Kanao gripped the Nichirin Sword and stepped in front of Soma, lifting her delicate face toward him. "Uncle, teach me... how to cut people."
Soma froze for a moment.
"I want to help Uncle cut people."
Kanao pressed her lips together, her expression utterly serious.
"…Hah."
It took him a while, but eventually Soma let out a laugh. He reached out and took the blade from her hands.
"A girl your age shouldn't be playing with swords."
"I want to be of help to Uncle."
"There's no need." He shook his head.
Kanao clenched her fists, her voice resolute. "There is."
"Do you really want to train?"
"Yes. I want to train."
"Alright."
Soma didn't argue further. He handed the blade back to her.
The girl gripped it with both hands, clearly struggling under its weight.
"First, strike that dead tree in front of you… a hundred times."
He pointed toward a withered tree inside the cave.
Kanao nodded slightly, lips still pressed tight. She tightened her grip on the sword and walked over.
Soon, the sound of steel striking wood echoed through the cave.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Soma glanced up.
She was practicing seriously—every swing carried her full strength, no hesitation, no complaints.
He watched for a while.
Then he turned back and continued roasting the bear paw.
…
Butterfly Mansion
A place where injured Demon Slayer swordsmen received treatment and recovered their strength.
A young man with his arm wrapped in bandages stepped into the dining room where breakfast was being served.
He had long golden hair, with flame-like red streaks at the tips. His eyebrows were thick and bold, his eyes bright with energy. He wore the standard brown Demon Slayer uniform, draped with a haori patterned like flickering flames.
"Kyojuro-sama, what would you like to eat today?" A petite staff member asked.
"Anything will do, but make it quick. I'm starving." Rengoku Kyojuro patted his stomach with a grin.
"Right away."
Kyojuro nodded and took a seat by the window, waiting for his meal.
Light footsteps approached.
A girl with short black hair—its tips fading into purple—walked in, carrying a tray. Her expression was composed, almost stern, her delicate face giving off an air of quiet sharpness. She sat down across from him.
"Rengoku-san, you seem to have recovered very well," she said.
"Thanks to your skill, Shinobu-san," he replied with a broad, cheerful smile.
"It's because Rengoku-san himself is powerful. However, what kind of demon did you encounter last time that managed to injure a 'Hashira' like yourself?"
"It wasn't that the demon was particularly strong; I was simply caught in an ambush while protecting several civilians."
"I see."
Shinobu Kocho nodded. "An ordinary demon would never be able to leave a mark on a Hashira such as yourself."
"Haha…"
Rengoku chuckled, then glanced at Shinobu. There was a sharpness in her gaze that could almost cut like a blade, yet in the same moment, he was reminded of her gentle older sister, Kanae Shinobu.
"Come to think of it," Rengoku said with a grin, "you and your sister are nothing alike. If Shinobu-san were as gentle as Kanae-san, I might actually be tempted to stay at the Butterfly Mansion a few extra days."
"…Heh."
Shinobu let out a faint laugh, but it was hollow, almost forced—so hollow that anyone could see straight through it.
At that moment, Rengoku's breakfast was brought to the table.
"I'll dig in then, Shinobu-san."
Seeing the food set before him, Rengoku's face lit up with delight. He picked up his chopsticks and immediately began eating with enthusiasm.
"Eat slowly. Shinobu said, lifting her gaze slightly. "If you tear your wounds open again, I'll be the one who has to deal with it."
"It's just a minor injury—nothing to worry about. Besides," he said with a cheerful smile between bites, "nothing's more important than filling your stomach."
Shinobu's eyes drifted toward the dishes on the table.
"Speaking of which, why isn't there any salt-baked loach today? I remember last time, when you were recovering here, you specifically asked for it. Should I have them prepare some for you?"
"No need."
Rengoku set down his chopsticks and patted his stomach.
"I'm saving room for a feast someone's treating me to."
"Oh?" Shinobu nodded knowingly. "Which junior is it this time?"
"Hah… a swordsman named Furukawa Hiroshi. He should be finishing his mission soon. I'm already looking forward to eating my fill."
"You're quite ruthless, aren't you? Planning to empty your junior's wallet like that."
"Haha! Sounds like Shinobu-san is jealous," Rengoku laughed heartily. "If you were more like your sister Kanae, you'd probably be quite popular with the younger members too."
"…Heh. Is being popular more important than killing demons?"
Shinobu bit down hard on the chicken leg in her hand—so hard the bone cracked audibly.
Truth be told, she did envy how loved her sister and Rengoku were among the younger slayers. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't imitate even a fraction of Kanae's gentleness.
"They're just as important," Rengoku said, shaking his head. "Those juniors… they're the future of the Demon Slayer Corps. Fresh buds waiting to bloom."
"And yet you're still planning to fleece them?" Shinobu shot back, her violet eyes glinting with faint disdain.
"Hah! Of course I am. If I don't empty their wallets, how will they learn how harsh the world can be?"
Rengoku patted his stomach again, laughing loudly—already imagining the horrified looks on Furukawa Hiroshi and the others' faces when he devoured everything in sight.
"Caw! Caw!"
A chorus of bird cries suddenly rang out overhead.
The injured swordsmen resting in the Butterfly Mansion all looked up at once.
Above the building, several Kasugai crows circled restlessly.
The room fell into silence.
Every Demon Slayer who passed the Final Selection on Mount Fujikasane was assigned their own Kasugai Crow—companions used to relay information and orders.
And now…
So many crows circling like this, without settling—
It could only mean one thing.
Their masters were gone.
Rengoku looked up just like everyone else—but soon, his gaze sharpened.
Among the flock, one crow bore a distinctive marking on its wings—like flames etched into its feathers.
Rengoku recognized it immediately.
That crow belonged to the very junior who had promised to treat him to salt-baked loach.
"…I wonder which squad lost so many this time," Shinobu murmured softly, watching the sky with a faint sigh.
"Shinobu-san," Rengoku said suddenly, his voice losing its usual brightness, "please have the kitchen prepare a large batch of salt-baked loach."
Shinobu turned to him, slightly puzzled.
"Didn't you say you were going to have your junior treat you?"
"…He can't anymore."
Rengoku's hand clenched into a fist—then slowly relaxed.
He picked up his chopsticks again and began eating, faster than before, almost burying his face in the food. His voice dropped, quieter than usual.
"I'll treat them instead."