A moment ago.
The night was deep, blanketing the Moriki Manor in silence.
Serving as the temporary headquarters for the Demon Slayer Corps, its halls and training grounds were quiet.
Most of the corps members, exhausted from a day of brutal training, were lost in a well-earned sleep.
Within the massive estate, only the silent footsteps of a few patrolling slayers disturbed the peace, their figures moving like ghosts through the shadows, ever alert for the threat of a demonic attack.
In the darker corners, elite guards provided by the Moriki Group stood watch, their presence unseen but deeply felt.
At that moment, two figures moved as if they were part of the night itself.
They slipped over the high walls, bypassing the patrols with practiced ease, and landed softly in the most secluded corner of the gardens.
The faint moonlight revealed them clearly: Shinichi and Shinobu.
Shinichi remained vigilant, extending his senses like an invisible web, feeling out the life and energy of the manor around them.
After confirming their arrival hadn't triggered an alarm or drawn unwanted attention, he allowed himself to relax slightly.
He turned to look at Shinobu beside him.
In the pale light, her head was bowed, her long, dark hair with its purple tips falling in a messy curtain that hid her face.
Her fingers nervously twisted the hem of her haori, a small, telling sign of her deep anxiety.
She had tried to prepare herself for this, but as she stood on the familiar grounds, the fear was overwhelming.
Could she truly face her comrades looking like this?
Could she face her sister, Kanae? The question was a knot in her chest that only tightened with each passing second.
"Don't be afraid," Shinichi's voice came, low but steady, a calm anchor in her sea of turmoil.
"I'm here."
Shinobu nodded, subconsciously shifting closer to him.
She took a deep, shuddering breath and straightened her back.
She was home.
The Demon Slayer Corps was her home, and these people were her family.
Shinichi thought their return had been subtle enough, but he had underestimated the keen senses of the Hashira who remained at headquarters—and the unbreakable power of a blood connection.
....
In a room on the second floor, a single lamp cast a warm, dim glow.
Kanae Kocho sat at her desk, staring blankly at an open medical notebook.
Suddenly, the hand holding her pen trembled, drawing a long, dark slash across the page.
Her heart began to pound violently in her chest, a frantic, painful rhythm.
An indescribable throbbing from the very core of her being made her lift her head, her gentle eyes staring out into the dark night.
"This feeling…" Kanae whispered, her voice trembling.
"Could it be… Shinobu?"
.....
At the same time, in another part of the manor…
"Hmph."
In his room, Sanemi Shinazugawa paused mid-stroke as he polished his Nichirin blade.
His brow furrowed, and his intensely scarred face twisted into a scowl.
His wild eyes darted towards the window, like a beast catching a scent on the wind.
"That smell… It's familiar… Is that you, Shinichi?"
...
In the adjacent room, Kyojuro Rengoku, who had been sitting cross-legged in deep breathing meditation, slowly opened his eyes.
A flicker of confusion crossed his bright, golden-red gaze.
"Shinichi is back? And there is another presence with him… a very strange fighting spirit. It feels a bit like Shinobu, but… warped."
....
And deep within the manor, in the medical wing that had been converted into a laboratory, Lady Tamayo paused her work at her microscope.
Beside her, Yushiro, who had been standing as still as a stone sculpture, immediately straightened, his expression sharp with vigilance.
"Lady Tamayo? What is it?"
"Nothing to be alarmed by," she said, a faint, knowing smile on her lips.
"It seems our friends have returned."
It was an almost subconscious reaction.
With no prior signal, several of the most perceptive masters at headquarters began moving, drawn by an invisible thread toward the same secluded corner of the garden.
Shinichi was about to lead Shinobu to see Kagaya Ubuyashiki when he froze.
A wry, helpless smile touched his lips.
"It seems we weren't as sneaky as I thought," he murmured, giving Shinobu's hand a gentle squeeze.
"Looks like the welcoming committee is on its way."
Shinobu's body went rigid, and she instinctively shrank behind him, her breathing growing shallow and quick.
The first to arrive was Sanemi.
He landed before them like a hunting cat, dropping from a nearby rooftop in a gust of wind.
His fierce, wild eyes locked onto Shinichi instantly, then swept like a sharpened blade to the shadowed figure hiding behind him—a presence that felt both familiar and sickeningly wrong.
"Shinichi! So you finally decided to come back, huh?!" Sanemi barked, his voice as rough and aggressive as his personality.
"Leaving your training to your apprentice while you run off and screw around… And who the hell is that behind you? What is this demonic stench?!" His hand was already gripping the hilt of his sword, and the air around him seemed to hum with the barely restrained power of his Wind Breathing.
A moment later, Kyojuro appeared from the other side of the courtyard.
He walked with a steady, confident stride, his golden-red eyes filled with concern and scrutiny.
"Shinichi! Welcome home! And who might this be?" His gaze also fell on Shinobu, his brow furrowing as he, too, sensed the unnatural aura clinging to her.
The atmosphere crackled, heavy and tense.
Shinichi took a half-step forward, his body completely shielding Shinobu from their view, ready to explain.
But just then, another sound cut through the standoff.
The sound of light, hurried footsteps, filled with a desperate, hopeful urgency.
Everyone turned.
Running toward them through the night was the Flower Hashira, Kanae Kocho.
Her Demon Slayer uniform was hastily buttoned and messy, her long hair streaming loosely behind her.
Her face was pale, her expression a mask of raw anxiety.
She didn't even seem to see Shinichi or the other Hashira.
Her eyes, wide and trembling, were fixed on the one spot they couldn't see—the hidden figure behind Shinichi.
That feeling of blood connection, that cry from the depths of her soul, could not be mistaken.
"Shinobu…?" Kanae's voice was a fragile whisper, like a dream, laced with the terror of having her hopes dashed.
A layer of mist instantly clouded her gentle eyes.
"Is… is that you, Shinobu?"
That single, broken plea shattered the last of Shinobu's defenses.
Behind Shinichi, she trembled violently.
There was no more hiding.
With immense, painful effort, she slowly stepped out from behind him, into the cold, unforgiving moonlight.
Her purple-tipped hair, the sharp claws glinting at her fingertips, the fangs peeking from behind her lips, the faint, strange markings on her skin, and the violet eyes—her eyes—flashing with anxiety, guilt, and a powerful, overwhelming longing.
The moment Kanae saw her sister's face, it was as if she had been struck by lightning.
She froze, her hands flying to her mouth to stifle a scream.
Tears, hot and immediate, burst from her eyes, streaming down her face like pearls from a broken string.
This was not the sister she remembered.
That aura, those features… it all pointed to a terrible, monstrous change.
But those eyes!
They were still Shinobu's.
"Nee-san…" Shinobu looked at Kanae's shocked, tear-streaked face, and her voice came out as a choked, guilty sob.
"I… I'm back…"
Those four simple words seemed to take every last ounce of her strength.
Kanae could no longer hold back.
She lunged forward, throwing her arms around the sister she thought she had lost forever, holding her in a desperate, unbreakable embrace.
"Shinobu! Shinobu! My little sister!" Kanae wept, her hot tears soaking into Shinobu's hair.
"It's really you! You're alive! Oh, thank God, you're alive… that's all that matters… hiks…"
She was incoherent, just repeating the words over and over, clutching her sister as if letting go would mean losing her all over again.
Shinobu buried her face in her sister's warm, familiar embrace, her composure finally breaking.
She sobbed like a lost child who had finally found her way home, all the pain and fear of the past weeks pouring out in that single, cathartic moment.
The sight of the two sisters clinging to each other, their cries echoing in the night, instantly dissolved the tension in the courtyard.
Sanemi slowly released his grip on his sword.
He looked at them, made a sharp clicking sound with his tongue, and awkwardly turned his head away.
"...What a pain," he muttered, but the gruffness of his words was betrayed by the undeniable softness in his eyes.
A gentle, relieved smile spread across Kyojuro face as he watched, and he gave a small, approving nod.
Shinichi stood to the side, a silent guardian, his heart a mix of relief and a deep, aching empathy for them both.
In the distance, standing in the dark shadows of a corridor, a massive figure draped in prayer beads watched the scene unfold.
Gyomei Himejima, the Stone Hashira, clasped his hands together as silent tears streamed from his blind eyes, his lips moving in a quiet prayer of gratitude.