It was the Taisho era. Western things were continuously flooding into the country. This was both an opportunity and a challenge.
The tastes of the people were changing, the customs of society were changing, daily life in clothing, food, shelter, and transport was all changing.
In the old era, people only needed an oxcart or simply their own two legs to carry bamboo baskets from the countryside to Ueno to sell goods without complaint. But now, they needed more, faster, larger steam trains to meet demand.
To break free from dependence on Western technology, the Railway Administration went from initial importing and imitation to independent design, and finally in recent years developed a standardized mature product… the 8620 Type steam locomotive.
The Mugen Train, it was so named.
…
Night fell, inside a third-class carriage.
Electric-powered incandescent lamps hung from the ceiling. Although the tungsten filaments should have been brand new, they flickered on and off as if the current was unstable.
Ika Sawako and Kondo Isami were leaning by the window, quietly observing everything in the carriage.
They were Demon Slayer Corps members, Kanoto rank.
Not long ago, a Kasugai Crow had brought news—
On this busy railway line, a strange disappearance case was occurring. There were already ten victims.
The official newspaper, The Chuho Shimbun, reported: A murderer was active along the railway line, habitually committing crimes at night. Travelers were advised to be vigilant.
For this reason, the Demon Slayer Corps dispatched two members to investigate and determine whether it was man-made or a demon's doing.
Disguised as a traveling merchant couple, they hid their Nichirin Swords in their cargo bundles, searching for traces of the demon while cautiously watching the platforms at each station for the railway patrolmen carrying rifles.
Woo—
The whistle sounded. The wheels clattered again as the train began to enter deeper into the night.
"Do you think it's a demon?" Sawako asked her partner quietly, yawning lazily. "It's already past midnight, and I haven't seen anything unusual."
Isami shook his head. "Not sure. You get some sleep first. I'll wake you if anything happens."
"How embarrassing. We're on duty together, how can I slack off alone...."
"Your husband asked me to look after you. Besides, I'm older. I need less sleep."
Isami helplessly patted his pocket, wanting to light a pipe, but thinking smoking here might break the rules, he reluctantly withdrew his hand.
The female swordsman pulled her bundle closer, leaned against the window, and grinned. "Then I won't stand on ceremony. Goodnight."
To be honest, they had circled this train several times on various pretexts and found no trace of a demon at all.
They began thinking that maybe it really was just a murderer....
These days, the cabinet was crazy, the military was crazy too. It wouldn't surprise Isami at all if a couple of them escaped and started randomly killing people.
Inside the carriage, passengers either dozed with heads drooping or stared vacantly at the bottomless night outside the window, silently waiting for the train to reach the next station.
"Yawn.... Huh?"
Sawako had been asleep for less than a while when Isami suddenly realized he was also feeling a bit drowsy.
'This really shouldn't be happening. Hadn't I rested well yesterday?'
He forcefully pinched his hand, using the brief sting to bring a moment of clarity, but it was soon covered by an even more overwhelming wave of sleepiness.
"Excuse me... May I see your tickets..."
Just as Isami kept tapping his brow, trying to sober up a little, the conductor arrived.
He looked somewhat haggard, as if he hadn't slept well for many days, his eyes bloodshot.
"Ah, sorry, sorry. Here you go." Isami fumbled in his pocket and handed both his and Sawako's tickets to the conductor.
The other party didn't seem to confirm anything. He mechanically punched two holes with his ticket punch and silently left.
"Is that guy okay?" Isami leaned out, watching him with some concern.
But before he could put the tickets away, that irresistible drowsiness washed over him.
"...Just a quick nap. Should be fine."
He adjusted his position, dozed off fuzzily, and soon slid into the deepest slumber....
"Daddy! You're back!"
A voice as clear as a silver bell woke Isami.
He abruptly opened his eyes, momentarily stunned.
In the small house, the stove fire burned brightly. The air was filled with the delicious aroma of stew.
And before him, a three-year-old little girl in a red kimono, like a warm little sun, threw herself into his arms.
"Hehe, Daddy, I missed you." Her eyes sparkled as she hugged Isami tightly.
'How could this be?'
'Hadn't they...'
Memories began to grow blurred. He couldn't quite remember.
'Who died in the fire? Wasn't Miyoko killed by a demon....'
'What is a demon....'
Isami's dazed expression worried the little girl. She quickly waved her tiny, pink hand. "Mommy! Daddy's acting silly!"
'Mommy? Miyoko?'
Isami was startled. He hugged his daughter, Koyomi tightly and looked dazedly towards the side door of the small house.
A woman with a gentle appearance, wearing thick mittens, was carrying a steaming hot pot and walking out with a smile.
"Isami, you've worked hard today. Put Koyomi down and eat first." That plain elegant dress and those eyes, eternally full of concern and love, Isami would never forget them, even in hell.
This was his wife, Miyoko!
'She wasn't dead! So that really was just a nightmare....'
Isami felt as if all the strength had drained from his body. He slumped onto the tatami, gasping heavily, feeling that this was all so sudden, so blessed.
He gently put Koyomi down, rushed over to Miyoko in a few quick steps, and took the hot pot from his wife's hands.
"Ouch, it's hot!" The temperature of their touching fingertips burned him, making him wince and his eyes sting, but he didn't want to let go. He quickly moved the pot to the low table on the tatami.
"Oh my, Isami, are you burned!"
His wife looked over with concern, but only saw Isami's silly smile. Helplessly, she hit his solid back with her mitten.
He sat by the heater, watching his wife gently serve Koyomi her meal, listening to his daughter's childish chatter about her day. He felt warmth enveloping every cell of his body.
Such days, he dreamed of every night, but never as he wished.
'Eh? Why did I want to dream about it? Wasn't this just an ordinary day? What was I just thinking?'
Isami scratched his head, but soon gave up on the thought.
'Why think about these things? Tomorrow I had to go to the fields anyway.'
'Oh dear, should I plant potatoes or radishes this season?... I felt a bit rusty....'
A smile involuntarily curled on his lips. It was a genuine, immensely satisfied smile.
But just as this sense of happiness peaked, just as his heart completely immersed in ultimate satisfaction—
Crack!
A sudden, abrupt crack sounded.
The happy, satisfied smile on Isami's face was forever frozen.
He sat peacefully by the heater, maintaining the posture of listening to his wife and daughter speak, like the happiest wax statue.
The stove fire still leaped, the aroma of the meal still lingered, the figures of his wife and daughter were still warm....
Only he grew gradually cold.
Mugen Train, third-class carriage.
Isami and Sawako still maintained their seated postures, their backs against the cold carriage wall.
Their heads tilted slightly to one side, eyes lightly closed, faces bearing an extraordinary peace and tranquility.
Isami's corners of his mouth held a frozen, happy smile, as if he had embraced all the beauty of the world in his dream.
Sawako's face, meanwhile, had a brilliant smile of confidence and glory. Perhaps she had just reached the peak of her career.
However, on both their wrists were tied lengths of hemp rope, connected to the wrists of two thin boys sitting nearby.
The carriage was dead silent. Everyone was sleeping.
A figure in a conductor's uniform walked silently and soundlessly into the foremost carriage of the train.
He knelt respectfully on the floor, waiting silently for the orders of the person before him....
No, that was not a person....
That thing turned its head, its smile morbid and twisted:
"You should thank me, you know. This is a good dream reserved only for Demon Slayers...."
"Although it's a bit troublesome, dying happily in a beautiful dream is the greatest gift...."
Its eyes rolled, revealing cyan pupils—
[Lower - One]