called to help them be escorted?" A Slayer in a unique haori stepped up, his Katana was emblazoned by a mark of fire on its hilt.

"What the hell? These merchants hired others? Fuck this, we don't do shared jobs." Keiko spat, her rage palpable in the air.

"This got pretty interesting... they're all wearing the same stuff." Taro mumbled under his breath, Hayara was the most inquisitive of all, his eyes glittered at all the different people and their weapons, they were all swordsmen like him.

"No problem, we aren't here on a specific job, we're simply tagging along with these merchants in order to survey the area at night, increased bandit activity and things of that nature." The man in the haori would explain calmly, defusing the situation rather skilfully

"Ah, you're here, sorry for the confusion, we're giving you the full pay to escort us, these kind man simply asked to follow along, they said they also needed you to guide us through the roads, as obviously we don't know where we're going, and you're locals." One of the ornately dressed merchants stepped forth to inform.

"No worries then! We'll be happy to assist you, lead the way." Masaru grinned, these rich merchants were a path to a fat pay check.

Both groups reconvened in their large carriages and set off promptly into the woods, despite the size of the convoy, they covered ground quickly, they would likely arrive in the next town by early morning, however evening drew as time passed quickly, Masaru's group passed the time by playing various games, one was to the concern of his father, Keiko hanging Hayara over the edge of the carriage to be a pretend bird. Light hid its self under the treeline, and another couple of miles later it was no longer present at all, all sorts of insects would buzz around in the brush, and starlight filled a canvas of black above, to the wonder of Ichinose, who laid at the centre of the cabin to look up into the night sky.

"For an idiot, you have raised your boy well." Keiko hesitantly congratulated.

"Except for the sword part, should've handed him a gun." The young boy with the revolver chuckled.

"We'll ask to set a camp down the next few miles, I know you all must be getting hungry." Masaru said, to the relief of all in the cabin.

A great scream erupted from deep within the forest. All carriages stopped dead in their tracks, the one with the Haori seemed to walk out and with a strange calmness towards Taro's team.

"What on earth's going on?" Masaru asked, concern glistening on his slightly wrinkled face.

"We're going to go off and investigate, since we're the bigger group, we'll be back in half an hour, don't worry." The one in the Haori spoke with slight urgency.

"We'll protect the convoy then, obviously." Masaru replied, motioning the group behind him, they all jumped up, and off the cabin, much to Ichinose's confusion, he just stayed in the cabin, humming all the while.

The man in the Haori would rush back towards his carriage, and swiftly rush it off onto a forest path that stretched away from the main road. They disappeared into the night in moments, leaving only two carriages, the merchants and Taro's team.

"You all okay? Don't worry, we're trained professionals when it comes to this bandit nonsense." Masaru attempted to comfort some distraught younger merchants who were cowering within their carriage.

Keiko withdrew a small tobacco pipe from her coat, stuffing some of the crushed tobacco leaf inside and lighting it with a match, she inhaled, a small cloud of smoke appearing as she puffed out, Taro motioned his hand forward, being given it, and also taking a puff.

"Never heard bandits scream like that, you think it was to intimidate?" Keiko wondered, they all were still on guard, the young boy was in fact on top of the merchant's carriage with his revolver drawn at the ready.

"Probably, but you'd have to be mad to be a bandit these days, so much security around now and all." Taro responded, another puff from the pipe.

"Don't waste all my tobacco, you bum." Keiko snatched it away with a growl.

"You can't blame a man when there's smoking involved, its so relaxing." He tried to justify his actions, to the woman's great annoyance.

A small rustling from the bushes either side of them caught all of their attention, they all froze on the spot, individually drawing their weapons. Figures blasted out from the treeline without warning.

"What the fuck?!" Keiko shouted, the entire group laying into the shadows with gunfire which blasted the very air with noise.

Hayara looked towards the carriage in front, covering his ears at the loud noise, he was incredibly confused, and scared. The shadows approached the group in front easily, and as they drew nearer, their fear inducing appearances became more apparent to the team, gnarly fangs glared at them, a horrible madness was present in the eyes of all of those things. The boy on top of the carriage nailed one in its head with his revolver, only for it to pick its self back up moments afterwards to all of their shock.

"What the fuck are these freaks?" The boy cried, however, the things also charged out from the other treeline, with that horde already being upon them as one leaped up, tackling the boy off of the roof of the carriage. He was sent hard into the floor with the being already digging into his abdomen with its sharp teeth, the young man sobbed as he unloaded into its mouth, to no effect, a horrible slosh of flesh and fire as he turned the gun, and his last bullet, on himself.

"FUCK!" Keiko withdrew a rifle, firing at multiple who neared them.

Taro had his priorities straight, unlike Masaru who was desperately warding the demons off with his sword at the entrance of the merchant's carriage, he dashed towards the one behind them, where Hayara hid, he had to protect him, whatever the cost, he had to.

"Hayara... keep your head down, it'll be alright, let's get out of this." Taro softly reassured the boy as he leapt into the carriage, his sword drawn, the boy was shaking, being partially hidden by a small blanket with which he covered himself with as some kind of cover.

"TARO! GET BACK HER-" Keiko was overwhelmed by multiple of them, Taro witnessed her limbs being torn a strew, like a rough kid playing with its beat up toy, there was no compassion in her death. They piled into the carriage in front too, meaning Masaru and the merchants were likely dead, the others of Taro's team littered the floor as well. It was just him and Hayara.

The boy's father shuddered at the thought of now being alone, however he had to do something.

"Hayara, slap some sense into your father." Taro asked of the shaking child.

"But... what?" He was incredibly confused by this ask.

"Just do it boy, your father needs a reality check." Hayara nodded, quickly slapping his father as lightly as he could.

"You can do better then that! Slap some sense into this shitty father." He'd point to his cheek to give some motivation.

A large slap rang out in the air, Taros cheek was enflamed and red. "That's more like it." He'd pat the boy on the head.

"You've made me not scared, you did amazing son, now I need you to do the same, I'm going to go outside of this carriage, however if anything goes wrong, I need you to pull on this rope as hard as you can, it'll allow the horses to get you to safety, do you understand?" Taro spoke incredibly clearly, he needed Hayara to be safe.

"No, please don't go!" The boy begged, tears marked his face a deep crimson.

"You'll be okay." Hayara's father leapt off of the carriage, sword drawn with a sharp noise crunching at the cold night air.

The demons noticed the movement, ceasing their feast on the various corpses scattered around to finish their newly found prey.

"Doesn't matter what these things are, they're feral, instincts will tell them to go for my jugular, so I've got to-" He could barely react as one was already upon him, it aimed for his threat with its claws, ready to rip at hit, however Taro was ready, sword ground against nail as he successfully blocked the swipe, shoving the small demon back with his blade. He gathered all of his might to slash forwards, the sharp edge cutting into the throat of the thing, blood spilled out and the demon was disorientated. Taro used the momentum of the slash to carry onwards, pivoting his body and unleashing a horizontal cut which rended the neck of the demon, separating it from its body. It's head did not vanish however, instead it kept thrashing around, like a rotten apple rolling on the floor.

A second demon was upon Taro, he was not fast enough this time, and it sunk into his arm, it's fangs piercing straight though his flesh, he grunted in pain, stabbing his sword into the top of its skull, still, it did not release, and more demons rushed him. One sunk into his right leg, another into his left one. And as the demons pulled, the father's left leg separated from his body, red gushed out like a river.

"DAD!" Hayara screamed out, as if that would help.

The demon's crowding him were suddenly blown backwards, two became stiff, as their heads fell to the ground. Their bodies beginning to vanish into dust. Like flame a great slash purified them both, a raging inferno sparked from the dark, carrying its self forth onto more and more of the demons, as it left them a pile of ash. A movement of sword so eloquent that Hayara believed he was dreaming. The flame Hashira burst forwards, executing each and every fiend that found its way towards his blade. A fluttering haori the only sign of his movement.

"I'm so sorry we were late." The Hashira's face froze in sympathy for the only two alive.

"Just... tend to my son, I'm fine...!" The man spurted blood from his mouth as he laid there, his leg a few feet from him.

The medics gave him the unwanted attention anyway, patching what remained of his leg into a stump that no longer bled. Stitches were applied where they needed to be, however he would not walk properly or do anything properly again it seemed.

"Are you okay?" A demon slayer questioned the shivering boy, however as soon as he came too, the boy charged from the carriage into his father's bloody arms, sobbing uncontrollably all the while.

"Dad, you're my hero, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault, you tried to protect me, I'm sorry, you can't die, you need to teach me more of the sword, please." Hayara managed through tears.

Taro just grinned with his now red teeth, ruffling the boys hair.

"Do you have any immediate family who can take care of you?" The Hashira asked.

"Just my wife-" Taro was interrupted by a scream.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU COME EARLIER! NOW DAD IS LIKE THIS!" The boy cried out, running towards the man in the haori, he proceeded to repeatedly punch his leg in a tantrum.

"Stop Hayara..." The father did not have the strength to shout.

"It's fine, I have brought this upon my self, it's my responsibility to protect and I have fallen short." He gave a deep sigh, though having remained stoic up until now, his emotion seemed to spill out just by the gestures he made.