After purchasing a carriage and packing only the essentials, Soma set out once more, leading the Kamado family on yet another journey of relocation.
Many things had been left behind—among them, even the tools the Kamado family had used for generations to produce charcoal.
Seated at the front, Soma held the reins, guiding the carriage forward, while Kanao sat quietly beside him, her pink-violet eyes calmly taking in the passing scenery.
Inside the carriage, Kamado Kie cradled little Rokuta in her arms, gazing out through the window. The ride was far from smooth—the suspension was poor, and the road uneven—but compared to their last move, trudging through the snow-covered mountains in the dead of winter, this was far more bearable.
They had prepared plenty of food, and the weather was kind. Whenever the journey grew tiring, Soma would deliberately stop to let everyone rest, only setting off again once they had recovered.
Rather than a desperate relocation, it felt more like a quiet journey.
At least, that was how it felt to Kie.
From time to time along the way, she would pull Nezuko aside and whisper something to her. Each time, Nezuko couldn't help but sneak glances toward Soma, only to lower her head again, her cheeks flushed.
The resistance and sorrow that had once filled her gaze had long since faded.
In their place… there was even the faintest trace of anticipation.
…
"Sir, why did you choose to move to Mount Sagiri?"
When Tanjiro came to take over driving the carriage, he couldn't help but ask.
"It's because I intend to visit someone on your behalf—Urokodaki Sakonji."
"Urokodaki… Sakonji?"
Tanjiro looked puzzled.
Soma glanced at him. At this moment, Tanjiro had no idea that Urokodaki Sakonji was destined to become his future mentor—the one who would lay the very foundation of his strength.
Over the past few days, as Soma had guided Tanjiro and the rest of the Kamado family in their sword training, he had come to a realization: he wasn't suited to be a proper instructor. And more importantly, the Demon Slayer Corps was ultimately the best place for Tanjiro to grow.
"He's a retired 'Hashira' of the Demon Slayer Corps," Soma explained.
"Hashira?"
"The Hashira are the strongest swordsmen in the Corps. At any given time, there are only about nine of them, and each one has accomplished the feat of slaying a member of the Twelve Kizuki."
By now, Tanjiro had gained some understanding of demons. He knew just how terrifying the Twelve Kizuki were. Even Soma had admitted that, at present, he was no match for them.
So what kind of strength did it take… to defeat one?
"I'm taking you to meet him so he can teach you how to kill demons properly," Soma continued. "When it comes to that, he's far more qualified than I am."
Tanjiro lifted his head and looked at him. "Aren't you worried at all, Sir?"
"Worried about what?" Soma asked, glancing back with a faint hint of confusion, as though he hadn't caught the deeper meaning behind the question.
"…It's nothing."
Tanjiro lowered his head again.
Soma smiled, patting his shoulder. "You take over driving. I'll rest inside for a bit."
"Alright."
Handing the reins over, Soma took Kanao's hand and stepped into the carriage.
Though the interior was spacious enough, the number of people—and the luggage—made it feel somewhat cramped.
The moment Nezuko saw him enter, she quickly shifted to make room.
Soma gave her a small nod of thanks, then sat down with Kanao beside him.
Across from them sat Kamado Kie. Despite the carriage's constant jostling, her posture remained composed and elegant, her entire presence radiating a quiet, gentle warmth.
From where he sat, Soma could clearly take in the scene before him—the well-mannered children, Tanjiro, Nezuko… this entire family.
He couldn't help but admire Kie. No matter the situation, she maintained such grace and composure, and beyond that, she truly knew how to care for a household.
It was no wonder this family had remained so whole, so warm, even through hardship.
Children could be such a handful, after all—but in all the days Soma had spent with the Kamado family, not once had any of them given him a headache. Setting aside Tanjiro and Nezuko, even Hanako and Takeo were remarkably sensible, and little Rokuta, the youngest of them all, was obedient and well-behaved.
Because of that, every time he looked at Kamado Kie and felt the gentle warmth she carried, he couldn't help but admire her all the more.
And, inevitably, he found himself thinking of Kamado Tanjuro—how fortunate that man had been.
Yet such a gentle, kind woman… in the original story, she had been brutally slaughtered by Muzan Kibutsuji. The thought alone was enough to make one sigh in regret.
At this moment, however, there was nothing improper in Soma's gaze—only pure appreciation.
Still, being watched like that, especially by a man, made Kie slightly uncomfortable. She had spent most of her life within the home, after all. Yet she could also sense that there was nothing impure in his eyes, and that alone eased her unease considerably.
She reached up and gently smoothed a few loose strands of hair before asking softly, "May I ask… how old you are, Sir?"
"Why do you ask?"
Kie glanced briefly at Nezuko before lowering her head again. "Just… a casual question."
"I see."
Soma nodded, pausing to think. Truthfully, even he was a little vague about his exact age. It wasn't something he paid much attention to. Even back in his previous life, he had never been one to care about birthdays. Often, it was only after another year had passed that he would suddenly realize—ah, I've grown older again.
For someone who had spent his days buried in work, simply getting through life had already been exhausting enough.
"I should be around twenty-eight," he said at last.
"Twenty-eight?"
Kie's eyes widened slightly in surprise. He looked far younger—closer to twenty at most. Even Nezuko, sitting nearby, lifted her head in quiet astonishment.
"That's quite a bit older than Nezuko," Kie murmured. Then, noticing the faint hint of disappointment on her daughter's face, she added gently, "But it's normal for men to be older. Even if it's more than a decade's difference, someone older can often take better care of others."
Soma glanced at her, a hint of confusion in his eyes.
"Have you… ever had a wife before?" Kie asked again.
Beside her, Nezuko had already begun nervously clutching the edge of her clothing.
"Not yet."
He shook his head.
Kie looked at him with a trace of doubt, as if she found that hard to believe. "Someone as outstanding as you, Sir… surely there must have been many girls who admired you."
"Is that so?"
He smiled faintly but didn't elaborate.
Kie, however, couldn't help but feel there must be a story behind it—perhaps something that had happened before he became a demon, or some experience he preferred not to speak of.
But no matter what it was, for Nezuko… it was ultimately a good thing.
The only real concern was his identity as a demon.
Aside from that, there was the matter of age—but in Kie's eyes, that was hardly a problem. If anything, it could even be an advantage.
What she worried about more was Nezuko herself. If the girl, still young and inexperienced, were to develop insecurities over the age difference, it could lead to unnecessary friction.
In Kie's view, young couples often clashed fiercely over small matters, their disagreements escalating into something difficult to resolve. Older men, on the other hand, tended to be more tolerant, more willing to indulge the small whims of a younger wife.
And over these past days, she had come to see clearly—Soma was a patient and gentle man, far more willing than most to listen to a woman's thoughts and respect her wishes.
That alone was something she found almost unbelievable—especially for someone as powerful as he was.
Kie had wanted to ask when he intended to marry Nezuko.
But seeing that Soma had already closed his eyes, she held her tongue.
After all, when it came down to it… she still didn't truly understand him.
Yet after everything she had witnessed over these past days—the way he carried himself, the way he treated others, the qualities that surpassed any man she had ever known—Kie, as someone with life experience, couldn't help but feel that if Nezuko were to follow him, she would likely find happiness.
…
When they were still some distance away from Mount Sagiri, Soma had Tanjiro stop the carriage.
The children had been riding for far too long, and the moment they stepped down, relief spread across their faces.
Soma was already well-versed in setting up a campfire. While he worked on getting the fire going, Kie had long since prepared the ingredients for their meal.
When she suggested handling everything herself, Soma refused without hesitation and stayed to help.
Before long, the warm, inviting aroma of freshly cooked food filled the air.
He called over the children, who had been playing nearby, and soon everyone gathered around to eat.
They sat in a circle around the fire, chatting idly. Most of the questions came from Hanako and Takeo.
Now that their fear had gradually faded, the younger ones—Takeo, Hanako, and even Shigeru—had grown noticeably closer to him. They often clung to him, asking all sorts of childish questions.
And children's questions, by nature, were endless and often delightfully strange.
Fortunately, Soma possessed far more knowledge than anyone else in this world. While he couldn't answer everything, he handled most of their curiosity with ease—and even when he didn't know, he could always improvise something plausible.
At times like these, Tanjiro—and even Nezuko—would drift closer, quietly listening in.
They were no longer little children, at least not in their own minds, so they couldn't bring themselves to ask questions as freely as the younger ones.
Every now and then, Tanjiro would glance up and see Soma gently holding Hanako in his arms, telling her little stories—fairy tales, like those from Grimm's Fairy Tales, or stories of Cinderella marrying a king. Even he found himself drawn in, listening with quiet fascination.
And beyond the stories, there were the many lessons Soma wove into his words—things that seemed simple on the surface, yet revealed deeper meaning the more one thought about them.
The more Tanjiro listened, the more he admired him… and the less he felt he understood him.
Sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder—
Could a single person truly possess so much knowledge?
He had met many people before, yet never anyone as learned as Soma.
At times, Tanjiro even found himself thinking that perhaps this man had truly been enlightened by some divine being—that he might not be a demon at all. After all, had anyone ever heard of a demon who could walk freely under the sun?
But while Tanjiro's admiration leaned toward Soma's abilities, Nezuko's feelings were of an entirely different kind.
She had grown up in an isolated mountain environment, rarely encountering outsiders—let alone men. And the few she had seen… none of them came close to the presence Soma carried. They were simply incomparable.
In her world, this was the first time she had ever met someone like him.
Sometimes, she would sneak glances at him, her thoughts quietly stirring—
Why does he know so much?
How did he become a demon?
Why is he so different from the others?
The more she didn't understand, the more it gnawed at her curiosity, making her want to uncover the answers.
And yet, deep down, she was still afraid of him.
There were nights when she would wake from nightmares—dreams where he suddenly turned and devoured her whole.
But perhaps it was precisely because of this strange mixture of fear and curiosity, combined with the thought that she might one day follow him, that his presence lingered constantly in her mind.
Even though she saw him every day, the image of him never faded.
Nezuko had told her mother about all of this.
Kie had only smiled, gently patting her head—yet even she could not give her an answer.
She even began to wonder if this might be what people called liking someone.
So she had gone to ask her mother—what had it felt like when she first fell in love with Father?
But Kie had only looked puzzled.
Her marriage to Tanjuro had never followed that kind of path. It wasn't a matter of falling in love first; their families had agreed, they married, formed a household, and then had children.
There had never really been a stage of "liking" in the way Nezuko imagined it.
And when even her mother couldn't give her an answer, Nezuko found herself even more lost.
Sometimes, she felt certain—this must be what liking someone feels like.
Other times, she would deny it just as firmly—no, this isn't it at all.
Caught between those thoughts, she remained in a constant state of confusion.
Perhaps, from the very beginning, she had already prepared herself to sacrifice everything—to accept being bound to a demon's side, to be controlled by him.
But now, little by little, she no longer fixated on his identity as a demon.
Sometimes, she even found herself thinking… that someone as exceptional as him—if she could remain by his side—perhaps that wouldn't be so bad at all.
In fact, she had begun to feel a quiet anticipation for what such a future might be like.
And yet, recently, another worry had crept in—what if she wasn't worthy of him?
Worse still, it almost felt as though he no longer had any particular interest in her… even though, when he had first come to their home, it had clearly been because of...
…
After finishing another story for Hanako, Soma smiled and patted the girl's head, sending her off to play.
At that moment, Nezuko finally shook herself free from her tangled thoughts. She picked up a small handful of red beans and placed them into a little pot by the campfire, then added a few pieces of konpeitō.
"They won't cook in time—we'll be leaving soon," Soma said with a faint smile, watching her actions as he shook his head.
Nezuko lowered her head, her cheeks flushed, clearly unwilling to concede. "What if they do cook?"
Soma only smiled, then called out for everyone to pack up and prepare to get back on the carriage.
Deep down, Nezuko knew he was right—but she stubbornly refused to admit it. Instead, she reached into her pocket, took out a single red bean, and buried it in the soil.
Soma looked at her, puzzled.
"You're wrong, Sir," she declared. "If I plant a red bean now, next year it'll grow, bear fruit, and turn into many ripe beans."
Soma blinked, momentarily at a loss.
That was clearly sophistry.
Yet Nezuko seemed entirely convinced she had proven her point. She lifted her chin proudly, her fair neck exposed, looking like a peacock showing off its feathers.
Seeing her like this, Soma couldn't help but find her amusing. His gaze drifted to the small spot where she had buried the bean, and a line of poetry slipped from his lips almost unconsciously:
"The red beans grow in the southern lands; how many branches will sprout in the spring?"
Nezuko, having grown up in the mountains, had never encountered such refined verse. She tilted her head, repeating in confusion, "How many branches sprout in the spring?"
"Ha…"
Hearing her earnest question—and seeing that clear yet slightly foolish expression in her eyes—Soma couldn't help but laugh.
Nezuko blinked, puzzled. Had she said something wrong?
Only then did he explain, still smiling, "I was reciting a poem. The next line is: May you gather them often, for they are the truest symbol of longing."
Seeing that she still didn't quite understand, he added gently, "It means that red beans grow in the sunny south, sprouting countless branches each spring. And people hope that the one they miss will gather more of them—because red beans are used to express longing."
To people of this region, such poetry was almost too elegant—so refined that even nobles were said to admire and pursue the mysterious literary traditions of the East.
And when Nezuko finally grasped the meaning of his words, her face flushed instantly, turning a deep, vivid red.
Then, recalling the red bean porridge she had made for him just yesterday, a sudden thought struck her—
Was he teasing me?
Was he saying that the porridge I made… was my way of telling him to "gather me often"?
In an instant, her cheeks burned so fiercely it was as if they might drip with color.
They weren't even married yet—how could he gather anything like that?!
...
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