"…Miss Makomo, why is your face so red?"
Tanjiro looked at her with clear confusion.
He instinctively took a small breath in, just like he had done before when speaking to his sister, Nezuko. Back then—and now as well—he could pick up a faint scent of flustered unease, that same slightly guilty, panicked note lingering in the air.
"Tanjiro, you must be mistaken."
Makomo quickly bit into her candied hawthorn, then pulled her mask back over her face, hiding her expression completely.
"When was my face ever red? It's not red at all."
At that moment, she felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude toward her beloved teacher, Sakonji Urokodaki. If it weren't for the mask he had made for her, things would have been… very awkward.
Tanjiro scratched his head, still puzzled. He was certain he hadn't imagined it.
…
The festival in the small town was lively and full of energy.
Soma followed along with the others, watching a street performer breathe fire and listening to a singer's soft, melodic voice drifting through the air. At one of the gatherings, he even sampled some rare and surprisingly good sake.
Amid the bustling crowd, they came across a large group gathered around an oiran. Curious, Soma joined in to take a look—but after seeing her face, he couldn't help but feel a slight sense of disappointment.
It wasn't that she wasn't beautiful—on the contrary, she was quite stunning.
But compared to Nezuko, Kanao, or Makomo… she still fell short. And that was without even considering that those girls hadn't fully grown into their beauty yet.
Afterward, he took Tanjiro to experience one of the area's local specialties—a hot spring bath.
Naturally, they bathed separately. Makomo took Kanao to the women's bath, while Soma accompanied Tanjiro to the men's side.
However, since it wasn't winter, the experience felt rather ordinary. Perhaps in the cold of winter, it would have been far more enjoyable.
As they wandered through the town, they ended up buying all sorts of things—bags upon bags—until, in the end, poor Tanjiro was left carrying everything like a pack mule.
Time passed without them noticing, and before they knew it, night had fallen.
Perhaps because of the festival, the town remained just as lively after dark. Lanterns of all kinds were lit, casting a warm glow over the streets. It seemed to be some kind of special occasion.
Boom!
A sudden explosion rang out.
Soma instinctively looked up.
Brilliant fireworks soared into the sky, bursting into dazzling patterns of light that painted the night with fleeting brilliance.
Holding Kanao's hand, he watched quietly. At some point, Makomo had moved closer to his side, also tilting her head up to admire the display.
"…It's beautiful."
Soma murmured in appreciation. Compared to the fireworks of his own time, these were far more modest—but here, in this world, they were already something special.
As the fireworks continued, the atmosphere grew even more lively. For a place like this, such displays were rare, and even those who had stayed indoors earlier now stepped out to watch.
Gradually, more and more people filled the streets.
The crowd grew dense, everyone craning their necks upward, eyes shining with excitement as they took in the spectacle.
Sensing the press of the crowd, Soma gently pulled Kanao in front of him, shielding her. He caught sight of her pinkish-purple eyes, bright with excitement as she stared up at the fireworks.
Perhaps it was the crowd, or the shared joy of the moment—but even to Soma, who had seen far grander displays, the fireworks seemed more beautiful than before.
In the end, watching fireworks was never just about the fireworks themselves.
It was about the atmosphere.
As another burst of light bloomed across the dark sky, Soma found his thoughts drifting to Akaza.
Back when he was still human, perhaps it had been under a sky like this—lit by fireworks—that he had once made a promise to the person he loved, vowing eternal protection.
And yet, in the end… he had failed to protect what mattered most.
Having lost the one he wished to protect, he had been ready to die—only to encounter Muzan Kibutsuji, who turned him into an immortal being. In the process, he lost his past, becoming nothing more than a demon driven by an obsessive desire for strength.
The crowd pressed closer and closer.
Makomo was pushed nearer to Soma, until, by chance, their hands brushed against each other.
In an instant, the tips of her ears burned hot—flushed a deep, unmistakable red.
Makomo immediately withdrew her hand.
But almost at the same time, she couldn't resist sneaking another glance at the man beside her. Seeing that he didn't seem to have noticed anything unusual, she quietly let out a breath of relief—only to feel a faint, almost imperceptible sense of disappointment at the same time.
Boom!
Another firework shot into the sky, blooming like a flower of light across the night.
In Soma's original world, such fireworks were nothing special—commonplace even. But here, in this world, they were a rare and breathtaking sight. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excited voices carrying far into the quiet night.
Feeling the joy of the crowd wash over him, Soma's own mood lightened without him realizing it. The atmosphere of a place truly had a way of influencing one's emotions.
Makomo had now moved close beside him, standing shoulder to shoulder as they both watched the fireworks rise again.
Before long, her small hand casually reached out once more and brushed against his.
She quickly pulled it back again.
But after a short while, as if it were another accidental touch, her hand came into contact with his once more—this time, however, she did not withdraw it.
Instead, her soft hand remained there, resting gently against the back of his.
Another firework burst into the sky.
Colorful light scattered across the heavens, reflecting vividly in Soma's eyes. Beside him, Makomo watched the brilliant night sky—but within her gaze, there was something even softer: the image of the man watching the fireworks.
The display did not last long.
Soon, the fireworks faded, and the spectators gradually dispersed, returning to their homes. The once-crowded streets slowly emptied, returning to a quiet calm.
Soma lowered his gaze, looking at the small hand still resting against his.
Makomo turned her head away, pretending to watch the last traces of fading light in the sky as if she had noticed nothing at all. With her fox mask hiding her expression, there was no way to tell what emotions she was truly feeling.
But Soma seemed to sense something.
Without warning, he reached out and gently took her hand in his.
Makomo's body jolted slightly. She turned to look at him, her eyes visible beneath the mask, wide and uncertain.
Soma met her gaze through the fox mask.
But clearly, she wasn't bold enough to hold his stare for long—she quickly lowered her head.
Boom…
Another firework illuminated the sky, dyeing the darkness in vibrant colors. The shifting light spilled across her fox mask, reflecting the brilliance of the night within its closed-eyed smile.
Makomo lowered her head, watching as his large hand held her small one. In her eyes, the glow of the fireworks seemed to bloom and ripple endlessly.
…
After that brief moment of holding hands, they soon let go—but the distance between them seemed to have shrunk all at once. For Makomo, it was a feeling she couldn't quite put into words.
After the fireworks ended, Soma and the others casually found a small inn in town, originally planning to stay the night.
But before they could settle in, the Kasugai Crows circling above suddenly drew their attention.
Kanao, Makomo, and Tanjiro's crows all descended, each landing on their respective owners' shoulders. Only Soma's crow continued circling overhead.
"Five miles ahead… there is a demon."
"Demon detected."
Tanjiro's crow delivered the simple report. Soma glanced at it briefly, then shifted his gaze toward Tanjiro and Makomo, both of whom were now looking at him.
After a moment of hesitation, Soma nodded.
"Let's go take a look."
The crows flapped their wings and led the way.
Breathing Styles surged into motion. Tanjiro and Makomo's speed increased sharply as they moved.
Leaving the town behind, all traces of light disappeared. Only the pale moon hanging in the sky offered any illumination in the darkness.
Tap, tap, tap…
Their footsteps thundered across the ground.
After roughly half an hour, they finally arrived at a small village. All four Kasugai Crows landed on a house that still had its lights on.
"Let's take a short break," Soma said, glancing at Makomo and Tanjiro, both slightly out of breath.
Their Breathing Styles had not yet reached "Total Concentration: Constant," meaning they could not maintain their breathing state indefinitely.
And more importantly, they had not yet seen the demon.
They needed to be fully prepared.
Makomo and Tanjiro both understood what needed to be done. They steadied their breathing as best they could, calming their hearts and preparing themselves for a battle that might come at any moment.
During the brief rest, Soma stood quietly, gazing toward the distant house still lit with warm lamps. Even from here, faint traces of wisteria could be detected on the wind.
It seemed someone inside had already lit wisteria incense candles.
"There don't seem to be any signs of damage," Makomo observed, looking toward the illuminated house.
"We'll know once we go and check," Soma replied calmly.
"I'll go," Tanjiro said, tightening his grip on his Nichirin Sword. After steadying his breathing, he stepped forward toward the lit house and knocked on the door.
"…Who is it?" A man's wary voice came from inside.
"Demon Slayer Corps," Tanjiro answered.
Almost immediately, the door opened. A man with a panicked expression appeared, and behind him stood a woman holding a baby. Both of them looked visibly shaken.
"Why is it only you? Where are the others?"
The man's tone turned anxious the moment he saw Tanjiro. He looked far too young, which made it difficult for him to feel reassured.
"What happened here?" Tanjiro asked, glancing around the room.
The interior was brightly lit, every lamp that could be lit had been lit. Wisteria incense candles burned steadily, filling the space with their strong, unmistakable fragrance.
Though initially hesitant, the man quickly explained.
His name was Maeda Hiroshi, a Kakushi of the Demon Slayer Corps responsible for this area. He had been investigating a series of disappearances nearby and, during the day, discovered traces of a demon. He immediately reported the situation.
When he returned to the village that night to rest, he heard screams coming from within the settlement. He immediately realized a demon had entered one of the homes at night.
While lighting additional wisteria candles and calling for reinforcements, he had also prepared himself to defend the house.
Not long before, he had even glimpsed a terrifying figure through a crack in the door—standing outside and staring directly at his home. Perhaps repelled by the scent of wisteria, the demon had not forced its way in.
"Is that so?" Soma walked over with Makomo and Kanao. Hearing Hiroshi's words, he asked in a low voice.
"Yes, sir. The screams came from the east side of the village—it should be the house of Wakabayashi Eiji."
"Then let's go take a look."
Without hesitation, Soma led the way toward the east side of the village. After a brief moment of hesitation, Maeda Hiroshi gritted his teeth, closed the door behind him, and followed.
"Turn left up ahead—that's Wakabayashi Eiji's house," Maeda explained as he caught up.
Before they even arrived, a thick, nauseating smell of blood drifted through the air.
"Be careful," Soma said quietly.
Makomo and Tanjiro immediately tightened their grips on their blades, their expressions turning serious.
Tanjiro sniffed the air slightly. The scent was heavy—blood mixed with overwhelming sorrow, so dense it pressed against his senses.
A few more steps brought them to their destination.
Wakabayashi Eiji's house lay before them—but the door had already been torn apart. The entrance collapsed inward, splintered and broken.
Soma and the others advanced cautiously.
The moment they stepped inside, they saw it.
Blood stained nearly every surface of the house, glistening darkly under the pale moonlight spilling through the gaps.
Inside, there was barely anywhere left to step.
Fragments of flesh and blood clung to the floor and walls. Several skeletons, stripped completely clean, lay scattered about—like butchered livestock hanging in a slaughterhouse.
The remains varied in size.
The smallest appeared to belong to a child.
In one corner, a child's palm-sized skull lay broken in half, teeth marks clearly visible.
And beneath a broken door panel, a single bloodstained eyeball—clearly belonging to a young girl—rested silently in the darkness.
Soma had already seen this kind of scene before—back when he himself had still been a demon. Even now, it didn't sit right with him, but at the very least, he could endure it.
Kanao, on the other hand, didn't show much of a reaction at all. She simply stood there in silence, calmly observing the blood-soaked room.
Makomo had accompanied Furukawa Hiroshi on several demon hunts before and had seen the cruelty that followed a demon's slaughter. Although nothing she had experienced compared to this level of carnage, she was not so shaken that she could not face it. Even so, her face remained deathly pale beneath her mask.
Only Tanjiro was seeing this for the very first time.
It wasn't that Tanjiro had never encountered demons before. One of them was right in front of him now.
He had also killed demons on Mount Fujikasane, and even witnessed Soma—himself once a demon—take lives with his own eyes.
But none of that compared to what lay before him now.
This was the first time Tanjiro was truly confronting the full brutality of a demon.
In his heart, he had always understood that demons were cruel. Even Soma had told him so. But that understanding had never been clear, never truly concrete. "Cruelty," to him before, had simply meant being overpowered by an enemy and suffering at their hands.
But this—
This was different.
This was the sight of pure, merciless slaughter. A scene so brutal that even children had not been spared.
As he looked at the girl's eyeball lying beneath the broken door panel, Tanjiro could almost smell it—the overwhelming stench of terror, despair, and anguish that must have filled this house in its final moments.
And perhaps because he could smell it so clearly, he could understand even more deeply just how much despair this family had endured.
"Ugh…"
Maeda Hiroshi, who had followed them, immediately retched at the sight, unable to hold back his nausea.
A cold breeze drifted through the ruined house, and for a moment it almost felt as though faint, mournful screams still lingered in the air.
Tanjiro tightened his grip on his blade, unable to stop himself from glancing toward Soma, his teeth clenched.
Until now, when Soma had told him to walk the path of a Demon Slayer, Tanjiro had only understood it as a dangerous road. He knew demons were cruel—but his understanding of what he was meant to hunt had never been truly clear.
Even after killing demons on Mount Fujikasane, even after sensing the sorrowful remnants they left behind upon death, even after witnessing Soma himself kill as a demon—he had still not fully grasped it.
He had felt pity for them. Because every demon he had encountered carried a tragic past, every one of them had once suffered as humans.
And Tanjiro could smell that sorrow. He could feel their pain. He even shared in their grief.
But now, looking at this blood-soaked scene… at the shattered skull of a child… at the desperate, lifeless eye of a girl beneath the broken door…
Tanjiro finally understood what it truly meant to hunt demons.
Perhaps, in death, these demons would remember the moments when they were still human. Perhaps they would regret what they had become, and drown in sorrow and pain for all they had done.
Tanjiro could smell that sorrow. He could feel that suffering—and he would carry it with them, understand it alongside them.
But even so…
The things these demons had done.
The cruelty they had committed.
Would never be forgiven.
Never.
..
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