[Three Days Ago · Mt. Sagiri Summit]
Moonlight, like water, spilled across the ground.
Shirakawa sat cross-legged, with a slender black-haired girl snuggling beside him.
Makomo tilted her head, her pale green eyes full of curiosity. "Kawa-kun, you seem... to have something on your mind today?"
Hearing this, Shirakawa didn't joke as he usually did.
He watched Makomo quietly for a long time—so long that she began wringing her fingers uneasily.
"Makomo," he finally said, his voice very soft, "are you willing to... stay by my side for a lifetime?"
Makomo was stunned.
Her face instantly flushed red, and she waved her hands in a panic. "Ka... Kawa-kun! What are you saying all of a sudden?! I—I'm a ghost, how could I..."
"Not in this form," Shirakawa interrupted, his gaze falling on the horizontal sword at his waist. "My sword... can 'nurture souls'."
Makomo froze.
She blinked, as if understanding something.
"You mean..." she asked softly, "like a sword spirit?"
Shirakawa nodded. "That way, you can always stay with me. Accompany me in battle, protect me... and I will protect you too."
He paused, then added, "Of course, if you're unwilling, I will never force you. You can continue to stay here, and as long as I have time, I'll come back to see you..."
"I'm willing."
Makomo didn't hesitate at all.
Her voice was soft, yet firm.
Instead, Shirakawa was the one who froze. "You... won't think about it more? Entering the sword, it might..."
"I know." Makomo smiled, her expression as gentle as the moonlight. "But I'm willing."
She reached out and gently removed the fox mask she had always worn on the side of her head.
It was the thing she had cherished most in life.
The one Master carved had been lost during the Final Selection, so she had made this one herself.
She handed the mask to Shirakawa with both hands.
"This is for you," she said softly. "Carry it with you, as if you were carrying me."
Shirakawa stared at Makomo blankly, and after a long moment, he solemnly accepted it.
The next second, Makomo's figure began to glow faintly.
She gave Shirakawa a deep look. There was no fear or hesitation in her eyes—only complete trust and... love.
Then, she turned into a stream of light, flew toward the horizontal sword at his waist, and silently merged into the blade.
The blade trembled slightly, emitting a soft chime.
A pink halo flowed across the scabbard for a moment before gradually fading.
Shirakawa looked down at the fox mask in his hand, then touched the hilt.
A faint warmth came from it.
"Welcome..." he whispered, "to my side."
[Now · Mt. Sagiri Hut]
Sakonji Urokodaki stared fixedly at the mask in Shirakawa's hand, his aged hands trembling slightly.
"This mask..." His voice was dry. "Where did you...?"
"Master," Shirakawa interrupted gently, "I'll tell you everything after we return from the Final Selection."
He paused, then added, "Everything."
Sakonji Urokodaki fell silent.
His gaze moved back and forth between the mask and Shirakawa's face.
After a long while, he slowly nodded and withdrew the mask in his own hand.
"...Alright."
...
The three days of preparation passed in the blink of an eye.
On the morning of their departure, the sky had just begun to brighten.
Tanjiro put on the blue haori representing Water Breathing Style that his master had made for him and wore the mask on the side of his face.
Shirakawa wore a white haori with pink stripes, with the horizontal sword at his left waist and the fox mask hanging on his right.
Sakonji Urokodaki stood in front of the hut, seeing them off.
The tengu mask hid his expression, but Tanjiro could clearly sense the worry in his presence.
"I will take good care of Nezuko for both of you, so don't worry."
Tanjiro: "Thank you, Master!"
"Master," Shirakawa suddenly said, his tone relaxed, "don't look so gloomy."
Sakonji Urokodaki glared at him. "Who's looking gloomy?"
"Your whole body is saying, 'I'm so worried these two foolish boys will die on the mountain.'"
Shirakawa grinned. "Don't worry, Master. I'll bring Tanjiro back with me."
He paused. His smile faded slightly, and his tone turned serious.
"I've trained for so long just for this day. Even if the Twelve Kizuki are waiting on that mountain, I won't let you lose another disciple."
The air fell silent for a moment.
Sakonji Urokodaki looked at Shirakawa for a long time... before letting out a snort from behind the mask.
"Brat, aren't you afraid of tripping over your own tongue?"
But his voice had clearly softened.
"Having such resolve," he said in a low voice, "is enough to make this master proud."
Shirakawa's eyes lit up. "Yo~ Master, you're finally willing to call yourself 'this master'!"
He leaned in slightly and winked. "Can I brag about my background later? 'Personal disciple of the former Water Hashira, Sakonji Urokodaki'—sounds pretty impressive, right?"
Sakonji Urokodaki's mask seemed to stiffen.
He was silent for two seconds before coughing awkwardly.
"...Ahem. Unless necessary, it's better to keep a low profile."
Shirakawa laughed loudly.
Tanjiro couldn't help but laugh as well. "Don't worry, Master! I definitely won't hold Senior Brother back. I'll pass the selection and come back alive!"
The morning light grew brighter, illuminating the determined faces of the two young men.
Sakonji Urokodaki felt his eyes sting...
"We're off, Master!" Shirakawa waved, turned, and strode away.
"Mr. Urokodaki, we're leaving!" Tanjiro bowed deeply, then quickly followed.
Sakonji Urokodaki stood where he was, watching their figures grow smaller until they finally disappeared around the bend in the mountain path.
The wind passed through the trees, rustling his clothes.
For a long, long time... he didn't move.
"...You must come back... ah..."
His whisper scattered in the wind, carrying a sob.
"I'm begging you..."