"I hear they were frightened by how you treat the swordsmen."
Iwayuki leaned the easel against the wall and paused for a moment before continuing. "Mr. Hiru, I have a favor to ask of you."
"Hm?"
Hiru, who was arranging his painting tools, froze for a second and turned around. "What is it?"
"Even if my comrades are disrespectful to you, please refrain from using your Blood Demon Art in front of the Master."
"Afraid I'll scare the kids?" Hiru tilted his head, then turned back to pick up a brush. "Fine, but I'll still talk back. I'm not the saint my brother is."
Iwayuki fell silent for a while, then sighed softly and took his leave.
He didn't share Rengoku-sama's open-mindedness—the kind that could so easily separate the sins of demons from Yoriichi and Hiru themselves. Bitterness still lingered in his heart.
Yet he also knew that Hiru was a demon who could restrain himself even before rare blood, one who could still converse and coexist with people—a demon who hadn't lost his humanity.
And Yoriichi... was a man so pure-hearted that he bore all accusations without a word of complaint.
[If only Mr. Yoriichi didn't have those two brothers...]
The thought rose in Iwayuki's mind unbidden, but he quickly shook his head to drive it away.
After losing his wife, Yoriichi had looked calm on the surface, yet the sorrow in his eyes was unmistakable. Later, when he finally seemed at peace, betrayal came again—from that once-great swordsman now known as Kokushibo. Mr. Oborozuki had once said that in that moment, even Yoriichi's gentle eyes carried the shadow of death.
Now, Yoriichi lived once more, yet all his emotions were tied to Hiru. And the cruel irony was that Hiru was now a demon.
[To carry such kindness and still be denied its reward... what a cruel twist of fate.]
...
Unaware of the pity directed toward him, Yoriichi brought over a chair and sat beside Hiru. He quietly watched as Hiru hummed an unfamiliar yet cheerful tune, his brush gliding smoothly across the canvas.
At the center of the painting, there was no figure—just a faintly sketched outline of a human shape. But the flames that took up three-quarters of the paper were so vivid and alive they seemed ready to burst forth from the page.
[Is this... really me?]
As Yoriichi stared at the swirling, radiant flames, the question surfaced almost involuntarily.
"Brother, could you find me a lantern?" Hiru carefully removed the finished sheet and placed it aside, setting a new one on the easel. "I might need it later."
"Alright."
Yoriichi nodded and stood. But before leaving, he couldn't help glancing back—Hiru was already painting flames again on the second sheet.
When Yoriichi returned, he wasn't alone. Rengoku came carrying brushes and paper, and the towering Iwayuki followed close behind.
Their arrival didn't disturb Hiru, who remained fully immersed in his work.
Rengoku watched for a few moments, then sat at the low table and resumed writing his observations. Iwayuki exchanged a brief, wordless glance with Yoriichi before breaking the silence, asking about Muzan Kibutsuji.
Perhaps because Rengoku and Iwayuki were there, the Kakushi finally gathered the courage to bring food. Yet when Hiru raised his hand to greet them, they bolted away like frightened rabbits.
In the end, Hiru had to stop painting halfway and fetch a mirror, just to check if he'd accidentally turned into a monster.
...
By the time the sun set and the full moon rose, Hiru finally put down his brush. He carefully stacked four finished paintings together and secured them with the empty easel frame.
"There! I guess that's done, more or less!"
Yoriichi noticed that each painting left the center blank and frowned slightly. "Didn't you only paint the flames?"
Hiru stepped out of the shadows, closed the door, then turned back with a smile. "With my current ability, I can't hope to capture the form of a divine being."
Yoriichi blinked, then turned away with a sigh. "You're saying that again... I'm no divine being."
"Finished already?" Rengoku looked up from his notes. "Good timing—my report's just about complete too!"
"Whoa! Mr. Rengoku, you scared me!"
"Hahaha! Sorry! Never thought I'd be the one startling a demon!" Rengoku Tetsushiro laughed heartily. "But I am curious to see what Mr. Hiru painted!"
"You really take pride in the strangest things..." Hiru puffed up his cheeks and crouched by the lantern, muttering, "I'll never understand him."
"What are you doing, Mr. Hiru?" Iwayuki asked curiously. "Do you need a light source?"
"Yeah. Given what I know, this is the only way I can recreate what it looked like." Hiru adjusted the lantern's position until he was satisfied. "Could you help me turn off the other lights?"
When the room went completely dark, Hiru lit the lantern. Soft light seeped through the paper shell, passing through the layered paintings and casting an image onto the blank wall.
The stacked sheets and pigments intertwined, forming a projected vision.
The figure on the wall had indistinct features, but his stance was strong and upright. Flowing robes moved with the swirling flames around him, and the snow-white blade in his hand gleamed like a streak of light, striking straight ahead—a scene so breathtaking it drew the eye and soul alike.
Even through mere light and shadow, one could feel the oppressive power and divine majesty emanating from it.
Iwayuki stared blankly for a long moment. Could such a man truly exist?
Even Yoriichi himself was stunned. Was this how he appeared to others?
"Hmm, it's truly impressive," Rengoku said with arms crossed, "but it still doesn't capture even one percent of what I saw with my own eyes!"
"Not even one percent..." Hiru frowned in dissatisfaction. "More like one-thousandth! I thought it was decent while I was painting... Guess I should destroy it. Yeah, a clumsy work like this should be destroyed!"
Iwayuki instinctively reached out to stop him, but it was too late—Hiru had already crushed the paintings and the easel together.
"There! Black history erased!"
"Even if it couldn't match Mr. Yoriichi's true presence, it was still a fine piece," Rengoku said, folding his arms again. "A real pity."
"What's there to pity? I'll just paint a better one next time!"
Using his Blood Demon Art, Hiru absorbed the remains into the floor, then ran up to the still-stunned Yoriichi.
"Big brother, show me again! Your sword technique! It'll look even more amazing at night!"
Yoriichi finally stirred from his daze. After a brief pause, he reached out and ruffled Hiru's hair.
"Stop fooling around."
"Eh—but... but—" Hiru looked up into Yoriichi's gentle eyes and pouted. "Such a shame..."
Rengoku and Iwayuki rose to their feet, preparing to return to their lodgings.
Just before leaving, Iwayuki couldn't help asking, "Is he truly as dazzling as the painting showed?"
Rengoku Tetsushiro, still holding his notebook, smiled broadly. "Far beyond that!"
Iwayuki froze. Far beyond that?
But Rengoku didn't give him the chance to ask more. "Then, see you tomorrow! We'll need to leave early to meet the Master on time—make sure you rest well!"
As Rengoku disappeared down the corridor, Iwayuki lingered under the eaves for a while before quietly sliding the door open.
"They're all such transparent people."