Chapter 106: First Exploration of Mount Kumotori
Now that Akira had returned to the Butterfly Mansion from Asakusa, he took a moment to adjust his original itinerary. He decided to visit Mount Kumotori first. Scouting the area and getting acquainted with the Kamado family would make relocating them much smoother down the line. Conveniently, this round trip was significantly shorter than making another detour to Asakusa. Once he confirmed the situation on the mountain, he would bring Kanae to meet Tamayo and Yushiro. After that, he could borrow Yushiro's Blood Demon Art to safely move the Kamado family out of harm's way.
Mount Kumotori sat at the rugged junction of two prefectures, looming over a sprawling urban area and a smattering of quiet towns nestled at its base. Dense forests blanketed its slopes, a wild mix of primeval broadleaf trees and neatly planted larch groves.
With early autumn creeping in, the mountain's towering peak already wore a light crown of snow, glittering sharply under the morning sun. Just below the frost line, withered yellow leaves clung desperately to bare, shivering branches. Further down the mid-slope, a sea of golden foliage swayed gracefully in the crisp wind, while the trees at the very foot of the mountain stubbornly held onto their lush summer green. Despite its modest elevation, the peak offered a stunning illusion of experiencing all four seasons on a single mountain.
Standing on the wooden terrace of a small inn at the mountain's base, Akira gazed up at Kumotori. The sheer, quiet beauty of nature never failed to command respect, regardless of when or where one witnessed it. He had arrived in town two days ago, spending his initial time sweeping the lower perimeter of the mountain. After thoroughly confirming the absence of any lingering demon scent or tracks, he finally prepared to ascend this morning.
The Kamado family was well-regarded in the neighboring towns, famous for the exceptionally high-quality charcoal they produced to keep the locals warm through the bitter winters. A few polite inquiries at the market were all it took to point Akira in the right direction.
Moving at his usual brisk pace, it didn't take long for him to handle the winding forest paths and spot the secluded courtyard. For a homestead buried so deep in the remote mountains, the property was surprisingly spacious and well-kept. Yet, it didn't feel out of place; the simple wooden structures blended harmoniously with the surrounding wilderness.
Halting just outside the modest wooden fence, Akira raised his voice over the rustling leaves. "Excuse me! Is this the Kamado residence?"
A moment later, the heavy wooden door creaked open. A tall, noticeably gaunt man stepped onto the porch, his deep red eyes locking onto Akira.
In that single, fleeting glance, a strange chill washed over Akira. He felt entirely exposed, as if every muscle fiber, pulsing vein, and hidden intent had been laid bare under the man's quiet stare. It was a sensation he had never experienced in his life. Barring any unexpected twists of fate, this red-haired man with the distinct scar on his forehead was Kamado Tanjuro. Through the legendary Transparent World, the frail-looking charcoal burner could literally see Akira inside and out.
Tanjuro's calloused hand tightened imperceptibly against the doorframe. Whether he had noticed Akira's terrifyingly dense muscle structure or caught a glimpse of the Nichirin Blade concealed beneath his wide haori, the older man was clearly on guard.
"Yes, I am Kamado Tanjuro," his voice was calm, yet carried a quiet, unyielding weight. "May I ask who you are, sir?"
"My name is Akira. I'm just a passing traveler," Akira replied, keeping his tone light and non-threatening. "I happened to hear rumors that the Dance of the Fire God—the Kagura passed down through the Kamado family—is a truly magnificent sight. I came hoping to witness it for myself. Would that be an imposition?"
Silence descended over the courtyard. The two men simply stared at each other across the wooden fence. The crisp autumn breeze suddenly felt heavy. Just as a faint prickle of sweat began to form on the back of Akira's neck, the tension snapped.
Tanjuro's rigid posture softened. Having confirmed there was no malice in the stranger's aura, he gave a slow nod. "You may."
Stepping down from the porch, Tanjuro crossed the dirt yard, unlatched the gate, and gestured for Akira to enter. It wasn't until Akira actually stepped foot inside the boundary of the courtyard that the piercing weight of Tanjuro's gaze finally lifted. Akira suppressed a quiet sigh of relief. Being scrutinized by the Transparent World was a deeply uncomfortable experience.
"Papa? Do we have a guest?"
A young boy peeked out from the doorway. He shared his father's deep burgundy hair, bright reddish eyes, and even bore a similar scar on his forehead. Unlike Tanjuro's frail frame, however, the boy radiated vibrant, youthful health. One look was all it took for Akira to recognize him. Kamado Tanjiro—the eldest son, and the heart of the original story.
"Yes," Tanjuro answered gently, his remaining wariness melting away completely at the sight of his son. "This is Mr. Akira, a traveler. He wishes to see our family's Kagura dance."
As a father, Tanjuro knew his eldest son's unique gift perfectly well. Tanjiro possessed a sense of smell so impossibly sharp that he could sniff out deceit, hidden emotions, and malicious intent. The fact that Tanjiro had trotted out so casually, completely unguarded, was the ultimate proof that Akira meant them no harm.
"Oh! The Kagura dance is really amazing to watch!" Tanjiro's eyes sparkled with immediate excitement, a bright smile breaking across his face.
Before the boy could say more, a beautiful woman with soft features and dark hair tied back in a white cloth stepped out of the house. She held a sleeping infant securely in her arms. Kamado Kie, Tanjuro's wife.
With the parents and the eldest brother present, the rest of the children quickly spilled out into the yard like curious ducklings. Nezuko, just a year younger than Tanjiro, stepped out first. Behind her trailed Takeo and Hanako, while little Shigeru—who looked like he had only recently mastered walking—toddled along, his small hand gripping Nezuko's haori.
Assuming the timeline held true, the tiny baby resting against Kie's chest was the youngest, Rokuta. Four boys and two girls. A bustling, lively household.
Akira's gaze drifted from the six energetic children to the severely gaunt Tanjuro, and finally to the exceptionally beautiful Kie. A deeply inappropriate thought suddenly crossed his mind. He seriously began to doubt if Tanjuro's physical exhaustion was solely the result of practicing a taxing Breathing Technique with poor nutrition for so many years.
Unbidden, the frail image of Ubuyashiki Kagaya flashed through his head. Just over a year ago, Amane had given birth to triplets, including the future heir, Kiriya.
'Right. Let's not go there,' Akira thought, quickly banishing the stray, disrespectful thoughts as the Kamado family formally introduced themselves.
Throughout the polite exchanges, Akira found his eyes repeatedly drawn to Nezuko. It wasn't born of any perverse intention—she was just a little girl, clearly even younger than Kanao. Rather, his memories were so thoroughly dominated by her fierce, bamboo-muzzled demon form that seeing her as a normal, happy human child felt incredibly surreal.
Her long, dark hair was tied back into a neat bun with a simple pink ribbon. She possessed the same large, expressive red eyes as her older brother, currently blinking up at Akira with innocent curiosity and a sweet, gentle smile.
"According to our family's tradition, the Dance of the Fire God must be performed at night," Tanjuro explained, his tone hospitable. "Mr. Akira, you are welcome to rest at our home first. Or, if you have other pressing matters, you may return later."
"I have no other plans," Akira replied smoothly, accepting the invitation to stay for the day. "If it isn't too much trouble, I would love to impose on your hospitality."
"Mr. Akira, are you really a traveler?" Tanjiro asked, stepping closer. Since his nose picked up nothing but calm warmth from the stranger, the boy felt entirely at ease.
"Uh... I suppose you could call me that," Akira chuckled.
"Then you must have been to so many different places, right? Can you tell us about them?" Tanjiro's eager request instantly drew the sparkling, expectant eyes of all his younger siblings.
Children were naturally drawn to the unknown. For kids raised entirely within the secluded embrace of the mountains, the question of 'What is the outside world like?' was an irresistible lure.
"I suppose I have been to quite a few places," Akira smiled, taking a seat on the porch as the children eagerly gathered around him. "For example..."
With the afternoon stretching out before him, Akira began weaving tales of the bustling cities, strange landscapes, and colorful people he had encountered during his past missions. He kept the stories light and adventurous, carefully omitting the blood and violence of the Demon Slayers.
It wasn't just the children who were captivated. Even Tanjuro and Kie found themselves leaning in, listening to the young traveler's stories with quiet, genuine fascination.
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