For the time being, Oboro spent most of his days in a small cottage at the foot of Mount Kumotori.
He would only follow Kamado Sumihiko and his son up the mountain when they came down to sell charcoal, just to have a sip of the wild vegetable soup made with blue spider lilies.
Winter was the best season for the Kamado family to sell charcoal; nearly all their annual income came from the autumn and winter months. In spring and summer, they had little need for money except for occasional purchases of daily necessities, as the mountain was abundant in game and resources.
Oboro had deliberately mentioned that the blue spider lilies made for a tasty soup... and the woman was thoughtful enough to prepare it every time he visited. She would also add some medicinal herbs to the brew.
Thanks to his help, Sumihiko's complexion had improved significantly. However, the years of life he had already lost could not be regained; all that could be done was to preserve what remained, allowing it to fade at a normal pace. At least now, he could expect to live into his forties.
In those turbulent times at the end of the Edo period, even without accidents or misfortunes, ordinary people often died young. Living past forty was already considered a blessing.
Young Kamado Yoshiro had also begun learning the Breathing Styles from his father, but Oboro never offered any guidance.
In contrast to the father and son, Oboro's own health was deteriorating day by day. His cheekbones had become sharp and sunken, causing Sumihiko's wife great concern.
After spending some time together, the family realized that this young official from the Shogunate had no ulterior motives. Living at the foot of the mountain, he was also kind to the villagers—once, he even used his own money to buy several cartloads of grain from the capital and distributed it freely to the poor.
Mount Kumotori was actually quite close to the Shogunate's capital, what would later be known as Tokyo; it was just located in a remote corner.
As time went by, Yoshiro would always accompany Oboro down the mountain, worried for his safety.
The next day, Oboro walked along the mountain path, leaning on a wooden staff.
Almost every hundred paces, he had to stop and rest, coughing violently.
The handkerchief pressed to his mouth was stained with bright, alarming streaks of blood.
Just then, the sound of rapid footsteps approached from afar. Yoshiro came running towards him, holding a bouquet of flowers.
Seeing Oboro's condition, the smile on the boy's face faded, replaced by worry.
He admired Mr. Oboro deeply—not only for helping his father and the villagers, but also for his noble character. Though still a child, Yoshiro understood that it was rare for someone of such high status to treat common people with such kindness and respect.
Even lesser samurai, when they entered the towns, would often bully the locals over the slightest displeasure, and some would even kill in broad daylight.
Such things were rare in their village, but common elsewhere.
"Mr. Oboro, this is for you."
Yoshiro exhaled white mist in the cold air. Glancing at the bloodstained handkerchief Oboro quickly hid up his sleeve, he forced a bright smile and held out the flowers.
"What are these?"
The stems were still dusted with frost, and the slender blue petals glowed with an eerie, otherworldly beauty in the sunlight. Oboro recognized them instantly—they were the blue spider lilies that Muzan had sought so desperately, and the very ingredient he had been consuming all this time.
"You said you liked the taste, so I asked Mother to take me to find where they grow. Now I know where to look!" Yoshiro said cheerfully.
"Why give them to me?" Oboro took the flowers and gently patted the boy's head.
"Because they remind me of you, Mr. Oboro... Mother says these flowers are the hardest to find on the mountain, and they bloom for such a short time. But they're also the most beautiful. Even though they're wild, they have such a noble, unique air about them... And their scent is so faint and quiet, you can barely smell it unless you really try. Not like other herbs that are sharp or strong..."
"Thank you." Oboro nodded. "Please thank your mother for me as well."
Since these flowers were so rare and hard to find, the woman must have gone to great lengths to gather them just to please him.
Together, they continued down the mountain.
But the blue spider lilies in Oboro's hand lasted less than the time it takes to burn a stick of incense before they vanished.
That was why Yoshiro had run so fast.
They didn't wilt—instead, once plucked from the earth, their delicate stems froze instantly in the cold air. Like fragile shards of ice, the slightest breeze would shatter them into sparkling crystals that drifted away on the wind.
Their beauty was fleeting.
Even if found, special methods would be needed to preserve them or use them medicinally.
Watching the flowers disappear, Yoshiro bit his lip, looking sad.
Sensing his disappointment, Oboro gave him a reassuring smile.
In this world, Oboro had noticed that people's emotions were far more pure and straightforward—good was good, evil was evil, with little room for pretense. It was quite different from the world he knew, where even the best of men often hid their true intentions behind masks of calculation.
"Mr. Oboro..."
When they reached the lower slopes, nearly at the foot of the mountain, Yoshiro suddenly stopped. Plucking up his courage, he asked, "Where... where is your home?"
He immediately realized how impolite the question sounded.
"I have no family... or rather, I once did, but I never truly cared for them." Oboro saw the boy's hesitation and spoke gently.
"I'm sorry..." Yoshiro lowered his head.
"It's alright. People grow, and growth never stops—for me, and for you too. Luckily, you're still young." Oboro smiled calmly. "But don't misunderstand. My home is not here, but somewhere else. My family and I were just separated... One day, I will return."
"Okay."
"People change as they grow, too... If one day I became a bad person, what would you do if we met again?"
"Huh?!" Yoshiro stared in shock, shaking his head vigorously. "That's impossible! You could never be bad!"
"Only to you. To others, someone like me—with my status and appearance—might already seem like a villain. Besides, you don't really know me... How can you be so sure I'm not just pretending?"
"Eyes don't lie... and neither does the way someone feels." Yoshiro said firmly.
"Such a child..." Oboro thought to himself, amused.
He recalled the sight of Sumihiko performing the Kagura dance, wielding the new Sun Breathing technique.
"It seems... this generation is not yet ready." he mused silently.
Finally, they reached the foot of the mountain.
Oboro watched as Yoshiro ran off, small axe in hand, turning back every few steps to wave. He waved in return, then turned and walked away alone.
Once out of sight, the smile faded from Yoshiro's face. Looking at the lonely figure disappearing into the snow, his heart ached.
Mr. Oboro seemed gentle and approachable, much like his father... but there was always a deep sadness about him, as if he had lost something precious.
Was it his family?
He was always alone, never bringing servants or attendants with him.
He seemed so... lonely.
Yoshiro had once asked his father about Oboro, and Sumihiko had told him: "Mr. Oboro is an incredibly powerful man. But his strength comes from within, not from his sword or position. And those who walk such paths are often misunderstood..."
...
After that, the Demon Slayer Corps did not trouble Oboro again.
The Breathing Styles he had taught them had already begun to spread through their ranks.
With the Hashira practicing and refining the techniques, they soon mastered the breathing methods and applied them in battle.
Several forms were even added to the Corps' official training manuals. Ubuyashiki Kuno personally gathered all the swordsmen for secret training sessions.
All this, however, remained unknown to Muzan and his demons.
A counterattack was about to begin!
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