Chapter Text
“A demon killed her.”
Giyuu’s voice trembled as she stood in the center of the village square, her small hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her words were met with silence, then murmurs, then outright laughter. The villagers exchanged looks of disbelief, some shaking their heads.
“Poor child,” one of the older women said, her voice tinged with pity. “She’s lost her mind from grief.”
“It’s just a child’s imagination,” another chimed in, dismissing her entirely. “She’s making up stories because she can’t accept what happened.”
Giyuu’s chest heaved as she tried to fight back tears. “I’m not lying! It was real! A monster with red eyes and claws…”
But the villagers had already turned away.
At first, they avoided her out of sympathy, unwilling to confront the supposed madness of a child who had witnessed such a tragedy. But as days turned into weeks, the whispers began. Whispers that grew louder and crueler with each passing day.
“You know, I heard she’s the one who killed her sister,” someone murmured behind her back.
“A demon, she says? More like she snapped and did it herself,” another voice added.
The children stopped playing with her, their parents pulling them away whenever she came near. Adults averted their eyes or glared at her openly. Some went further, pointing at her as she walked through the village, their words cutting through her like knives.
“Murderer.”
“Crazy girl.”
“She’s dangerous. We should get rid of her before she hurts someone else.”
Tsutako’s fiancé remained silent through it all. His grief was a black cloud that consumed him, leaving no room for anything else. He didn’t defend Giyuu, didn’t accuse her either. He simply retreated into himself, shutting out the world—and her.
Giyuu’s isolation deepened. She had no one left, not even the man who had once been like an older brother to her. The village’s hostility only grew.
Then one day, strangers arrived.
“We’re distant relatives of the Tomioka family,” one of the men announced, his tone smooth and practiced. “We’ve come to take the girl into our care.”
Giyuu stared at them, her heart sinking. She had never seen these people before in her life. They spoke of her parents and sister in vague terms, as if they’d only heard about them secondhand. Still, the villagers welcomed their arrival.
“She needs help,” someone said. “Take her to a doctor, or whatever it is you’re planning. Just… take her.”
But the men hesitated. One of them whispered something to the village elder, and a heated discussion ensued. Finally, the elder turned to the crowd.
“It would cost money to send her to an institution,” he explained. “But if these fine gentlemen take her under their care, we won’t have to worry about her anymore. Let her be their problem now.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.
The next day, Giyuu was dressed in one of Tsutako’s old yukatas. It had been washed, but the faint stains of blood refused to fade completely. The sight of it made her stomach churn. She wanted to scream, to fight, but her voice felt trapped in her throat.
The villagers gathered as the men led her away. One of them spoke loudly enough for her to hear: “She’ll find a new life where she’s going. Maybe even a husband.”
Giyuu’s blood ran cold. The realization hit her like a blow. They weren’t sending her away to help her. They were selling her, discarding her like unwanted trash.
As they reached the edge of the village, she looked back one last time. No one met her eyes. The place she had once called home had turned its back on her completely.
And so, dressed in the ghost of her sister’s clothes, Giyuu stepped into the Red Light Dictrict.