Chapter Text
Look like a girl, but i think like a guy. Not ladylike behave like a slime. Easy to be sleaze when you got a filthy minds
– «girls» marina and the diamonds
August 1914
Shinobu was the youngest daughter of the eldest daughter of the youngest son.
Her mother, Camellia Kocho, was the kindest soul in the world. She could be gentle, but when circumstances demanded, she’d turn into a concrete wall, unyielding, shielding her family from any harm.
Aki Kocho was fiercely intelligent. Fresh out of university, he’d been offered a position at Oxford, where he spent years lecturing before returning to Japan. There, he met Camellia, and they built a life together. Now, he headed the surgical department at Tokyo Central Hospital.
Kanae? She’d give you the shirt off her back, or her last pair of pants. Every boy on the street dreamed of marrying her; every girl burned with envy until Kanae steamrolled them with kindness, leaving them dazed and disarmed.
Shinobu herself? Well… words failed her. How could you possibly cram enough adjectives into one sentence?
There was one word to capture her essence: Sarcasm (capital S essential). Not an emotion you understand, one you feel. Sarcasm was a beautiful thing. Even when you couldn’t insult someone outright, you could wrap bitter truth in nonsense, forbidden and sweet.
Her actions weren't just inappropriate for a woman; they shattered every concept of normality. But she never aspired to conform to society's archetype of a respectable lady. People might have called her insane, but Shinobu had the impression that they labeled as such anything that didn't fit their own rigid, preconceived notions. Insanity isn't an emotion. It's a severe psychological disorder: convulsions, hallucinations with a clear consciousness, suicide attempts. Shinobu knew she was born in the wrong era. A woman wasn't supposed to have character, pursue knowledge, or wear fucking trousers. The only thing that kept her warm was the understanding that this wouldn't last forever. That one day, such behavior would inspire admiration.
And furthermore, Shinobu never knew what it was to be enough. Did it mean leaving a pleasant emotional aura in your wake, bestowing it generously upon every passerby, as Camellia did? Perhaps one must, following Kanae's prototype, possess a vast heart and an overflowing current of kindness that runs through a nature woven by God's perfect design. Or perhaps it is to remind people of the very purpose for which they were given the ability to Be; to remind them of the sheer volume of knowledge they can hold within themselves and share with those around them, much in the image of Aki. Is one meant to inspire joy in people merely by one's face? Shinobu did not consider herself a devotee of Aphrodite, for the goddess had clearly denied her that particular passion. To be sufficient. It was something she would never achieve, forever surrounded by people so perfect in their very nature.
As much as Shinobu craved attention (and she did), one truth had crystallized early: people were idiots. Most of them. Fine, not, all but close enough!
Conversations with peers were torture. Worse than exhausting, like scrubbing her brain with a toothbrush.
“Well? What do you think?” Kanae turned the floral arrangement toward her.
“Mm… lovely,” Shinobu drawled, flashing a smile.
Kanae crafted vibrant bouquets. Their parents displayed each one, praising her talent endlessly. Shinobu was happy for her sister, flowers were Kanae’s element.
Shinobu? She’d craved knowledge since infancy. Every science had claimed her soul, from intricate biological systems to the nuances of psychology and pedagogy.
“Want to take a walk with Mom?” Kanae asked.
Shinobu’s gaze drifted around the room: pale wallpaper, shelves of blossoms, pots beneath sunlit windows, bright curtains. It always smelled divine here, warmth pooling wherever sunlight fell.
“I’ll finish reading instead.” Shinobu rose slowly from her knees and left.
Her bedroom door opened, revealing her sanctuary. Bookshelves devoured every wall, arching over doors, stacked double-deep with rear titles propped for visibility. Her mattress nestled in a hollow carved into one cabinet. Books colonized her desk, bed, and beyond.
Scientific fiction crowded the first shelf; medical texts loomed nearby.
Perfect. It lacked the warmth of the rest of the house, especially Kanae’s room, but it was hers. Cool even in summer. Permanently dim. Uncompromisingly private. However much she loved her family, she needed solitude. A full day among people drained her.
“Dad, finished with the prescription?” Shinobu called, stepping out.
“Almost,” Aki replied.
She’d always been his mirror: violet eyes, sharp features. Kanae resembled their mother, in spirit and face.
“Weren’t we going to the park?” Kanae emerged.
“Plenty of time,” Shinobu snapped.
“We can,” Camellia interjected, halting the spat before it began. “Try the pie first. Strawberry.”
She set down a tray, its aroma irresistible. Strawberries were rare here, but Shinobu adored them. Outside, dusk bled crimson into the room.
Shinobu had helped bake it. She knew it would be perfect.
Years later, she’d remember this house. By then, she’d speak to none of them. Exhaustion would crush her as horror shattered her spirit. She’d stand alone, buckling under responsibility she never chose. Joy would come only in fleeting moments with Giyu, tangled attempts to understand him, and cigarettes.
Himejima would say much, harsh and kind, leaving scars she never expected. If only someone had known more that day… perhaps the chaos could’ve been avoided.
Long before flowers withered and winter came.
Before earning colleagues’ respect. Before policing Tanjiro’s training, teaching Inosuke manners, and stopping Zenitsu from stealing sweets.
Before five children, orphaned, nearly her age, landed in her care.
But now, she sat with living parents. Before Giyu Tomioka called her "ineffable." Before Sanemi Shinazugawa sneered "crazy." Before tending to demon slayers who took her care for granted.
“Mom, I’ll help.” Shinobu took the sponge.
“My diligent girl,” Camellia smiled. “Cinema tomorrow?”
August 24th — Kanae’s birthday — demanded celebration plans.
“Yes,” Aki said, catching Shinobu’s stare. “The three of us will have fun. And Shinobu don’t glare. You’re banned from premieres. Five fire trucks? Really?”
“That damned guard,” she grumbled. If her eighteen-year-old self heard this now, she’d laugh, loud and genuine, for the first time in ages. By then, movies would be her lifeline, burying relentless thoughts under cheap tropes that faded to white noise.
“You’d leave her alone?!” Camellia’s voice turned arctic.
“No, listen—we’d see the film without her, but we’d spend the day—”
“Not another word.”
Aki surrendered.
Shinobu smirked.
***
August 24, 1914
Last time Shinobu mixed hydrogen peroxide and acetone, she’d brewed unstable explosives, demolishing half a ladies’ restroom mid-film. She wasn’t welcome there anymore.
Aki quickly put a mask of some mythical creature on her, so that the security guards would let them in. Thanks to this, Shinobu was able to wander around the park and reach the cinema with peace of mind.
“Twenty minutes till showtime. Time for a walk?” Aki beamed, smoothing his hair.
Shinobu noticed the strange behavior of other people, so she broke away from her family and decided to find out what was going on. Everyone was anxiously discussing the newspaper news, and she needed to get a copy.
“Goddammit, no!” A woman hurled hers into trash.
She wasn't going to pick through the trash, even out of curiosity. A large man walked past her. He cursed loudly at a newspaper, tore it in his hands, and threw it at his feet. Shinobu grimaced. No matter how terrible the news in the newspaper was, it wasn't a reason to litter on the street. And in the middle of a central park, no less! She was upset that she couldn't read the newspaper anymore, but she picked up the torn pieces of paper from the pavement, trying to make sense of them, but there was nothing but broken letters. She threw them in the same trash can as the loud woman earlier, and then she continued on her way.
Walking a little further into the park, she once again witnessed a very unusual reaction from people. Shinobu always had pocket money given to her by her parents for her academic achievements, so all she had to do was go into the store and request a newspaper.
“Everyone’s asking today, but no surprise! When I read—”
“Rude or not, could you shut up? I prefer primary sources.” Ignoring his outrage, she stepped outside and read:
EMPIRE OF JAPAN DECLARES WAR ON GERMANY!
Recent developments indicate...
Before she could react, her father snatched the paper.
“Do you know how long we searched?” he hissed.
“Japan’s attacking Germany? Why?” Stunned, she glanced at Kanae, now pale.
“Today’s news isn’t pleasant,” Aki said grimly. “War has begun.”
***
Details were scarce. No one would discuss it, least of all with her. Shinobu hated being dismissed for her age. Ten wasn’t that young. Kanae had just turned thirteen, yet even she wasn’t taken seriously.
Was there anyone who would? Probably not.
Haruko, an old family friend, visited. Her father spoke with him for two hours. From what she-definitely-didn’t-eavesdrop, he lamented his life: failing marriage, work troubles, sick kids, standard midlife misery.
“What did he want? To complain?” she asked, emerging later.
“I’ll supply his medicine. Get him a hospital job. Might help. Though convincing him to see our chief physician…” Aki pulled on his coat.
“Need me? I’ll take leave,” Camellia offered.
“Since you’re leaving… Why is this our problem?” Shinobu pressed. Everyone had troubles. His weren’t special.
Aki fixed her with a steel gaze.
“Shinobu, if another buckles under their burden, carry half of it. If someone grieves, grieve with them. If they’re in trouble, share it.”
Ugh. She’d heard this speech forever. Usually, it washed over her, but her father’s piercing stare sharpened her focus. Help others… She had to retort. Couldn’t l
et him win.
“He doesn’t even know your name. Calls you ‘Kocho’ after seven years. But you know best.”
Aki slammed the door, and Shinobu once again wondered if she had been enough.