I dreamed my brother came to visit me while I was wounded.
In the dream, he stood beside my bed, simply watching me in silence.
I wanted to sit up.
I wanted to speak to him.
But it was as if my mouth had been sealed shut. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make a sound. I couldn't rise.
I could only watch him.
…
…
Genya Shinazugawa opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was a wooden ceiling. The timber looked new, as though the house had only been built recently.
A tall man stood with his back to him, and beside him knelt a boy with a scar on his forehead, bright and open-faced, the two speaking in hushed voices.
For a moment, that familiar broad back made Genya's heart lurch. He almost thought his brother had come.
But only for a moment.
He quickly realized how different this man's silhouette was from his brother's.
Of course…
It had only been a dream.
How could his brother possibly know he was here?
And even if he did… why would he come see him? If anything, he was probably still blaming him.
Tanjiro noticed Genya had awakened and turned to the tall man beside him.
"Sir, I think he's awake."
Soma turned around and looked at Genya, his voice calm and gentle.
"How are you feeling? We don't have a proper doctor here. Urokodaki-san only gave your injuries some basic treatment. As for further care, we'll have to wait for the medics from the Butterfly Mansion to arrive."
"I'm… fine."
Genya's voice came out rough and stiff, completely at odds with his weakened body.
"Are you really?" Soma frowned.
"I said I'm fine."
The irritation in Genya's tone surfaced without warning. It wasn't what he truly felt inside, yet he couldn't seem to control the sharpness in his voice.
"You shouldn't speak to him like that." Tanjiro couldn't help but interject.
"What's it to you?" Genya turned his head away.
"All I want is to learn how to hunt demons. I already defeated that person. That means I've earned the right to learn, haven't I?"
And after a brief pause, his jaw tightened.
"If beating one person isn't enough… then I can get up and keep fighting."
Even as he spoke, he forced himself to rise, ignoring the pain tearing through his body.
"Don't move!"
Tanjiro rushed forward and held him down, concern filling his voice.
"Right now, the most important thing is for you to recover."
"I don't need you telling me what to do." Genya tried to shake Tanjiro off, but Tanjiro's grip was surprisingly strong. No matter how he struggled, he couldn't break free.
And still, he didn't stop trying.
Tanjiro looked at him quietly before speaking again, his voice soft, but firm.
"I can feel how badly you want to hunt demons. I can feel how strong your determination is. But please… think about your body first."
His gaze was earnest.
"If your body gives out, the people who care about you will worry. They'll suffer for you too."
Those gentle words, spoken by someone nearly his own age, eased something in Genya's heart. The agitation inside him dulled, if only a little.
Then came the sound of footsteps.
A younger boy, looking remarkably similar to Tanjiro, stepped inside.
"Sir, brother, Mother has finished preparing the meal."
"Mm," Soma said. "Bring some over. And let… this young man have some too."
"I'm not eating." Genya refused immediately.
Soma turned and looked at him, brows furrowing.
This boy's personality really was difficult to like. Always irritable. Always on edge. So quick to anger.
Sensing that gaze, Genya turned his face away.
He knew that look.
He had seen it many times before.
He understood exactly what it meant.
People didn't like him.
And he knew why.
It was because of his temperament.
But he couldn't change it.
Every time he thought about how little he had mastered in demon hunting, anger surged inside him. Every time he realized the distance between himself and his brother was only growing wider, impatience gnawed at him.
He lived almost every waking moment wrapped in frustration and fury.
And when a person was drowning in that kind of restlessness, harsh words came naturally.
Even toward people who meant him no harm.
Even when, deep down…
he never intended to be cruel.
"Feed him a little something later." Soma said it to Tanjiro at his side, then turned and walked out.
"Understood, sir."
Tanjiro answered immediately, then looked back at Genya and said in a gentle voice, "Lie down and rest. Your condition is very poor right now. No matter what else matters, you need to take care of your body first."
"That's none of your business." Genya's response came out almost harshly.
"How can you talk to my brother like that? He's only trying to help you."
The boy who resembled Tanjiro so closely couldn't hold back any longer and blurted it out.
"Brother…"
Genya repeated the word under his breath, and in an instant, that tall familiar figure surfaced in his mind.
His brother.
"All right, Takeo, it's fine."
Tanjiro reached out and patted his younger brother's head. "Bring the food over."
"Okay, brother."
Takeo agreed at once, but before leaving, he shot Genya a fierce glare, as if warning him to show his brother some respect.
But Genya barely noticed.
His eyes were fixed on Tanjiro's hand as it gently rested on Takeo's head.
That tenderness…
It looked so much like his brother once had.
His brother had used to pat his head like that too, with the same warmth, the same quiet affection.
But after that day—after he had mistaken his brother for murdering their mother—everything had changed.
The gentleness that belonged to his brother had seemed to leave him forever.
And yet…
He had never blamed his brother.
He only blamed himself.
It was his brother who had saved him when he had nearly been killed by a demon.
It was his brother who had fought desperately to protect their family.
And yet, when he saw his brother kill their mother after she had turned into a demon, without understanding anything, without knowing the truth, he had screamed at him, called him a murderer.
Back then…
His brother must have hated him for that.
And now…
He probably despised him even more.
Even now, Genya still hated the person he had been in that moment. How could he have said something so cruel? How could words that vicious have come from his own mouth, as though he had been watching someone else commit that sin?
"Eat something."
Tanjiro took the bowl and chopsticks from Takeo and brought them over, his tone as gentle as ever.
"I'm not eating."
Genya turned away, but as he looked at Tanjiro, he also caught sight of Takeo still glaring at him, cheeks puffed in silent anger.
Even this younger brother protected his older brother so fiercely.
Then how had he—how had he—been able to say such cruel things to his own brother?
How had he trampled so easily over his brother's feelings?
"I don't know what you've been through," Tanjiro said softly, looking at him—really looking at him, at this thin but stubbornly resilient boy. "But I can tell there is pain in your past. I may not know the shape of that sorrow, but… I can feel it."
His voice was calm, almost quiet.
"But no matter what happened, you have to cherish yourself first. If you can't care for yourself, then how will you protect others in the future? How will you protect the people you want to protect?"
He lifted a spoonful of food.
"Eat a little."
His gaze softened even more. "Not just for yourself… but for the people who care about you."
"The people who cared about me are dead."
The words burst from Genya almost violently.
"My mother is dead. My brothers and sisters are dead. Even the brother who used to care about me hates me now."
His voice faltered.
"There's… there's no one left who cares about me."
These were things he had buried deep inside, things he would never have told anyone—much less someone he had only just met.
And yet…
Because this person seemed to understand him, seemed able to feel his pain as if it were his own, he suddenly wanted to tell him everything.
Tanjiro simply listened.
Quietly.
Without interruption.
Then he scooped up another spoonful of rice and held it to Genya's lips.
"Eat first."
Genya almost shoved it away in irritation.
Almost.
But when his eyes met Tanjiro's—
that warm, gentle gaze, so much like the way his brother had once looked at him—
something inside him gave way.
Slowly, he opened his mouth.
The rice passed over his tongue, and as he chewed and swallowed, warmth spread through his body. The food turned to strength, and within his weak, exhausted limbs, he could feel a faint energy returning.
Tanjiro said nothing more to persuade him.
No more comforting words.
He simply fed Genya patiently, one bite at a time.
At first, Genya stubbornly tried to do it himself, refusing to accept help.
But his injuries were too severe. Even holding the utensils was difficult, and eating alone proved nearly impossible.
And little by little…
he stopped resisting.
"How does the rice taste? Is it good?"
"…Yeah."
"My mother made it herself," Tanjiro said, his voice bright with simple happiness. "That portion was prepared especially for you."
Genya said nothing. He only chewed the rice ball in silence, but his thoughts had already drifted far away.
He thought of his mother.
Before she had become a demon, she had always been gentle—with him, with his brother, with his younger siblings.
She had been warmth itself.
And then came that cursed night.
Everything changed.
His mother changed.
She devoured his siblings, and his brother, desperate to protect Genya from suffering the same fate, fought their mother with everything he had.
And in the end…
he had severed their mother's head with his own hands.
And Genya—
Genya had repaid him by cruelly accusing the brother who had slain a demon.
What had his brother felt in that moment?
To kill the mother who had raised and loved him—even if she had become a demon… even after seeing her devour the siblings who had adored him so much…
What kind of agony had his brother been enduring then?
And how…
How had he been able to say something so merciless?
Even now, he could not forget that scene.
Not ever.
Tears began to fall, one drop at a time, sliding down from the corners of his eyes.
"If you're sad, it's okay to cry," Tanjiro's voice came softly from beside him.
From the fragments of Genya's words, Takeo had likely pieced together some part of his tragic past. The hostility he had shown earlier had faded, and now, like his brother, he had begun helping care for Genya with quiet attentiveness.
"Sorry…"
Looking at Takeo as he carefully helped tend to him, Genya murmured the words under his breath.
The sudden apology from someone who had been so irritable and aggressive only moments ago made Takeo blink in surprise.
"You don't need to say 'sorry.'"
A warm voice answered from the side.
Genya looked up.
Tanjiro was watching him with that same gentle expression.
"This isn't a moment for 'I'm sorry,'" he said softly. "This is when you say 'thank you.'"
"I…"
Genya opened his mouth, wanting to respond, but for a moment, he didn't know how.
In the end, he could only lower his voice and say to Takeo, awkwardly, almost roughly—
"Thank you."
The words came out clumsy, as though his throat had long forgotten how to speak something so polite.
Takeo's eyes widened.
Looking at this clearly hot-tempered boy, hearing him force out those words, he found he had completely forgiven Genya's earlier rudeness toward his brother.
A smile spread across his face.
"You're welcome."
Beside them, Tanjiro smiled as he watched the exchange.
And yet, after saying thank you, Genya suddenly felt a wave of unbearable embarrassment rise inside him. It was so unfamiliar, so exposing, that he instinctively turned his face away, unable to look directly at the brothers whose bond was so warm and effortless.
…
After leaving the room, Soma headed to Sakonji Urokodaki's residence.
At that moment, Urokodaki had just finished explaining Breathing Styles to a group of boys and girls and had begun giving each of them individual instruction. When he saw Soma arrive, he set aside what he was teaching one of the boys and led Soma into the next room.
"How is he?"Urokodaki asked.
"His body's tougher than it looks. He's recovering well." Soma nodded, then glanced at him. "So… there's really no way for him to learn Sun Breathing?"
"No. His body is too frail. He wouldn't be able to withstand the strain Sun Breathing puts on it." Urokodaki shook his head.
Soma let out a quiet sigh. "That's… a shame."
There was genuine regret in his voice.
Because that boy—
that stubborn, wounded, sharp-edged boy—
clearly possessed a will of iron.
And if he truly walked the path of demon hunting…
he would become a remarkably strong swordsman.