Demon Slayer: Nature's Symphony

2. Maturity or Desperation.

3rd Person POV

Hisato didn't understand what was happening, not really. Haruto hadn't come home, but in his five-year-old mind, it didn't seem like something to worry about. Haru-nii was probably just playing hide-and-seek. He always played games with Hisato, always testing him to see how strong or clever he could be.

I'll find you, Haru-nii! Just you wait!

With that thought filling his head, Hisato set off into town, clutching a flyer he'd made, a crude drawing of Haruto that looked more like a stick figure, with "Have you seen Haru-nii?" scribbled in uneven letters beneath it. He waved the paper high above his head as he walked, calling out to anyone who would listen.

"Excuse me!" Hisato called to a passing shopkeeper, his voice full of innocent enthusiasm. "Have you seen my big brother? He's hiding, but I'm going to find him!"

The shopkeeper glanced up, his gaze traveling over Hisato's towering figure. For a moment, the man looked confused, then he gave a small, dismissive chuckle. "Aren't you a little too old to be playing hide-and-seek, kid?" he said, brushing past without even glancing at the flyer.

Hisato blinked, not understanding. I'm not old! he thought. He was only five, after all.

Undeterred, he approached a group of women chatting near the market stalls. "Hey! Do you know where my Haru-nii is?" Hisato's voice was eager, hopeful.

The women exchanged glances, their eyes widening as they took in his size. One of them, clearly trying to be polite, offered a strained smile. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, her tone patronizing. "You're such a big boy. Shouldn't you be helping your family instead of running around like a child?"

Hisato's face fell slightly. He was helping! He was trying to find Haruto. Why didn't they understand? He showed them the flyer, but they just patted him on the arm, treating him like he was playing some childish game, and quickly moved on with their conversation.

Frustration began to bubble up inside him, but he didn't give up. He went from person to person, holding up his flyer and asking for help. Each time, though, he was met with the same response, a mixture of confusion and amusement.

"Shouldn't you be at work, boy?" an old man grumbled, barely giving Hisato a glance before waving him off.

"You're too big to be asking silly questions," a woman scoffed, not even bothering to slow down.

To them, Hisato didn't look like a child. He was tall, taller than most adults and his strength was obvious. His childish voice, his hopeful expression, and his flyer were all at odds with the image he projected, and no one took him seriously. To them, he was just a very large, very foolish child playing a game, and they didn't have the time or interest to humor him.

Hisato's steps grew slower as the day went on, his initial excitement dimming with each person who brushed him off. He kept calling out, "Haru-nii!" but the playful game he thought he was part of started to feel less and less fun.

The sun was beginning to set when Hisato found himself back near their home, still clutching the now-crumpled flyer. His stomach grumbled, but for once, food didn't seem important. All he wanted was for Haruto to come back, to laugh and tell him the game was over.

But as the evening stretched on, a new feeling crept in one Hisato didn't have a name for. It was an empty, gnawing sensation, a strange mix of confusion and something much heavier. He didn't cry. He didn't know how to. But he sat down on the steps of their house, hugging his knees, feeling smaller than he ever had before.

Where was Haruto? Why wasn't he home? Why didn't anyone help him?

And for the first time, Hisato began to worry about Haruto. For the first time in his child life, he was worried.