For the past few days, Soma had practically drowned himself in exploring the origins of life together with Nezuko. It was almost absurd how the two of them had barely left the room during that time.
The morning sunlight today was mild rather than harsh. Rain had fallen the previous day, and a misty dampness still lingered in the wind, carrying with it the fresh scent of wet earth.
Soma lay quietly on the bed while Nezuko rested against his chest like a spoiled little cat. Her delicate cheeks were flushed red.
Perhaps because she kept recalling everything that had happened over the past two days, sweetness and fulfillment quietly welled up in her heart. At the same time, however, she also felt unbearably embarrassed. She loved how completely Soma had immersed himself in her, but she could not allow him to keep indulging himself like this forever.
After all, Soma did not belong to her alone.
And she could not let herself lead him astray either.
Or rather, as the wife of the household, Nezuko instinctively felt that it was her responsibility to guide her husband toward the right path. That was a duty the mistress of a home ought to shoulder.
But when faced with Soma's affection, she found herself almost incapable of refusing him.
After an entire night of passion, her whole body felt weak and languid, yet Nezuko still insisted on getting out of bed.
Soma noticed, but he did not stop her. As a demon, his regenerative abilities and stamina were practically limitless, yet he deliberately refrained from using the full power of his demonic body at moments like this. Instead, he chose to experience these intimate moments as a human would.
Otherwise…
What Nezuko would experience would no longer be the tenderness shared between a man and a woman, but something far closer to a calamity.
…
Nezuko rose from bed and tied her sash properly before carefully combing out her disheveled long hair. Then she styled it into the same mature coiffure her mother, Kie Kamado, once wore—a sign that she was no longer merely a young girl.
After arranging her hair, Nezuko sat before the vanity and began drawing her eyebrows.
Only then did Soma lazily get out of bed as well. Perhaps because he had already spent several days savoring Nezuko's sweetness to his heart's content, he no longer felt the same impatient urgency whenever he looked at her now.
He walked behind her and gently wrapped his arms around her from the back.
Nezuko was in the middle of drawing her brows. Lowering her gaze to the hand slipping inside the collar of her kimono, her face instantly flushed red, and even the hand holding the brush began to tremble.
In this state, there was no way she could continue drawing her eyebrows properly.
She wanted to softly protest, yet at the same time she felt that this was naturally Soma's privilege. Her entire self belonged to him. No matter what he wished to do, it was fine.
It was not that she disliked it.
If anything, she rather liked it.
But she also had the feeling that if this continued, they probably would not be leaving the room again today.
For the past few days, Soma had remained utterly immersed in her. It made her happy, but at the same time, it felt terribly improper.
Far too indulgent.
Resting his chin lightly on Nezuko's shoulder, Soma looked at their reflection together in the mirror.
"How come you're putting on makeup so early in the morning?" he asked. "You don't need it. Nezuko's already adorable and beautiful exactly as she is."
Then he lowered his head slightly and added:
"Mm. Feels nice too."
Nezuko's cheeks turned even redder. Looking down at the collar of her already-disheveled kimono, she knew she would have to straighten it again later, but she did not blame Soma for causing trouble.
In response to his question, she softly said, "I still have to dress properly… and maintain myself well."
"Why?" Soma asked curiously.
"If I look too untidy, it'll embarrass you, Soma-san."
Nezuko spoke quietly.
"Embarrass me?" Soma did not quite understand.
"As your wife, I should always present my best appearance. When others see me, it reflects well on my husband."
Soma more or less understood now.
In this world, having a beautiful wife was something that brought a man pride and honor. Of course, that was true in many places.
It was simply that he still had not fully adjusted to it yet.
Or rather…
He still had not grown used to the identity of being someone's husband.
Faced with Nezuko's wholehearted affection, these past few days he truly had indulged himself in her sweetness—
Or perhaps more accurately, he had become completely immersed in the joy shared between a man and a woman.
"But also… if Soma-san works hard all day and comes home exhausted, then after all that effort, seeing Nezuko looking messy and untidy would definitely make him unhappy."
Puffing out her cheeks slightly, Nezuko concentrated earnestly on drawing her brows.
Watching her so seriously focused on putting on makeup, Soma suddenly found it difficult to keep teasing her any further. In the end, he simply sat quietly nearby, silently observing the girl as she dressed herself up.
Truthfully, Nezuko was already beautiful to begin with. After carefully adorning herself, however, her beauty only became even more breathtaking, enough to stir his heart all over again.
After straightening the disordered collar of her kimono, Nezuko glanced toward Soma, who was quietly watching her from the side. Her cheeks flushed faintly red again, and lowering her head, she hurried out of the room with small, light steps.
A while later, the girl returned carrying a steaming teapot. Kneeling beside him, she gently brewed a pot of tea before carefully offering the cup to him with both hands.
After finishing all that, Nezuko stood once more and began busily tidying the room—making the bed, cleaning the floor, organizing everything…
Soma sat quietly to the side, watching her bustling figure moving through the room, unable to quite describe the feeling in his heart.
Perhaps he still had not adjusted yet.
Meanwhile, Nezuko had already begun adapting herself to the role of a wife.
Suddenly becoming someone's husband truly felt a little strange.
After cleaning the room, Nezuko went outside again. Soma remained seated inside, leisurely drinking tea while looking around the neat and spotless room. Nearly every corner seemed filled with traces of the girl's presence.
About half an hour later, Nezuko returned carrying a tray. Her steps were still somewhat unsteady, yet the blush on her face was even deeper than yesterday's. She looked like a flower freshly nourished by rainwater—radiant and delicate beyond words.
Kneeling beside Soma, she handed him a bowl of porridge. The instant their fingertips brushed against one another, the girl's hand trembled slightly, though she forced herself not to pull away.
Soma accepted the bowl and glanced at her.
"You should eat too."
"Mm."
Nezuko answered softly before lifting her own bowl and sipping the porridge in small mouthfuls.
The two of them simply sat side by side like that, bathed in the morning sunlight while sharing a pot of red bean porridge together.
After finishing breakfast, Soma finally left the room for once. Outside, he saw many young boys and girls engaged in training. Everyone practiced diligently, and when they noticed his arrival, they all greeted him warmly.
Kenshin Himura was not only studying the various Breathing Styles under the swordsmen here, but also teaching everyone the Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū.
Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū was an extraordinarily powerful sword style, one that was in no way inferior to the swordsmanship used alongside Breathing Styles. If it possessed any flaw, it was that the style focused more heavily on slaying humans. In many respects, it was not particularly suited for killing demons.
Because of that, modifications were necessary.
For the past several days, Kenshin Himura had been continuously pondering this issue. In truth, his talent for swordsmanship was genuinely exceptional, and he had already begun developing several ideas.
Aside from Kenshin Himura, Mount Sagiri had also gained many new arrivals recently. Most of them were injured swordsmen transferred from nearby regions, or survivors relocated here during this turbulent period.
The recent wave of demon attacks had caused devastating casualties among the swordsmen of the Demon Slayer Corps stationed throughout various regions. Even so, it was impossible for the demons to completely wipe out every Corps member across the country.
As Soma walked along the pathways, the swordsmen would instinctively halt their training whenever they crossed paths with him, bowing deeply to show their respect.
"Who is that?" One newly arrived swordsman at Mount Sagiri quietly asked the person beside him. He had only recently reached the mountain himself.
"That's Mr. Soma." The person beside him answered.
Upon hearing the name, respect immediately appeared on the swordsman's face. Ever since arriving at Mount Sagiri, he had already heard of Soma's reputation.
Or rather—
With the passing of the former Water Hashira, Sakonji Urokodaki, the true authority over Mount Sagiri had now effectively been entrusted entirely into Soma's hands.
In reality, Soma had already become the true master of Mount Sagiri.
Everything Soma had done—whether reforming the swordsman selection on Mount Fujikasane or introducing concepts such as the Bright Red Nichirin Sword and the Demon Slayer Mark—had created an enormous impact on the Demon Slayer Corps.
It could be said that although Soma was not officially one of the Corps' Hashira, his standing within the organization was already no less significant than theirs, earning him the respect of countless people.
…
Soma arrived at a familiar little courtyard.
A girl wearing a fox mask with closed eyes was practicing swordsmanship there. Yet her footwork was somewhat disordered. Or rather, what she was doing no longer resembled proper sword training at all.
It looked more like venting frustration.
Sensing the familiar sound of footsteps, Makomo lowered her sword and breathed lightly.
Behind the mask, the girl bit her lip and looked at the approaching Soma with eyes full of grievance and resentment, as though she were deeply dissatisfied with him.
In truth, what had happened between Soma and Nezuko over the past few days could never be hidden from those who cared enough to notice.
Or perhaps more accurately—
Soma had never intended to hide it in the first place.
Most people on Mount Sagiri silently offered the two their blessings. Of course, there were still some who secretly admired Nezuko, and those people could only feel quietly heartbroken now. Even so, most of them were genuinely happy for the pair. No matter how much they may have liked Nezuko, all they could do now was wish her happiness.
Makomo was much the same as those who had secretly admired Nezuko.
The difference was that the person she liked was not Nezuko.
It was Soma.
In truth, Makomo had always believed that she and Soma would eventually end up together. She had always felt that the bond between them was already very close.
Yet from beginning to end, there always seemed to be an invisible barrier standing between them.
Makomo felt that barrier did not come from herself.
It came from Soma.
She had long sensed that Soma was always holding something back. After thinking about it over and over, carefully comparing herself to Nezuko, Makomo eventually came to what she believed was the answer.
It was probably because she was a swordswoman of the Demon Slayer Corps.
A swordsman who walked the path of hunting demons never knew when death might come. A woman like that was hardly suited to becoming a proper wife.
Nezuko, on the other hand, fit that role perfectly.
After arriving at that conclusion, Makomo naturally felt somewhat dejected.
But no matter what, she could never abandon the path of slaying demons.
Believing she had understood the reason, Makomo remained rather dispirited. And now, seeing Soma come to her courtyard, she could not help feeling a little resentful.
Shouldn't he be spending time being affectionate with his precious little wife instead of coming here?
That emotion showed clearly in the girl's eyes, causing Soma to see the usually spirited gaze beneath her fox mask now filled with grievance and quiet complaint.
"Training?" he asked with a smile as he walked over.
In truth, the distance Makomo sensed between them was not merely her imagination.
Soma naturally understood her feelings toward him, yet from beginning to end, he had never considered taking their relationship a step further.
Because Makomo and Nezuko were fundamentally different.
Nezuko knew his identity as a demon.
Makomo did not.
She did not even know what he had done in the past.
And once she learned the truth…
Everything might become entirely different.
That was why, whenever their relationship reached a certain level of closeness, Soma would stop himself from getting any nearer. Sometimes, he even intentionally distanced himself.
That was also the true source of Makomo's anguish, though she had mistakenly assumed it stemmed from her identity as a swordswoman.
"Mm. I was training." Makomo answered softly.
A gentle breeze drifted through the courtyard, stirring several loose strands of the girl's hair. She quietly tucked them behind her ear before asking:
"Why aren't you staying with Nezuko?"
"If I stayed any longer, my waist would start giving out."
Soma casually pounded his lower back with his fist.
Of course, with a demon's stamina, such problems were impossible for him. If anything, the one unable to endure would more likely be Nezuko.
Though Makomo was still a young woman, she naturally understood some things between men and women. Even if she had never experienced them herself, she had heard enough over the years.
After all, Demon Slayer swordsmen constantly lived under immense psychological pressure while fighting demons. Combined with the substantial rewards they received, many swordsmen would head to the entertainment districts after completing missions in order to release that stress.
And among themselves, conversations about such matters were hardly uncommon.
Some swordsmen would often sigh and complain about how sore their waists felt afterward.
Makomo would occasionally overhear such conversations. At first, she had not understood them.
But little by little, she eventually began to grasp their meaning.
And so, at this moment, her cheeks beneath the fox mask had already flushed red with embarrassment, though the mask itself concealed it completely.
Inwardly, she could not help quietly cursing Nezuko for being such a little temptress. She had never expected that the girl who normally looked so gentle and adorable would also have such a side…
Yet beneath that embarrassment, there was also the faintest trace of envy.
The realization of that emotion immediately made Makomo inwardly scold herself for being shameless as well.
…
After chatting with Makomo for a little while longer and reminding her to take proper care of her body, Soma finally left.
He wandered around various places on Mount Sagiri for a time before eventually returning to his residence.
There, he saw Kanao.
Normally, whenever Kanao saw him, she would happily and excitedly throw herself into his arms, clinging to him like a koala that refused to let go.
But today, the girl sat quietly atop a blue stone. The gentle breeze stirred her hair softly, and beneath the fluttering hem of her clothing, her smooth pale legs could be seen dangling lightly.
Seeming to sense his arrival, the young girl turned her head. Those beautiful pinkish-purple eyes looked toward him.
"Uncle…"
Soma understood Kanao well enough to immediately sense the grievance hidden within her voice.
Thinking back on the absurd indulgence of the past several days—and how he had even spent long stretches of time apart from her—he realized that this was likely the longest they had ever been separated.
In the past, no matter where he went, Kanao had always followed beside him like his shadow.
Realizing how much he had neglected her lately, Soma could not help feeling somewhat guilty. He walked over and gently took hold of her small hand.
Kanao lowered her gaze to look at their joined hands, lightly pursing her lips.
"Uncle hasn't spent time with me for several days now."
"That's my fault." Soma immediately admitted it.
"But I never blamed you, Uncle."
Kanao tilted her head up slightly.
"In front of Kanao, Uncle never needs to apologize. Uncle could never do anything wrong."
Soma rubbed the bridge of his nose awkwardly.
"Nezuko is wonderful, isn't she?" the girl suddenly asked.
"There's no one better than Kanao." He answered softly.
"Is that so?"
Kanao's beautiful eyes curved gently, carrying a faintly fox-like slyness as she looked past him toward his back.
Soma's body stiffened slightly.
He slowly turned around.
And there, standing quietly beneath the eaves, was Nezuko.
...
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