Chapter 163: The Butterfly Returns Home (Part 1)
At dawn, pale sunlight finally pierced through the thick winter mist, casting a cold, crisp glow over the bustling crowd gathered outside the small town.
Most of the early risers were farmers from neighboring villages, their breaths pluming in the freezing air as they carried heavy baskets or shouldered bamboo poles loaded with chickens, ducks, cuts of meat, and fresh eggs. They were all hoping to sell their goods in the town market to scrape together enough money for winter supplies.
Familiar faces greeted one another, their idle chatter filling the morning air as they trudged toward the town gates.
Some grumbled bitterly about how rapidly the temperature had plummeted this winter, complaining that the sudden frost had ruined the vegetables they hadn't managed to harvest in time. Others lamented the poor grain yield, sighing over the harsh reality that they had been forced to butcher and sell the hens they had originally intended to keep for laying eggs, simply because they could no longer afford the feed.
Amidst the complaints, however, a few boastful voices rang out. One burly farmer loudly bragged about how fat and strong his pigs had grown this year, proudly declaring that he would keep the best cuts for his own family and sell the rest for a premium price. His loud words drew sharp, envious glares from his fellow travelers.
Naturally, there were plenty of men secretly seething with jealousy, but one look at the boaster's thick, muscular arms deterred any thoughts of starting a fight. They simply averted their eyes, doing their best to ignore the sight of the massive half-carcass of pork and other rich farm products piled high on the ox-cart rattling behind him.
As the farmers gossiped and walked, their eyes would occasionally dart toward a specific empty pocket within the dense crowd—a wide, respectful berth that the commoners had instinctively cleared.
There, a man and a young woman were making their way toward the town at a leisurely, unhurried pace.
They both wore beautifully crafted Kochou haori, the distinctive butterfly-wing patterns fluttering slightly in the morning breeze. Whether it was the sheer quality of their clothing or the striking refinement of their facial features, it was abundantly clear that they did not hail from an ordinary peasant family. In an era deeply divided by class, the humble farmers naturally didn't dare step too close.
The girl was petite and graceful. Her dark hair was gathered into a neat bun at the back of her head, secured elegantly by a delicate butterfly hairpin. Two loose strands framed her face, their tips fading into a vibrant purple that perfectly matched the pure, beautiful amethyst of her eyes.
The man carrying her was tall and undeniably handsome. There was a distinct, dangerous sharpness in his eyes—a hardened edge tempered by time and battles fought—but whenever his gaze shifted to the girl on his back, that sharpness melted away, leaving behind nothing but an inseparable, boundless indulgence.
"So, is my hair really that fun to play with?" Akira asked, a helpless sigh escaping his lips.
Originally, Akira had wanted to rent a comfortable carriage for the journey to spare Shinobu from the fatigue of travel. Shinobu, however, had flatly refused, playfully declaring that she preferred her very own "Immortal's Seat" over a bumpy wooden cart.
What else could Akira do? He had no choice but to spoil her.
Besides, Shinobu's slight weight was practically nonexistent to him; carrying her was no burden at all. Thus, along the way, whenever her feet grew tired of walking, she would simply hop onto his back.
Just like right now.
Hearing Akira's question, Shinobu's small hands didn't stop their relentless fiddling with his dark hair. "I'm helping you research a new hairstyle," she replied smoothly. "You clearly have such a good-looking face, yet you have absolutely no idea how to give yourself a handsome hairstyle to match."
Although she spoke with the utmost seriousness, the slight, unnatural waver in her tone gave her away. She was clearly holding back laughter. Akira could even feel her slender body trembling slightly against his back as she tried to suppress her giggles.
"Be that as it may..." Akira turned his head slightly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye with a thoroughly speechless expression. "Do you honestly think a hedgehog style suits this face of mine?"
Even without a mirror, he could vividly feel the disaster atop his head. Shinobu had twisted and pulled his naturally flowing, messy hair until it stood straight up in rigid little clumps, transforming him into an indescribable human hedgehog.
Hearing his dry complaint, Shinobu's small hands finally paused. The dam broke, and she couldn't hold it in any longer, bursting into a fit of bright, melodic laughter that turned the heads of a few nearby farmers.
After taking a moment to catch her breath, she spoke up, her voice tinged with a feigned, guilty conscience. "Cough... well, that was an accident... I was just trying out the visual effects of different styles. If this one doesn't fit, we'll just change it to another. Yes, exactly."
She spoke with increasing confidence, nodding to herself as if her original intention truly had been to find him a flattering new look.
"Fine, as long as you're happy," Akira muttered, offering nothing more than a fond, defeated sigh.
Shinobu chuckled softly. Her mischievous hands finally stopped their chaotic pulling, and she began to carefully groom his hair, smoothing out the tangled strands bit by bit until they fell naturally once more. By the time Akira carried her past the town gates, his hair had been perfectly restored to its original state.
However, while tidying him up, Shinobu seemed to have discovered an entirely new game. She began running her small fingers through his soft locks over and over, petting him exactly as one would groom a docile cat. She would smooth his hair down, intentionally mess it up again, and then start the whole process over.
Faced with a Shinobu who seemed to have temporarily reverted to a playful child, Akira could only walk in silence and let his hair suffer the consequences.
After amusing herself for a while longer, Shinobu finally gave his hair a final pat to restore it. Letting her arms hang down, she wrapped them loosely around Akira's neck, resting her chin gently on his broad shoulder and affectionately rubbing her cheek against his.
"What's wrong?" Akira asked, tilting his head slightly to lean against hers.
"Nothing..." Shinobu murmured softly, her amethyst eyes scanning the passing buildings—some familiar, some entirely new. Her mind was suddenly flooded with a thousand distant thoughts. "I was just thinking about how fast time flies. In the blink of an eye, three whole years have already passed since I left this place."
More than four years ago, following a tragic accident, their family had packed up their lives and moved away from this very town. Under the strict leadership of Kochou Sawaki, they had retreated to a quiet village, claiming they needed to "lie low" and avoid the eyes of the world.
But three years ago, the very "trouble" Sawaki had been so desperate to avoid came knocking on their door in a completely different, terrifying form.
From that bloody night onward, their family's trajectory had been irrevocably shattered and remade.
They were thrust into a hidden world of Demons, the Demon Slayer Corps, Breathing Techniques, and endless days of treating the gravely wounded.
But most, a key figure had crashed into their lives—Kanzaki Akira.
And with him came the others who had been drawn into their orbit.
First was her elder sister, Kanae. Bound by the heavy debt of a saved life, and deeply moved by the resonance she found in Akira's ideals during their daily interactions, Kanae had fallen for him without a second of hesitation, giving her heart away completely.
Then, before she even realized what was happening, Akira's figure had deeply imprinted itself into Shinobu's own heart.
He was her bickering partner during their daily teasing, a thoughtful friend who occasionally surprised her with small gifts, and an unshakable pillar of support whenever she felt lost or overwhelmed by the weight of her own anger.
Akira certainly had his fair share of flaws. He was an unapologetic philanderer, occasionally dense when it came to reading the room, and sometimes acted far too idealistic for the brutal world they lived in.
But it was precisely that warmth, that fierce protectiveness, that made one girl after another fall hopelessly in love with him—herself included.
"Yeah, three years in the blink of an eye..." Akira agreed, his deep voice thick with his own quiet emotion.
He still vividly remembered that fateful night three years ago. He had just been sitting there, casually chatting with his grandfather, only for their peace to be shattered by an oblivious, bloodthirsty demon. And by the time the dust settled, he had ended up taking the entire Kocho family away with him.
"It's still early," Akira said, snapping himself out of his nostalgic reverie. His tone softened as he looked at the bustling streets ahead. "Is there anywhere specific you want to visit?"
"Hmm..." Shinobu hummed thoughtfully, her eyes scanning the town square before she lifted a slender finger. "Let's go check over there first."
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