A Kasugai crow circled above the Butterfly Mansion, its cries sharp and mournful, like a wanderer with no place left to return to.
Below, a young woman lifted her head to look up at it.
She wore the black uniform of the Demon Slayer Corps, draped in a white haori, a sword hanging at her waist. Her long black hair flowed freely, the tips tinged with soft shades of blue and violet, and a butterfly-shaped hairpin rested delicately atop her head.
Beside her stood another girl dressed in a similar fashion, though without the white haori. She was smaller in stature, her head barely reaching the taller girl's chest.
They were Kanae Kocho, the Flower Hashira, and her younger sister, Shinobu Kocho.
"Lately, the demons' activity has been increasing," Kanae said softly, her voice tinged with sadness as she watched the leaderless crows above. "In many places, new cases of brutal, man-eating incidents are breaking out suddenly."
Each desperate cry from the Kasugai crows signified another Demon Slayer who had fallen in the line of duty, succumbing to the horrors they faced while hunting demons.
"These vile demons… they truly deserve to die," Shinobu said, pressing a hand against her sword hilt, her gaze burning with murderous intent.
Kanae's expression grew grave. "More and more slayers are dying. Now, with the demons' activities escalating, our manpower is spread too thin."
She paused, worry shading her features. "The traces of Muzan Kibutsuji's appearances have already been seen before, and now with these sudden changes in demonic activity… I don't know what scheme the demons are plotting."
"The Final Selection at Mount Fujikasane is coming up soon," Shinobu said, her brows knitting slightly. "A new batch of recruits will arrive. Perhaps that will ease things a little."
"But new recruits lack experience in dealing with demons…" Kanae sighed softly. "Who knows how many of them will lose their lives on this path."
"Sister, you're always thinking about others like this," Shinobu replied, clenching her fists. "Yes, some of the recruits will fall while hunting demons, but others will grow, just like us. They'll become strong hunters, perhaps even Hashira one day. Sacrifice is inevitable in this line of work."
Her voice hardened slightly.
"Back when we were recruits, people doubted us, didn't they? Lord Himejima refused to let us become Demon Slayers. Even when we begged him, he wouldn't teach us to fight demons. It was only after we endured and were introduced to the Butterfly Mansion that we truly became Demon Slayers. You became strong enough to become a Hashira, just like Lord Himejima himself."
Kanae looked at her sister with a gentle smile.
"Are you still upset about his refusal back then?"
"Hmph…" Shinobu turned her head away, unwilling to answer directly.
"He refused us because he wanted to protect us," Kanae said softly, reaching out to stroke her sister's hair. "He hoped we could live as ordinary people."
A bitter laugh escaped Shinobu.
"When our parents were devoured by demons right before our eyes… how could we possibly live like ordinary people? He didn't refuse us for our sake—he simply disliked us because we were children."
Kanae watched her, seeing the stubborn fire in her eyes, and said nothing more than to gently smooth her hair again.
"Perhaps… he had his own reasons," she murmured.
"I've heard it from other slayers—he dislikes children," Shinobu replied, her tone firm. "Sister, you don't have to keep making excuses for others."
Kanae seemed about to respond, but Shinobu suddenly changed the subject.
"The last group who passed the Final Selection… their abilities were quite uneven, but a few promising ones have already begun to stand out. I heard a Demon Slayer named Giyu Tomioka has killed many demons recently."
"Giyu Tomioka?" Kanae tilted her head, thinking.
"He's the disciple of Urokodaki-senpai," Shinobu explained.
"I see… then I remember. This time, another of Urokodaki-senpai's students, named Makomo, will also participate in the Final Selection."
"Yes. I heard that in the previous selection, Giyu's senior disciple, Sabito, nearly wiped out every demon on Mount Fujikasane by himself. But in the end, he died of exhaustion. It's such a tragedy."
Shinobu let out a soft sigh, her tone still tinged with admiration. "Giyu Tomioka has already become this strong… if Sabito had lived and continued to grow, who knows how powerful he might have become? Perhaps he would have risen to be a Hashira just like you, Sister."
Before she could dwell on the thought any longer, hurried footsteps broke the moment. A short attendant from the Butterfly Mansion came rushing over, breathless and flustered.
"M-my ladies! It's bad! Another large group of wounded has been brought in. They need treatment immediately!"
"Understood. We're coming."
Without hesitation, both Shinobu and Kanae moved at once, their steps quick and purposeful.
Sure enough, the courtyard had already filled with chaos. Members of the Kakushi carried in one injured swordsman after another, each bearing severe wounds—bloodied, broken, and barely clinging to consciousness.
Shinobu's expression tightened, her small hands curling briefly into fists before she stepped forward and got to work without delay, treating each wound with practiced precision.
"My leg… will it… will it survive? Please, you have to save my leg, I'm begging you…"
One of the injured swordsmen clutched at her sleeve, his voice trembling with desperation as he looked up at her.
"I cannot guarantee that," Shinobu replied, her face stern and composed as her hands continued their work with unwavering skill.
The moment those words reached him, despair flooded the man's eyes.
"It will be alright," Kanae's gentle voice drifted in from beside them. Though her movements were slightly hurried, almost clumsy in comparison, she raised her hand softly as if to steady the air itself. "My sister's skill is excellent—she will do everything she can to save your leg. For now, please try not to panic. Conserve your strength, and trust that you'll recover."
Her voice was light, almost like a breeze brushing against the heart, and slowly, the man's panic eased, replaced by a fragile calm.
Shinobu glanced up briefly at her sister—so gentle, so naturally comforting even amidst chaos—before lowering her gaze again and swiftly finishing another wound.
One treated the injuries.
The other soothed the hearts.
What had begun as a scene of frantic disorder gradually fell into rhythm under the sisters' combined efforts.
"My lady!" another small attendant rushed over, her hands and face smeared with blood. "There's one more patient—he insists his injuries aren't serious and wants others treated first."
"Alright. We'll take care of him immediately after these patients," Shinobu replied without looking up.
Kanae, however, had already followed the attendant toward the adjacent room.
There, she found a man sitting hunched on a stretcher, his entire body soaked in blood.
"I'm fine… please… treat the others first," he said through clenched teeth, enduring the pain as he spoke to one of the attendants nearby.
"Your injuries are quite severe," Kanae said as she approached him gently. "You should be treated first."
"I… I'm alright."
He stubbornly shook his head.
"Sister, why waste words on him?" Shinobu's voice cut in as she entered, her expression firm. She gave the man a brief glance. "His condition is serious. He will be treated as a priority."
"No. Treat the others first—they need it more."
He refused without hesitation.
Shinobu didn't argue further. Instead, she clapped her hands lightly.
At once, several small girls—barely reaching Kanae's waist—rushed in. Without giving him a chance to resist, they firmly grabbed his limbs and lifted him onto a nearby bed.
The man struggled slightly, but with his injuries and their surprising strength, resistance was futile.
Kanae turned to another injured swordsman nearby, her tone as gentle as ever. "Do you know his name?"
"That man?" the swordsman replied, glancing over with admiration. "He's Giyu Tomioka. This time, he killed three demons all by himself. He's incredible."
"Ah… so he is Giyu Tomioka," Kanae murmured.
Shinobu looked at the man now restrained on the bed. He had gone silent, perhaps realizing there was no way to resist.
Shinobu stepped forward and began treating his wounds. When she prepared to cut away the rotting flesh with a small blade, she paused briefly and looked up.
"Do you want anesthesia?"
"No."
His reply was as brief as ever.
"It will hurt a great deal without it," she warned calmly.
Kanae stepped closer, her voice as gentle as ever. "You should use some anesthetic—it will ease the pain considerably."
"No need."
Giyu Tomioka gave only those two words before falling silent once more.
Shinobu said nothing further. With a small knife in hand and her expression tightly composed, she began to cut away the decayed flesh around his wounds.
Even as the blade moved, she could feel his body trembling uncontrollably from the pain, yet not a single cry escaped him; he simply endured it in silence, teeth clenched, as though sheer will alone held him together.
By the time she had finished treating each of his injuries, Giyu had already lost consciousness from the agony.
Shinobu looked down at him, her violet eyes carrying a trace of admiration. "He's already this remarkable… and I've heard that Sabito was even stronger than him. It's hard to imagine someone like that could still fall at Mount Fujikasane."
As she spoke, she lifted her gaze toward her sister. "Do you really think there's nothing wrong with the Final Selection there?"
Kanae's expression softened, though a hint of concern lingered beneath her calm. "The use of Mount Fujikasane for the Final Selection has always been reliable. If there is anything unusual… it would be how Urokodaki-senpai's disciples have, one after another, died during the trials."
"I used to think perhaps Urokodaki-senpai simply wasn't suited to be a trainer," Shinobu said slowly, her brows drawing together. "But after seeing Giyu Tomioka today… Sister, I can't help but feel that something may have gone wrong with the Final Selection itself."
—
Mount Sagiri.
Within a quiet room, a pot hung gently above the hearth, steam rising in soft curls. Seated beside it, a young girl in a short kimono patterned with plum blossoms dipped a small ladle into the simmering broth and brought it to her lips, tasting it with a careful sip.
"It's already delicious."
Makomo smiled faintly, a touch of pride brightening her expression. "My cooking really is getting better."
With that, she rose and walked toward the adjacent room. Inside sat an elderly man with a gentle face, his presence calm and steady. On the table before him rested a fierce-looking tengu mask.
"Sensei, lunch is ready."
"Mm."
Sakonji Urokodaki stood and followed her into the next room, Makomo trailing close behind.
"Sensei, today I made your favorite—mushroom and chicken stew." She looked up at him, her smile sweet and earnest.
"Mm."
Urokodaki picked up a bowl, ladled a portion for her, then filled one for himself. Without another word, he lowered his head and began to eat in silence.
Makomo tilted her head slightly as she watched him for a moment, then quietly followed suit, lowering her gaze as she ate.
Before long, Urokodaki finished his bowl. Setting it aside, he looked out toward the fading light beyond the doorway.
"I'm thinking of clearing a small patch of land nearby," he said.
"That sounds wonderful," Makomo replied, her eyes curving into a smile. "What do you plan to plant?"
"Rapeseed flowers."
At that, Makomo lowered her gaze slightly.
Rapeseed flowers were her favorite. Every year, when they bloomed, she would spend long hours simply standing among them, watching the golden fields sway in the wind.
Though her teacher had not said it outright, his meaning was clear—he hoped that when the rapeseed flowers bloomed again next year, she would still be there to see them.
She lifted her head, looking at Urokodaki, who stood without his tengu mask, his expression unguarded and gentle.
"Sensei, I will definitely pass the Final Selection at Mount Fujikasane."
She wouldn't just pass; she wanted to find out why her seniors had failed over the years, and why even Sabito had met his end there.
"In the past, Sabito said the same thing," Urokodaki replied quietly.
He stepped toward the doorway, gazing at the sun as it dipped toward the horizon, its light dimming into dusk.
"Why not spend another year building your strength?" he suggested. "Train a little longer… and wait until next year to take the test."
Makomo stepped forward until she stood beside Sakonji Urokodaki, turning her head to look at the man she respected most. Her voice was soft, but there was a quiet firmness beneath it.
"If it's next year… you'll say the same thing again, won't you, Sensei?"
The old man did not answer.
Makomo didn't press him. Instead, she shifted her gaze forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with him as they both watched the sun slowly sinking toward the horizon, its fading light casting long shadows across the mountains.
"Sensei… when you first joined the Demon Slayer Corps, did you ever think you might die on that path?"
Urokodaki turned his head slightly, glancing at her before giving a small shake of his head.
"I didn't."
"Then why," Makomo continued gently, "when it comes to your disciples… do you suddenly become afraid?"
"It's different."
He shook his head again, his voice low.
But Makomo turned to him fully now, her clear eyes fixed on his face.
"Sensei… you've always felt guilty, haven't you?"
For a moment, Urokodaki found himself unable to meet her gaze.
"You've always believed that you were the one who caused your disciples—my seniors—to die, haven't you?"
A rare trace of anger flickered at the corners of Makomo's brows, her expression tightening just slightly.
"But Sensei… why should you feel guilty for that?"
Her voice grew steadier, more resolute.
"This was their choice. It was Sabito's choice. Everyone who walks this path understands the risk, just as you did back then—that we may die while hunting demons."
Even as she spoke, there was no fear in her tone—only clarity.
"If I were to die at Mount Fujikasane… just like Sabito did… that would also be my own choice."
With that, Makomo stepped back and bowed deeply, her posture respectful and unwavering.
"So please, Sensei… don't place all of that burden on yourself."
"My seniors… Sabito… none of them would blame you."
"And even if… I don't come back…"
She paused briefly, then continued with quiet certainty.
"I wouldn't blame you either."
She straightened, her voice softening again.
"So, Sensei… please don't carry such heavy weight in your heart."
"This was never your fault."
Hidden within his sleeves, Urokodaki's hands had clenched tightly at some point, though he said nothing. Instead, he turned his gaze away, looking toward a distant patch of land, and slowly raised a hand to point.
"I plan to clear land over there… and plant rapeseed flowers."
His voice faltered slightly as he spoke, growing hoarse, as though the words themselves had become difficult to push out.
Before he could say more, Makomo tilted her head, her eyes curving into a gentle smile.
"When the rapeseed flowers bloom," she said softly, almost as if comforting a child, "I'll still be here."
"I promise you, Sensei."
As she spoke, she reached out and lightly tugged at the hem of his sleeve.
"Sensei, you're already so old… why are you still crying?"
Urokodaki stubbornly lifted his chin, his voice rough.
"I'm not crying."
"Alright, alright, whatever you say," Makomo replied lightly, her tone teasing yet warm. "I didn't see anything, and I certainly wouldn't tell anyone that the highly respected former Water Hashira is actually a bit of a crybaby. Otherwise… why would you always wear that fierce-looking tengu mask?"
"I wear it because my face is too gentle," Urokodaki replied stiffly. "When hunting demons, it makes them look down on me… and underestimate me."
"Oh, so that's the reason?" Makomo's smile widened, a playful glint in her eyes. "Well, Sensei, I suppose it can't be helped. Your face really is far too gentle—almost like a woman's. Actually… if you dressed as one, you might even look quite beautiful."
...
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