Chapter 126: Makomo's Speculation
At this moment, the only reflection in Kanao's vivid lilac eyes was Akira.
The sheer, undisguised attachment radiating from her—a pure, deep devotion that placed him high above everything else in her world—struck a deep chord within him. Seeing the absolute trust in her gaze, Akira found he could no longer bring himself to force the issue. He couldn't bear to push her into making friends or participating in activities she clearly disliked, even if it was supposedly for her own good.
"Alright," he murmured, his voice softening as he gently stroked her hair. "If you don't want to make friends right now, you don't have to. I'll just spend more time with you from now on."
A breathtakingly bright smile bloomed across Kanao's face, illuminating her delicate features. Yet, surprisingly, she shook her head, her dark ponytail swaying.
"You don't need to do that," she replied softly. "Just for now... whenever you need to rest, spending that time with me is more than enough."
She reached out, her small fingers lightly gripping the fabric of his sleeve. "I know you are very busy. I would never want to get in the way of your duties. When you have to leave and work, I will try my best to make friends then. I... at least, I don't dislike Nezuko."
"Mm, alright," Akira chuckled, wrapping his arms around her small frame in a gentle embrace.
Kanao immediately melted into the touch. She wound her arms securely around his waist, pressing her entire body against his side. Her eyes fluttered shut, curving into happy little crescents. "You're the best," she whispered, her voice muffled against his haori.
Outwardly, Akira simply held her, enjoying the quiet tranquility of the sunlit courtyard. Inwardly, however, his thoughts churned.
The sheer weight of Kanao's feelings was staggering. It pressed against him, a heavy, obvious devotion that left him feeling a deep sense of responsibility—and a trace of nervous pressure. If I wait until she grows up a bit more... he mused. He wasn't blind. The way Kanao looked at him was slowly shifting, moving away from the simple adoration a younger sister held for an older brother. The change was subtle, barely a ripple beneath the surface, but it was there. And she was only eleven years old.
Ultimately, the playground equipment they had visited remained entirely unused. The two simply sat together on the wooden bench, soaking in the quiet morning air before finally getting up to leave. It couldn't be helped. Kanao had zero interest in playing on the swings or slides by herself, and with Akira's current injuries, he was in no condition to join her.
Later that afternoon, Nezuko and her mother, Kie, joined the rest of the Butterfly Mansion's residents for a bustling lunch.
Because Akira's right arm was heavily bandaged and bound in a sling, making movement incredibly awkward, he naturally became the center of attention at the dining table. He found himself on the receiving end of a continuous stream of chopsticks offering him food. Even Kanao would quietly lift a morsel to his lips every so often, her cheeks tinted with a faint, pleased pink whenever he accepted.
In truth, with his exceptional martial arts foundation and bodily control, Akira could have easily adapted to eating with his left hand. But why ruin a good thing? He had a perfectly legitimate excuse to sit back and be pampered by the beautiful women surrounding him. When it came to being thick-skinned, he had long since mastered the art. He accepted every bite with a shameless, relaxed grin.
Initially, Makomo and Shinobu tried to tease him about his helplessness, poking fun at his sudden inability to hold a bowl. However, seeing his completely composed, utterly unapologetic expression, they quickly lost interest in their playful jabs. Their teasing stopped, but their chopsticks certainly didn't; they continued to feed him just as attentively. Fortunately, a Demon Slayer's appetite was monstrous. Akira easily kept pace, happily accepting every piece of tempura, rice, and grilled fish the girls rotated into his mouth.
On a brighter note, Kochou Sawaki's throat had finally recovered. The patriarch of the Kochou family sat at the table, eating in relative peace. Aside from the occasional, deeply complicated side-eye he shot in Akira's direction—and the heavy, long-suffering sighs that escaped his lips whenever another girl fed the young man—Sawaki seemed perfectly healthy. For Akira, that alone was a victory worth celebrating.
Nezuko and Kie, however, had experienced quite the culture shock. When they first witnessed Akira interacting so intimately with multiple girls under one roof, their eyes had widened to the size of saucers. But noticing that everyone else in the Butterfly Mansion treated this domestic harmony as completely normal, the Kamado mother and daughter politely kept their thoughts to themselves, focusing intently on their rice bowls.
By today, they had thoroughly adapted. They could completely ignore Akira's shameless pampering, eating their meals normally and even chiming into the lively conversations flowing around the table.
Once lunch concluded, the time came for the Kamado family to depart.
Akira walked them to the estate's front gates, his uninjured hand resting lightly on his hip. "Nezuko, Kie-san, you've both worked incredibly hard during this period," he said, offering a warm, appreciative smile. "You don't need to trouble yourselves by running back and forth anymore. Once my injuries are fully healed, I'll bring Kanao over to your home for a proper visit."
Nezuko beamed, her ruby eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun. "Okay! Then, Akira-nii, Kanao, and everyone else at the Butterfly Mansion—thank you for everything! Goodbye! The Kamado family welcomes you all to visit anytime."
"Goodbye, take care," Akira replied, waving as the mother and daughter began their trek down the mountain path.
Time always seemed to slip through one's fingers during moments of peace.
In what felt like the blink of an eye, the crisp autumn winds faded, giving way to the biting chill of winter. A pristine, glittering layer of snow soon blanketed the sprawling courtyards of the Butterfly Mansion. After nearly three grueling months of mandatory rest and recuperation, Akira's body had finally knit itself back together. His injuries were fully healed.
Shortly before his full recovery, Akira had celebrated his birthday at the estate for the very first time. It hadn't been a lavish or extravagant affair, but it was deeply, deeply warm. Coordinated by the girls, with plenty of seasoned advice from Kochou Hanako, the cozy gathering marked his sixteenth year of life. Surrounded by the people he cherished most, it was a memory he would guard fiercely.
Because his injuries had still been lingering at the time, he hadn't been able to make the trek up the mountain to visit Kanzaki Keizan's grave. Akira liked to think that if his grandfather could have looked down and seen the joyous, chaotic birthday party, the old man wouldn't have minded the delayed visit one bit.
Still, regardless of his grandfather's hypothetical forgiveness, Akira intended to make up for the absence the moment he was cleared for physical activity. He had a promise to keep. It was time to take Makomo to 'meet the elder.'
Crunch. Crunch.
Their boots pressed into the fresh, ankle-deep snow, leaving a paired trail up the winding mountain path. Bathed in the ethereal silver glow of the moonlight, Akira and Makomo walked hand in hand toward Keizan's resting place. Delicate, crystalline flakes drifted lazily from the night sky, dusting their hair and shoulders. Yet, neither of them carried an umbrella.
It wasn't that Akira had forgotten to bring one. Earlier on the walk, he had casually let slip a poetic thought: 'If we walk together in the snow until it turns our hair white, it could count as growing old together in this life.' The moment the words left his lips, Makomo's cyan eyes had softened. Without a word, she had reached up, plucked the open umbrella from his grip, and closed it.
Growing old together. It was such a simple, fleeting concept, yet how many couples in this blood-soaked world truly yearned for it, only to be denied?
Given their rigorous training and enhanced physiques, a little winter snow posed zero threat of illness to either of them. Understanding the quiet, romantic weight behind her actions, Akira simply smiled and let Makomo have her way, his fingers tightening warmly around hers.
Upon reaching the quiet clearing, the two worked together to brush the accumulated snow from the stone monument. They carefully set out the prepared offerings, lit three sticks of incense, and bowed in deep respect. Through the curling, fragrant smoke, Akira formally introduced Makomo to his grandfather's spirit.
Once the traditional rituals were complete, Akira spread a thick, woven blanket over the frosty ground. Just as he had done with Kanae in the past, he sat down, pulling Makomo close against his side. He wrapped his arm securely around her shoulders, opening his mouth to speak.
Before a single syllable could leave his throat, Makomo beat him to it. She tilted her head, her gaze piercing through the falling snow to lock onto his face. She finally voiced the burning question that had been quietly circulating among the girls for months.
"Hey, Akira," she began, her voice soft but incredibly steady. "Do you... have some kind of ability to foresee the future?"
Akira froze. The breath hitched in his chest, his eyes widening slightly in genuine shock. He hadn't expected such a direct, piercing inquiry.
"Think about it," Makomo continued, shifting her weight so she could face him fully. "From the very first day we met until now, you've done quite a few things that completely defy common sense."
She reached out, her cool fingertips lightly tracing the edge of his jaw. "For example, back when we first started training together, I gave you hints. More than once, I practically spelled it out that I had feelings for you. But every single time, you would expertly deflect the conversation. You always hid behind the excuse of our ages."
A small, self-deprecating smile touched her lips. "Age might have been a valid reason, sure. But I know my own worth. Under those circumstances, I refuse to believe I was so unattractive that I couldn't even pull a definitive 'yes'or'no' out of you. You kept me in this strange, ambiguous gray area."
Her cyan eyes narrowed thoughtfully, reflecting the pale moonlight. "That is... until later. When I met Kanae."
"I'm not belittling myself," she clarified, her tone deeply analytical. "But objectively speaking? Aside from the fact that I met you first, I had absolutely no advantage in a competition against her. She is brilliant, beautiful, and incredibly kind. If Kanae hadn't actively chosen to step back, and if you hadn't possessed such an undisguised, overwhelming greed to keep us both... I honestly don't know if we would be sitting here together right now."
She leaned closer, her breath pluming in the freezing air between them. "Ever since then, I've been turning it over in my mind. Was the real reason you refused to clarify our relationship back then because you knew you were going to meet her in the future?"
"After all," Makomo murmured, her voice laced with absolute certainty, "knowing Kanae's personality... if you and I had already established a formal relationship before she came into the picture, she never would have interfered. She would have silently buried her feelings deep in her heart, plastered on a smile, and stood aside to give us her blessing."
A sudden, sharp glint flashed in Makomo's eyes, and she lightly pinched his cheek. "also, if we had established our relationship early on, and you suddenly showed that massive greed of yours, wanting to bring other girls into our home... well. I probably still would have agreed in the end, because I love you. But I absolutely would not have let you off the hook as easily as I did."
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