Chapter 15: The Abnormal Village
Early the next morning, Akira and Jigoro arrived together at the foot of Mount Momoyama.
"You don't have to see me off any further, old man," Akira said, turning to his master. "I'll be back in a few days."
"You brat..." Jigoro grumbled, his weathered face a mask of stern affection. "Be careful on the road."
"Don't worry."
With a final wave, Akira boarded the horse-drawn carriage he had rented in advance.
In truth, renting a single horse would have been faster and cheaper. However, Akira was still young, barely standing at one-and-a-half meters. While tall for his age, he could only just reach the stirrups while seated on a horse's back. Riding the entire way would have been exhausting, and more, he needed to conserve his strength for any potential emergencies.
Of course, that was just his public excuse. The real reason was much simpler: it wasn't like he was short on money, so why make things difficult for himself?
Jigoro Kuwajima had spent most of his life as a member of the Demon Slayer Corps, serving as a Hashira for a long time. With few daily expenses, his savings were far more than just substantial.
Watching the carriage pull away, Jigoro saw a hand reach out from the window and wave twice more. He could only sigh, turning back to return to the mountain and wait quietly for Akira's safe return.
...
After retracting his arm, Akira settled back into his seat, his hand instinctively going to the Nichirin Blade hidden beneath his oversized coat. This sword was once Jigoro's personal weapon, and he could feel its cold, metallic weight through the fabric. Recalling the sword techniques he had been practicing so relentlessly, a flicker of something dark and eager sparked within him. For a brief moment, he actually found himself hoping to encounter a demon on the road.
The thought startled him, and he shook his head with a sharp, self-deprecating motion.
'You've only got a bit of talent,'Akira muttered to himself.'You haven't even mastered Total Concentration: Constant. How can you let yourself get so carried away?'
The destination was still a long way off. With the mindset of putting his idle time to good use, Akira began practicing his Breathing Technique right there in the carriage, striving to master Total Concentration: Constant as soon as possible.
Total Concentration Breathing could be described as a super-enhanced, almost otherworldly version of deep breathing. It allowed him to inhale a massive amount of air, rapidly delivering oxygen through his lungs and blood to every corner of his body. This process stimulated the metabolism of all his cells, strengthening his body from the inside out.
The technique placed an immense burden on the body; Akira's first attempt had nearly caused him to black out.
Total Concentration: Constant was the next step: maintaining this state of breathing twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, letting it completely replace his normal respiration. Only by mastering this could a swordsman hope to reach the highest echelons of the Demon Slayer Corps.
Currently, Akira could only maintain the technique while awake. The moment he fell asleep, his body would revert to its normal breathing pattern.
Although it had only been half a year since he first learned the Breathing Techniques, his ability to proficiently master all the forms of Thunder Breathing and train his Total Concentration to this level was a sign of considerable talent. Yet, whenever he thought of a certain boy around his age who went from first touching a blade to becoming a Hashira in just two months, he couldn't help but feel his own progress was painfully slow.
If your talent is lacking, then what does that make me? Naturally dull-witted? he could almost hear Jigoro retorting in his head.
As Akira focused on his practice, time slipped away. Before he knew it, evening had begun to fall.
Seeing the sun dip toward the horizon, Akira asked the coachman to find the nearest village where they could stay for the night. Following the map's guidance, the driver soon found a small settlement nestled beside a stream.
The village wasn't large, appearing to have only about a dozen households. Wisps of cooking smoke drifted lazily from the rooftops into the twilight sky.
But with a quick glance, Akira noticed something was wrong. Only about half of the houses had smoke rising from their chimneys.
This meant the already small village was half empty.
The location was ideal, right next to a stream, making it perfect for farming. Even if a few families had come into money and moved to a larger town, it wouldn't result in half the village being abandoned all at once.
'Something's not right here,' was Akira's first impression.
But it was about to be completely dark. Feeling the reassuring weight of the Nichirin Blade under his coat, he decided to proceed and led the coachman into the village. Staying in a house, any house, was better than sleeping in the wild.
Besides, there were plenty of reasons a village's population might decline—natural disasters, bandit attacks, or an outbreak of disease. In this era, threats to ordinary people came from all sides; demons were just one of many.
'And I'm not some storybook protagonist,'he reasoned.'What are the odds I'd run into a demon on my very first trip? My luck can't be that good, can it?'
Unwittingly, Akira was raising one flag after another in his mind.
He approached a house where smoke was rising and knocked on the door.
A moment later, the door creaked open a crack. A haggard-looking woman peered out, her eyes warily sizing him up.
"Hello," Akira said politely. "Would it be possible for us to stay the night? I can pay."
Resistance flashed in the woman's eyes at the mention of lodging, but she hesitated when she heard the word "pay." Her gaze swept over Akira again, noting his clean, new clothes made from fabric that ordinary people couldn't afford. Finally, she slowly opened the door.
Only then did she notice the coachman standing behind Akira. Seeing his common attire, she paid him little mind.
"The only empty space is the woodshed," she said, her voice flat. "You can sleep on the floor in there. If you don't mind, come in."
"That's fine," Akira replied, stepping inside. "I'm not picky."
Seeing his employer enter, the coachman had no choice but to follow.
The woman seemed to want to say something more but held her tongue. After closing and bolting the door, she disappeared into the house and returned with two sets of simple bedding.
For a family that was clearly not well-off to have two extra sets of bedding was strange. Stranger still was the fact that no one else in the house had shown their face, despite the arrival of outsiders. Akira felt more and more certain that something was deeply wrong with this village.
As for the coachman, a man who had knocked about the world for many years, cold sweat was already breaking out on his back. Every single thing about this place felt wrong.
This village is cursed! a silent scream echoed in his mind.
If not for the fact that his employer, Akira, was still here—and that the bulk of his payment would only be settled upon arrival—he would have turned and fled.
If only he'd known! He should have driven a bit slower so they could have stopped at the last town. Why did they have to stay in such a strange, unsettling place? His employer hadn't even been rushing him...
But no matter what the coachman was thinking, as long as he wanted his money, he had to brace himself and stay.
To both of their surprise, however, the night passed with exceptional peace.
Early the next morning, Akira left some money on the floor of the woodshed and departed with the coachman. He had originally wanted to ask for a hot breakfast, but one look at the coachman's terrified expression—the man clearly hadn't slept a wink—and those desperate, pleading eyes made him reconsider. He couldn't bear to continue torturing the poor man's fragile nerves.
When they got outside the village, the coachman saw that the carriage, tied to a tree, was still intact. He breathed a huge, shuddering sigh of relief. Without a second thought, he grabbed Akira's arm and practically sprinted toward the carriage. His mind was set on one thing and one thing only: leaving this godforsaken place as fast as humanly possible. All thoughts of being disrespectful to his employer were gone. The only reason he'd bothered to drag Akira along at all was out of respect for the money.
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