The village buzzed with its usual early-evening energy. Lanterns swung from ropes between buildings, casting soft glows over stalls selling fruit, fabric, trinkets, and freshly grilled street food. Willow weaved through the crowd, wearing her usual hooded cloak and the smooth porcelain mask that covered her face from forehead to chin. The mask was painted simply: A kitsune mask with closed purple eyes with a red mouth and a yellow crescent moon and stars on the right side of the forehead.
She liked this village. No one asked questions.
Well, not too many anyway.
She exchanged a few coins for a cloth bundle of vegetables, then stopped at the old man's stall who always sold her a small bag of rice. She had no noble family name to flash. No Demon Slayer Corps uniform to earn trust. Just a pile of stolen coins from some unnamed bandits.
Just as she was about to leave, a shout cracked through the air. She turned toward the commotion, a man was red-faced and yelling at a jewelry vendor, his hands waving wildly over a scattered display of baubles.
"I'm not paying a whole twenty yen for a worthless trinket!" the man spat, knocking a tray of rings to the dirt.
Willow's jaw clenched. Her first instinct was to walk away. Blend in. Stay small.
But something twisted in her chest. She couldn't ignore it.
"Excuse me, sir," she called, stepping closer. "Please stop harassing her. You're scaring the vendor and destroying her work."
The man rounded on her, eyes narrow, mouth curling into a sneer. "Mind your own business, brat. Don't act like you're better than me."
"I'm not," she said, her voice calm. "But this isn't right."
The man snarled and stomped toward her. "You think you can talk to me like that?" His hand shot out and grabbed the collar of her kimono. "You think you're high and mighty? Behind that creepy mask?"
Willow's heart thundered in her chest. She curled her hands into fists, ready to kick him in between his legs, if she had to.
But she didn't need to.
A firm hand clasped the man's wrist.
"That's not very gentlemanly," said a warm, even voice. "You shouldn't treat a lady that way."
Willow blinked looking at who said that.
The man helping her… had bright gold hair tipped with red. Gold and red eyes. And a flame-patterned haori.
Kyojuro Rengoku.
Her breath hitched.
The man growled, "This has nothing to do with you, freak!"
Rengoku's warm expression cooled slightly. Then he squeezed.
A loud snap echoed.
The man cried out, releasing Willow and cradling his arm, backing away.
"You should leave. While you still can," Rengoku said firmly.
The man scowled, then limped off into the crowd, still hissing in pain but wisely not testing his luck further.
Willow stood frozen for a beat. Then she bowed slightly. "T-thank you, sir…"
"Are you alright?" he asked, voice gentle again.
"Yes. I'm fine," she managed.
She excused herself briefly to help the vendor gather her scattered jewelry. The woman, teary-eyed, insisted on giving Willow a small gold bracelet as thanks. It had a simple crescent moon charm.
"I can't take this," Willow protested.
"I insist." the vendor said kindly.
Willow accepted it with a quiet thank you and slipped it onto her wrist.
When she returned to Rengoku, she bowed again. "Thank you so much for helping me. I'm Willow Tsugikuni. Just Willow is fine."
"Kyojuro Rengoku," he replied with his characteristic brightness. "A pleasure, Willow!"
"Is there anything I can do to repay you? Maybe a meal?"
His eyes sparkled. "I never say no to food!"
They went to a small ramen stall nearby. Rengoku dug in eagerly, and with every bite, he shouted with childlike joy, "UMAI!"
Willow giggled despite herself.
He paused and looked sheepish. "Apologies. Am I too loud?"
"No, no—it's fine," Willow said through a smile. "Honestly, it's… kind of endearing."
Rengoku blinked, then smiled even wider.
As they finished their meal, Rengoku asked curiously, "Why were you alone?"
Willow hesitated. "I was running an errand for my sensei."
His brow lifted. "Ah, training, then? Are you aiming for Final Selection?"
"Yes," she said quickly.
He stood with a nod, brushing off his haori. "Then I wish you the best of luck."
As he turned to leave, she blurted, "Wait! I mean…sorry, just one more thing…"
He turned back, tilting his head slightly.
"How do I get to Mount Fujikasane? For Final Selection?" Willow asked.
"Doesn't your sensei know?"
She froze. "He does. I just… want to make sure I don't get lost. This is very important to me."
Rengoku gave a soft chuckle and nodded. "Understandable. Head north from here for about four days. You'll find the wisteria path. You can't miss it."
"Thank you," Willow said softly.
"Take care, Willow Tsugikuni!" he called before vanishing into the crowd.
She stood there for a moment longer, heart fluttering in her chest.
Then she buried her masked face in her hands and screamed internally.
" I called him endearing! Oh my gods, I called Rengoku endearing! Ahhh! "
Her face was burning beneath the mask.
Later, as she returned to the house, she found her father still resting. Peaceful. Safe.
She sat beside him, eyes drifting toward the bracelet now around her wrist.
Nineteen years.
So much had happened. So much was coming.
She clenched her fists, heart burning like flame.
This time, no one would die. Not if she could stop it.
She would save him. All of them.
This was her story now.
And she wasn't done yet.