The morning was unusually quiet.
Everything seemed wrapped in a gentle stillness—even the neighboring household, which usually began training at the crack of dawn, remained silent today.
Urokodaki Sakonji, however, had risen even earlier than usual. Inside his home, he had lit a fire and was personally preparing a hot pot.
The flames flickered softly beneath the pot, where a rich broth bubbled steadily, releasing fragrant steam that filled the room with a comforting warmth.
Makomo had changed into a different outfit.
She now wore a pink kimono adorned with delicate floral patterns. Her deep green eyes shone softly beneath the light, and her slender feet were fitted into a new pair of shoes. The fox mask she usually wore—painted with a serene, closed-eye smile—was half-lifted, revealing one side of her refined, youthful face.
When she entered the room, Urokodaki had already prepared the meal.
Sitting together, she held her small bowl and ate alongside the man she respected most. Steam rose gently from the food, brushing against her cheeks as she took small, careful bites.
Several times, she opened her mouth, wanting to say something—wanting to remind him to take care of himself after she left.
But each time, the words caught in her throat.
She simply couldn't say them.
"Have you packed everything?" Urokodaki asked quietly.
"Yes."
"Your water flask, your clothes… everything you'll need? You'll be staying at Mount Fujikasane for seven days."
"I've prepared it all."
Makomo finished the last bite of rice in her bowl and set it aside. Rising to her feet, she looked at him—still seated where he was.
"Sensei… I'm leaving now."
"…Mm."
"Please… take care of your health." Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.
"I will."
There was still so much she wanted to say.
So many words that remained unspoken.
In the end, all she could manage was, "Then… Sensei, I'll be going."
"I'll walk you out."
"…Alright."
Just like every time before.
Just like when he had seen off each of his disciples—with hope in his heart and quiet anticipation.
And yet…
Each time, none of them had returned.
Only cold letters delivered by Kasugai Crows ever came back in their place.
They stopped at a patch of bluestone along the path. Makomo halted as well, tilting her head slightly as she looked at her teacher. With the tengu mask covering his face, she couldn't see his expression.
But she could guess.
He must be sad.
He always was.
Every time he sent a disciple away, her beloved teacher—the old man she respected so deeply—would secretly wipe away his tears.
Before, at least, she had been there to stay by his side.
But now…
There would be no one left.
At least… the new family that had moved into Mount Sagiri might ease his loneliness a little. Otherwise, he would truly be left alone on this mountain.
"I'm going now, Sensei."
Makomo waved lightly, then placed her hands before her abdomen and bowed deeply. "I will come back."
Just like all the disciples before her—just like her seniors, just like Sabito—she made the same promise with utmost sincerity.
"Make sure that you do."
Urokodaki's voice, muffled beneath the mask, sounded low… and faintly hoarse.
Makomo said nothing more.
After one final bow, she turned without hesitation and set off down the path toward Mount Fujikasane—the road that every swordsman had to walk.
A breeze brushed past her mask, carrying with it the dampness of the morning mist. At some point, her lashes had grown slightly wet, her vision faintly blurred.
She had stepped onto the same path as her seniors… as Sabito.
Would she meet the same fate?
She didn't know.
Though she had confidence in herself, there were many things in this world that no one could control. The people she cherished most had all disappeared one by one, taken by a fate she could neither predict nor stop.
…
Compared to Makomo, Soma's departure with Kanao and Tanjiro was much later. Kie Kamado had packed all their luggage perfectly. Nezuko had wanted to come along, but Soma stopped her.
Like many people going on a long journey, the family gave instructions over and over again. Kie was the same, though, facing the expressionless Soma, many words remained stuck in her throat.
"Let's go." He raised a hand and waved to the Kamado family, who had come out to see them off.
"May fortune favor your journey." Kamado Kie placed her hands lightly before her abdomen and bowed deeply toward Soma.
Behind her, Nezuko, Hanako, Takeo, and Shigeru followed suit, mirroring her gesture with quiet sincerity.
…
Time passed slowly.
At first, Nezuko didn't feel much after their departure. The house was quieter, certainly—her brother was gone, as were Soma and that expressionless Kanao—but aside from that, nothing seemed particularly different.
Life continued as usual.
But by the second day, something changed.
A strange boredom crept in.
With no one watching over her, she could lounge peacefully on the rocking chair, basking in the sunlight, or lean against the windowsill and gaze outside for as long as she pleased.
And yet…
It all felt unbearably dull.
Without warning, she found herself wanting to see them—her brother, Soma… even that somewhat annoying Kanao.
Before she realized it, the feeling had grown into a quiet longing.
At first, it was like the surface of a still lake.
But then—
a single stone fell.
Ripples spread outward, disturbing the calm.
And no matter how much she wished for it, she couldn't see them. They had already left, heading far away, beyond her reach.
Left alone, she wandered aimlessly through Mount Sagiri, the mist drifting softly through the forest.
With some effort, she climbed up to the summit. Clouds swirled around her, and from that height, the scenery stretched out in breathtaking beauty.
But Nezuko didn't spare it a glance.
Instead, she stared into the distance, searching—hoping to catch even a glimpse of a familiar figure.
Of course, no one appeared.
They hadn't returned.
And so, her mood sank.
Lowering her head, she picked up a small stone from the ground and tossed it down the mountainside. One after another, she threw them—until, after the tenth, she tilted her head and looked to the side.
Not far away, seated upon a rock, was an old man wearing a tengu mask.
Urokodaki Sakonji.
He sat there alone.
Nezuko knew who he was waiting for—his disciple, Makomo. She had heard about him before, how he had once trained many students and personally sent each of them off to Mount Fujikasane for the Final Selection.
None of them had ever come back.
A quiet sympathy rose within her.
If it were her—if her brother, Soma, or even that annoying Kanao left and never returned—she knew she wouldn't be able to bear it.
And yet this old man had endured it again and again.
Farewell after farewell.
Loss after loss.
And now…
He had sent off his last disciple.
There was no one left.
He truly was alone now.
Nezuko tilted her head as she looked at him, her gaze eventually settling on the crow perched on his shoulder—a Kasugai Crow. Like its master, it too had grown old, its feathers worn and aged, its wings no longer as strong as they once were.
Perhaps sensing her gaze, the crow turned its head and looked back at her.
At that moment, a sudden and urgent thought took root in Nezuko's heart.
She straightened her clothes slightly and stepped forward.
"Excuse me… Urokodaki-san."
He turned his head, looking at her with mild confusion.
"…Ccould I borrow your Kasugai Crow to send a letter? To my brother… to Sir… and to Kanao?"
"A letter?" Urokodaki frowned slightly beneath the tengu mask. "Is it something important? Has something serious happened that requires urgent contact?"
Kasugai Crows were vital messengers. If there truly was something important, he wouldn't mind lending his crow to deliver the message.
But in truth…
Nezuko hadn't even thought about what she would write.
She only knew that, all of a sudden, she desperately wanted to hear from them—to know how her brother, Soma, and even Kanao were doing.
"If it's not important, then there's no need to send a message," Urokodaki said calmly. "Kasugai Crows are precious companions. They should only be used for matters of real importance."
As if understanding his words, the old crow on his shoulder began grooming its already aged feathers with deliberate elegance, carrying a faint air of pride despite its years.
Nezuko tilted her head again, her voice soft with curiosity.
"…What counts as something important?"
Urokodaki Sakonji thought for a moment before answering.
"That depends on how important the message is."
Nezuko frowned slightly. She didn't really understand what kind of message would qualify as "important enough" in his eyes.
So—
she decided to write one first.
Without another word, she hurried down the mountain, her steps quick and eager.
Watching her retreating figure, Urokodaki simply shook his head and remained seated on the bluestone, his gaze once again drifting into the distance, alone with his thoughts.
Before long—
Nezuko came running back, slightly out of breath. A fine layer of sweat clung to her delicate face, and her long lashes were damp with morning dew.
Carefully, almost reverently, she held out the letter she had just written.
Urokodaki took it and unfolded it, glancing over the contents.
"Dear Sir, Brother, and Kanao, hello."
"Today is the second day since you left. Everything at home is going well. Mother knitted another sweater for you today, and the cutest Nezuko has been practicing making red bean porridge—I've gotten quite good at it now! When you come back, I'm sure you'll love it."
"The weather is nice today. Mount Sagiri is covered in mist again. Mother and I discussed clearing a small patch of land nearby. I want to plant red beans there, but Mother plans to—"
Urokodaki lowered the letter and shook his head.
"This isn't important. There's no need to send it."
Nezuko blinked, clearly confused. She looked up again at the Kasugai Crow perched leisurely on his shoulder, then pointed at it.
"But… it's not doing anything right now. It could just deliver the letter, couldn't it?"
"No," he refused without hesitation. "This message has no practical value."
"…No value?"
Nezuko couldn't understand.
To her, this was important—very important.
"Then… what kind of message is important?" she asked, her voice rising slightly with frustration.
"Matters of life and death. Critical information. Dangerous enemies," Urokodaki replied calmly.
Nezuko clenched her fists.
"Does it… have to be that important?" she asked, staring at him. "Are those the only kinds of messages your Kasugai Crow ever delivers?"
The old man fell silent.
For a rare moment, he had no answer.
Because it was true.
Every message his crow had brought him… was like that.
In recent years, they had all been the same—
cold notices of death.
Nezuko bit her lip, unwilling to give up.
"But I think these things are important too," she insisted. "If they receive this, Sir and my brother will know that everything at home is fine. They'll know that I'm doing well… my brother will feel at ease. And if Sir hears that I've learned to make red bean porridge, he'll definitely look forward to it…"
Her voice softened, but her determination didn't waver.
"Have you… never written letters like this to your disciples, Urokodaki-san?"
Behind the tengu mask, Urokodaki fell silent again.
He never had.
To him, such letters held no informational value—no urgency, no necessity.
And something without value… wasn't worth sending through a Kasugai Crow.
Seeing his silence, Nezuko's shoulders drooped. Though reluctant, she slowly withdrew the letter, disappointment written plainly across her face. With his stance so firm, she had no choice but to turn and leave.
"Wait."
After a long pause, Urokodaki finally spoke again, his voice cutting through the quiet.
Nezuko turned back immediately, a flicker of hope lighting up her expression.
"…Just this once."
His tone was stern, unwavering.
"Yes!"
She agreed without hesitation, her face brightening instantly as she hurried back and handed him the letter.
Urokodaki took it and personally secured it inside the small metal message tube attached to the Kasugai Crow's leg.
Nezuko watched as the Kasugai Crow took flight, its aged wings beating steadily as it disappeared into the distance. Only after it was gone did she turn her head and look at the old man beside her.
"Have you ever thought about writing a letter to Sister Makomo?"
Urokodaki fell silent.
Nezuko tilted her head slightly, then continued, "When the crow comes back, I could help you write something. Is there anything you'd like to say to her?"
The old man lifted his head, but still said nothing. With the tengu mask concealing his expression, Nezuko couldn't see his face, yet somehow she could guess—
he had probably never done something like this before.
She didn't press him any further. Instead, she stood quietly at the mountaintop, clasping her hands in front of her chest.
"Sir will return safely… Brother will too. Even that annoying Kanao will be fine. Everyone will be safe… Sister Makomo as well."
After finishing her quiet prayer, she turned back to him, her eyes bright.
"Urokodaki-san, would you like to pray together too?"
"…That's childish."
He shook his head.
"Childish?" Nezuko murmured, lowering her gaze, though she didn't feel that way at all.
…
The Kasugai Crow returned sooner than expected.
Nezuko, who had been eagerly waiting every day for its return, rushed over the moment she saw it flutter down toward Urokodaki's residence.
Just in time, she saw him remove the small letter tube from the crow's leg. Noticing her arrival, he handed the letter over without a word.
Barely able to contain her excitement, Nezuko quickly opened it.
"Dear little sister Nezuko,"
"We are on our way to Mount Fujikasane, and everything is well. Please don't worry."
"Today, we ran into Miss Makomo on the road. She was quite upset about our decision to go to the mountain and tried several times to persuade Sir otherwise, but he paid her no mind. She even tried to stop us repeatedly, and I ended up sparring with her—unfortunately, I lost. She's very strong."
"In the end, since she couldn't change Sir's mind, she decided to come along with us. When the Kasugai Crow arrived, she was quite excited, thinking it was a letter from her beloved Master Urokodaki. Haha… when she realized it was actually from ourdear little sister Nezuko, her expression must have been priceless. Sadly, her mask made it impossible to see. Nezuko, you did well—you avenged me for getting beaten up. It was honestly very satisfying."
"But Nezuko, if you write again next time, maybe you can ask Urokodaki-san to write one too. You can tell that Miss Makomo is really looking forward to it."
A smile bloomed across Nezuko's face as she handed the letter to Urokodaki for him to read as well.
After reading it, the old man seemed… unsettled. There was even a trace of irritation as he turned and walked into the house, picking up paper and brush as if to write something.
But in the end—
he stopped.
A letter like that… it felt too childish. He had never written anything of the sort before.
"I'll help you write it," Nezuko said brightly, stepping closer. "We can tell Miss Makomo that her most beloved Urokodaki-san misses her very much."
"…Pointless."
Urokodaki turned his gaze out the window.
But Nezuko only smiled, already beginning to write the second letter.
…
By the time the Kasugai Crow once again took flight, its wings beating wearily against the air, Urokodaki stood quietly by the window.
Only then did it truly sink in—
he had done something rather foolish.
"Really… quite childish."
And yet, as he watched the old crow disappear into the distance, the voice that slipped out from beneath the tengu mask felt lighter than it had in a very long time.