mukanshin | tomioka giyū x reader

prologue

You got up and rolled your futon up, preparing for training with your father. Sparing a glance at the sword that you kept mounted underneath your window, you decided you would graduate from your normal use of a wooden katana for today. You needed to get more used to the weight of a real katana, and not just when practicing your breathing.

"Onee-san, why are you up so early?"

"I always wake up this early. I need to train to get stronger, Hoshi. Besides, it's probably only around seven." You responded.

He grumbled in return. "Okay, I'll go back to my room." Standing up, he staggered to the door with his futon and pillow dragging behind him. He slid the door open and didn't bother to close it. An irk mark appeared on your forehead as you clenched your fists. Grabbing pliable training clothes and a plain black haori, you slid the door closed as quietly and angrily as possible.

Preparing yourself for intense training, you met your father in the garden of your family's inherited estate with your katana in tow. You examined his appearance looking for any fault. Blood, ripped clothing, bruises. Nothing.

"I'm ready, Otou-sama."

"I see you've brought your blade, (Y/n)-chan. You may set it down. Today, you'll be using mine." He smiled.

With widened eyes, your hold on your katana loosened so much that you had completely dropped it. He handed you the sword that he never allowed you to see unsheathed. Gingerly grabbing it and slowly pulling the sword out of the scabbard, you couldn't believe your eyes. A colored katana?

A thousand consecutive swings of the blade, what felt like three hundred laps around the estate, hundreds of push-ups, sit-ups, and squats later, you were allowed a short break for lunch. Immediately after, your father called for reflex training and intense sparring with him. He donned a wooden sword, which you had no doubt he would be able to protect himself with.

"How many forms of your breath can you use, (Y/n)?" He called out to you as you block his attack. You were having trouble keeping up with him, but the longer you sparred with him it was getting easier to read his movements.

"Seven mastered so far," you answered, "But I should have the rest done within the next few months." He was attacking more aggressive than you were, and you knew you had to change that. You tightened your hold on the hilt of the nichirin blade that he entrusted to you for the day. When you first began sparring, he taught you all about the strange katanas and their respective colored steel.

"Amazing! Seven forms at twelve years old, and you've only started this breathing style six months ago! You'll be one gifted swordsman." He continued attacking you, but your newly-switched offensive stance caught him off guard and you managed to knock him down.

You extended a hand to help him up. "Do you really think so, Otou-sama?"

He simply smiled in return, overjoyed. "Come now, that's enough for today. Let's go eat dinner." You grinned to yourself, ecstatic about the fact that your father complimented you like that. You love the feeling of making someone proud.

Dinner went by quickly with casual conversation of the nearby village not too far from your home. "(Y/n)-chan, have you been getting to know the villagers?" Your mother questioned.

"I've been talking to them more and more because of Hoshi. He can't keep to himself when we walk to the sweets shop." You semi-complained, playing with your chopsticks. "Too social." You muttered under your breath. You couldn't fully blame him. An eight-year-old boy and his twelve-year-old sister walking around a village unsupervised. It was inevitable that sometimes people would approach you two. When explaining you were allowed by your parents and confirming who they were, they engaged in further conversation with you. Your father was well known throughout the village, as for some reason groups of demons were attracted to it. They would constantly terrorize the residents, and when your father caught wind of this he took matters into his own hands and began slaying them himself.

"I know they'll love you, (Y/n). Especially after tonight." You tilted your head in confusion. Grabbing a stick of dango meant for dessert, you stuffed your face full of it.

"What's happening tonight, Otou-sama?" He didn't answer. The next thing you knew, you were standing up and being led to the front door. You quickly grabbed another stick of dango before you got too far from the table. Instructed to put your shoes on, you grabbed your zōri sandals, assuming you were going to meet someone from the village. Your father opened the door and hastily pushed you out. He handed you his nichirin blade, and you stared at it with your eyes wide open. You knew where this was going. Struggling to chew the dango in your cheeks, you shook your head to show your reluctance, but to no avail.

"Don't even consider coming back before the sun is above the horizon!" He threatened with eerily joyful voice, shutting the door incredibly close to the tip of your nose. He was clearly excited to see how his plan would carry out.

You raised your head from the katana in your hand and looked around you. The sun was in the process of hiding. The moon began peeking over the very tip of the forest on the other side of the path in front of you, leading to the village. Stray rays of light still littered in between the trees, but you knew they'd be gone soon. Your gaze finally stopped and focused in on a cat-like eye with a slit pupil staring right at you, as well as the sharp fingernails wrapping around from behind the tree.

He wouldn't have left me out here if he didn't have complete faith in me. You knew this, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel better about the situation. Taking a deep breath, you attempted pushing your anxiety down and forgetting about it.

Looking at your feet and sighing, you finally finished the dango in your mouth. It was a shame you couldn't savor it to your best ability. Pushing stray hairs that clouded your vision behind your ear, you took off running, gradually getting faster. You unsheathed your father's nichirin blade, fully taking in the color as you ran. A single slash of the sword completely cut through the tree you were aiming for. A few seconds later, a decapitated head rolled out from behind it.

A pleased look was evident on your face. You sheathed the katana, making your way back to the path, knowing full and well of the infestation problem that jeopardized the village.