That night.
A frail child's scream shook the house.
"Father!! Mother…!!"
The owner of that scream was Shinobu.
Her entire body trembled, cold sweat pouring like a waterfall.
She shed the resolute shell she'd worn and unleashed her emotions without restraint.
"Shinobu... it's okay, it's okay."
"Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!!"
"Shinobu, Shinobu..."
Each time, her older sister, Kanae, would clutch her desperately and try to calm her.
"A demon...!! A demon killed Father and Mother!!!"
"Shinobu... Shinobu..."
The blood-curdling cries and uncontrollable sobs echoed through the room.
The sound of her sister's voice calling out clung to Kanae's ears, refusing to let go even as time passed.
The horror etched into Shinobu's heart tormented her even in her dreams.
In that place, there was no confident, spirited girl.
There was only a fragile child, writhing in anguish at what she had lost.
"I never thought I'd have to use this."
I produced the incense burner Tamayo had given me.
To be precise, it was an aroma-lamp style burner—one designed to diffuse scent using Tamayo's blood.
It was as if Tamayo had foreseen this moment; I never imagined I'd actually need it.
For a demon living through the night, sleep was a luxury long since discarded.
I filled the lamp's top reservoir two-thirds full of water, then dropped in a few drops of Tamayo's blood.
The blood turned the water crimson the moment it touched the surface.
I lit a candle beneath the lamp, warming the mixture so the fragrance would fill the room.
As the floral scent from the blood spread through the chamber, Shinobu's convulsions began to subside.
"Mother... Father..."
With that murmur and a single tear, she drifted back to sleep.
Once Shinobu was fully asleep, Kanae bowed her head toward me.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Tsugikuni. We caused such a disturbance..."
"No need to apologize. It was only natural."
I shook my head at Kanae's remorseful expression.
No matter how strong she tried to appear, no matter how much she seemed grown-up, she was neither superhuman nor hero.
She was just a child.
A child who should have been the happiest of all, yet had her family torn away.
That's why her reaction was only to be expected.
And in that, Kanae was truly remarkable.
She felt compassion even for the one who had stolen her beloved family.
Rather than hoarding her pain and poison like Shinobu, she gripped a sword in her heart so that others wouldn't endure the same suffering.
Or perhaps she merely pretended to be unfazed for Shinobu's sake...
"You should sleep now as well."
"Mr. Tsugikuni, won't you rest?"
Just as I was about to leave, she spoke again.
Sleep.
Since becoming a demon, I likely hadn't slept once in five hundred years.
Upon turning into a demon, sleep became unnecessary.
For one who lives by night, the notion of slumber was absurd.
I could neither drift into dreams nor find rest.
All I did was remain in reality, claiming demons' lives night after night.
"Demons do not sleep."
"Is that so..."
Curtly, Kanae's eyes grew sorrowful at my words.
No doubt she felt pity at the thought that demons could not sleep.
…
I had no words left.
"Then rest."
I looked at her once more before closing the door.
@@@
Dawn broke, heralding a new morning.
When I opened my eyes, I saw my sister asleep beside me, her hand still clasped in mine.
Hearing a rustle, I drew back the quilt and rose slowly to my feet.
Dreams were terrifying.
Sleep was truly the worst.
Since that night, nightmares had plagued me relentlessly.
Every time I closed my eyes, I would see Father fall, brutally struck down by a demon.
I would see Mother torn apart and devoured with savage cruelty.
I would see my sister and me, huddled in a corner, trembling.
That nightmarish reality became my nightmare, thrust before my eyes again and again.
As if to brand into me that this was no dream but the brutal truth, forcing me to relive it.
Drenched in sweat, I greeted the morning.
Time and again, I woke to the realization that my parents were gone.
My sister must have suffered seeing me like that, too.
She was awkward at hiding things, after all.
Though she acted as if nothing had happened, her face betrayed endless apology.
But today was different.
"I don't have a headache today..."
Strangely, I didn't feel that familiar horror of a nightmare.
It seemed I had dreamed, but the vision vanished midway.
Like before that incident... I had slept peacefully for the first time in ages.
Looking around, I noticed an unfamiliar incense burner.
Perhaps that was why I hadn't dreamed...
A faint, comforting aroma reached me, and I followed it outside.
"Did you sleep well?"
Outside, I found him setting a breakfast tray by the brazier.
Miso soup and rice. Braised radish and a rolled omelet.
He arranged the dishes with a practiced ease, as if he did this every morning.
It was strange.
Nothing was more absurd than a demon—unable to eat human food—preparing a human meal.
"Demons can cook?"
"I can judge the seasoning."
"It still sounds like it would taste terrible..."
"Appearances can be deceiving—I'm confident in my cooking."
He returned to his work, focused on the meal.
I watched him in silence.
…
He was a demon.
The one who had taken my family from me.
The source of the nightmares that tormented me.
When he revealed himself, I was shocked.
Hatred for demons flared within me.
He might not have seen it, his eyes hidden as he unveiled his identity.
But I felt a sting of betrayal that the one who saved us was a demon himself.
So why—
why that expression?
Why did he look so troubled?
He closed his eyes, as if resigned but content with his preparations.
Why reveal himself unbidden and try to cast us out?
He could have hidden his nature, mocked two sisters who came to learn demon-slaying from a demon.
Like the rest, serving only his own survival, discarding reason, lying by instinct.
So why reveal himself and push us away...
I had no strength left to be angry.
I fled to gather wild greens and clear my head before returning.
Yet deep down, I knew.
Though I was angry then, I understood.
His words were spoken out of concern for us.
His revealing his demon nature was done for our sake.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have saved us.
Nor taught us how to chop wood.
Nor gone to the trouble of serving miso soup we couldn't eat.
"Wake my sister for breakfast. You must be tired."
"You must be tired."
Those words snapped me back to reality.
Right.
He had no reason to light that incense for me...
I nodded and went to wake my sleeping sister.
"...Thank you."
Quietly, I offered my gratitude for the incense that spared me nightmares.
My whisper was so faint I wondered if he heard it.
"This morning's special is the rolled omelet."
He laughed it off, and I realized that even that soft whisper must have reached him.
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