Kanao's illness, under Soma's careful and attentive care, faded away within just a few days, leaving behind no trace but a lingering warmth in the quiet rhythm of their shared life.
"Uncle, can I start practicing my sword again?"
Seated before the dressing table, Kanao gazed into the mirror, her soft pink-violet eyes reflecting both hope and restraint as they settled on the figure standing behind her.
"No."
Soma's answer came without hesitation.
"Your body has only just recovered. Rest for a few more days."
As he spoke, he stood behind her, gently running a comb through her long, dark hair. His movements were steady, unhurried, as though each stroke carried its own quiet care. Before long, he gathered her hair into a high ponytail, then paused to study the reflection in the mirror.
A few loose strands framed her forehead, forming soft bangs that complemented her delicate features. Dressed neatly, she looked radiant in a way that felt both innocent and quietly resolute—possessing the sweetness of her age, yet touched by a faint, unspoken strength that seemed beyond it.
The frailty that once clung to her from malnourishment had long since disappeared. In its place, her figure had begun to fill out ever so slightly, still youthful, but no longer fragile.
"You're getting prettier by the day." He looked at the hairstyle in the mirror, quite satisfied with his handiwork.
Yet Kanao paid no attention to such things. In her mind, there was only one concern.
"But Uncle, I'm completely fine now. I should start training again."
Her tone carried quiet insistence.
After all, one day… she would be the one to protect him.
How could she allow herself to grow idle?
Lately, she even felt as though she was starting to gain weight. If this continued, who knew what she would become under his care? And beyond that, staying inside day after day had begun to feel suffocating.
There had been a time when Kanao could remain in one place indefinitely without discomfort. Back then, she had even liked it—being with him, sharing the stillness, the darkness.
But now…
Uncle had changed.
He no longer feared sunlight. Instead, he stood beneath it, unafraid.
And so, she had changed as well.
Because he stepped into the light, she found herself drawn to it too. Because he no longer wished to remain in cramped, shadowed caves, she too began to feel that such places were stifling.
"Then let's not stay inside today," Soma said at last, gently patting her head. "We'll go out for a walk."
"Yay!"
Kanao's response was immediate. She clenched her fist in delight, her face lighting up with unrestrained excitement.
Seeing her grow more lively with each passing day brought a quiet joy to Soma's heart. After finishing the last touches of her hair, he gave her head another gentle pat.
"Let's go."
Kanao sprang to her feet from the dressing table. When she saw that he had already reached the doorway, she hurried after him, her small steps quick and eager, until she caught up and reached out to grasp his hand without hesitation.
Soma glanced glanced down at their joined hands but said nothing, simply continuing forward.
"Tell me, Kanao," he asked after a moment, his tone casual, almost thoughtful. "Do you prefer staying in one place… or traveling from place to place?"
Kanao tilted her head slightly, her voice curious. "Is there a difference?"
"If you stay in one place, life is peaceful," he replied thoughtfully. "But it also becomes repetitive… like the days we've been having recently."
At that, her eyes brightened faintly.
These past few days—though quiet, though repetitive—had been, to her, deeply comforting.
"And traveling?"
"When you travel, you see different landscapes, meet different people, and experience different ways of living," Soma said with a faint smile. "It can be exciting… but it can also bring trouble."
"So both have good and bad sides."
Kanao's brows drew together slightly as she considered it, her expression conflicted. Then she looked up again.
"Which do you prefer, Uncle?"
"I'm not sure," he admitted, shaking his head lightly. "But if I stayed in one place forever… I think I'd eventually grow restless."
Kanao thought for only a moment before answering, her voice simple and certain.
"I'll follow Uncle. If you stay somewhere, I'll stay too. If you travel, I'll go with you."
Soma couldn't help but laugh, reaching out to tap her head with exaggerated disbelief.
"Oh? So you're planning on sticking to me for the rest of your life, are you?"
"Hehe~"
She grinned, her laughter soft and bright, as though the answer needed no words at all.
Kanao lifted a hand to rub the spot on her head where he had tapped her, her lips curving into a soft, almost silly smile—yet beneath that innocence lingered a faint trace of quiet pride, as though she found comfort in even such small, familiar gestures.
"Come on," Soma said, glancing ahead. "There's a restaurant up front. Let's go in and grab something to eat."
"But Uncle, your cooking is already really good," Kanao protested immediately, her tone earnest.
"That won't do," he replied with a sigh, half in jest. "I can't be the one cooking every single day."
"Well… it's not impossible," she murmured thoughtfully. Then, lifting her gaze, she added with a hint of anticipation, "You could teach me. Then I'll cook for you in the future."
"Ha…"
A quiet laugh escaped him, light and unguarded, as he led her by the hand into the restaurant. They found an empty table and sat down together.
It was midday, and the place was alive with noise and movement. Several tables were already occupied—some patrons raised cups of sake, laughing loudly as their voices overlapped, while others leaned closer together, speaking in hushed tones. The air was thick with the warmth of human life, the kind of bustling liveliness that carried the scent of ordinary days.
"Hey, Imai! Is that your new maid?"
A man seated at one of the tables leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed shamelessly on a girl who was bending slightly as she set dishes down.
"That backside is certainly something!"
Laughter broke out at the table as he called toward the owner behind the counter.
"Yeah, and that face of hers isn't bad either," another man chimed in, his tone dripping with mockery. "How old is she? Why not come serve me instead? You wouldn't have to run around carrying dishes—just stay at home and take care of me properly."
"Ha! With your size?" the first man scoffed, taking a swig of his drink. "You'd probably crush her to death."
"And what about you, with that pockmarked face? Don't act like you're any better," the other shot back, feigning indignation as more laughter followed.
The girl at the center of their crude amusement kept her head lowered. After placing the dishes neatly on the table, she pressed her lips together tightly, almost biting them, before turning and heading back toward the kitchen without a word.
She was dressed simply, her appearance plain but clean. Her long black hair had been neatly gathered into a rounded bun, the ends tinged faintly with orange. Her features were gentle and well-formed, her complexion clear, giving her an air that was both soft and quietly endearing.
For an unmarried girl, such vulgar remarks were difficult—almost unbearable—to endure. And yet, she said nothing. Swallowing it all in silence, she returned to the kitchen, lifting another tray to serve newly arrived guests.
Life had never been easy for her.
At home, her mother struggled alone to support the family, while her older brother worked tirelessly, searching for any kind of labor in town just to keep them afloat. It had not been easy for her to secure this job, and though it came with humiliation and disrespect from time to time, the wages she earned each month helped ease the burden, even if only a little.
Perhaps, if things continued like this, it wouldn't be long before their family could truly settle down in the town. Perhaps life would begin to improve.
As the thought of receiving her wages in a few days crossed her mind, her spirits lifted ever so slightly.
"That table by the window," the owner said in a low voice as she emerged again with a tray.
She nodded and made her way over without much thought.
By the window sat a man and a young girl.
The man was dressed simply, his figure tall and well-built, his posture relaxed as he gazed out beyond the window. From where she stood, his face remained unseen.
The girl seated by the window was strikingly beautiful.
Her clothes were finely made, her appearance carefully tended to, and her hair arranged with a quiet elegance that drew the eye without effort. Now and then, passing customers would glance her way, unable to help themselves—but unlike the waitress, not a single one dared to utter a crude remark in her direction. There was something about her, something subtle yet undeniable, that commanded restraint.
For a fleeting moment, the serving girl felt a strange sense of familiarity toward her, as though she had seen her somewhere before. Yet no matter how she searched her memory, nothing came to mind.
"Sir, here are the dishes you ordered."
Balancing the tray carefully, she stepped forward and bowed slightly, placing each plate onto the table one by one with practiced care.
At that moment, the man who had been gazing out the window turned back. His voice, when he spoke, was gentle and calm.
"Thank you."
"It's nothing, sir," she replied softly.
Compared to the other patrons, this man was unusually polite, and even his tone carried a quiet warmth. But as she lifted her head—just for a moment—to properly look at his face, everything changed.
Her expression froze.
Then, in an instant, the delicate, composed features of the girl shattered into pure, unfiltered terror, as though she had glimpsed something unspeakably horrifying—something that did not belong in this world.
"Ah—!"
The scream tore from her throat before she could stop it.
The tray slipped from her hands, dishes crashing and scattering across the floor as she staggered backward in panic. Her footing failed her, and she fell hard, scrambling away with wide, trembling eyes fixed on him.
"A demon… it's a demon!"
The entire room fell into sudden commotion as every head turned toward her.
The restaurant owner, Imai, frowned deeply, irritation flashing across his face. In broad daylight, how could there possibly be a demon? To him, it sounded like nothing more than absurd hysteria.
But Soma—who had been pointed at—showed only a flicker of surprise at first.
Then, as his gaze settled on the girl, recognition dawned, and with it came a quiet, unmistakable astonishment.
He had not expected to see her here.
Nezuko.
Yet, upon reflection, perhaps it was not so surprising after all.
After leaving the depths of the mountains, Kanao's illness had forced him to seek out a nearby town to find a physician. As for the Kamado family—a household made up largely of women and children—moving far from their home would have been no simple task. To have made it out of the mountains at all would already have been an ordeal.
In that light, crossing paths here… felt less like coincidence, and more like something inevitable.