The night of the Demon Slayer Corps' youngest member, commonly called Young Moon, passes quickly. Using the excuse that he had no missions because he was a child, he often went straight to bed after sunset.
Children sleep well, and children who sleep well grow well, but that wasn't the only reason he went to bed early.
Pad pad.
Pad pad.
At the footsteps sounding from the hallway, Young Moon buries himself under the futon and holds his breath. Curling his back into a pill bug state, manner mode. He prayed the quiet footsteps would pass by as they were── but the sound stopped abruptly. Right in front of this room.
The door opens with ghostly silence. Something is looking this way. A gaze so hot it can be felt even through the futon. Young Moon squeezes his eyes shut and shrinks within the futon. He desperately wished for the owner of the gaze to disappear quickly.
But, ah, how heartless.
"You must be awake, Young Moon. It's training time."
'Urrrrrrrrrr'
How merciless is this. The owner of the gaze relentlessly slides the white-haired child out of bed.
Tsugikuni Yoriiichi─ pretending to sleep is meaningless before this man who has mastered the seen world. Dressing the pajama-clad Young Moon with his own haori, Yoriiichi with serene eyes sits on the veranda with the dead-eyed child on his lap. The child's eyes grew even deader.
How many times is this now, ending up dead-eyed while being held on a man's lap? Let's stop. Don't make me remember. I don't want to talk about painful things. I gave up counting after it passed ten times.
Young Moon cannot vocalize and cannot speak. But there's nothing wrong with his body. Therefore, believing he should be able to speak, Yoriiichi subjects Young Moon to vocal training like this.
Since he's never been particularly troubled by being unable to speak, it's unnecessary meddling, though well-intentioned. But this strongest Demon Slayer was enthusiastic about giving a voice to the voiceless child, and that passion bordered on obsession. No matter how dead-eyed the boy looks, the training doesn't stop.
At this Spartan zeal, Young Moon sometimes thought 'Is this guy trying to torment me?', but the teaching method was so sincere and gentle that it couldn't possibly be with that intention.
Yoriiichi also didn't seem intent on clinging to training to the point of disturbing Young Moon's sleep. If he's sleeping, he pretends not to see, and if Young Moon actually feels even slightly sleepy, Yoriiichi stops the training and sends him back to bed, saying 'children who sleep well grow well.'
While showing such consideration, why is there no option to not train? Young Moon couldn't understand the meaning. Why can he accurately know others' drowsiness but not understand people's hearts at all? Young Moon wondered. Even while wondering, he concluded with "But it's Yoriiichi-san, so."
Tsugikuni Yoriiichi is like this. That's why Tsugikuni Yoriiichi is. Truly, nothing can be done.
Having resigned himself like that, Young Moon decided to participate in Yoriiichi's training only until sleepiness overwhelms him.
The boy hasn't never tried to speak either. He'd made efforts to be able to speak, but ultimately failed. It wasn't that he didn't know how to speak. In his previous life, he spoke to his heart's content. He'd shout "Muzan-kun, no~ol~ ja~~!" with sounds bursting from his gut. He talked so much that Kibutsuji-san's Muzan-kun would target him with "You're noisy."
Perhaps God took his voice away, thinking 'Make this guy quiet down.' Maybe he talked too much in his previous life, using up this life's share too.
"Now, Young Moon. Take a deep breath, and exhale. Properly be conscious of this spot."
Yoriiichi's fingers tucked under his chin were warm. Yoriiichi's body temperature, from constantly using Total Concentration Breathing, was much higher than even child Young Moon's. Honestly, Young Moon was a boy who got cold somewhat easily, so he was grateful for Yoriiichi's body temperature at least.
In this season where summer has ended and autumn's chill begins to deepen, when dragged out of the futon, he thought he'd smash him (in his dream), but since Yoriiichi was warmer than expected, he forgave him immediately.
If only there was no training, it would be perfect. Being more greedy, if Yoriiichi were a soft, nice-smelling older sister, it would be heaven. Unfortunately, Yoriiichi is a man who is slender yet damnably firm with muscle. Leaning against his back, the feeling is so hard it makes you want to cry.
Young Moon takes a deep breath as told. Consciously exhaling where Yoriiichi's fingers touch.
But what leaks from his mouth is, as expected, merely simple breath; today too, this child's voice could not be drawn out.
"…Still not working today either."
Faintly, Young Moon sensed Yoriiichi was feeling anxious. For this man with an expressionless face whose thoughts are unknowable to show this much emotion. Though their acquaintance was short, Young Moon understood how rare that was.
"...If things continue like this, Brother might really make a flute. Like in my time..."
The muttering voice still had the usual calmness, but within that calmness, it held a very slight, lonely tone.
Since the moment Michikatsu brought up the flute topic a few days ago, Yoriiichi's mood had been strange. Now, Yoriiichi himself mentioned the flute topic and gave off a lonely air.
Not sure exactly what, but the reason Yoriiichi-san wants to make me speak seems to be about the flute, somehow. Young Moon speculated.
It seems to be because of a flute Michikatsu-san would make himself. Young Moon's deduction continues.
Does Yoriiichi-san dislike the idea of Michikatsu-san making a flute for me? Young Moon almost reached the truth.
Young Moon resolved.
Alright, tomorrow I'll ask Michikatsu-san to make me a flute!
You probably guessed, but this boy really dislikes Yoriiichi!
＊
That night too, after finishing his mission, Yoriiichi visited Young Moon's room. Worried if he might already be asleep at this late hour, but the moment he stood before the door, Yoriiichi felt a sense of incongruity.
Young Moon was awake. Despite this late hour.
The boy who until yesterday had been burying himself under the futon pretending to sleep, for some reason today seemed to be waiting for Yoriiichi to come.
Opening the door soundlessly, the boy stood boldly in the center of the room without even a futon laid out, arms crossed. Crimson eyes flash as they glare. Leaving the expressionlessly flustered Yoriiichi behind, the expressionlessly swaggering Young Moon rummages in his sleeve and pulls out something.
Yoriiichi's eyes captured it.
It was a camellia seed pod. One commonly found fallen in the mansion garden.
Not a simple camellia seed pod. With a small hole as if carved and the inside hollowed out, the quick-witted Yoriiichi felt the blood drain from his face for the first time in his life—a face that had only ever had good color. Young Moon puffs out his chest and triumphantly brings that camellia seed pod to his mouth.
With a light puff of breath, a thin *peee* sound rings out.
Blow and it sounds. Namely, a flute.
That camellia seed pod was a flute...!
To Yoriiichi, the flute is a memento of memories with his brother.
A beautiful memory no different from an inviolable sanctuary...!
But that item, the item he thought was given only to him, is now,
IN HIS HANDS!!
As if to further corner the trembling Yoriiichi, Young Moon blows the flute again with a *peee* sound.
Provoking…. Being provoked…. The Warring States' strongest demon slayer is now being provoked by a child not yet of age…! With that mere hollowed-out seed pod flute!!
Will that divinely favored demon slayer indeed rise to this provocation?
To such a childish provocation…!
Yoriiichi smoothly drew a bundle from his breast.
Unwrapping the bundle, what emerged was a small flute.
This can't be.
Yoriiichi rose to it──!
Tsugikuni Yoriiichi's provocation resistance regarding his brother was zero──!!
Soundlessly, wordlessly, Yoriiichi quietly brings the flute, now too small for his hands, to his mouth. Looks down at Young Moon with cold, straight eyes. Young Moon likewise. Doesn't avert his eyes, glares at Yoriiichi.
This is like a duel. Truly a showdown between men. A fight with no concession. A scene where tumbleweeds would roll in a Western. Yes, that thing that rolls *de gulde gul* with the wind!
The two, depicted in dramatic style, glare at each other seriously. As if placing hands on swords, they grip their flutes!
Now──,
Fair and square──,
The two opened their eyes with a flash!
M A T C H !!
Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeーーー!!
Pheeeーーーhyorululuーーーoot!!
Flutes blown simultaneously with the full limits of their lung capacity! Just what are these guys doing? But they were serious. With sincere faces (expressionless), eyes bloodshot, they blow their flutes. To this degree, it was madness. It's painful that there's no one here to play the straight man.
Peeeeeeーーーt!
'Michikatsu-san, you know! Made this for me during training! I begged and he made it for me!! He's kind!! Michikatsu-san is kind to me!!'
Pyoー! Pippeeーーー!
'That Brother is a kind person is already a law of the world. Being kind isn't exclusive to you. Brother is broad-minded, kind to everyone and kind to me too. This flute was also made by Brother himself. Given to me when I was young. This one, unlike yours, has two holes. Three if you include the mouthpiece. How about that!'
Peeeeeeee!!
'Haaaaaaah?! This isn't a delinquent boasting about piercings, don't compete over hole count?! If you're going to say that, Michikatsu-san made five more identical ones as spares for meー! Meaning I received six flutesー! Don't show off with just oneー?! Actually, I wanted to ask for a bamboo flute, but thought Michikatsu-san is busy and wouldn't have time, so I declined, and he made a bunch from camellia seed pods for meーー!! Michikatsu-san is totally kindーーー!!!'
Piyaーーーー! Piyapeeーーー!!!
'Brother is too kind, is he a bodhisattva? But you are foolish! To measure Brother's affection by quantity, how foolish! Realize that quality is more important than quantity in all things! This flute is something Brother in his youth made for me with clumsy skill, namely, a precious memento of memories between Brother and me!! The bond between Brother and me as siblings!!'
Peeeeeeeeet!!
'Then I made this flute with Michikatsu-san! Together, you hear?! Sitting side by side, we scooped out the seed with a stone and hollowed the inside with a toothpick, and when finished, we exchanged them and played on the veranda! We made memories together!! We hollowed out the seed and filled it with memories instead!! What's so great about a sibling bond?! This is a master-disciple bond!!'
Why can these guys converse with flutes?
Think the opposite. Because it's a guy who can't speak and a guy who speaks impassively, they can't properly express their hearts without loading it onto melody. Music solves everything. Though what these guys are playing is noise left to their lung capacity. It was a complete waste of Breathing.
Total Concentration, Waste Breathing.
First Form, Noise Pollution.
Someone call a lawyer. Extract compensation and damages.
After raising a *pipipipyorululupitpi* ruckus, the one who first removed the flute from his mouth, feeling the limits of his lung capacity, was Young Moon. Compared to Young Moon heaving his shoulders with rough breaths, Yoriiichi doesn't break his cool expression. The smile held at his mouth is the leisure of the victor. A face that says 'I still have far to go.' Hey kids, God didn't grant you talent for this kind of contest.
Peeee...
'Not bad...'
Pyopiー
'You too.'
You guys still planning to talk with flutes?
The two were still glaring, but their mouths didn't look particularly displeased. Like delinquents who had a fistfight by the river and now lie side by side on the grass looking at the blue sky together, a strange atmosphere swirled between the two.
Pyopipypyoー
'It was truly a good fight.'
Extending his hand to the child whose lips are pursed in the humiliation of defeat. Young Moon glared at that hand with pursed lips, but as if giving up, with a sigh that seemed to say 'for heaven's sake,' just as he was about to take that hand──.
"YOU'RE TOOOO NOISY!!!!"
At the shout that suddenly flew in, they flinched and withdrew their hands.
With a *BANG!*, the door opened energetically, and what charged in with a furious face was Myouju, wearing a yellow haori over his sleepwear. Behind him was Michikatsu, also in sleepwear. Likely drawn by the noisy flute sounds like Myouju. He looks extremely displeased.
"Are you holding a *pi riri pi riri* festival, thinking this is a banquet hall?! I'm dying from the noise!! Do you know what time it is?! It's the hour of the rat! The time when even grass and trees are sleeping!! You guys should follow nature's example and sleep immediately!!!"
Myouju's anger was immense, proportionate to his sleep being disturbed by the horrible noise.
Michikatsu behind him was overwhelmed by that force and couldn't intervene.
"And what's with that flute sound in the first place?! The pitch being off is beyond excessive?! To be this off is rather a miracle, I say a miracle! The guy who made that must be loved by God! By the god of tone-deafness!! I almost want to see what kind of face has such tremendously awful skill!!"
Michikatsu turned his face away slightly in embarrassment. Myouju, look behind you. Turn around and you can see that face. The one with tremendously awful skill you speak of is Lord Michikatsu.
At his brother and teacher's dark expression, a flash of anger─ passed through the eyes of the younger brother and disciple.
"Really! Consider my position having to listen to that insane pitch toooo!!!"
Yoriiichi who cleanly tripped Myouju's foot. Young Moon who landed a full-powered slap on the falling Myouju's butt. The expressionless combo, a flowing high-five. Though it was a low-five for Yoriiichi. It was superb teamwork, to the point of being unbelievable that they were hostile just moments ago.
To Myouju, who stood up enduring the pain in his butt,
Yoriiichi said, "Sorry, my foot slipped."
Young Moon made a face that said 'Sorry, my hand slipped.'
For Myouju, shock preceded the pain from Yoriiichi's kick,
and anger preceded the pain from Young Moon's slap.
The moment the shout "My butt isn't a drum!" erupted, the white-haired head dashes out of the room like a rabbit. Heading for the bamboo forest beside the mansion. Myouju chasing him is in a state of rage, having lost his reason.
Wait, don't rush. Have you forgotten the bamboo forest massacre?
Feeling a severe headache, Michikatsu, the creator of the two flutes, asked out of a shred of responsibility.
"What exactly were you two doing, blowing those flutes and causing such a nuisance?"
Yoriiichi hesitated whether to speak honestly. But if he tells the truth, wouldn't his responsible brother feel guilt? He wanted to avoid a situation where his revered brother, like a heroine in a dating sim, would say "Please don't fight because of me!"
So Yoriiichi decided to be vague. The expressionless face is convenient at times like this.
With a resolute expression that could make a *clang* sound, Yoriiichi said.
"We were arguing over differences in musicality."
"I see."
Michikatsu stopped thinking about it.