Kimetsu no Yaiba: Breath of Smoke

Prologue

When summer gives way to autumn, and the increasingly cold and longer nights take the position of long warm days, it is a sign that the rainy season is approaching. It was no different that day. The moon hung high in the starry sky and shone in its full glory, but it didn't even matter because this view was obscured by thick, black clouds from which a real stream flowed. Rain collected in barrels formed a wild river flowing through the streets of the village. Drops pounded against the tiles with such ferocity that they could have been mistaken for a burst from a machine gun. The noise was irritating enough to keep some residents awake. In this certain three-year-old child with flaming gold and crimson hair and eyes. The boy snuck out of his room to run in the puddles. The reason may be trivial, but extremely important for a kid. The more so that when the day comes, his strict father will certainly not allow him to play so stupidly that he will get all his clothes dirty.
- Kagome Kagome! The bird in the cage! When, oh when will it come out in the night of dawn! - sang the happy young man. No could hear him in the rain and storm. - The crane and the turtle slipped! Who's behind you now?!

- Eeeee! - as if on cue from behind the boy, there was a scream piercing the din of downpour.

Young man was afraid that someone from the servants, or worse, one of the parents, had caught him on a night walk. However, it turned out that there was no living soul behind the boy. He looked around, but saw not even a flimsy mouse, let alone a human.

- Aaaaaaa! - Someone's squeal again disturbed the rhythm of the rainy opera.

- Is anyone here? - he asked a bit flustered.

No one answered him, so he decided to guess who else was awake behind him. He thought of all the inhabitants of the mansion in turn. The voice was way too low for a man. Actually for a woman too. Whose could he be, since all the inhabitants of the household except him were adults? He wasn't even sure if a girl his age would be able to squeal like that. So who would?

- Baby? - he asked himself.

- Eeeeeeeee! - The longest and loudest shriek so far sounded in confirmation of his theory.

- Baby! - He nodded to himself as he ran towards the sound.

As he approached his goal, he heard a scream interrupted by a small cough. Not good, he thought. He was too young to hear such things, but he had overheard a mother talking to a bereaved friend whose little girl had died of fever two weeks after birth. The mere thought of it terrified him. Thoughtful boy fell on the ground. He didn't care one bit. He just dug the mud out of his ears to keep listening. Finally, he reached the locked main entrance. The great wooden door, as tall as two grown men, was defended by an even larger beam, the thickness of a sumo wrestler. Now he could clearly hear the baby crying and coughing, but still hadn't seen the newborn himself. It was only after a minute of nervously darting his eyes in all directions that he realized that his target was on the other side of the fence. He had no chance to reach the beam, let alone lift it up. Without thinking twice, he went back inside. He was running around the house like crazy in his geta boots, waking everyone up and leaving a trail of dirt behind him. He stopped only in front of his parents' bedroom and pushed the paper-filled shōji door aside.

- What are you doing, Shinjuro? - the furious father roared.

- Father, come quickly! Fast! - replied the soaked child.

- I'm not going anywhere! Explain what you're doing immediately! - The parent persisted.

- Come on! Come on! Come on! - the boy kept repeating.

- I said first you have...

- Go with him - the wife interrupted her husband with a quick, calm, firm command.

The man looked like a beaten dog, but he put on a yukata and went with his son, dragging him by the arm. It didn't take three minutes for him to reach the place indicated by the descendant.

- Will I finally find out what in the world you want? - An impatient man with hair and eyes identical to his son demanded an answer. Just dragging him out of a warm and dry bedroom in the middle of the night would make him furious. And being pulled out of a warm and dry bedroom in the middle of the night into a downpour and frost ignited a real flame of fury in him.

- Do you hear? - his son asked him, turning head towards the gate.

Father reluctantly glanced in the direction he was pointing. He woke up for good almost immediately after hearing the fading cry of an ailing infant. He grabbed the piece of wood with one hand, took a deep breath, and then, as he exhaled, threw it a few meters away. A second later, without any signs of fatigue, he opened the gate. Shinjuro jumped out from behind him and lunged at the crumbling mushroom basket on the ground.

- Father, it's really a baby!

In fact, inside the basket was a dirty, torn piece of sheet, a crying baby with a few dark like a shadow hair and big black eyes. The man took the baby in his arms with a makeshift blanket and immediately smelled the pungent stench of tobacco smoke. This plant was poison to the lungs as well as the entire respiratory system so important to a demon slayer like him. He got even more mad because that damn herb was imported all the way from a distant land called America, which resulted in its low availability and high price. What kind of parent would spend money on this slow-acting poison when the child clearly needed that money for medication.

- Shinjuro - he spoke completely calmly to his son. - Run home. Tell Mr. Takamura to get dressed and go for the doctor as fast possible. Also tell him to take herbs to bring down the fever.

- Yes, father! - the three-year-old ran like crazy, and the father followed him, covering the baby with his own body from the rain.

- Kemuri (smoke) huh? - whispered the man, whose nose was still irritated by the unpleasant smell. - There is no smoke without fire - he laughed at the child who, feeling the warmth emanating from the swordsman, slowly stopped crying. - You will fit in here, Kemuri.