May Fortune Favor You in Battle!
Over the next two days, Giyu's external injuries healed completely.
But he didn't leave right away. For one thing, he followed the doctor's advice and stayed for further observation. For another, although Akamatsu and the others were getting better, they still needed a peaceful place like this to recuperate, and he couldn't help worrying about them.
He rose early in the morning.
First, he did recovery exercises in an open space in the corner of the courtyard.
His movements weren't fast, but they were precise. His sky-blue Nichirin Blade traced quiet arcs through the morning light, perfectly in rhythm with the faintly flowing water vapor around him.
He closed his eyes and felt the flow of breath within his body, letting it rediscover that smooth, free sensation of moving like water.
After practice, he carefully wiped down and maintained his Nichirin Blade.
The old woman sometimes sat beneath the eaves of the main house, doing needlework or leafing through an old account book.
Her gaze occasionally drifted to the blue figure practicing quietly in the courtyard. Her eyes held the warm appreciation of an elder watching a diligent youngster, but above that appreciation was a respect for him as a demon-slaying swordsman.
She never interrupted him. Only after he finished practicing did she send the maid A Jing over with warm barley tea and a clean cloth.
"Lord Giyu, please have some tea."
A Jing always offered it with both hands, respectfully.
"Thank you."
Giyu took it and drank it quietly.
He didn't spend all his time in the courtyard, either.
Sometimes, when he saw the servants struggling to carry the bamboo trays used for drying herbs, he would silently go over and lend a hand.
His movements were steady and deft, and he always managed to put the heavy bamboo trays in just the right place.
When the old woman saw, she would say sincerely:
"Sorry for the trouble, my lord."
On another day, the old woman was pruning a potted wisteria. Its branches were too tangled, and she was working a little slowly.
Giyu saw her after finishing his practice and walked over.
"Do you need help?" he asked.
The old woman looked a little surprised, then smiled. "If you don't mind such a fussy little task, my lord..."
Giyu shook his head and took the small, sharp gardening shears from her hand.
He studied the potted plant, then set his fingers to work with a steady hand.
The shears landed precisely at the base of each unwanted branch. His movements were decisive yet gentle, and he soon trimmed away the tangled growth, preserving the bonsai's original elegance and character.
Tiny purple petals drifted onto his cuffs.
The old woman watched from the side, her eyes full of admiration.
"Your hands are so steady, my lord, and your heart is calm."
"It seems you're not only skilled with a sword, but also very gifted at gardening."
Giyu put down the shears and looked at his hands, then at the freshly trimmed bonsai. A faint, almost imperceptible emotion flashed in his eyes.
Perhaps the heart behind protecting beautiful things was the same, whether one used a sword or a pair of shears.
In the afternoons, if he had nothing to do, he would sit at the edge of the veranda and watch the light and shadows move across the courtyard.
Sometimes the old woman would come and sit under the eaves nearby, chatting with him about everyday matters as she worked.
They talked about little things around town, like the sweet shop on West Street offering a new bean-paste flavor, or the spring bamboo shoots on the mountain behind town growing especially well this year~~~.
Her voice was gentle and even, as though she were simply chatting, yet also introducing him to the life on this ordinary land they protected together.
Most of the time, Giyu just listened, occasionally giving a brief reply.
This simple everyday life, with no need to stay on edge or think about fighting, was unfamiliar to him, but he didn't dislike it.
Warm sunlight bathed him, the shadows of the wisteria flowers slowly shifted across the bluestone paving, and the air carried the scent of herbs and a faint aroma of food.
It all created a feeling of solid, comforting reality, one that seemed to overlap a little with the quiet afternoons he remembered from when his sister was still alive.
Perhaps what he protected with his sword was precisely these countless moments of everyday life, seemingly insignificant yet making up the full weight of life.
The peace was broken on the afternoon of the fourth day.
Kanzaburo flapped his wings and landed steadily in front of Giyu, who was sitting quietly beneath the eaves.
He puffed out his chest and let loose in his trademark booming voice:
"Giyu! Giyu Tomioka! New mission!!! Emergency mission!!!"
Giyu's eyes snapped open. The softness in his ice-blue eyes faded in an instant, replaced by his usual cold focus.
Kanzaburo called out urgently:
"Northwest, Blue Stone Town!"
"More than twenty people have mysteriously disappeared at night over seven days! It's been judged to be the work of a demon! The situation is urgent, and the harm is spreading!"
"Mission rank: kinoe!!"
"You're ordered to go investigate immediately and eliminate the threat!"
"I repeat, go immediately!!!"
A kinoe-rank mission, more than twenty warriors missing... the situation was clearly urgent.
Without a moment's hesitation, Giyu stood up on the spot.
"Understood. I'll get ready to leave."
By then, the old woman had also heard the commotion and come out of the main house, her unfinished needlework still in her hands.
She heard the crow's words, and a trace of worry flashed in her eyes, but there was more understanding and support.
She bowed slightly to Giyu.
"Please wait a moment, my lord. I'll prepare a few things for your journey."
About half an hour later, Giyu was ready.
His black Demon Slayer Corps uniform sat neatly on him, every button fastened tight.
The red haori stained with blood and dirt on Defiled Wood Mountain had long since been washed clean.
Now it rested on his shoulders, its color vivid as a blazing fire, yet carrying the quiet freshness of having been washed.
His sky-blue Nichirin Blade sat securely in its scabbard at his waist, the pattern on its blade faintly visible at the mouth of the sheath.
The old woman had prepared plenty of rice balls that would keep for a long time, bamboo tubes filled with clean water, and small cloth packets of medicinal powders to stop bleeding, reduce inflammation, and counteract poison... all packed into a sturdy indigo cloth bag.
Giyu slung the bag across his shoulder, checked everything once, then walked steadily to the entrance of Wisteria House.
The setting sun was sinking, painting the sky brilliant gold, red, orange, and purple, and casting a dreamlike glow over the sea of wisteria flowers by the gate.
The old woman, A Jing, and several servants were already waiting quietly beneath the eaves over the gate.
The evening breeze stirred her graying hair and the hem of her dark purple clothing.
"Lord Giyu,"
The old woman stepped back and faced him. With her hands folded in front of her, she bowed deeply and respectfully, her head lowered, and spoke in a clear, solemn voice:
"May the pure breath of the wisteria flowers always remain by your side, my lord, driving away defilement and calamity."
"May the sharp blade in your hand cut down all the demons of this world and sweep away darkness and sorrow."
"May the gods watch over the road ahead of you and grant you light and guidance."
She paused and raised her head, gazing into Giyu's ice-blue eyes with a clear, steadfast look.
"I wish you—"
"Fortune in battle!!!"
The servants behind her bowed as well, silently offering their respect and good wishes.
Giyu looked at the old woman bowing deeply before him, then at the sea of purple flowers swaying gently in the evening breeze behind her.
A weighty, deeply reassuring warmth coursed through his body and welled up in his heart.
The weight of his sword and the path he walked was tied not only to his dead sister and the beloved master who had taught him... it was also closely bound to these silent watchers, and to the countless ordinary yet precious lives on this land.
He, Giyu Tomioka, had never been alone.
There were no more words.
He cast one last look at Wisteria House, which had given him warmth and strength, then turned decisively.
He walked northwest with steady, swift strides, never looking back.
Before long, that figure clad in deep blue and crimson merged into the dark silhouette of the distant mountains and the rosy light filling the sky.
Kanzaburo circled overhead, letting out a hoarse but powerful cry, as though announcing that a new journey had begun.