Zenitsu landed hard on the roof of the suspended house, the impact sending a dull shock through his body. He rolled onto his back, panting heavily, his limbs trembling from both exhaustion and the creeping poison that burned through his veins. The night air was thick and still, the moon casting long shadows across the web-covered structure. His breath came out ragged, and every inhale felt heavier than the last.
"Ahh… hurts," he muttered weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Everything… hurts…"
He stared up at the sky, its faint glow barely visible through the dense canopy above. For a moment, it felt like the whole world had gone quiet—no demons, no screams, no thunder in his ears. Just him and the stars.
"If you're going to cry, do it after you win!"
Zenitsu chuckled weakly, the sound turning into a cough as the venom flared up in his chest. He could feel it spreading faster now—the tingling in his fingertips, the numbness in his legs. His skin was slick with sweat, and the edges of his vision began to darken.
"I guess… this is it," he whispered. "I couldn't become someone who could help… like Gramps wanted. Someone who wasn't just… useless and scared." He let out a shaky breath, staring at the dark canopy above. "Guess my dream's over now, though… this poison… it's really gonna kill me."
Something fluttered beside him—a faint, soft sound. Zenitsu turned his head slightly, blinking in surprise.
"Chuntaro…"
His little sparrow landed beside him, its tiny chest heaving rapidly, eyes glistening with tears. It chirped frantically, hopping close and pecking gently at Zenitsu's shoulder, trying to wake him, trying to keep him moving.
"Hey… don't cry," Zenitsu murmured with a tired grin. "You're supposed to be a brave little bird, right? You always told me to stop whining and do something… heh." He reached out with a trembling hand and gently brushed Chuntaro's feathers.
The sparrow chirped loudly, shaking its head, as if scolding him. Then, unable to hold it in any longer, it spread its wings and flew away, disappearing into the dark forest.
Zenitsu's smile faded, his heart aching as he watched his tiny companion vanish into the trees. "Sorry… guess I really let you down too."
But then—his master's voice echoed again in his mind.
"Don't ever give up, Zenitsu! Even if you're scared, even if you're dying—keep breathing. Keep fighting!"
Zenitsu's eyes widened. His hand clenched weakly at his chest, and his breath caught.
"Don't ever… give up…" he repeated, the words trembling on his lips.
He shut his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeper, sharper, stronger. Inhale. Exhale. The air rushed through his lungs, his chest burning with each rhythm. Slowly, deliberately, he began to control his pulse. His master had taught him this—how to channel his breathing to sharpen his senses, strengthen his muscles, and even slow the flow of poison through his blood.
"Can't… let Tanjiro get mad at me," Zenitsu whispered, trying to smile again through the pain. "He'd totally scold me for dying here. And Inosuke would… probably call me a weakling."
He winced, focusing harder, his breathing becoming rhythmic and steady, matching the pulse of his heart. Every muscle in his body screamed, but he endured it. He could feel the poison slowing, his head clearing ever so slightly.
"Not yet… not yet…" he whispered. "I'll live… Gramps, I'll live."
•••
Elsewhere, the forest was eerily silent except for the faint buzz of insects and the rustle of leaves in the wind.
Two figures stepped through the undergrowth—one cloaked in deep purple, the other in the distinct haori of the Water Hashira. Shinobu Kocho's eyes scanned the carnage before her: dozens of lifeless Demon Slayers scattered along the forest path, their faces pale and twisted in pain.
Her lips curved into a small, melancholic smile. "It's quite the mess, isn't it, Giyu?" she said softly.
Giyu Tomioka didn't respond. His usually impassive face was even colder than usual, his hand resting quietly on the hilt of his sword as he surveyed the fallen. The air was thick with blood, grief, and lingering traces of demonic energy.
Shinobu tilted her head slightly, watching him. "You look unusually quiet. Were you acquainted with any of them?"
"…No," Giyu replied after a long pause, his tone flat but low.
Shinobu sighed softly. "Still, it's tragic. There are no survivors, from the look of it." Her eyes softened briefly. "They were all so young…"
Giyu crouched near one of the bodies, examining the wounds. "They didn't even have a chance to fight back," he said quietly.
Shinobu's gaze turned toward the shadowed mountain looming above them—Mount Natagumo. The faint scent of blood drifted down from it, mingled with the faint trace of webs. "We were told that several Mizunoto joined the battle here," she said, adjusting her butterfly hairpin. "But I suppose it's safe to assume they've been killed as well."
Before Giyu could respond, a sudden fluttering sound broke the stillness. A small sparrow—its feathers ruffled and wings frantic—burst through the trees and landed on Shinobu's shoulder.
"Oh my," she said softly, surprised. "A Kasugai Sparrow?"
Chuntaro chirped urgently, hopping and flapping, his tiny body trembling with exhaustion. His sharp, panicked chirps carried a clear message—the forest still held someone alive. A poisoned Demon Slayer… clinging to life atop a web-covered house.
Shinobu's eyes widened slightly in realization. "So there is a survivor after all." She turned toward Giyu with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Shall we?"
Giyu nodded curtly. "We'll split up," he said. "I'll take the left path toward the mountain's core. You handle the lower area."
"Of course," Shinobu replied, her tone light, though her gaze was sharp as she watched Chuntaro flutter toward the direction of Zenitsu's location. "Try not to die before I arrive, Tomioka-san."
Without waiting for a response, she darted off, her footsteps light and silent as a whisper, the butterfly emblem on her haori fading into the darkness.
~~~