Butterfly Mansion.
A clean, tidy treatment room.
The pungent smell of disinfectant lingered in the room, mingling with the faint, sweet fragrance of wisteria flowers.
"You're badly injured again. Why don't you take better care of yourself?"
The voice that spoke was as gentle as warm sunlight, soft enough to ease even a restless heart.
Yet the man receiving those words showed no sign of being soothed.
"Enough. Stop lecturing me."
Sanemi Shinazugawa lifted his head and spoke with his usual roughness, his tone harsh and unreasonable as ever.
"Just treat the wounds and hurry up. I still have demon-hunting missions to complete. Don't waste my time."
Even toward the person tending his injuries, he was as domineering as always.
Beside him, Kanae Kocho was busy bandaging his wounds, her hands moving quickly, though not without a trace of exasperation. She looked up at him helplessly.
"Your injuries are serious. Not just the ones from this mission—even the wounds from last time haven't fully healed. If you keep pushing yourself like this, it will do real harm to your body."
Her voice carried gentle reproach.
"No matter what, you have to take care of yourself."
Then she added almost unconsciously, "If Masachika Kumeno were here, he'd be worried sick about you."
The words left her lips—
and she immediately fell silent.
Only then did she realize what she had said.
Masachika Kumeno was dead.
That warm, talkative man…
The one who had treated Sanemi like a younger brother…
He was gone.
He had died fighting alongside Sanemi while slaying Ubume, Lower Rank One of the Twelve Kizuki.
Kanae lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up."
"It's alright."
The response made her pause.
Because for perhaps the first time, Sanemi's usual violent temper receded.
"You're right," he said quietly. "If Kumeno were here… he'd definitely be worried about me."
A faint shadow crossed his face.
"I can't let Kumeno worry."
His voice dropped lower.
"I should have listened to him more."
Then he looked up, and when he spoke again, his tone was unnaturally calm.
"Please… treat my injuries properly, Kanae."
Kanae stared at him.
And somehow, this sudden calm troubled her more than his anger ever had.
Because beneath that composed expression, she could feel the grief he was trying so hard to disguise.
Truthfully, she would rather he had stayed harsh and difficult, snarling and unreasonable as before, rather than wearing this fragile mask of ease.
She parted her lips, wanting to offer comfort.
But what comfort was there to offer?
What words could possibly soothe someone mourning a person who had been like an elder brother to him?
Some grief lay beyond language.
So in the end, Kanae said nothing.
She only lowered her head and continued wrapping his wounds in silence.
"I'm sorry," she murmured after a while. "My bandaging isn't as good as Shinobu Kocho's. If Shinobu were here, she'd have finished much faster."
Sanemi looked at the gentle woman before him, his gaze lingering on the butterfly hairpin in her hair.
And it made him think of another girl with nearly the same face—
smaller in build, far less soft in temperament.
A girl with a sharp tongue, a fierce disposition, and little patience for smiles.
"I know Shinobu," he said. "Your younger sister, right?"
Kanae nodded, and at the mention of her sister, warmth returned to her expression.
"Yes. Her medical skills are excellent. No matter how severe the wound, she can handle it quickly."
Then she smiled faintly.
"But she'll be leaving for Mount Sagiri soon, so she's busy packing. That's why she couldn't come help."
Sanemi frowned slightly.
"Mount Sagiri?"
If he remembered correctly, that was where the former Water Hashira, Sakonji Urokodaki, lived in seclusion.
"Was Urokodaki injured?" he asked instinctively.
Kanae shook her head.
"No. She's going there to assist with the training of initial swordsmen."
"Initial swordsmen?"
Sanemi repeated the term, brows furrowing.
He had only recently become the Wind Hashira and had never heard the phrase before.
Kanae explained patiently.
"Swordsmen who cultivate Sun Breathing."
"The breathing styles I use—Flower Breathing—and the Wind Breathing you practice both originated from Sun Breathing."
"It is the origin of all breathing styles."
"The 'First Breathing.'"
She paused, then continued.
"In the earliest days, those who practiced Sun Breathing were called Initial Swordsmen."
Sanemi listened in silence.
These were not secrets hidden from a Hashira. If he truly wished to know, he could have found the records himself.
And yet, hearing it now, in this quiet room heavy with disinfectant and wisteria, with grief still lingering between them—
the words seemed to carry a weight far older than history.
For someone like Sanemi Shinazugawa, who had spent nearly all his time consumed by the hunt for demons, this was the first time he had heard of Sun Breathing, and the revelation genuinely startled him.
Kanae Kocho was not surprised by his reaction.
If she herself had not read the old records, she would never have known of Sun Breathing either.
After all, its lineage had long vanished from the Demon Slayer Corps. For a trainer capable of training others in such a lost breathing style to suddenly appear—even she had been deeply shocked when she first learned of it.
…
Though Kanae was not as skilled at wound treatment as her younger sister, that was only by comparison. Her hands were still practiced and gentle, and before long she had wrapped Sanemi's injuries neatly in bandages.
"Thank you."
The words made her blink.
Sanemi had actually thanked her.
It was so rare it almost sounded unnatural, as though he were awkwardly imitating someone else.
In truth, he was.
He was trying, clumsily, to mimic the way Masachika Kumeno used to speak.
And he was doing a very poor job of it.
"N-no, it's nothing…"
Kanae looked almost stunned by the sudden shift in his attitude. After all, Sanemi's terrible temper was something everyone knew well.
Though deep down, much like Kumeno once had, she had always believed Sanemi was not as brutal inside as he appeared.
Beneath that rough exterior—
there was likely a great deal of gentleness.
Once the bandaging was done, Sanemi rose and stepped out of the treatment room, Kanae following after him.
Standing at the doorway, breathing in the mingled sting of disinfectant and drifting wisteria, Sanemi found himself remembering the last time he had been injured.
That time, too, Kanae had walked him out.
And Kumeno had been waiting outside.
Always waiting.
He would stand not far from the door, asking the girl named Shinobu Kocho about Sanemi's condition, then sit with him on the stone bench in the courtyard and discuss rehabilitation, how to recover his strength faster, how to return to battle.
But now…
the one who had treated him like a brother—
the first person in his life who had made him understand what it meant to be cared for—
was gone forever.
A faint darkness passed through his eyes.
And almost unconsciously, he looked at Kanae beside him.
She raised her head, puzzled by the look he was giving her.
Then Sanemi asked, almost abruptly—
"Do you intend to let your sister keep hunting demons?"
The question made Kanae pause.
Sanemi already knew of the Kocho sisters—that both their parents had been killed by demons, that they had been saved by the Stone Hashira and later joined the Corps together.
And because he knew that—
he could not understand it.
He could not understand what kind of heart would allow one's younger sister to walk the same blood-soaked road.
If his own younger brother, Genya Shinazugawa, ever tried to join the Demon Slayer Corps—
he would never allow it.
Never.
He would stop him no matter what.
Even if he had to beat Genya half to death himself.
He would never let his brother walk this road.
Because in Sanemi's mind—
on this path paved in blood—
it was enough for only one of them to walk it.
Hearing his words, Kanae's gaze dimmed.
How could she willingly want her sister to continue down the path of demon hunting now?
How could she?
And yet—
what could she do at this point?
What had happened back then was already carved into Shinobu's heart.
Her sister could no longer return to an ordinary life, could no longer reach for the quiet happiness ordinary people might have.
Sanemi spoke again, more firmly this time.
"I have a younger brother too. If he dares step onto this path, I'd beat him half to death before I'd let him join the Corps."
Kanae looked at him for a long moment.
Then she turned her eyes toward the sky.
"If beating my sister half to death would make her stop hunting demons…"
Her voice trembled with sorrow.
"…then no matter how much it hurt me, I would do it."
She paused.
"But even if I did…"
"Even if I killed her…"
"She would still choose this road."
The gentle girl's voice was steeped in grief.
And Sanemi froze.
For so long, he had carried a quiet prejudice toward Kanae, believing she had brought her younger sister into the Corps by choice.
But clearly—
the truth was nothing like he had imagined.
After a long silence, he said quietly,
"…I'm sorry. I didn't know."
Kanae shook her head. "It's alright."
And then—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of approaching footsteps broke the heavy stillness.
The sound of footsteps approached, and a girl with a face almost identical to Kanae Kocho's came walking over, a small bundle slung at her side.
It was Shinobu Kocho.
She glanced at the two standing together and stepped closer, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
"What are you talking about?"
"Nothing much," Kanae said, shaking her head.
But before the matter could be brushed aside, Sanemi Shinazugawa spoke plainly.
"I was suggesting Kanae persuade you to leave the Demon Slayer Corps."
His tone was serious, almost blunt.
"It's rare enough for siblings to both be demon slayers."
Shinobu gave a cold, almost mocking laugh.
"Hah. Worry about yourself."
Then her voice sharpened.
"If you want me to stop hunting demons…"
"…you'd be better off killing me right now."
Sanemi looked at her, and in that moment, he felt the stark difference between the sisters more clearly than ever.
Kanae's hatred of demons, though real, was veiled in gentleness.
But Shinobu's—
it was like a drawn blade.
Cold.
Bright.
Sharp enough to cut.
And for once, Sanemi fell silent.
Seeing his pause, Shinobu frowned and glared at him in annoyance.
"Your injuries are basically treated, aren't they? Then hurry up and leave. Don't stand around being an eyesore."
She had no patience for anyone who tried to persuade her to abandon the path of demon hunting.
None at all.
Sanemi looked at the younger sister burning with hatred, then at the elder sister beside her, head slightly lowered, sorrow shadowing her expression.
And he thought of Genya Shinazugawa.
His own younger brother.
And for the first time in a long while—
he felt lost.
If Masachika Kumeno were still alive, what would he have said in a moment like this?
How would he have handled it?
Sanemi didn't know.
Because Kumeno was gone.
And the dead gave no answers.
So in the end, he spoke only in the way he knew how.
He looked at Shinobu and said seriously, "Like you and your sister, I also have a younger sibling. A younger brother."
"And as an older brother…"
"I cannot accept fighting alongside him."
"No matter what, I want to protect him."
"Even if he insisted on hunting demons beside me…"
"I would still refuse him."
Then he turned to Kanae.
"Miss Kanae…"
"You are too gentle."
His voice grew heavier.
"Kumeno was gentle too. Almost as gentle as you."
"And it was precisely because of that gentleness… that he died."
Kanae's eyes widened slightly.
Sanemi continued, his words as harsh as stone, but spoken with absolute sincerity.
"If you remain this gentle toward your sister…"
"If you allow her to keep walking this road because of that gentleness…"
"Then one day, your sister will die on this path."
He stared at Kanae.
"And if your kindness may one day take her life…"
"Then let her resent you."
"Let her hate you."
"Even if you have to break her legs…"
"Do not let her step onto this road."
The air turned cold with silence.
Then—
"Are you finished?"
Shinobu shoved Sanemi hard.
There was no hesitation in it.
She looked at him with utter frost in her eyes.
"You…"
Her voice was low, almost trembling with anger.
"You, a man who couldn't even protect the one who was like an older brother to you…"
"What gives you the right to lecture my sister?"
"What qualifications do you have?"
Sanemi did not flare up in return.
He only answered quietly,
"I'm only saying what I believe."
Shinobu laughed again, colder this time.
"Your beliefs?"
"What do your beliefs have to do with me or my sister?"
Her eyes sharpened.
"And how much do you even know about us?"
She stepped closer, every word cutting deeper.
"Even if this path ends in death, so be it. My sister and I prepared ourselves to die together on this road a long time ago.
Her voice rose.
"Is that the answer you wanted?"
Then came the final blow.
"Just because your 'gentleness' means coddling your brother, you think my sister has to copy you? Who do you think you are?"
With that, Shinobu Kocho took her sister's hand and pulled Kanae Kocho away, leaving without another word.
Sanemi Shinazugawa remained where he stood, watching the sisters' backs recede into the distance.
But what filled his mind was not their departing figures.
It was the image of Genya Shinazugawa.
His younger brother.
At this point in his life, what kept him moving forward was little more than endless hatred for demons. That hatred was the pillar holding up everything that remained of him.
And yet—
if there was one thing that could still be called a hope…
one thing that could still resemble a dream…
it was this:
That his only surviving brother might one day marry a woman he loved, have children, and live a peaceful, ordinary, happy life.
That was enough.
That had always been enough.
But…
what if Genya became like Shinobu?
What if his brother, too, refused to turn back no matter what he said?
Then what?
What would he do?
For a long while, Sanemi stood there, lost.
The wind rose at some point without him noticing, lifting his hair as it swept past.
He tilted his head back and looked up at the sky.
If Masachika Kumeno were still here…
How would he answer me?
What would that man—who had treated him like a younger brother, who wore a smile as bright as the sun—say now?
A bitter smile touched Sanemi's lips.
"If you were here…"
"You'd probably shout that I'm an idiot."
His voice was low, almost as if speaking to someone standing beside him.
"You, kinder than anyone…"
"Gentler than anyone…"
"You'd probably tell me I should try to understand my brother's feelings too."
"That we could just guide him together."
"Teach him together."
"Wouldn't that be enough?"
A breath escaped him, almost a laugh.
"You'd say it with a smile, wouldn't you?"
At some point, a faint blur of moisture had risen in his eyes.
And Sanemi knew—
he would never receive Kumeno's guidance again.
There was only himself now.
And as an older brother, the only choice he believed he had… was still the same.
Even if he had to beat Genya half to death—
he would never allow him onto the path of demon hunting.
Never.
After a long silence, he looked at the sky and spoke again, as though addressing the dead.
"My mood is terrible right now."
"So I'm going to kill a demon…"
"…and calm my temper."
It sounded almost absurd.
Almost exactly like something he would have said to Kumeno when the man was still alive.
Then Sanemi lifted a hand and wiped at his eyes.
And without looking back, he strode away.
The Wind Hashira—
the "Kill" carved into the back of his haori—
walked off alone.
His figure gradually disappeared into the distance.
Behind him, wisteria petals drifted down, swaying in the air with the memory of an old friend.
Perhaps the flowers will eventually fall.
But the wind—
the wind never ceases.
...
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