death on your heels, home left behind

Rengoku Kyoujurou wakes from death to the scene of countless corpses in front of him.

He's propped up against a rock, with a river not too far, its water running red with what can only be blood. He blinks, and then turns his head to the left, to the right, before finally looking down at himself. He's almost fully healed; there's still a slight gash where the demon's (who's?) arm had been through his chest, but it's not the gaping hole that it used to be.

He's also underneath another body.

"Hello?" he asks, poking the body. The person doesn't stir, although he's conscious enough to hear their shallow breathing. Around him he hears the tell-tale signs of battle, of blades crashing against each other and blood being drawn. However, the sun shines above him, casting the gruesome scene around him in a bright light.

The person on him seems to be rising towards consciousness, so Kyoujurou carefully rolls him onto his back, so that he's lying next to him. The sight that greets him is a strange one; a boy, no older than Tanjirou was, at least twelve, with silver hair and a mask that covered the majority of his face. Some kind of headband with a symbol on it covered his left eye, leaving a lot to the imagination.

Kyoujurou takes a deep breath, and then stands up, his body slightly tense from however long he had been sitting there, but moving fluidly nonetheless. His nichirin sword hangs on his belt, bringing him at least some sense of safety in this strange place.

As he gets ready to leave (to go where, exactly?) a voice, accompanied by a blade at his throat, stops him in his tracks.

"Who are you?" the voice asks, and it must be the strange silver-haired boy from earlier. At least he knows that the boys isn't a demon, or else he would have sliced off his head in a second. Kyoujurou hopes that the boy doesn't put up too much of a fuss; while he enjoys teaching the new generation, he prefers to keep the actual death matches to a minimum.

"Rengoku Kyoujurou," he answers easily. No sense in lying. "I'm the - " Flame Pillar.

"The what?"

"I'm the - the," Kyoujurou's mind stutters, like the needle of a phonograph skipping over one part of a song.

"Rengoku Kyoujurou? You're not in any bingo books, at least," the boy mutters, the uncovered eye squinted in suspicion at him. "You don't have a flak vest, nor a hitai ate, but you're obviously strong. What village are you  - "

"Kakashi!" The boy in front of him tenses and clicks his tongue, but keeps his eye on Kyoujurou. He stares right back, smiling pleasantly despite the wheels in his head turning.

Where was he? Why can't he remember certain things? What's a bingo book?

Why is someone so young fighting?

"Ah. Kakashi, who's this?" The owner voice that called out to the boy - Kakashi, he reminds himself - stops just a few feet beside him. Despite addressing Kakashi, he stares intently at Kyoujurou, as though he could ascertain everything he needs to know by simply looking.

(Perhaps he could.)

Kyoujurou knows in an instant that the man isn't to be trifled with. It's obvious that if he were to try and fight him, it would end in either his or the man's death.

"Sensei, I woke to him pushing my body off of his and preparing to leave for somewhere," the boy answers. "He said his name is Rengoku Kyoujurou."

"Rengoku Kyoujurou, huh?" the man says. He eyes his sword warily, and Kyoujurou takes care to not instinctively bring his hand towards the hilt. "Where are you from, Rengoku-kun?"

"I'm from - " Japan, he tries to say, but his brain fizzles out at the end. "I... I... "

"Spit it out," the boy growls.

"I don't remember."

The man glances at his student, communicating something to the boy, before the kunai at his neck leaves. The boy huffs before turning away from him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Kakashi-kun, go find the medical tent." The boy doesn't move, staring petulantly at the ground. "Now."

"Fine." he bites out, before flicking away into the distance.

"Rengoku-kun," the man continues, smiling calmly at him. "My name is Namikaze Minato. Do you know who I am?" The man's face is kind, but his eyes are sharp, obviously searching for a certain answer.

"No, I'm afraid not." The man sighs.

"I thought so. Well, do you have anything you need to do? Anywhere you need to go?"

"Well, I - " need to get back to the Demon Slayer Corps. He stops abruptly, voice leaving him. Why can't he remember? What is he forgetting?

"That's what I thought," Minato says. He clears his throat, looking slightly nervous, before saying, "If you have nowhere to go, then why don't you come back with us?"

"To where?" he asks. Kyoujurou feels his heart beat, the hairs on his arm standing up straight. He doesn't know where he is, doesn't know who he was, doesn't know where to go anymore.

"To my home," the man says. He begins to move towards where Kyoujurou can now see is a bunch of carefully constructed tents.

"To Konohagakure no Sato," The Village Hidden in the Leaves.