Night wind swept across the northern plains, wrapped in the cold. It stirred the dry grass and made the campfire flicker unsteadily.
Five people sat around the fire. The crackling of burning wood mixed with the occasional distant howl of wolves—becoming the clearest sound in the quiet night.
They had just traveled for three full hours. Dust still clung to their uniforms, and weariness lingered on their faces, yet no one suggested resting early. The urgency of rushing to the north kept them all instinctively pressing forward.
"Back when I sold charcoal in the mountains, winter nights were even colder than this."
Tanjiro tossed another log onto the fire. The orange glow lit his face, softening the fatigue in his eyes.
"I remember once, our charcoal kiln collapsed on one side. Giyu-san happened to be on patrol and helped us fix it until late at night. He didn't say much, but he gave Nezuko the warmest cloak he had. His own hands were red from the cold."
The words dropped like a pebble into the stillness.
Tō, sitting beside him, unconsciously clenched his Nichirin Sword on his lap. A memory flashed through his mind—he could never hold his blade steady as a kid, but Giyu had stood behind him, covering his hands to teach him how to match his breathing.
"Water Breathing should be 'smooth,' like water flowing along the blade—not brute force."
Once, when he scraped his knee during training, Giyu didn't say anything comforting. He just silently handed him a jar of herbal salve—warm, like it had been heated by body temperature.
"Giyu-san also taught me the basics of Water Breathing."
Tanjiro didn't notice Tō zoning out and kept talking.
"He said 'Breathing techniques aren't dead moves—they're alive.' I didn't get it back then. Not until I officially became a swordsman did I start to understand."
Kanae pulled her uniform tighter and joined in softly, "I used to go on missions with him. He seemed cold, but he was always considerate. Once, we found villagers trapped in a mountain cave. He gave them all his rations and went hungry the rest of the way."
Shinobu sat next to her sister, fingers gently brushing the edge of her sleeve. Suddenly, an image of Giyu came to mind—not the current Mushiki filled with killing intent, but the old Water Hashira who quietly helped organize her medicine box and brought her tea when she was frustrated with slow progress.
She blinked and quickly reined in her thoughts.
The fire's warmth gradually softened the atmosphere. The tension of travel loosened, replaced by a quiet wistfulness for the past.
Tengen suddenly stretched, breaking the silence. "Why are we getting all gloomy? How about this—once we chop that ugly Muzan bastard into pieces, what are we gonna do next?"
He grinned, full of swagger. "I'll retire in style, take my three wives down south, find a seaside town, soak in the sun and eat seafood every day!"
His lively tone brought a lightness to the circle.
Kanae smiled. "I want to open a flower shop in a small town. Sell flowers I grow myself. We've been fighting so long—I've never properly seen what spring flowers even look like."
"I…"
Shinobu paused. Her voice softened.
"I probably won't make medicine to fight demons anymore. I'd like to open a little clinic, treat ordinary folks. No more worrying about who might be hurt or killed by demons again."
As she spoke, Giyu's face surfaced in her mind again. 'If he were still around,' she thought, 'maybe he'd drop by the clinic sometimes. Just sit by the window, watching flowers. No words. That would be enough.'
"I'll probably go back to selling charcoal."
Tanjiro's voice was steady.
"My father used to say that charcoal brings warmth to people. It's been our family trade for generations. Once the demons are gone, I want to rebuild the kiln and go to town with Nezuko again, just like before."
He turned to the one who had stayed silent this whole time—Shinazugawa Sanemi.
"Sanemi-san, what about you? After Muzan is gone, what do you want to do?"
Sanemi was poking at the firewood when he froze.
After a beat, he scowled.
"Never thought about it."
His voice was low, as hard-edged as ever.
"Right now, my whole head's focused on killing Muzan. No room for anything else. Ask me again after he's dead."
No one pressed him.
Everyone knew Sanemi's past—how his family had been slaughtered by demons. His hatred ran deeper than anyone's. Killing Muzan wasn't just a mission for him—it was the reason he kept going.
The fire began to die down. The night deepened.
Tengen yawned. "Alright, that's enough talk. Let's sleep for half an hour. We move out again at 3:00 a.m."
They packed up quickly and rested with their backs against the trees, eyes closed.
The northern night was freezing. Tanjiro shared half his cloak with Tō, who paused in surprise, then quietly said, "Thanks," and shut his eyes. In his mind, the image of Giyu teaching him sword forms started to blur with the warmth of the campfire now.
Before dawn, just after the 3:00 a.m. watch change, they set out again.
After about three more hours of walking, snow began to fall. At first just a few scattered flakes, then heavier and thicker, soft snow gathering on their hair and shoulders until a thin layer formed.
"Northern snow comes early," Kanae said, brushing snow from her shoulder with a hint of surprise in her voice. "Last time I came, it was still spring. Can't believe it's already snowing now."
Another hour passed before a small compound appeared in the distance—it was the Demon Slayer Corps outpost in the north. A group of Kakushi was already waiting at the gate.
As soon as they saw them, the lead Kakushi hurried forward and bowed deeply. "Hashira-sama! Tanjiro-sama! You're finally here!"
"How's the situation inside? Any signs of Upper Moons lately?" Tanjiro stepped forward, urgency in his voice.
The Kakushi led them inside while replying, "Yesterday at dusk, faint blue demon aura appeared again in the valley west of Seiryū Village. But no one was hurt—it just hovered in the air above the valley and vanished soon after. We sent scouts to investigate but couldn't find any trace. Only a few patches of water stains were left behind."
"Water stains?" Tō's step faltered, heart tightening—that was a signature trait of Giyu's Blood Demon Art. "Are you sure they were water stains?"
"Yes," the Kakushi nodded. "The marks were faint, but identical to those left by Upper Moon Two, Mushiki, back in Seiryū Village—light blue, with a spiral pattern."
They stepped into the main hall of the outpost. Charcoal was burning in the brazier, and warmth quickly drove away the chill.
The Kakushi poured them hot tea and continued, "The squad Tanjiro-sama assigned earlier is still stationed in Seiryū Village. They reported seeing a faint blue figure wandering near the cliff behind the village last night. They didn't dare get too close and just followed from afar. In the end, the figure entered the western valley and disappeared."
"The western valley..." Tanjiro frowned and spread a northern region map out on the table. "That's the same valley where the villagers went missing before?"
"Correct," the Kakushi said, pointing to a red mark on the map. "Right here. The valley has lots of branches and caves—really complicated terrain. It's easy for someone to hide in there. We were worried there might be traps, so we didn't go too deep."
Tengen leaned over the map and tapped the valley. "Complicated terrain means a perfect place for an ambush. But if that guy's daring enough to linger around here, maybe he's looking for something?"
Shinobu stood by the map, eyes focused. "Doesn't matter what he's looking for—we can't lower our guard. The villagers up here are still waiting for our protection. And..." She paused, then looked at Tanjiro and Tō. "We still have to figure out how to awaken his memories."
Tanjiro nodded firmly. "First, send someone to link up with the team in Seiryū Village and get the full report on what happened last night. After sunrise, we head for the western valley ourselves. This time, we have to find him. Whether we fight… or try to bring him back, we can't let him keep wandering the north like this."
Outside, snow kept falling. Inside, the fire crackled steadily.
They gathered around the map, laying out their next steps—each face lit by flame, marked with quiet determination.
And in that western valley, the faint blue figure might already be waiting—for a moment to remember who he used to be.
"Have they arrived?"