BUTTERFLY ESTATE, 3 DAYS LATER
Alex (POV)
As I walked through the creaking wooden door of the Butterfly Estate, memories of Shinobu flooded my mind like a tide, warm and relentless, washing over me with a bittersweet ache.
Her habit of ambushing me out of nowhere had somehow become a daily ritual—one that I found myself looking forward to more than I cared to admit, like a moth drawn to a flame that might burn but felt so damn good.
Whether I was eating, dozing off under the cherry blossoms, or even bathing—yes, especially bathing-with steam curling around me like a teasing veil—
she would strike with that sly little grin of hers, her violet eyes glinting with mischief.
And yet, each time it ended the same: her chasing me through the estate's winding corridors, flustered and annoyed, her haori flapping like butterfly wings, and me laughing, dodging, running…
until we both ended up in some ridiculously awkward position—tangled limbs, flushed faces—that left us breathless and blushing, the air thick with unspoken words.
Just like that, three days had passed, each moment stitching us closer together.
We'd grown closer, comfortable in each other's presence, teasing and challenging, laughing and learning.
She got frustrated sometimes, particularly when she couldn't even land a single hit on me during our sparring sessions,
her Nichirin Blade slicing through the air with graceful fury but never quite reaching me. Her pout—God, that pout—could melt a glacier.
So I decided to teach her a few tricks—refined stances, efficient movements, and some quick-dodge techniques, showing her how to shift her weight like a dancer evading a storm.
After all, I knew almost every martial art that existed on Earth, from the flowing forms of Tai Chi to the brutal precision of Krav Maga.
Not that I'd mastered them all—mastery takes time, and honestly, I've got my hands full dealing with the chaos in the Marvel world.
There's always a chance something might drop from the sky and start a new apocalypse—alien invasions, rogue gods, you name it. Paranoia comes with the job, like a free subscription to anxiety.
Even though our time together was filled with light and laughter, the scent of wisteria blossoms heavy in the air, I couldn't ignore the shadow she carried within, a darkness that clung to her like damp silk.
Every time we got too close—too real—she would pull away, creating just enough space between us for the weight of her past to slip in, heavy as a storm cloud.
I knew why. She was still chasing justice… or maybe vengeance. Her sister's death haunted her more than she let on, etched into the tight lines of her jaw, the fleeting sadness in her eyes when she thought I wasn't looking.
It was a burden she refused to share, a locked door I couldn't pry open.
As I mulled over those thoughts, my eyes instinctively drifted upward through the open shoji screens. There she was, perched on the tiled rooftop, her silhouette framed against a velvet sky dusted with stars.
She gazed upward with a look that said she wanted to believe in something more.
Something peaceful. Something brighter. The moonlight bathed her in silver, catching the delicate curve of her cheek, making her seem almost ethereal, like a spirit caught between worlds.
Maybe… tonight was the night.
I was going to confess to her.
She's so damn cute when she's angry, all fire and fury packed into that petite 5'3" frame, her hands balled into fists like she could punch through a demon's skull.
Compared to my 5'11" height—well, my adjusted height thanks to a bit of body manipulation—I still towered over her.
My real height is 6'3", but I toned it down to not stand out too much among the Demon Slayer Corps, except for the Stone Hashira, of course.
That guy's built like a mountain and cries like a river, his tears probably watering the estate's gardens.
Anyway… yeah.
Just a simple talk with Shinobu.
I could do this. I already knew how she felt… just like she knew how I did. My heart thumped like a war drum as I climbed to the roof, the cool night air brushing my skin.
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Shinobu Kocho (POV)
Tonight, the sky is calm, serene, and even beautiful, a tapestry of stars woven into an inky blackness that stretches over the Butterfly Estate like a protective shroud.
Yet no matter how still the night may be, my thoughts remain restless, circling back to what happened these 3 days, spiraling like moths around a lantern.
I keep telling myself it isn't love. It can't be. But still… he keeps drawing my attention, like a magnet pulling at the iron in my blood.
The first time I laid eyes on him, I thought, He's too handsome to be real. I'd never seen anyone like him before, with sharp Indo-Western features—high cheekbones and eyes that held a quiet storm. He stands out so easily in the sea of traditional haori and hakama.
But it's not just his appearance. There's a quiet strength in him, a warmth in his smile that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. He's kind, caring… strong. Too strong to ignore, like a heartbeat, you can't tune out.
I lie back on the rooftop, the cool tiles grounding me as my eyes fixed on the scattered stars above, each one a tiny pinprick of hope in the vast darkness.
I thought stargazing might clear my mind, and untangle the knots in my chest. I was wrong.
Happiness—what a lovely thing it is. To laugh freely, cheeks aching from smiles. To have a family of your own, a home filled with warmth and chatter…
That life sounds beautiful, like a dream painted in soft pastels. But I know I can't have that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
My sister was taken from me, slaughtered by the monster I hate most, her blood staining my memories red. That pain is still etched into every breath I take, sharp as a blade. I can't allow myself to forget it. I won't.
That's why I want to fight Alex. I need to know—what kind of strength is required to kill an Upper Moon? If I can't match him even a little, then I'll offer up my life to take that demon down myself, my poison-laced resolve the only weapon I have left.
There's no room in my path for things like love or fleeting attraction. My heart belongs to my goal… and to the memory of the sister I swore I'd avenge.
"What are you doing here alone?"
His voice was soft, gentle even, but laced with something more—understanding, like a hand extended through the fog of my thoughts. When I turned slightly, his eyes met mine, warm and steady, and without a word, they seemed to say: Don't carry everything on your own. Ask for help.
I ignored that unspoken plea, my walls too high to let it in.
Instead, I shifted my gaze back toward the vast night sky, watching the stars glitter faintly above the horizon, cold and distant, like the fate I had chosen. The roof tiles pressed against my back, their chill seeping through my haori.
"I was just thinking about what might happen tomorrow," I said quietly, keeping my eyes skyward, my voice barely louder than the crickets chirping in the garden below. "We have that meeting with Oyakata-sama… and well, you are the main reason for it."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alex approaching, his footsteps light on the creaky roof. Without hesitation, he lay down beside me, his arms folded behind his head as he joined me in stargazing, his presence warm against the cool night air.
"Well," he said, voice calm as a still pond, "I'll help the Demon Slayer Corps defeat Muzan. But we'll need to set the plan in motion carefully. He won't leave his hiding place now. After watching me kill Akaza with the complete version of sun breathing with complete version, he's too afraid to risk his precious life."
I turned slightly, eyes narrowing with curiosity, my braid swaying gently in the breeze. "So what's the plan?"
"We need to draw him out, with a bait strong enough to tempt him. But before that, the Corps needs preparation. Everyone… even the Hashiras…and blacksmiths.. need to train."
"You will train us?" I echoed, surprised, my voice tinged with a mix of skepticism and intrigue. The moment those words left my lips, I found myself sitting up, eyes fixed on Alex, who still lay stretched out beside me, the stars painting patterns across his skin, his dark hair catching the moonlight like polished obsidian.
For a second, a memory flashed—this morning. The sudden clash during sparring, the tumble into the soft grass, the shared heartbeat as we lay there, tangled and breathless, his face inches from mine. My cheeks warmed at the thought.
And then… I saw it. A faint blush rose to his cheeks, dusting them pink under the starlight.
He's thinking about it too, I realized, my heart skipping like a stone across water.
Our eyes met again, neither of us saying a word, just lingering in that suspended moment, caught between clarity and confusion, the air between us humming with unspoken things. Before I could say anything, he turned his gaze back toward the sky, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
And so did I, my fingers tightening around the hem of my haori.
"Don't try to do anything stupid that'll make everyone sad, especially me," Alex said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, carrying a gentle concern that made my chest ache. "Ask for help."
I glanced at him, surprised by the warmth in his tone, like a hearth fire on a winter night. "Tomorrow… a friend of mine will be joining us," he added after a pause. "If you need anything, ask her. She'll help you."
"…She?" I repeated, slowly turning my head toward him, my voice laced with a playful edge, though a tiny thorn of something else—jealousy?—pricked at my heart.
A sly smile curved my lips as I watched him freeze, his confident demeanor cracking for a brief moment, his eyes widening like a deer caught in torchlight.
"Ara~ara, Alex-san," I teased, leaning just slightly closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of cedar on his clothes. "When will I get to meet this mysterious 'she'?"
He cleared his throat and looked away, doing everything in his power to avoid meeting my eyes, his ears turning a delightful shade of red. "Tomorrow. I'll introduce her when the meeting starts," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.
But even as I smiled, something inside me twisted slightly, a pang I couldn't quite name. I hated this. I hated how easily emotions clouded my mind when I was supposed to stay focused, sharp as a blade.
I hated how a single word—she—brought with it a subtle ache in my chest, like a bruise I didn't know I had.
I stood up slowly, brushing invisible dust from my haori, the fabric rustling softly. "Well then, if there's nothing else to say, I'll take my leave," I said, my voice calm, and controlled, a perfect mask over the storm inside.
But inwardly, I knew I was overreacting. He just got here, I told myself. He barely knows anyone. I shouldn't feel this way.
But still… that feeling lingered, sharp and uninvited.
Is this… envy? Even though Alex said she was just a friend, not his fiancée, not his wife, the word had already sunk deep into my thoughts—uninvited and unwelcome, like a splinter under skin.
As I turned away, intending to walk off and hide my emotions behind the mask I always wore, I felt a sudden tug—firm but careful. My eyes widened in surprise as Alex's hand closed around mine, warm and steady, pulling me back with just enough force to make me stumble.
I stumbled, caught off guard, and the next thing I knew, I was falling. But not alone.
This time, he was the one on top, his weight pinning me gently to the rooftop, his arm cradling my head to soften the fall. The stars above framed his face, his eyes wide with panic and something deeper—something raw.
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ALEX (POV)
"No…"
The word escaped my lips before I could stop it, raw and desperate, as if letting her walk away would tear something vital from me. I couldn't let her go, not like this. Not with a heart full of misunderstanding… even though technically, it wasn't a misunderstanding.
Yes, I had feelings for Cara. We'd been through a lot—moments that forged a bond I couldn't ignore. I wanted to let things unfold naturally between us like a river finding its course. But Shinobu… she was different, a spark in a storm.
There was something about her. Something unexplainable, like the pull of gravity or the way firelight dances. Even with just a month left in this world, I found myself drawn to her—again and again,
her sharp wit and fiery spirit igniting something in me I thought I'd buried long ago. And now, seeing her eyes darken with jealousy when I mentioned Cara... it hit me like a blade across the chest, sharp and searing.
She feels something for me, too.
And I'm not one of those beta protagonists who miss all the signs, stumbling through life like a clueless idiot. No. I've learned from the past. Mira fooled me once, but I did know what love felt like in college. It was raw, it was painful, and it was real.
Mira was the only one back then who made me feel something… until now. Even though you can call me scumbag but I feel it towards Jean who I haven't even seen and Cara too, their presence lingering like ghosts in my heart.
Now it's Shinobu, her violet eyes cutting through my defenses like a Nichirin Blade.
But what do I do? I already have Jean and Cara. How do I even begin to say: "Hey, I want a harem." That sounds like a joke from some trashy anime, the kind where the protagonist trips into a girl's lap and somehow wins her heart. But this—this isn't a game to me. This is real, messy, and terrifying.
And seeing Shinobu walk away with that pain in her eyes, her shoulders stiff with unspoken hurt? I couldn't take it. It was like watching a star dim before my eyes.
So I reached for her. Pulled her toward me with just enough strength, my heart pounding like a war drum. Too light—why is she so light?—and as she lost her balance, I instinctively shielded her head with my arm, my body moving before my brain could catch up.
She landed softly, the weight of her body pressed gently against mine, her haori fanning out like butterfly wings. And just like that morning… our faces were close. Too close, her breath warm against my cheek, her eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears.
My heart pounded a wild rhythm that drowned out the crickets and the rustling wisteria below.
"I know you're misunderstanding... well, maybe not completely," I said, struggling to find the right words as I stared into her stunned violet eyes, their depths pulling me in like a riptide. "Yes, I care for her. I like her... But—"
Her fists clenched against my shirt, her knuckles white. I felt the trembling in her hands, delicate but fierce, like a bird caught in a storm.
She's already thinking it's over. That I belong to someone else. That she was too late.
Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, catching the starlight like tiny diamonds.
"But I feel the same towards you," I blurted, the words spilling out before I could think, raw and unfiltered. "I know I sound weird—I know you'll probably think I'm some pervert. But I'm not. I… I really like you. And my feelings—they're real. They're not about your body, not lust, not anything shallow. It's you, Shinobu. Just you—your fire, your laugh, the way you glare at me when I dodge your attacks."
I shut my eyes tightly, bracing myself for the slap, or maybe for her to run away, her footsteps echoing into the night.
But then… a soft warmth pressed against my cheek, fleeting and gentle, like a butterfly's touch.
I opened my eyes in shock—only to catch a glimpse of her silhouette disappearing into the hallway, her haori swaying like a fleeting dream.
"If you're really telling the truth…" she said quietly, not turning back, her voice soft but steady, "then… I'll think about it," which I heard as clearly as day, each word a spark of hope.
And just like that, she was gone. But my heart… still raced with happiness, a wild, triumphant joy that made me want to shout to the stars.
"Yes!" I exclaimed, raising my fist with a grin of triumph, the night air cool against my flushed skin.
From the corner of the room, just barely visible behind a sliding door, Shinobu peeked out. Her violet eyes sparkled with mischief, and a soft giggle escaped her lips as she watched me, her cheeks dusted with a faint blush that betrayed the warmth growing within her. The wisteria trees swayed gently below as if laughing along with her.
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UBAYASHIKI ESTATE (MORNING)
General POV
The Ubuyashiki Estate was cloaked in silence, save for the rustle of the wind brushing the sakura trees, their petals drifting like soft pink snow across the manicured gardens. Inside the grand hall, all the Hashira were kneeling in perfect symmetry on polished tatami mats, heads bowed respectfully before the frail figure at the front—
The master of the Demon Slayer Corps, Kagaya Ubuyashiki. The air was heavy with the scent of cedar and incense, the room lit by soft morning light filtering through paper screens.
His skin was pallid, his breathing shallow, each breath a quiet battle against his wasting illness. And yet the aura of calm strength he radiated made even the strongest Hashira feel at ease, like a still lake reflecting the sky.
All bowed... all except Alex, who stood tall, hands calmly folded behind his back, not out of arrogance—but because kneeling was something he offered only to those he considered who suffered the most and still chooses the path of good, his posture straight as a blade.
Ubuyashiki's sunken eyes turned toward him, and a soft smile crept across his lips despite the effort it took, his face lined with both wisdom and weariness.
"Well, you must be Alex-san," he said, his voice quiet but dignified, carrying the weight of a leader who had seen too much loss.
"It is an honor to meet you. The feat you achieved… slaying Upper Moon Three. You not only aided the Demon Slayer Corps but also saved countless innocent lives across the region."
Alex's response was devoid of pride, his tone flat and blunt, cutting through the reverence like a cold wind.
"It was easy. You don't need to thank me." He paused, his gaze sharp as steel, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk.
"The real issue is Muzan. After what he saw—the improved version of the Sun Breathing technique I demonstrated—he won't dare come out of hiding. Not for a while, at least."
He already knew they knew about Sun Breathing, as she was told by Shinobu before, her voice echoing in his memory.
Silence followed, thick and heavy, broken only by the faint chirping of sparrows outside.
A subtle twitch crept onto Kagaya's lips, uncertain whether to laugh or sigh, his frail hands resting calmly in his lap. The way Alex spoke of defeating an Upper Moon demon as if it were nothing more than swatting a fly, was incomprehensible to most in the room, their minds reeling at his nonchalance.
And then—
"Hmph!" A gruff sound of annoyance cut through the hall, sharp as a blade.
Sanemi, the Wind Hashira, scowled with barely concealed irritation, his scarred arms crossed tightly over his chest, his white haori stark against the warm tones of the room. His expression was sharp and suspicious, his eyes narrowing like a wolf sizing up a stranger.
"If it was so damn easy, then why didn't you kill any demons before now? Just waltz in outta nowhere and start acting like you're the Corps' savior."
That was the unspoken question burning in every Hashira's mind, a fire stoked by doubt and curiosity.
Who was Alex? Where did he come from?
And how had he killed an Upper Moon demon with the kind of ease that defied everything they knew, especially Shinobu? She wanted to know more about Alex, her gaze lingering on him from across the room, her ear slightly red.
Before anyone else could speak, Rengoku stepped forward, placing one hand respectfully on his chest, his fiery haori blazing like a sunrise.
"Sanemi-dono," he began, voice steady and full of conviction, booming as a war cry tempered with honor, "Alex-san is on humanity's side. I can vouch for him with my life."
He paused, glancing at Alex with a look of admiration, his golden eyes gleaming with respect. "He is someone who walked a path I wish to follow. A teacher... not in name, but in strength. In the old times, such a person would be called a master."
There was reverence in his words—honor, not submission, his voice resonating through the hall like a bell.
"Well," I began, stepping forward slightly as all eyes in the room fixed on me, the weight of their scrutiny like a physical force. "I came from a faraway land... a place you can't even imagine. And if that's hard for you to believe, then so be it—it's your choice."
My voice remained calm but firm, steady as the earth beneath my feet.
"As for who I am... You don't need to worry about that. Just know this—I walk the path of good, and I mean no harm to any of you. My only goal is to aid the Demon Slayer Corps in defeating Muzan. And I'm not alone. A friend of mine has come as well, and she'll be assisting us."
There was a brief pause before I delivered the next piece, my voice dropping to a deliberate cadence. "But first... we need a bait."
The room collectively froze, the air growing taut as a drawn bowstring.
"Bait?" all the Hashira echoed in unison—except for Shinobu, who already knew part of this plan, though even she was unaware of what, exactly, the "bait" would be, her lips pursed in thought.
The other exception was Muichiro, who was too busy glancing at the sparrows outside the window, his misty eyes tracking their flight as if they held the secrets of the universe.
I folded my arms and looked around the room, letting the question settle, my gaze sweeping over their faces—some curious, some skeptical, all intense. "Think about it. What does Muzan want more than anything else in this world?"
The Hashira exchanged murmurs, their voices a low hum like bees in a hive.
Mitsuri, the Love Hashira, tilted her head, her pink braids swaying as she clasped her hands together. "Is it... Love?" she asked innocently, her voice bright as a spring morning, her cheeks flushing with hope.
Sanemi and Obanai, the Wind and Snake Hashira, both frowned, their expressions sour enough to curdle milk—clearly out of their depth.
Their IQs combined might still not make it to room temperature, I thought with a smirk.
Giyu, the Water Hashira, remained stoically silent, his blue eyes unreadable, which might have been his answer or just him being himself, a human equivalent of a still pond.
Shinobu stood in thoughtful silence, her fingers brushing the hilt of her blade, her mind no doubt racing.
Muichiro blinked slowly, clearly still thinking about clouds, his head tilted like a curious puppy.
With a grin stretching across his face, Tengen leaned back, his headband glinting in the light.
"What, does he want to become the God of Flashiness now?" he boomed, striking a pose that was equal parts ridiculous and theatrical.
The other Hashira exchanged glances, some chuckling, some groaning at his typical flamboyant remark, the tension in the room easing for a moment.
"Hey, Tengen," Sanemi snapped, rolling his eyes, "if Muzan's after flashiness, you're the perfect bait. You'd blind him with that headband alone."
"Ha! Jealous of my style, Shinazugawa?" Tengen shot back, winking. "Maybe if you smiled more, you'd outshine me."
The reason the meeting had been postponed for three days was, unsurprisingly, because of him.
Tengen had gone to the Red-Light District—the same area once haunted by the presence of Upper Moon Six, its lantern-lit streets now eerily quiet.
After Akaza's death, however, all demonic activity in the district had abruptly ceased, as if Muzan himself had recalled his demons, pulling them back like shadows at dawn.
That sudden withdrawal wasn't a coincidence. I knew it. Muzan was planning something, his schemes lurking like a predator in the dark.
I had shared my suspicions with Shinobu in confidence, her sharp mind catching every detail as we spoke under the wisteria trees. She, in turn, passed the message along to Kagaya Ubuyashiki.
That quiet exchange sparked the real reason behind this emergency meeting—to discuss, prepare, and act. To finally set a course for Muzan's defeat… and to crush the Twelve Kizuki once and for all.
But then, from the far end of the room, the Stone Hashira, Gyomei Himejima, lifted his head, his massive frame like a boulder in the hall.
His tear-soaked face—somehow always drenched with divine emotion—reflected solemn understanding, his prayer beads clicking softly in his hands.
"Immunity to sunlight," he said gently, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder.
"That's what Muzan and all demons crave but can never attain. The ancient records describe it clearly. He cannot be decapitated... only the sun can kill him."
I glanced sideways at him, raising an eyebrow. How does this guy cry all day and not die of dehydration? I wondered, half-amused. Either his tear ducts are divine, or he's been blessed with the world's strongest kidneys.
"Well," I said with a half-shrug, my voice light but pointed, "at least one Hashira here uses his brain."
Kagaya's lips twitched slightly, a flicker of amusement or resignation—I couldn't tell—but he said nothing, his hands folded calmly in his lap.
"Yes," I confirmed, my tone sharpening as I met their gazes. "Our plan is to create a demon who has immunity to sunlight. And we've already done it."
I turned my head toward the open courtyard, the sakura petals swirling in the breeze, and called out, "Cara, bring Nezuko."
From the corridor beyond, Cara appeared, walking calmly into view, her steps steady and confident, with Nezuko by her side, her small figure radiant in the morning light.
Gasps echoed through the room, sharp and disbelieving. Even Kagaya's breath hitched faintly, his frail hands tightening slightly.
Nezuko was... walking. In broad daylight. Without the slightest hint of discomfort, her skin glowed with a warmth that defied everything the Hashira knew.
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**Flashback**
Back when we were saving passengers and resting in a village, the system space was finally unlocked, a vast, ethereal plane where time seemed to bend.
With that, I gained access to Cara and executed the plan we had before, our minds aligned like gears in a machine.
Immediately, we used our drones—sleek, humming devices built by Cara and me—to map out the country in search of Tamayo, the demon doctor responsible for Nezuko's condition.
Using the contents of a letter from Tanjiro and a sample of Nezuko's blood, Cara tracked her down within hours.
Tamayo didn't find Cara suspicious—why would she? Cara had a calm demeanor, her voice soothing as she explained everything with ease, her words weaving trust like a spell.
The two worked together for three days straight, researching non-stop for a cure in a hidden laboratory tucked away in the mountains, its walls lined with herbs and glowing vials.
To test their success, they used a concentrated version of UV rays also built into the system space, specifically tuned to target demons, the light harsh and unforgiving. Normally, even minimal exposure would cause a reaction—burning, agony, and smoke.
But Nezuko... had none.
Her skin remained unscathed, soft, and human under the artificial sun. Her energy levels were stable, and her eyes were clear and bright. Her hunger for human flesh? Gone, replaced by a quiet calm. The cure had worked perfectly, a miracle born of science and determination.
**Flashback End**
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GENERAL POV
After gaining a deeper understanding of the situation, Kagaya and all the Hashira learned the full truth from Cara. She and Tomoya—a demon—had been working together on developing a cure. The breakthrough had only been possible because of Nezuko.
She was the sole demon who had never consumed a single human after turning. Her resistance became the foundation of the cure. It was her blood, her willpower, and her purity that made it all possible.
The cure could work on other demons—but at a cost.
For those who had fed on humans, the pain was far greater. The more a demon had eaten throughout their life, the more unbearable the agony they would suffer during the transformation.
It was as if the gods themselves were testing them—judging if they were truly worthy of being saved.
Tanjiro still didn't know. But he would—very soon.
Because, at that very moment, he was sprinting across the courtyard, panic carved deep into his face, his haori flapping wildly. The Sakura petals swirled around him, a storm of pink against his frantic pace.
Why? Because Nezuko's casket was empty.
Zenitsu and Inosuke were losing their minds trying to find her, their voices echoing through the estate like a chaotic symphony—Zenitsu's wails high-pitched, Inosuke's roars indignant.
From behind a gnarled cherry tree, Tanjiro emerged, his breathing frantic, his forehead slick with sweat. His nose twitched, desperate to catch her scent, but failed.
Her smell… had changed, no longer carrying the demonic trace he was used to. But even amidst that confusion, his senses locked onto someone else.
"Alex-san!" he cried out, tears forming in his eyes, his voice cracking with desperation. "Nezuko's not in her casket—we can't find her anywhere in the mansion!"
I looked at him calmly, hands in my haori, and tilted my head toward the garden, where sunlight spilled like liquid gold. "If you just look around," I said with a small smile, my voice steady, "you might find her."
Confused, a question mark practically hovering above his head, Tanjiro followed my gaze, his eyes wide and searching. And then he saw her.
He froze, his breath catching in his throat.
There, bathed in golden sunlight, was a figure stepping slowly across the courtyard. Barefoot, her toes brushing the soft grass. Hesitant, as if testing the warmth of the sun.
Her dark hair flowed behind her, catching the breeze, and shimmering like silk. Her soft eyes looked up, filled with warmth, no longer hidden behind a bamboo muzzle.
And then a voice. Gentle. Familiar. Hers. "Niisan…"
Tanjiro's heart, long weighed down by the crushing responsibility of returning Nezuko to humanity, shattered and healed all at once, like a dam breaking to release a flood of joy.
"Nezuko…" he whispered, disbelief catching in his throat, his voice trembling. He blinked hard, trying to see clearly through the blinding tears. But it wasn't a dream.
She was real. In the sun. And she wasn't burning. No smoke. No agony. Just warmth. Just life.
She stood there, glowing in the morning light—completely untouched by the sun, her kimono catching the breeze like a soft melody.
Tanjiro's knees nearly buckled, his legs trembling under the weight of relief. "You're… in the sun…"
She nodded, one single tear slipping down her cheek, catching the sunlight like a prism. "I'm human again, Niisan…"
His heart leaped, a wild surge of joy and exhaustion. His body screamed as he ran forward, powered only by emotion, his feet pounding the earth.
Nezuko dropped to her knees and caught him in her arms, her embrace warm and solid. "Niisan…"
"Nezuko…" he sobbed into her shoulder, the tears falling freely, soaking into her kimono. "You're back… you're really back…"
They clung to each other beneath the blue sky, basking in the sunlight that had once been their enemy, the sakura petals swirling around them like a gentle blessing.
And after so many years of fear, pain, and running, this warmth was real. This moment was theirs.
For the first time in forever… Tanjiro smiled through his tears, his face radiant with hope.
Zenitsu and Inosuke, who had followed Tanjiro in desperation, came skidding to a stop, their eyes wide with shock. Zenitsu's jaw dropped, his voice caught in a squeak. "N-Nezuko-chan? In the sun?"
Inosuke, for once, was speechless, his boar mask tilted as he stared. "What the—how's she not crispy?!"
And when they saw her—saw Nezuko—their expressions crumbled too. They ran forward, joining the reunion, embracing her in their own loud and chaotic way, Zenitsu wailing about her beauty, Inosuke demanding to know if she could still fight.
All the Hashira, who had been watching in silence, slowly walked over, their footsteps soft on the grass.
Even Giyu Tomioka—stoic, reserved, unreadable—had a faint, genuine smile on his lips, his blue eyes softening for the first time in ages.
Nezuko, still glowing and cheerful, looked up at Sanemi with a soft, uncertain expression, her eyes wide.
Surprisingly, the Wind Hashira placed a firm, almost brotherly hand on her head, his rough fingers gentle. A silent blessing. Then he turned to me and gave a small nod of gratitude, his usual scowl softened just enough to notice.
I returned it without a word, a quiet understanding passing between us.
After the emotion settled and the reunion quieted into peaceful warmth, the sakura trees swaying gently in the breeze, I stepped forward, my voice cutting through the moment like a blade.
"Now," I said, turning to face the gathered Hashira, their faces a mix of awe and resolve, "we have something Muzan desires more than anything."
They all went still, the air growing heavy once more.
"Even though he and the Kizuki cannot attack the Demon Slayer Corps directly—not while it's protected by Wisteria—we must prepare. We now hold the one thing he has always sought."
I looked at each of them, my tone shifting into something colder, sharper, my eyes narrowing like a predator's.
"We must call upon every Demon Slayer and blacksmith from the village. It's time to begin a full-scale training campaign—at my place (system space). That includes all of you… Hashira included."
Their faces didn't flinch. Not a single one backed down. Not even for a second.
Except maybe for Shinobu and Rengoku, who wore understanding smiles, Shinobu's laced with a teasing edge, Rengoku's burning with enthusiasm.
The rest? They wanted to test me. To see for themselves what I was capable of. Even Muichiro, who had spaced out a moment ago, was now watching me with renewed focus, his misty eyes sharp for once.
Sanemi cracked his knuckles, a grin spreading across his face. "Bring it on, pretty boy. Let's see if you're as tough as you talk."
"Oh, Sanemi," Shinobu chimed in, her voice dripping with mock sweetness, "don't cry when he dodges you as he dodges me. It's quite embarrassing, you know."
The Hashira chuckled, the tension breaking like a wave, and I couldn't help but smirk. This was going to be interesting.
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Author's Note
This moment marks Alex's first confession in this new world. Some might think it's too fast—but to Alex, it's not about timing. It's about not wasting a single chance, seizing the fleeting moments before they slip away like sand.
He knows that behind Shinobu's smile lies a storm of grief and pain—a need for justice that could one day consume her entirely, a fire that burns too bright to last.
And so, before that fire claims her heart, he chooses to speak. Not out of impulse, but out of hope—
Hope that maybe, just maybe… love could give her something stronger than revenge, a light to guide her through the darkness.
If you'd like to share your thoughts, feelings, or even your own take on Alex and Shinobu, feel free to leave a comment. I'm always happy to hear from you.