Chapter 5: Dream of the Butterfly × Return
No one could give Tanjiro an answer. Not even Tanjuro himself.
All he knew was that the Fire God Dance had been passed down from his ancestors. So long as he willed it, he could keep dancing through the night.
He did not understand the principle behind it.
But Roy, with his Gyo-enhanced vision, saw it clearly—
It was the Breath of the Sun that lent Tanjuro strength.
It warded off the cold. It sustained his frail body.
The tragedy was that Tanjuro neither understood how to wield this power, nor did he have the physique to withstand its full intensity.
Even if Roy told him the method, his frail frame would never endure the burning weight of the sun's force. It would kill him instantly.
Once. Twice. Three times. Five. Six…
Snow fluttered as Tanjuro's sleeves traced arcs of flame through the night. Tanjiro collapsed onto the ground, unable to keep up, while only Tanjuro and Roy continued to dance.
At first, Roy's movements were clumsy and stiff. But repetition smoothed the edges. His steps grew fluid, his form natural. Soon he could match Tanjuro's rhythm.
Noticing this, Tanjuro first showed surprise, then deliberately increased his pace. A quiet smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, bit by bit.
A thought rose unbidden:
If only Sumihiko's grandfather could see this, he too would marvel at the boy's gift for the Fire God Dance…
But the old man was gone. And Tanjuro himself knew, deep down, that his own time was nearly spent.
A gust of wind stirred, tugging him back from his thoughts.
Snowflakes fell across his mask, melting on his pale, sickly face.
Relief mingled with sorrow, pride with guilt.
His mother was old, unable to work.
He himself had been stricken with illness years ago, unable to bear heavy labor.
The family had grown with more mouths to feed, all relying on Kie.
And soon, the weight of the household would fall onto Sumihiko's shoulders.
As a father, the only thing left he could do—was pray.
Then let me pray earnestly…
Pray… that the Fire God watches over Sumihiko and the children, granting them health, safety, and peace.
His sleeves flared once more. Tanjuro danced with solemn devotion.
Only on the eighth cycle did he finally stop.
Lifting the Flame Mask revealed his pallid, sickly features.
Roy halted a half-beat later, reluctant but steady, moving to support his father back toward the veranda.
Tanjuro patted his hand with a smile and sat against a pillar.
The children swarmed in, voices bubbling.
Some praised Tanjuro's dance.
Some gushed at Roy's skill.
Others teased Tanjiro for being clumsy as a frog.
Tanjiro didn't get angry. He grabbed Takeo, who had mocked him, and tried to yank the cowlick on his head. Takeo slipped away, darting behind Roy for cover.
"Sumihiko-Niisan, it's because Tanjiro's just too dumb!" Takeo shouted.
"Call him older brother Tanjiro."
Roy rapped his hand gently on Takeo's head in mock punishment, chuckling as he gave him a sharp look. Then he sat down, quietly replaying the dance in his mind.
The children only saw the surface.
But Roy knew the truth. It wasn't that he was smarter than Tanjiro.
Rather, he had two advantages:
First, with Gyo, he could dissect Tanjuro's movements more clearly.
Second, thanks to the brutal training of the Zoldycks, his body was far sturdier than Tanjiro's, letting him adapt more quickly.
But Tanjiro—Tanjiro was destined to master the Breath of the Sun.
Roy still had one trial to face: could he bear the Weight of the Sun?
If he could endure it, he would truly master the Breath. If not… all would be for nothing.
He calmed his thoughts. Neither elated nor disheartened.
When his reflections ended, he rose and slipped into the kitchen. Moments later, he emerged with two trays of rice dumplings—white rice wrapped in vinegar cloth, drizzled with simple sauce. Tonight's feast for Nezuko's full-moon celebration.
Kie brought out miso soup to match.
Inside floated a single rib bone.
So simple… so plain that Roy froze.
Since the day he was born into the Zoldyck family, he had never eaten anything this modest. Back home it had always been meat, seafood, delicacies—and tonics to bolster his training.
Now, looking at Tanjuro's frailty, at Kie's weary face, at his grandmother and siblings' thin complexions… Roy understood, deeply, for the first time—
In an age where demons prowled the night, survival itself was a luxury.
And in just two short years, every face around this table—every smile, every laugh—would be gone, save for Tanjiro and Nezuko.
This… was not something Roy could accept.
"To take their gift is to owe them my protection. Since I've learned the Breath of the Sun, I must repay it."
"At the very least… I can make sure they have meat to eat."
Resolve took root in his heart.
As Kie announced dinner with a gentle smile, Roy pressed his palms together, picked up his chopsticks, and dug in.
Under the snowy night sky, he ate heartily, every bite a battle. Before long, the meal was over.
After helping Kie clear the dishes and settling the younger children to bed, Roy stripped off his shoes and socks, crawled into his futon, and finally let his body relax.
The night had grown deep, yet the snow outside made the darkness glow as bright as day.
Roy, Tanjiro, Takeo, and Shigeru lay together in a single shared futon.
With eyes closed, he could still hear Takeo grinding his teeth, Shigeru's occasional little fart.
It was so vivid, so tangible, that Roy began to wonder: when he awoke, would he truly leave this place behind? Would he return to the real world?
Beside him, Tanjiro tossed and turned like a restless fish, unable to sleep. At last, his wide amber eyes blinked open. He wriggled closer and whispered:
"Bro… are you asleep?"
"Bro." That was Tanjiro's name for him alone. Nezuko and the others still called him "Sumihiko-niisan."
Roy kept his eyes shut and lied smoothly:
"Yeah. Asleep."
"..."
"Oh…"
Tanjiro gave a little sigh, pulled the blanket over his head, and lay still.
Roy knew what he wanted to say.
And Tanjiro knew Roy wasn't ready to say it.
What Tanjiro didn't know was this: it wasn't that Roy was unwilling. He simply hadn't yet found the right words.
After all, this was his very first time stepping through the Gate of Cognition. His first time wandering into this world.
"So please, my foolish little brother… just give me a little more time."
"Just a little is enough…"
With that thought, Roy's mind quieted. Sleep finally claimed him.
Until—
"Awoo!"
A familiar dog's bark snapped him awake.
The voice belonged to the beast that patrolled the Zoldyck estate—the one raised to devour trespassers. And its master… Mike, the family's alarm and guard.
3:50 a.m.
Roy sat up, rubbing his face.
The corner clock ticked steadily. His familiar desk. His wardrobe. His room in Kukuroo Mountain.
The humble wooden house was gone. The warmth of the Kamados was gone.
He had returned to the Zoldyck estate, to the solemn castle and its suffocating heat.
Had he dreamt of being Kamado Sumihiko? Or had Sumihiko dreamt of being Roy Zoldyck?
Roy sat there, dazed, lost in thought for a long time.