"Two days… it'll take that long?"
"Niisan, I don't need new clothes. Better spend the money on food for the little ones," Nezuko said with a soft smile, eyes curving like Aoi's—gentle and considerate.
"We're buying clothes. And we're not short on food right now."
They'd just butchered a boar yesterday; they wouldn't lack meat for half a month.
"That's still too long…" Aoi looked at Reiichiro, worried. "And why are you going to Mount Sagiri again?"
"I want to learn something." Reiichiro peeled open a rice ball and took a small bite. "Tanjiro's old enough to help now. The family doesn't need two coal diggers. I'll see if I can pick up a trade down there and bring in a little money."
He couldn't mention demons; he could even less mention the Demon Slayer Corps. With Takeo, Shigeru, and Hanako around, he wouldn't risk scaring them.
But under the same roof for so many years, tied by the same blood—the explanation didn't satisfy Aoi or Tanjuro, and certainly not Tanjiro, who'd just witnessed a demon attack.
'Niisan is lying.' Tanjiro kept sneaking glances at Reiichiro.
One glare, and he ducked back down to his soup.
"We don't need you to subsidize the household. Nezuko and I can weave baskets. Trade them in town for pocket change—enough for a few sets of clothes."
"That's right, Niisan… I've already learned to weave vines."
Nezuko pulled a handbasket from under the table, filled with needles and thread, the weave neat and pretty.
The patch on her cuff was clearly her own handiwork.
"My Nezuko's capable," Reiichiro praised without stint. His gaze slid up to Tanjuro, who hadn't spoken, then he held firm with Aoi: "No. I'm going."
"Maybe I can find a way to treat Father."
Aoi opened her mouth, then let it close.
Tanjuro's illness weighed on the whole family. If there really was a cure, it would be a blessing.
Nezuko and Tanjiro exchanged a quick glance with their father… Tanjuro, quiet, plucked a needle from the basket, held it in his palm, and stood.
Gently, he said to Reiichiro, "Come with me."
The snow pressed the pines into bows…
Bundled in a heavy coat, Tanjuro stepped off the veranda first. Reiichiro followed in silence. They circled the corner to the back of the house and stopped; the two lines of fresh tracks they'd made vanished under windblown powder almost at once.
"Show me your ear. Bear it a moment—don't fuss," Tanjuro said, lifting the fine needle and gesturing for Reiichiro to bare his earlobe. One quick prick.
The sting was brief, like a mosquito bite; then—
Reiichiro watched Tanjuro remove the sun-pattern earrings, passed down from Yoriichi Tsugikuni, and fasten them to him. As he adjusted their position, he murmured, "I'm a useless father. There's not much I can give you."
"So I'll pass on our family's earrings to you."
"May the Fire God keep my child safe and sound."
The charms swayed under Reiichiro's ear, tinkling in the wind…
Tanjuro looked a long moment, then—just as his own father once had—nodded in satisfaction. "Good. They suit you. Full of spirit."
Reiichiro's throat felt dry. He wanted to say something…
In the end it came out a bare, earnest promise: "I'll find a way to cure you."
Tanjuro patted his shoulder and smiled. "Let's go."
He turned, leaving a thin, stooped back.
The boy lingered, then shivered as snow slipped down his collar. He drew a long breath and followed.
It was 6:55 a.m.
The two dumb hens penned in their basket still hadn't learned to crow.
The Kamado brothers were already geared up—baskets on their backs, tea packed, rice balls tied on, a pair of sharp hatchets at their belts. Yukizō couldn't be brought over by "reverse conjuration," so the hatchets would have to do. On bad trails, they could always hack through brush and open a path.
Aoi alternated tugging Tanjiro's hems straight and snugging Reiichiro's scarf, fretting on:
"Go slowly…"
"If there's danger, do not step forward—and don't gawk where there are crowds…"
"If it gets late, pay for an inn. Don't go back up the mountain…"
Blunt and guileless as ever, Tanjiro blurted, "Mother, it's not like we're not coming back. No need to worry." First time going down the mountain, he was so excited he patted his hatchet and added, brimming with confidence, "If there's danger, I'll protect Niisan first!"
"Not dragging your big brother is plenty," Aoi shot back, then looked long at Reiichiro. "Take care of your brother…"
"Mm." Reiichiro's gaze passed over Aoi, Tanjuro, Nezuko, and finally settled on Grandma carrying Hanako.
"Abah… abah…" Hanako stretched her tiny arms toward him.
Fresh from sleep, her face unwashed, a few sticky pearls still in the corners of her eyes…
Reiichiro didn't mind. He stepped in, kissed her soft cheek, and smiled to Grandma. "Wait for me to come back."
Grandma nodded, sat with Hanako on the veranda, and watched Reiichiro lead Tanjiro away until her eyes burned and two hot trails slid down.
Left home young, come back old; the accent stays, only the hair turns gray.
"Aoi, why do I feel… once he leaves today, we'll never see him again?"
"I'll check on Takeo and Shigeru. When those two brats learn their big brother left without calling them, who knows what ruckus they'll raise," Aoi said, not answering, turning away into the courtyard…
The snow thickened, falling faster. The broad yard flowed into forest, and only Tanjuro remained, standing alone in the white, staring after the boys for a long, long time…
Until even the smallest hint of them was gone—
Tanjuro raised his hands and began the Hinokami Kagura.
"Round Dance." "Clear Blue Sky." "Raging Sun." "Fake Rainbow"…
His steps flew; he was a spirit of flame kicking up fans of snow.
Only, this time, no earrings danced with him. The symbol of Yoriichi Tsugikuni's thousand-year bond with the Kamado line now hung on a new owner, setting out on a new journey—and a new life.
One so dazzling that even Yoriichi, if he knew beneath the earth, could never have imagined it.