No matter how unwilling he was.
No matter how much he refused to believe it.
When someone dies… they are truly gone.
Feeling the coldness of the body on his back, Tanjiro gradually began to understand the truth.
He staggered through the snow, carrying his father, crying the entire way.
But as he drew closer to home, the sound of his sobbing slowly faded.
Unconsciously, he lifted his head and looked up at the dim night sky—the endless stars, the heavy snowflakes drifting down like goose feathers.
Maybe… if he kept his head raised like this, the tears wouldn't fall.
He wiped his face with his sleeve and forced a smile.
He was the eldest son of the family.
And now… he was the one who had to carry the family forward.
How could he allow himself to keep breaking down like this?
He gently pushed the door open, letting the cold wind and snow blow into the house.
Inside, a gentle-looking woman placed down the firewood she had been preparing for the hearth. She raised her head and looked at her husband on her son's back.
Her lips tightened.
"Your father…"
Kamado Kie had woken up long ago. When she realized her husband was missing, she had searched the house—and then noticed that Tanjiro was gone as well.
By then, she had already guessed what had happened.
"Father… is just sleeping."
Tanjiro forced a smile.
But the expression looked even more painful than crying.
Seeing her son like this, Kie unconsciously placed a hand on the nearby table to steady herself as her legs weakened.
She had already prepared herself for the possibility that her husband might not live much longer.
But no matter how much one prepared… when the day truly arrived, the grief, confusion, and pain still crashed down all at once.
Yet as the only adult left in the house, she could only grit her teeth and endure.
"Yes… he's just sleeping."
Kie lowered her head, her shoulders trembling slightly.
Tanjiro didn't dare look at his mother's grief.
Still carrying his father, he walked toward the inner room.
Just then, the door to the neighboring room opened.
Nezuko stepped out, wrapped in a thick coat—and immediately froze when she saw the scene.
Her lips tightened instantly.
Her eyes reddened.
The sorrow rose so strongly that she wanted to cry out—but her younger siblings were still asleep.
Afraid of waking them, she could only let the tears fall silently.
Tanjiro saw the tears slipping down his sister's face.
His heart felt unbearably heavy.
He had told her countless times that their father would definitely recover.
He had reassured her again and again, giving her hope.
But in the end…
Father had still "fallen asleep."
And he would never…
…wake up again.
...
The winter wind continued to howl outside.
Early the next morning, as the first rays of dawn spread across the ground, Makomo had already gotten up.
She put on her fox mask, picked up her Nichirin Sword, and pushed open the door.
Not long after, Furukawa Hiroshi and the other swordsmen also stepped out of their rooms, greeting each other as they gathered.
"Everyone, please wait a moment. I'll prepare breakfast for you," Saburo said as he came out and headed toward the kitchen.
"Grandpa Saburo, I'll help you."
Makomo smiled and followed after him.
"Oh no, how could we trouble you like that?" Saburo said quickly. "Fighting demons is dangerous enough. These things are supposed to be our responsibility."
"It's nothing," the masked girl replied softly. "When I'm at Mount Sagiri, I often cook for my teacher and junior disciples."
Her voice was gentle and pleasant—like the sudden song of a lark breaking through the cold silence of winter.
"Ah… then I really must apologize," Saburo sighed. "As the caretaker here, I should have arranged everything for you. It's my fault for sleeping too late last night."
"It's because we disturbed your rest, Grandpa Saburo," Makomo said with a smile. "We should be the ones apologizing."
She worked skillfully in the kitchen, and before long the aroma of food began drifting out.
The swordsmen outside couldn't help sniffing the air.
"Ever since Miss Makomo started traveling with us, our lives have improved quite a bit," one swordsman said, patting his stomach.
"Yeah! Miss Makomo is such a good girl," another added with a sigh of admiration.
Then, almost at the same time, everyone turned to look at Furukawa Hiroshi, who was standing on his toes and peeking into the kitchen.
"Captain, what are you doing?" one of them teased with a chuckle.
Furukawa Hiroshi turned around and saw everyone staring at him.
His face immediately flushed red.
"I—I was just checking to see when breakfast would be ready."
"Captain is probably trying to see when Miss Makomo will come out," one of the swordsmen said teasingly.
"Don't talk nonsense."
Furukawa Hiroshi snapped back, a little annoyed, stepping forward to clamp a hand over his companion's mouth. He didn't mind the teasing himself—but if Makomo overheard something like that, it would be far too embarrassing.
"The food's ready…"
A soft, pleasant voice drifted out from beneath the smiling fox mask.
Furukawa Hiroshi instantly straightened his posture, putting on his most serious expression while directing everyone to start handing out the bowls.
The meal wasn't luxurious. In fact, it was quite simple.
But in the middle of winter, being able to eat something hot and freshly cooked was enough to make everyone happy.
Furukawa Hiroshi ate in big, hearty bites. The steam from the food rose up and brushed against his face. Perhaps because he was eating too roughly, a bit of broth splashed near the corner of his eye.
He was about to wipe it away with his sleeve when a small towel was suddenly held out beside him.
Startled, he looked up.
There stood Makomo, slightly bending forward, her smiling fox mask tilted toward him. Beneath the mask, her eyes were bright and gentle.
"Thank you," he muttered quietly.
"It's nothing."
The girl's voice was airy, causing Hiroshi's hand to tremble slightly as he held his bowl.
Behind the mask, Makomo tilted her head, watching him with curiosity. Hiroshi immediately buried his face back into his bowl, as if that would hide the redness of his cheeks.
Makomo, however, didn't notice his embarrassment at all.
She simply watched everyone enjoying the meal she had cooked. Beneath the mask, her beautiful eyes curved happily. Lowering her head, she took a small bite of her own food.
For a cook, seeing everyone eat with such enthusiasm was a deeply satisfying feeling.
Just as everyone was happily finishing their breakfast, the door suddenly burst open.
A boy rushed inside.
He had dark crimson hair, red eyes, and wore a haori patterned with green and black checkered squares.
The moment he saw the room full of people, he froze.
Then he instinctively stepped back a little, clearly not expecting guests to be at Grandpa Saburo's house.
"Tanjiro? What brings you here?"
Saburo set down what he was holding and stood up, walking over with a kindly smile.
Tanjiro knew it wasn't polite to interrupt when guests were present.
But there were things he and his mother simply didn't know how to handle. Some matters required an elder's guidance—someone experienced enough to take charge.
"Grandpa Saburo… Father, he…"
He wanted to say the words he's dead.
But those words refused to come out.
His voice choked instead.
Saburo sighed softly.
"I understand," he said gently. "I'll come to your house and help take care of things."
Saburo looked at the boy and more or less understood what had happened. He stepped forward and gently patted Tanjiro on the shoulder, offering what comfort he could. As for words of encouragement… he wasn't sure what to say.
"Let me go inside and gather a few things first. Then I'll head back with you."
"Grandpa Saburo… what about your guests?"
"These guests," Saburo said with a faint smile, "were planning to visit your house today anyway."
Tanjiro glanced at the group of people behind him.
Each of them carried swords, and every single one gave off a heavy, intimidating aura. Aside from the woman wearing the smiling fox mask, the rest all looked like people you wouldn't want to provoke.
Tanjiro couldn't help but tense up.
"They're all good people," Saburo added with a reassuring smile. "No need to feel nervous around them, Tanjiro."
Hearing his words, Tanjiro felt a little more at ease.
While Saburo went inside to prepare his tools, Makomo stepped forward with light, graceful steps.
Tanjiro looked up, puzzled, at the girl wearing a fox mask with a closed-eye smile and straight-cut bangs.
"Here," she said softly, extending her hand. "Have a piece of candy."
In her palm was a small piece of candy that sparkled like a tiny star.
Tanjiro immediately recognized it.
It was konpeitō—Nezuko's favorite sweet.
Back when their father was still healthy, every time he returned from town after selling charcoal, he would bring some back for Nezuko.
But ever since his father fell ill…
It had been a long, long time since Nezuko had tasted konpeitō.
Tanjiro hesitated for a moment before finally reaching out and accepting it.
"Candy is sweet," Makomo said gently. "If you eat something sweet, the bitterness in your heart will feel a little lighter."
Tanjiro looked up.
Behind the mask, the girl's eyes were bright and gentle.
He lowered his gaze again, murmuring quietly, "Thank you."
"I've felt this kind of sadness before too," Makomo continued softly. "But eventually… you have to move forward."
She looked up at the rising sun climbing slowly into the winter sky, as if she could see Sabito's bright, cheerful smile there. Her beautiful eyes lowered slightly.
By then, Saburo had come out of the house carrying the tools he needed.
Furukawa Hiroshi and the other swordsmen had also finished eating. They set down their bowls and followed outside together.
Tanjiro glanced at the group again, puzzled.
They all wore similar clothing, and their presence carried a faint killing intent. He had no idea who they were—or why they wanted to go to his house.
…
"Your name's Tanjiro, right?"
While they walked through the snowy mountain path, Furukawa Hiroshi caught up to him and casually patted his shoulder.
Tanjiro looked at him in confusion.
"I just want to ask you a few things."
"Go ahead."
"Recently, has anyone come to your house at night?" Furukawa Hiroshi asked. "Or have there been any missing people nearby?"
"No," Tanjiro said, shaking his head.
"Then have you noticed anything unusual around your home? Something… out of the ordinary?"
Something unusual?
Tanjiro immediately thought of Soma and Kanao from the night before.
They had somehow appeared in the cave near his house and seemed to have been living there for a while. They looked a little like refugees fleeing from something.
Meanwhile, the people walking beside him were armed with swords and carried an aggressive air…
"What do you people do?" Tanjiro asked cautiously.
He might still be a kid, but he wasn't foolish.
What if the two people in the cave really were refugees?
Even though his impression of that man from last night wasn't very good, exposing their whereabouts carelessly could bring them danger.
"What do we do?"
Furukawa Hiroshi blinked, then answered jokingly:
"You know about demons? We hunt them."
Tanjiro's eyes widened.
"You mean… demons actually exist in this world?"
Furukawa Hiroshi stared into the boy's eyes, searching his expression.
Seeing no sign of deception, he felt a hint of disappointment.
So the boy really hadn't seen a demon before.
"Haha… I'm just kidding," he said with a laugh, patting Tanjiro's shoulder. "How could demons possibly exist in this world?"
He shook his head toward the swordsman walking beside him.
The others looked a little discouraged.
Tanjiro scratched his head, watching their strange behavior.
Now he was even less willing to tell them about the two people living in the cave.
Grandpa Saburo had said they were good people—but the smell coming from them told a different story.
Tanjiro had always had a sharp sense of smell.
From these swordsmen, he could smell thick traces of blood, the lingering scent of death… and something sharp and dangerous that made him uneasy.
But then again—
The man in the cave had an unsettling scent too.
Neither side seemed like people you'd want to mess with.
Tanjiro continued walking through the snow.
The heavy burden of his family now rested on his shoulders. He could no longer afford to act like a child who didn't need to think about anything.
Perhaps…
This was what his father had meant by growing up.