Minamino Hirochi finally fell silent. He sighed, the lines on his face deepening.
Humans are creatures of feeling… who could truly be at peace in a moment like this?
Back home, not only his daughter waited for him, but his wife, his mother, and every familiar and half-familiar relative and friend worried after him…
And now—look at him—just a lonely, stray soul taking shelter under someone else's eaves…
"You're fortunate—and unfortunate," Roy said after a long silence. He helped Minamino up, his expression solemn. "I'll grant your request."
"Tanjiro, bring your canteen."
"Okay."
Tanjiro didn't know why his brother wanted the canteen, but he obeyed—lifting the oil lamp, braving the wind and snow, and entering the shrine.
Roy took Minamino by the hand, wrapped the remnant soul in Nen, and followed without a word. He stepped over the tall threshold, reached back to swing the shrine doors shut, and kept the storm outside.
A mournful wind whistled along the slope, like ghosts wailing.
After a thorough cleaning, the shrine no longer reeked of blood; it felt new. Roy split a broken plank for kindling and lit a small bonfire; warmth soon pooled through the room.
Tanjiro returned with the canteen.
Roy unscrewed the cap, took out his own canteen, poured all of its water into Tanjiro's, and kept the empty one. He said to Minamino, "I'm afraid you'll have to make do inside the canteen for tonight. At first light, I'll take you to find your family."
"Thank you for the trouble, Lord Eijirō," Minamino said, bowing.
When he straightened, he'd already become a thin gleam that, guided by Roy's aura, slipped into the canteen.
Pop. The stopper settled back in.
"Not trouble," Roy replied with a faint smile. "We're headed to Mount Sagiri anyway. It's on the way."
The canteen trembled slightly, as if in answer.
Tanjiro craned his neck, poking and peering—he'd never seen a person stowed inside a canteen.
"Niisan, can people really be put into a canteen?"
"People can't. Demons can." Roy flicked Tanjiro's hand away and tucked the canteen against his chest, feeding it a trickle of Nen warmth.
Thinking further on Tanjiro's question, the first demon that sprang to mind was Upper Rank Five—Gyokko. In the original tale, Gyokko could shrink himself to hide inside a pot, then molt and enlarge—an obvious talent for manipulating "space."
"Oh… I thought you could put me in too so I could follow you everywhere, all the time."
Deflated, the cat slunk aside to sulk.
Two rice dumplings arced over and bonked him on the head.
The silly oaf had really mistaken Roy's canteen for a crimson gourd—did he think a single shout could suck people in? Dream on.
Night deepened; the storm showed no sign of stopping.
They ate two dumplings by the fire, drank a little water, and bedded down on the floor. The blanket was the mat Kie had packed under the charcoal; shake off the coal dust and it made a serviceable quilt.
After eating, Tanjiro lay beside Roy, turned to watch the leaping firelight, and murmured, "Hey… Niisan, do you think the outside world is really that cruel…?"
The woodcutter devoured by Satō Takeichirō, Minamino Hirochi with his guts ripped out—so many dead in just a few days, and the terror of demons… He tossed and turned, eyes bright, staring at Roy.
Roy folded his hands over his abdomen, closed his eyes, and feigned sleep.
A thousand people, a thousand faces—everyone knows the world differently. For some, this is hell; from Muzan's perspective and that of his demons, what hell? It's paradise—a banquet of blood, free for the taking.
"Hmph…" With no answer forthcoming, Tanjiro huffed and turned his back.
Roy ignored him, emptied his mind, and soon drifted off.
The familiar sensation of falling—
He opened his eyes in his familiar bedroom.
The night felt both long and short, as if nothing had happened and everything had happened. Only the corner clock, chiming, reminded Roy—
It was 4 a.m. Time for a run.
Heat is everything…
Roy pulled on a tank top and shorts and loped through Kukuroo Mountain, taking in scenery utterly unlike the Demon Slayer world. He was still a little dazed, as if he hadn't fully left that sea of recognition.
Not until he reached the mid-slope and saw lights burning at the butlers' residence—people already bustling about, with the faint aroma of toast wafting from the kitchen—did he snap back, feet never slowing as he headed downhill.
'One kilometer… two… My pace is faster than before…'
Thanks to breathing techniques and progress in "Dark Step," Roy clearly felt his speed climb. He popped open his HUD for a glance—
[Physique] had risen from 10.05 to 10.55—an extra "half a normal person" on top of his base.
Not a leap forward, but the bottleneck had cracked.
He curved a small smile and, in high spirits, breezed into the guard post.
"Morning, young master." The guard Zebro wasn't yet the "vest-wearing old uncle" he'd become; in his prime, he still had hair—though his hairline had retreated toward a Mediterranean. He doffed his cap and bowed.
Roy smiled back and was about to leave when—boom—a thunderous noise rolled out.
The mountain gate—the Zoldycks' very symbol of "absolute power"—had been pushed inward from the outside. Three doors deep.
The "Testing Gate" had seven leaves, each double the last; the smallest weighed two tons. Opening three meant a fourteen-ton push.
"Welcome home, Young Master Illumi."
Zebro had just saluted Roy, now he had to salute Illumi; off went the cap again. He blinked—this was the first time he'd met both young masters at this hour.
Boom. The gate shut with another crash.
Illumi walked in, expressionless, ignoring Zebro entirely. His hollow eyes locked onto Roy.
"Just so you know…"
"I've opened my pores too."