Chapter 18

You plod along the back alleyways under the cover of night. Each step sends an acute agony spiking through your body, and you grit your teeth suppress your whimpers. You don't need to have anyone seeing you in this state. There'll be too many questions to answer, especially when Wareta and his wife's bodies are discovered.

Or has her body already disappeared? You have the habit of burying demons, for in your mind, they can no longer be considered such when they die. A burial is only appropriate.

Voices drift from direction you originated, carried by the wind. Their volume continues to rise, and you recall that when you'd left, the fire had begun attacking the foundations of the shop. The blaze must be uncontrollable by now. Even at this distance, you can smell a sharp tint of smoke and ash.

"Guh–" An involuntary cry escapes you when you trip on the uneven ground. You catch yourself, straightening your body and bracing yourself on a brick wall.

To your dismay, your sudden movement amplifies your agony thousand fold. Maybe it would have been better to let yourself fall. The wound on your back in particular, feels as if someone is trying to dig out your spine with a fork.

You clench your jaw, enduring the pain. The stone you'd impaled yourself on had fallen out two streets ago, hitting an empty gutter you shuffled past. There should be nothing stuck in your back, but still it continues to throb. Like Ichiro Fuji, its phantom presence greatly irks you. It doesn't help that being exposed to the cool, night air is akin to bathing your wounds in salt.

At least your shoulder, missing a chunk of flesh, has gone completely numb. The work of the demon's saliva, or perhaps, your body's attempt at making sure you don't go insane from pain. Demons might be superior in many ways, but the human mind is truly one of wonder.

You glimpse down at your body. The durable and decently comfortable Slayer uniform has been exchanged for an unglamorous happi. It is thankfully oversized, the hem touching the top of your knees. If Wareta hadn't taken your uniform, the demon would have broken its teeth. Or not, because the level of strength it demonstrated seemed slightly above what newly christened Slayers could handle.

You press a hand over your mouth to cover a rasping cough. You pull it back to see it painted with a light sheen of blood. You want to laugh. As a Tsuchinoto, you've been this gravely injured by a demon that a Mizunoe could've defeated with ease. Truly, you are ashamed.

You take your hand off the wall and continue walking. Going by the shops and buildings here, you should be reaching that place soon.

Eventually, the path leads to one of Kakunodate's main streets, opening up to reveal a row of grand looking houses. In addition, the well-kept shrubbery and the paved stone roads signal that you're in the right place. Only the housing area in the merchant district can be this luxurious.

The moon being out tonight is a small mercy. You definitely would have gotten lost without using its light to discern your surroundings. Soon as you think this, a thunderous rumble echoes in the distance. You look up in time to see a large grey cloud obscure the moon.

If you had strength left in your hands, you would point your middle finger toward the sky. Sadly, you don't. You can only continue to urge your exhausted and battered body forward.

That distinctive redwood board fence finally comes into view when the first droplets of rain land on the top of your head. By the time you've passed the wisteria emblem, carved perfunctorily into the gates of every Wisteria House, the rain is coming down in sheets.

You drag yourself onto their sheltered doorstep, knowing with surety you resemble a partially drowned rodent. At least under the heavy rain, your clothes have been washed clean of blood.

Your vision swirls as you raise your hand. You pound the door with your remaining strength and hear it rattle in place. Are you using that much strength? Or is your hearing a little off…?

The door slides open to reveal an elderly man dressed in a severe coloured hakama. You stare at him. His clothes are so dark that you wouldn't have seen him if not for his stark white hair, like a splash of white paint on a midnight canvas.

Your body sways. You rest your full weight upon left leg and lean against the doorframe. "I'm a Tsuchinoto," you tell him, your own voice beginning to sound distant.

He reacts by placing his hands upon your wrists. You faintly feel a pressure tugging you, but your body has seemingly shut down and refuses to react. It's fine, though. You're safe now. The Wisteria family has saved your life more than once throughout your career, and you know what to expect.

As the old man continues trying to pull you inside, you hear somebody yell, "Wait!" The hands on your wrists cease their tugging.

A man with a plump belly strides into your line of sight. Your vision is now wracked with black spots, so try as you might, you're unable to make out his face.

"Nagiri, do you take me for chopped liver? When I am here, every single person who passes through these doors require my approval."

His voice sounds considerably familiar. You might have bumped into him at the market. A fellow merchant, perhaps.

The old man doesn't let go of your wrist and replies, "Refrain from nagging me orn the topic of seniority. This place has been under my care long before you'd gained your position. Now, get out of my way, I have a Slayer in need of emergency treatment."

There is a stamping of feet. "Don't think you can flout the rules just because you worked under the previous head of the family! Our current master ordered us to vet the identities of anyone who dares seek entry. He seeks to weed out deceitful liars wanting to take advantage of our kindness, and that is precisely what I will do."

"Spare me the trivialities!" the old man snaps. "It's an open secret he's doing this to take revenge on a Slayer who slighted him. We've all heard the rumours."

"Those are a bunch of–"

"If he wishes to ruin the name of the Wisteria Family, kindly inform him none of us will stand for it. Now, move aside!"

"When I return to Fuji-sama, don't think I won't–" His complaints stops abruptly. You blink blurrily, noting that he's looking at you. You still can't make out his face. Had you been disfigured by the demon without realizing it? There's no other reason for him to stare intensely enough for goose pimples to cover your skin.

"Kuroshio… Ryuu Kuroshio. That is your name, correct?"

Is that your name? For a second, you pour over the question with the seriousness of picking out rotten grain from a barrel. "Never had another," you slur out your reply.

There is a significant pause. Then with a strange sort of relish in his voice, the man says, "Nagiri, throw him out."

"Look at his injuries. Are you trying to kill him?! Our family has pledged an oath to shelter those of the Demon Slaying Corps. Without them, this country would plunge into chaos!"

"Do not kid yourself. He's a Tsuchinoto, barely a person of significance. His wounds mark him as a dead man, and anyhow, Ryuu Kuroshio has been forbidden to tread these halls."

"Ichiro-sama has no right to change the family law which has existed for–"

"Throw. Him. Out."

A scuffle ensues. The pot-bellied man roughly pries the old man's hands off your wrists. His sudden shove to your chest sends you stumbling, right off the raised door platform.

For a brief moment, a fleeting weightlessness seizes you.

You hit the ground. The resulting shockwave of pure agony feels like being stabbed by a thousand serrated blades. You don't know if a scream rips from your throat, but it'll be strange if there wasn't. The fall isn't great, laughable to consider life threatening, but in your state it is akin to nosediving off a steep cliff.

You feel the patter of rain on your face. Darkness creeps in from the fringes of your consciousness.

Lying on the ground with your limbs splayed, your final thought as your eyes slide shut is that Ichiro Fuji has made good on his promise.

/---/

"…shocked he's still breathing."

"Did you give him–"

"Blood? That was the first thing I did. He needed so much my stores are practically empty."

You think you feel yourself blink, but you can't be sure. You see nothing but vague shapes, moving grey figures against a black background. You attempt to move, but you can't feel your body.

No… that is not completely true. You can feel faint sensations in certain parts, almost ticklish, even. Other than that, you can't sense anything. Your world is bathed in an eerie and dreadful silence. Is this what people describe as toeing the line between reality and consciousness?

The somewhat familiar voice says, "That can't be. Is that truly your final diagnosis, Sensei?"

"Don't look at me like that. Just look at his shoulder." This is a different voice, the owner sounding resigned and weary. "Even after stitching what remained of his flesh together, it continues to bleed. I don't know what kind of beast he must have encountered to be bitten this severely, but from what little I can tell, the area has been infected by whatever it carried in its saliva."

"But you pulled him back from the brink of death. There must be a way for you to do something."

"I am not in the business of giving false hope, Nagiri-san. How long have we known each other? And I wasn't finished. The injury on his back is far more serious, one which I have no means to heal."

You want to struggle and thrash, fight away the encroaching disembodied hand. You keep trying until you realize your efforts are utterly pointless. The ghastly, nightmarish extension hovers over your chest – or is it your back? – and thrusts itself through it.

What an awful nightmare, this is.

The same man continues, "It is impossible for me to assess how badly his internals have been affected. Whatever cut into his flesh might have severed his spine or impaled any of his vital organs. I stoppered the bleeding and stabilized him, but with how deeply his flesh has been penetrated it is not if the problems occur, but when."

"This… what about operating on him?"

"Kakunodate is not Tokyo, and my clinic is not a hospital! Though I'm not one of those traditionalist codgers who spit at foreign medical techniques, I've never cut open a man or woman in my entire fifty years."

These voices are really too noisy. You want to open your eyes to find out who they belong to but… your eyes… so heavy.

"Pardon my intrusion, Sensei." Oh, a newcomer. What a gentle, soothing voice. A woman?

"Ah, miss. My apologies, I didn't think my rambling would rouse you from your sleep."

"There is no need for that, I'm intruding upon your kindness after all. But forgive me, for I overheard your conversation. I hope I'm not being too forward, but I myself practice medicine. I've previously dealt with patients in similar conditions… so perhaps, I may be of help."

"Oh! That would be–"

It's become less of a nightmare and more of a dream. Her voice is really… soothing…

…

…

"Why do we have to save him? He might not have their uniform, but that katana clearly makes him one of them."

"As a doctor, I cannot turn my back on someone in need."

"You're too kind. If this man wasn't in such a pathetic state, he might tried taking your head. I say we leave him to die."

"We are not in the position to fault him for what he might have done. After all, if we were like the rest of Muzan's progeny, we would have surely killed him as well."

"Still–!"

…

"Hmph, you made her waste such good medicine. I won't forgive you for that, but it'll be even worse if you died after her treatment. You'd better cling to your pitiful life, you hear me?"

/---/

You wake up in a cold sweat. Immediately, you feel a deep and throbbing ache pulsing outward from your back. Still heaving gasping breaths, you bend your hand and reach toward it. When you reach a certain area near your lower back, skimming over rough skin, you come across a slightly elevated patch of flesh. Gently tracing it, you can feel a thin line where a needle must have sutured.

You give the flesh there a sharp prod, and jerk at the ensuing jolt of pain. No doubt about it. That is where you remember your back wound being. But who in the world had done this…?

You suddenly recall dragging yourself through the streets of Kakunodate to reach the Wisteria House, only to be thrown out by a fatty. You rub your temples, trying to place what you'd done to gain such animosity.

…oh. He was the man you'd seen speaking to Urai, who'd been present when you stepped out to reveal yourself. He was probably one of of Ichiro Fuji's lackeys, seeing as he hadn't let you step an inch past the threshold after he recognized you. The young master of the Fuji family certainly hasn't forgotten the promise he'd made that day.

You hadn't put stock in his promise, but since you nearly died because of it, you can't help but be mad at Fuji. Indeed, you had made some prideful remarks at his expense that day outside headquarters, but for him to be so adamant about keeping to that dastardly promise angers you.

More than that, though, you're also furious at yourself. If it hadn't been for your words that day, you truly might have died in the rain.

You'd thought it'd been the right thing to do, defending your ego, but the price of nearly dying makes it less easy for you to claim you do not regret it. Outside of protecting those you loved, nothing is more precious than one's own life.

"Kuroshio-san, you're awake!" You turn to see a whitehaired elderly standing at the doorway. He gapes at you, the tray in his hands shaking badly enough to rattle the objects resting upon it. "Truly, that lady doctor spoke the truth. It's been exactly three days since then."

"Nagiri-san... correct? You were the one who received me at the door that night, I assume?"

"Yes, yes, that was me. Quickly, lie down, you shouldn't be exerting yourself. I'll call for the doctor. He won't be able to do a fraction of what that lady did, but you need to have your injuries checked."

You wave his concerns away. "I feel fine. Much better than I thought I would be, if I'm honest." You're not lying. Though a little weak, your head is clear and you feel no pain outside of some dull aching. You began pushing yourself off the bed.

"Where's my sword and uniform? I need to–" A wave of dizziness hits you without warning. You fall back into the thin bedding, nearly bruising the back of your head. The dull aches turn into sharp, piercing pains and you lay down for the next few moments, gasping for breath. When the biting agony subsides, the nagging begins.

"Tsk, you Slayers are all the same. Never paying a fraction of attention to yourselves you reserve for hunting demons. Your painkillers are wearing off, fool! Now get back into bed while I fetch the doctor. Do not even think about getting out, or I'll tie you to the futon myself."

He shoots you a glare, making sure you tuck yourself back into bed before he tromps off in search of the doctor.

You sigh. You stare up at the ceiling and count the water stains in the rickety, wooden roof. You should be grateful to him for saving your life… but goodness, what a mother hen. If your memory can be relied on, he also seems to harbour some dislike toward Ichiro Fuji. With such a strong character, it is no wonder they don't have an affinity for each other.

When the doctor, who Nagiri calls Sensei, enters the room a short while later, you receive a full breakdown on the current state of your body. It is much worse than you initially expect.

Torn muscles, three broken ribs, a barely suppressed infection from what you believe resulted from the demon's unclean mouth… when the doctor finishes his explanation, you hang your head in embarrassment. You haven't sustained this many injuries ever since your promotion to Tsuchinoto. The last serious injury you'd gotten you can barely recall, during your last few days as a Kanoe.

The drugs Wareta slipped you can be blamed for your lackluster performance. You can't deny you hold a portion of the blame however, since you walked willingly into his trap without thinking of the repercussions.

"It looks like I'll have to resume training if I don't want to end up like this again…" you mutter.

"That is the absolute last thing you should be doing!" Nagiri explodes. "Did you not listen to what the doctor was telling you the entire time?"

"Plenty of rest, no vigorous movements or activity for at least a month," you repeat, wincing at his shrill voice. "You have my promise that I'll adhere to it once I return to headquarters to make my report." When you see Nagiri prime himself to launch into another rant, you raise your hand. "You can't talk me out of it. It is my duty, I have to see it through."

Also, your urgency is due to what you found out about Wareta's wife. Muzan Kibutsuji, the original demon… how long has it been since the Corps had gotten information on his whereabouts?

It's been four days since you sliced off the demon's head. Four days completely cut off from communications. Your Kasugai Crow must be beside itself in worry. Not getting into contact with it when you're more than capable would just be mean-spirited and negligent.

"If you're planning to travel," the doctor speaks up. "There are still leftover painkillers you can take along. Depending on how far you're going, it should be able to tide you for majority of your journey. I'd normally insist you rest but if you've made up your mind, there is nothing much I can do."

"That would be helpful," you reply gratefully, ignoring Nagiri's huff. "I will reimburse you for both your service and supplies, Sensei."

The bald man cracks a wry smile. "I couldn't do much. The fact you pulled through is solely due to the efforts of that lady doctor. I don't know who she is. I only housed her and her companion since they took shelter from the rain at my doorstep. If I took reparations for her work, it would be a great sin."

"You tried to save me. It is only reasonable for me to repay you."

As you say this, a grateful smile blossoms on his wrinkled face. His eyes dance with happiness when he leaves the room, taking the tray of medicines with him. When he's gone, you turn back to Nagiri. "Thank you for bringing me here. If not for you, I would surely have died that night. You probably greatly risked your position to do this."

Nagiri watches you dip your head. Grimacing, he says, "The current master of the Fuji family is nothing like the previous. He's competent enough, but his heart is wicked. When he was a child, I asserted his demeanour to his horrid rearing, but… as a man, his actions can no longer be excused. Kuroshio-san. Please find it within yourself to forgive our family."

You stop him from kowtowing. "This matter is between him and I. Don't worry. You have served the Corps loyally for countless years, this won't change a thing."

"Kuroshio-san, I believe you must know by now the depth of Ichiro-sama's animosity toward you. Enlighten this old man… what is the reason he hates you enough to harm your life?"

If you said it was over a woman, you wonder what this old man's reaction would be. But you rather not risk Shinobu's reputation, so instead you say, "I suppose it's because I insulted the taste of his tea. Indeed, it was extremely rude of me. He worked hard to brew it for someone like me, who's so far below him."

"Such a thing… status is the last thing Ichiro-sama should speak of, considering his heritage."

You regard Nagiri with some curiosity at that statement, but the aching of your back and shoulder diverts your attention. You groan softly at the thought of a month long travel back to Headquarters. In this situation, perhaps it would be prudent to put the rest of your money to good use.

"Nagiri-san, could I trouble you to help me once again?" When he nods, you say, "When you've collected my belongings from the inn, could purchase a steed on my behalf? It has to be relatively inexpensive, but healthy enough to make the journey."

The old man nods. "Understood, Kuroshio-san. I will see what I can do. For now though," he wags his finger at you. "I expect you to rest!"

"Alright, alright…" you say.

Sheesh. Even the demon you faced hadn't been this deadly.