The moon cast long, eerie shadows across the quiet grove as Zenitsu and Inosuke carefully carried Nezuko's box. The journey was silent, their injuries a dull ache compared to the heavy weight in their hearts. They arrived at the peaceful spot where Tanjiro was buried alongside his family, the moonlight illuminating the simple wooden marker.
Zenitsu gently placed Nezuko's box down. He and Inosuke exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. With trembling hands, Zenitsu slid the door open. Nezuko blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. She looked around, a soft hum escaping her lips, her gaze searching for her brother in the darkness.
She tilted her head, a question in her pink eyes as she looked at Zenitsu and Inosuke, then back at the unfamiliar mound of earth bathed in silver moonlight. Slowly, hesitantly, she crawled out of her box. Her small hand reached out, touching the cool soil of the grave. Her eyes widened, and a low whimper escaped her throat. She moved to the wooden marker, her fingers tracing the characters of Tanjiro's name. The reality seemed to dawn on her slowly, like a chilling wave washing over her. Her breath hitched, and then, a sound of pure, unadulterated sorrow ripped from her chest – a sound that echoed the emptiness now in their hearts, carried by the night wind. Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her face, glowing faintly in the moonlight, as she curled into a small ball beside the grave, her body shaking with silent grief. Zenitsu and Inosuke could only watch, tears of their own falling freely in the darkness as they witnessed Nezuko's heartbreaking realization under the solemn gaze of the moon.
A solemn atmosphere hung over the Butterfly Mansion. Even the usually cheerful calls of the little triplets were hushed. Several simple stone markers stood silently in the quiet graveyard where fallen Hashira were honoured. Senjuro Rengoku stood before one of them, clutching a small, intricately carved wooden urn to his chest. His young eyes were red and swollen, a clear testament to the tears he had shed for his departed brother. Etched into the stone marker was a single, powerful name: Rengoku Kyoujurou.
Meanwhile, far from the quiet sorrow of the Butterfly Mansion, at the Rengoku estate, the scene was starkly different. Shinjuro Rengoku sat hunched over in a dimly lit room, the bitter smell of sake thick in the air. He had not so politely chased away Senjuro when he wanted to go to Kyojuru's funeral.
In a quiet room overlooking the moonlit gardens, Shinobu found Giyuu standing by a window, his expression as still and unreadable as ever.
"Kanae always dreamed of a world where demons and humans could coexist peacefully," Shinobu said softly, approaching him.
Giyuu didn't turn, but his gaze softened slightly as he looked out at the night. "Kamado Nezuko... she is proof that such a thing might be possible."
"Indeed," Shinobu agreed, a wistful smile touching her lips. "A demon who fights for humans... it is something we never thought we would see."
Giyuu's expression turned serious. "But she is the only one. The risk... relying on a single exception... I still believe we must find a way to restore her humanity completely. It is too dangerous otherwise."
Shinobu's smile widened slightly, a hint of her usual teasing nature returning. "You would get yourself killed without me there to keep you in line, Tomioka-san. Always rushing headfirst."
Giyuu finally turned to look at her, a faint hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Perhaps. But some risks are necessary."
At the Butterfly Mansion, in a quiet room overlooking the moonlit gardens, Shinobu found Giyuu standing by a window, his expression as still and unreadable as ever.
"Kanae always dreamed of a world where demons and humans could coexist peacefully," Shinobu said softly, approaching him.
Giyuu didn't turn, but his gaze softened slightly as he looked out at the night. "Kamado Nezuko... she is proof that such a thing might be possible."
"Indeed," Shinobu agreed, a wistful smile touching her lips. "A demon who fights for humans... it is something we never thought we would see."
Giyuu's expression turned serious. "But she is the only one. The risk... relying on a single exception... I still believe we must find a way to restore her humanity completely. It is too dangerous otherwise."
Shinobu's smile widened slightly, a hint of her usual teasing nature returning. "You would get yourself killed without me there to keep you in line, Tomioka-san. Always rushing headfirst."
Giyuu finally turned to look at her, a faint hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Perhaps. But some risks are necessary."
Later that night, under the pale glow of the moon, at the Rengoku estate, Shinjuro Rengoku sat hunched over in his dimly lit room, the bitter smell of sake thick in the air. A third empty gourd lay discarded on the floor beside him, and he reached for another, his movements clumsy and filled with a desperate kind of oblivion.
A translucent figure materialized before him – Kyoujurou, his son, his eyes filled with a gentle light.
"Father," Kyoujurou's voice was soft but clear.
Shinjuro's eyes widened in disbelief, his drunken stupor momentarily forgotten. "Kyoujurou....?" His gaze suddenly hardened. "Even in death, you still come to spite me? " Without waiting for a response, his hand reached for the gourd of sake nearby and took a mouthful.
"Please, Father," Kyoujurou said, his gaze filled with concern despite his small smile.
" What do want to tell me so badly? That I was a terrible father, right? "
"You must take care of yourself, for Senjuro's sake."
Shinjuro's chest heaved and the gourd stalled, suspended midair by his right hand.
"I... I failed you both, didn't I?"
"No, Father," Kyoujurou said gently. "I understood the pain you carried after Mother passed. I forgave you, Father. For everything."
The dam inside Shinjuro broke. Tears streamed down his face as he reached out, his hands passing through his son's spectral form. He choked on his sobs, the grief and regret he had buried for so long finally overwhelming him. He crumbled, his body shaking, as the spirit of his beloved son stood before him, offering comfort and forgiveness in the silent darkness.
Kyojuro embraced his father back. He could feel it. His body was slowly fading, disintegrating into small blue particles carried by the gentle midnight breeze. Just enough time for one more request.
" Also, " he began, " Don't meet me too soon, promise?"
Shinjuro looked up into his firstborn's eyes. They carried no hatred or contempt like he believed they would. Just joy and understanding. Wiping the tears from his eyes and smiling back, the gourd of sake long forgotten, he replied.
" Promise."
Kyojuro grinned again before fully fading away. Shinjuro stared where his son's spirit once stood. The ache in his heart was gone and ease and calm had taken its place. He stared at the gourd of sake he had dropped to embrace his son. When he left the room, it was in pieces.