Chapter Text
Michikatsu walked as though he were drifting through a dream that refused to end.
The world around him blurred at the edges, colors bleeding together into dull streaks of gray and brown. The ground beneath his feet shifted and tilted as if the earth itself had grown unstable. Each step felt wrong, unfamiliar, like he had forgotten how to walk properly. His legs trembled beneath him, muscles twitching uncontrollably as though they might give out at any moment.
He couldn’t remember when he had started running.
He couldn’t remember why.
All he knew was that at some point the frantic sprint had slowed into this hollow, wandering pace. His lungs burned faintly, but the pain felt distant, muffled behind the constant ringing in his ears. It was a sharp, piercing sound that drowned out the forest around him, no wind through the trees, no rustling leaves, no distant animals.
Just the ringing.
And the taste.
The taste wouldn’t leave.
Iron.
Thick. Heavy. Coating his tongue and the back of his throat like rusted metal. Every time he swallowed, it returned stronger, clinging stubbornly as though it had seeped into his very flesh.
His stomach lurched violently.
Michikatsu staggered forward another step before his knees buckled beneath him.
The ground slammed into him with brutal force. Dirt scraped against his palms and cheek as he collapsed fully, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. For a moment he simply lay there, unmoving, staring blankly at the dark soil inches from his face.
Something warm dripped down his temples.
He didn’t have the strength to lift his head, but the sensation continued, slow, steady drops falling from his chin into the dirt below. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as the dampness spread across his face.
Tears.
Though he didn’t remember why he was crying.
He didn’t even think to question it.
His body felt too heavy to move. Too tired to care.
But then the taste came back stronger.
His stomach twisted so violently it forced a broken gasp from his throat.
Michikatsu pushed himself upright just enough to lean forward, fingers digging into the dirt as his body convulsed. A harsh gag tore through him.
Nothing came up.
Another gag.
His throat burned as he dry-heaved, shoulders shaking violently. There was nothing in his stomach, nothing left to purge, but his body continued trying anyway. Coughing. Choking. Gasping.
His fingers slid from the ground to clutch at his abdomen.
They dug in hard enough to leave crescent marks through the fabric of his clothing. His nails scraped along his sides as another wave of nausea struck him. He scratched at himself in desperation, as though he could tear the sickness out from beneath his skin.
“—ghh—”
A hoarse sound escaped him.
He pressed harder against his stomach.
And then he felt it.
Something inside him.
Michikatsu froze.
The sensation was faint but unmistakable, an unnatural heaviness sitting deep within his gut. Not hunger. Not pain.
Presence.
As if something were there.
As if someone were there.
His breath hitched.
For a moment his mind reached for a memory, something just beyond his grasp, something important, something that should have been obvious.
But the moment the thought began to form it vanished.
Gone.
His mind recoiled from it violently, shoving the idea away before it could take shape. The blankness that followed left him disoriented, confused, staring down at his trembling hands as if they belonged to someone else.
He couldn’t remember anything.
Everything felt distant.
Foggy.
Like trying to recall a dream that dissolved the moment you reached for it.
Michikatsu slowly forced himself to stand. His legs shook violently as he rose, but he managed to stay upright. The forest around him seemed darker now, the shadows stretching unnaturally long between the trees.
He began walking again.
Slow.
Unsteady.
And then he noticed it.
Something was moving in the corner of his vision.
Michikatsu turned his head slightly.
A shadow lingered just behind him.
It had no clear shape. No defined body. Just a dark distortion trailing along the ground like spilled ink that refused to fade.
He stopped walking.
The shadow stopped too.
Michikatsu slowly looked over his shoulder.
The shadow looked back.
There were no eyes.
No face.
Yet he knew, somehow, that it was staring directly at him.
Watching.
Waiting.
Michikatsu stared at it for several long seconds, his expression blank, exhausted.
Then he turned away.
And continued walking.
The shadow followed.
The dampness on his face never stopped.
Eventually, the trees began to thin, and the dirt path beneath his feet widened into a familiar road.
Michikatsu slowed when he reached the fork.
He stood there silently, staring down both paths.
Something deep inside him stirred.
Recognition.
His body had brought him here without thought, without intention. Yet now that he stood there, he realized where he had been going all along.
Home.
The realization made his stomach twist again.
He gagged harshly, bending forward as another wave of nausea struck him. His body trembled as he dry-heaved once more before forcing himself upright.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Then turned right.
The estate appeared through the trees not long after.
Tall walls.
Familiar rooftops.
Lanterns were glowing faintly along the pathways.
His father’s estate.
Or perhaps it had once been his as well, before he left it behind.
Michikatsu moved silently through the outer grounds, slipping through the shadows like a ghost. His feet carried him along routes he had memorized long ago.
As he passed near the outer wall, something caught his eye.
Bright yellow and red hair flickered in the lantern light.
The sight made him pause.
Once, long ago, he might have approached immediately. Might have barked a command, questioned the presence, scolded whoever dared linger near the estate at night.
But the strength for that was gone.
The will for it had vanished somewhere along the road behind him.
So he simply kept walking.
The shadow followed close behind.
The estate grounds were quieter than he remembered. The usual bustle of servants was absent, leaving the pathways eerily empty. Only a handful of lanterns burned dimly in the distance.
Then he saw the pond.
The koi pond sat near the garden walkway, its surface glowing softly beneath the lanterns.
Michikatsu approached it slowly.
The shadow drifted ahead of him, crouching beside the water’s edge.
It reached down.
Its hand passed straight through the water.
The koi swam lazily beneath the surface, their bright colors flashing beneath the lantern light. The shadow tried again, reaching for them, but its fingers slipped through the fish as though they were illusions.
Michikatsu stepped up beside the pond.
And looked down.
The reflection staring back at him made his breath hitch.
Six eyes.
All of them were red and wet with tears.
The sight was grotesque.
Monstrous.
His hand rose slowly to touch his face, fingers brushing across the unfamiliar shapes beneath his brow.
His breathing grew heavier.
A quiet, broken laugh slipped from his throat.
Then, without hesitation, he grabbed the first eye.
And ripped it out.
A wet, tearing sound cut through the quiet garden.
Blood dripped down his cheek as he plucked the second.
Then the third.
One after another, he tore them free with brutal indifference, tossing each eyeball into the pond. The koi immediately swarmed toward the falling shapes, snapping them up the moment they touched the water.
The shadow lunged forward as if trying to catch them.
But its hands passed straight through the falling eyes.
One.
Two.
Three.
All six vanished beneath the water.
The shadow slowly lowered its hands.
It stared silently into the pond.
Behind it, Michikatsu stood with empty sockets bleeding freely down his face.
The cool night air brushed against the hollow spaces where his eyes had been.
He didn’t react.
Didn’t scream.
Didn’t flinch.
He simply scratched at the mark on his skin.
His fingers dragged across the Demon Slayer mark on his face with quiet irritation, nails pressing just hard enough to sting, but not enough to break the skin.
The mark disgusted him.
Everything about himself disgusted him.
But he pushed the feeling aside.
There were more important things.
His family.
They were here.
They needed protection.
He didn’t know why the thought felt so urgent.
He didn’t know what danger they were in.
But he knew, deep in the part of his mind that still worked, that he had to protect them.
Even if he didn’t know from what.
Michikatsu turned away from the pond.
The shadow lingered behind for a moment longer, staring into the water where the koi circled lazily.
Then it followed him.
Together they walked toward the quietest wing of the estate.
Toward the abandoned rooms.
Toward the place that had once belonged to his aunt.
A wing no one had entered since her death.
And the deeper Michikatsu walked into those darkened halls, the heavier the thing inside his stomach seemed to feel.
⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧
Michikatsu dragged his body through the estate like a ghost that refused to realize it was already dead.
He kept to the shadows, instinct guiding him along darkened corridors and behind wooden pillars, avoiding the occasional servant that passed by with hushed urgency. Their voices carried from the front of the estate were loud, frantic, overlapping, but the words meant nothing to him. They blurred together into noise, indistinct and irritating.
He couldn’t focus.
His thoughts slipped through his grasp like water.
Everything in his mind felt… wrong. Soft. Warped.
Like something had been crushed and hastily put back together.
But he kept moving.
One step. Then another.
Until he reached a door he hadn’t seen in years.
His aunt’s room.
The sight of it stirred something faint in his chest, something distant and dull, like a memory buried too deep to reach. The door was covered in talismans, paper seals layered over one another, their ink faded with age but still intact. They clung stubbornly to the wood, meant to keep whatever was inside from getting out.
Or perhaps to keep others from going in.
Michikatsu didn’t care.
His hand reached forward, fingers twitching slightly before gripping one of the talismans. He tore it off without hesitation.
Then another.
And another.
The paper ripped easily under his strength, fluttering to the floor like dying leaves.
The moment the last seal was removed, he pushed the door open.
Dust stirred into the air as the hinges groaned softly. The scent of age and neglect spilled out to greet him.
Michikatsu stepped inside.
The room was dark, illuminated only by thin streams of moonlight slipping through the cracks in the shutters. The pale glow stretched across the floor in narrow beams, just enough to guide his steps.
He moved slowly, eyes scanning the space.
His aunt was illiterate, but she had been clever, mischievous in ways that often irritated his father. She loved hiding things, creating secret compartments, and clever little tricks to keep her belongings out of reach.
He remembered that much.
At least… he thought he did.
But the room offered nothing at first glance.
Only dust.
Cobwebs stretched between corners, clinging to furniture long untouched. Every surface was coated in a thin gray film, disturbed only by his presence.
Michikatsu walked further in.
His fingers trailed along the walls, tapping lightly, searching for anything hollow. He pressed against panels, nudged floorboards with his foot, listening for any sign of something hidden beneath.
Nothing.
He moved to the dresser.
It creaked softly as he opened it, revealing neatly folded clothes that had remained untouched for years. The fabric looked expensive, silks and robes that didn’t belong in a room so neglected. Jewelry rested in small compartments, polished and pristine despite the dust around them.
Gifts.
From his father.
Attempts to win her over.
Michikatsu exhaled slowly, something between a sigh and a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
His hand moved absently through the items, brushing against fabric, metal, and wood. Until he felt something small.
A box.
He pulled it free.
It was simple, unassuming, yet carefully kept. His fingers lingered on it for a moment before opening it.
Inside were two delicate hairpins.
And a note.
“For the twins’ daughters.”
The handwriting was unmistakable.
His mother’s.
She had written it with care; he could see it in the strokes, in the way the ink settled into the paper. She must have intended them as gifts.
One for his daughter.
One for his brother’s.
Michikatsu froze.
The world around him went completely still.
Blank.
Then—
Pain.
A sharp, violent spike tore through his head.
The box slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor with a dull clatter as he staggered back, clutching his skull. His vision blurred further as the ringing in his ears surged, louder than before.
He shook his head violently.
As if he could force the noise out.
As if he could dislodge whatever was trying to surface.
Tears spilled from his eyes as he squeezed them shut.
"Are you okay?”
“Stop, stop, stop, please.”
Michikatsu’s head snapped up.
The shadow stood before him.
It was closer now.
More defined.
Its shape resembled a person, limbs, torso, the vague outline of a head, but it had no face. No features. Just an empty void where something should have been.
And yet—
He could feel it staring at him.
“Stop what?”
“That. That! Stop talking!”
"Okay."
The shadow fell silent immediately.
But it didn’t move.
It just… stared.
Michikatsu’s breathing grew uneven as he shook his head again, trying to ignore it, trying to ground himself. His gaze dropped back to the fallen box.
He crouched, picking it up with trembling hands.
He needed to put it away.
Somewhere safe.
Somewhere…he remembered the pouch.
His fingers moved quickly, pulling it from his side and opening it.
But the moment he tried to look inside, the shadow’s hand moved.
It covered the opening.
“What? Stop that. Let me see!”
The shadow didn’t respond.
Its hand remained there, solid despite having no true form. Michikatsu shifted, trying to angle the pouch differently, but no matter how he moved.
His view was blocked.
Every time.
“Stop! Stop blocking! Let me see! Why won’t you let me see?”
Silence.
The shadow didn’t budge.
Michikatsu’s breath hitched, panic creeping into his voice.
“Fine! You…You can talk…just please…stop doing this. Let me see.”
“I’m not blocking anything. You’re just refusing to see the truth of what happened. But it’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.”
His chest tightened.
His breathing turned sharp and uneven as the words settled somewhere deep, somewhere his mind immediately tried to bury.
“No!”
He shoved the hairpins into the pouch quickly.
Closed it.
Tight.
The pounding in his head eased almost instantly.
The ringing dulled.
Michikatsu inhaled shakily, forcing himself to calm down as he stood.
He turned away from the box.
Away from the thought.
Away from everything that felt wrong.
And continued searching.
"What are you looking for?"
“A map. I will take my family to the countryside, where our aunt and mother were raised. It should be decent enough. And my wife is a smart woman. She must have saved some money from the times I gave her money while I was being a demon slayer.”
"Is that why you kept on using my money?"
Michikatsu paused.
The question caught him off guard.
Then he exhaled sharply, tension leaving his shoulders in a forced, almost unnatural way.
“I didn’t use anything! Stop speaking lies. We just shared. Did I not share with you?”
"I will be honest, everything seems fuzzy to me."
“Then do not speak when you can’t remember anything.”
His tone sharpened, defensive.
Final.
He turned back to the room, continuing his search more aggressively now, tapping, pressing, pulling at anything that might hide something useful.
“Check behind the dresser.”
“What?”
“Check behind the dresser.”
Michikatsu hesitated.
Then obeyed.
He shoved the dresser aside with little effort. The wood scraped loudly against the floor, breaking the stillness of the room.
Something slipped loose behind it.
A piece of paper fluttered down.
He picked it up carefully.
It was old, fragile, and yellowed with age.
But intact.
A map.
Exactly what he needed.
Relief flickered faintly across his expression.
But it didn’t last.
“Now, what do I do about my family. They won’t just abandon the estate. It’s their home.”
“Ask Enjuro for help.”
“Him? You want me to ask the man who dropped his sword like a dumbass. He just forgot everything we taught him!”
“He is your best bet, Michi.”
Michikatsu let out an annoyed sigh, folding the map carefully before slipping it into his side pocket.
“I suppose…”
He turned, heading toward the door before pausing at the broken talismans scattered across the ground.
“What should I do about this?”
“Do you know any priests?”
“No! Who do you think I am?”
“A demon?”
“Stop trying to be a smartass.”
Suddenly—
He froze.
Footsteps.
Small.
Light.
Michikatsu vanished into the shadows almost instantly, his body pressing into the darkness as if it would swallow him whole.
A small figure passed through the hall.
A girl.
"A daughter?"
“She’s probably my granddaughter. Where is she going?”
Michikatsu followed.
Quiet.
Careful.
He noticed the small bag clutched in her hands as she walked toward the koi pond, the same one he had stood beside not long ago.
He watched from a distance.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then—
A scream.
Sharp.
Piercing.
It tore through the night.
Michikatsu flinched.
Footsteps thundered toward the sound. Servants. Guards. Family.
He stayed hidden, watching as three men rushed in.
One of them scooped the girl into his arms.
“Haru? Haru, sweetie, what are you doing out here?”
The child sobbed uncontrollably, clutching at him.
“The koi, papa’s koi, are all dead.”
Her voice broke as she pointed toward the pond.
All eyes turned.
The water had turned a deep, unnatural purple.
The koi floated lifelessly at the surface.
Bloated.
Still.
Silence fell.
Then—
Enjuro paused.
His gaze sharpened.
Slowly—
Deliberately—
He looked around.
Until his eyes landed directly on Michikatsu’s hiding place.
And for the briefest moment—
Michikatsu felt something close to relief.
At least Enjuro wasn’t completely useless.
⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧
Michikatsu remained hidden within the shadows of the corridor, unmoving despite the way Enjuro stared directly at him.
The man’s eyes had narrowed sharply the moment they met his own across the garden. Suspicion. Tension. Recognition trying to claw its way to the surface.
Good.
At least someone here still had functioning instincts.
The night air felt strangely heavy around the koi pond. The smell of stagnant water mixed with the faint metallic scent still clinging to Michikatsu’s skin. Lantern light reflected against the dark purple pond water, illuminating the dead fish floating lifelessly at the surface.
Haru continued sobbing loudly in her father’s arms.
“The koi… papa’s koi…”
Her small body shook violently with each cry while her father tried desperately to soothe her.
“It’s alright, Haru, sweetheart, calm down—”
But she wouldn’t stop.
No matter how gently he spoke.
No matter how tightly he held her.
Then suddenly—
The little girl went quiet.
Not completely.
Soft hiccups still escaped her, but her crying stopped abruptly.
Michikatsu frowned faintly from the shadows.
Haru was staring at him.
Not glancing.
Not peeking nervously into the darkness.
Staring directly at him.
Her tear-filled eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made something twist painfully in his chest.
It reminded him of—
Michikatsu’s thoughts cut off violently.
His head throbbed.
The ringing in his ears returned for a brief moment before fading again.
The child tilted her head slightly.
“Do you know what happened to the fish?”
Her father blinked in confusion.
“What?”
She pointed directly toward the darkness where Michikatsu stood hidden.
“The man over there.”
Silence fell.
Everyone turned.
Enjuro’s hand immediately dropped to the hilt of his sword.
Michikatsu clicked his tongue in annoyance before stepping out of the shadows.
The lantern light revealed him slowly—dark robes, long black hair streaked with red, eyes glinting faintly beneath the dim glow.
The moment Enjuro fully saw him, his entire body tensed.
Before he could even begin pulling the blade free—
THUNK.
Michikatsu brought his fist down directly onto the top of Enjuro’s head.
The sound echoed embarrassingly loud through the courtyard.
Enjuro stumbled slightly, immediately clutching his head.
“Ow—!”
Michikatsu glared at him with visible irritation.
“I’m not here to hurt anyone. Honestly, I’m already insulted you kept staring at me for several minutes only to reach for your sword anyway.”
Enjuro stared at him in disbelief while rubbing the top of his head.
“You appeared beside a poisoned pond in the middle of the night, looking like that. What reaction was I supposed to have?”
“A better one.”
“You hit me!”
“And you considered stabbing me. I think I handled this more politely than I should’ve.”
The two younger men near the pond stared at Michikatsu in complete shock.
The youngest looked utterly confused, eyes darting between Enjuro and the strange man standing before them.
But the eldest son, the eldest simply stared.
Silent.
Frozen.
His face had gone pale.
Michikatsu finally looked toward him properly.
And froze as well.
The resemblance hit him instantly.
Not to himself.
To him… To Yoriichi.
Pain stabbed sharply behind his eyes.
The black shadow appeared again beside his son.
Tall.
Silent.
Watching.
Michikatsu’s breath caught in his throat.
The shadow slowly circled around the eldest son, tilting its faceless head slightly before glancing toward the others standing nearby.
Michikatsu couldn’t look away from it.
His son was speaking now.
Saying something.
But the words sounded distant.
Muffled beneath the ringing growing louder inside his skull.
The shadow stopped directly beside his son.
Staring.
Watching.
Waiting.
“Father?”
Michikatsu’s eyes widened slightly.
His son’s voice sounded older than he expected.
Older than it should have been.
“Father?”
Louder this time.
The ringing worsened.
His son stepped forward.
“You—”
Hands suddenly grabbed Michikatsu’s shoulders roughly.
He jerked violently as Enjuro shook him once.
“Michikatsu!”
The ringing stopped.
The shadow vanished instantly.
Michikatsu blinked rapidly.
Enjuro frowned at him.
“There you are. You stopped responding.”
Michikatsu shoved Enjuro’s hands off him immediately with visible annoyance.
“I was responding internally.”
“That is not how conversations work.”
His eldest son stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Nearly thirty years since he had last seen his father.
And yet—
Nothing had changed.
Not one strand of gray hair.
Not a wrinkle near his eyes.
Not even exhaustion.
He looked exactly the same.
Like time itself had refused to touch him.
“Father…?”
The word sounded fragile leaving his son’s mouth.
Uncertain.
Almost angry.
Michikatsu looked back toward him fully now, forcing himself to focus.
“Yes?”
The response seemed to break something.
His son’s expression twisted instantly.
“Why are you here?”
Michikatsu opened his mouth.
His son didn’t let him answer.
“Do you have any idea what happened after you left?!”
The words exploded out of him.
Years of anger finally surfacing all at once.
“You disappeared! Mother waited for you for years, years, and you never came back!”
Michikatsu stayed silent.
“You left her alone, taking care of grandfather while he treated her horribly! Do you know how much she suffered?!”
Still silence.
His son’s breathing grew uneven.
“You left us!”
Michikatsu finally interrupted flatly.
“Did you receive my money?”
The question made everyone pause.
His eldest son blinked.
“…What?”
“The money.” Michikatsu frowned slightly. “The payments I sent. Did you receive them?”
His son stared at him for a moment before answering stiffly.
“Yes.”
“You were fed?”
“…Yes.”
“You were warm?”
“Yes.”
“Safe?”
His son hesitated slightly.
“…Yes.”
Michikatsu nodded once.
His shoulders relaxed faintly.
“Good.”
The sheer sincerity in his tone caught everyone off guard.
“I am not here to fight with you,” Michikatsu continued calmly. “You and your family are in danger. I came to take all of you somewhere safe.”
“In danger from what?” his eldest son demanded.
Michikatsu paused.
The answer felt obvious.
Yet strangely impossible to explain.
His head hurt again.
The youngest son finally stepped forward nervously.
“Wait, hold on, what do you mean leave?” He gestured toward himself anxiously. “I’m getting married soon. We can’t just abandon the estate!”
“You can and you will.”
“What?!”
“It is not safe here anymore.”
“You can’t just appear after decades and start ordering everyone around!”
“Yes I can.”
“No, you can’t!”
“You are literally proving why I need to supervise this family again.”
The younger son stared at him in outrage.
“I’m an adult!”
“That is unfortunate.”
“What does that even mean?!”
“It means I expected better decision-making.”
“You don’t even know me!”
“I know enough. You wish to stay near danger because of a wedding.”
“Because it’s my wedding!”
“A replaceable event.”
“It is not replaceable!”
“It absolutely is. You can simply have another one later.”
“You can’t postpone weddings forever!”
“You can if you survive.”
The argument escalated rapidly.
His eldest son stepped forward now, too, anger reigniting immediately.
“You don’t get to decide things for this family anymore!”
“I absolutely do.”
“No, you disappeared!”
“And yet here I am again.”
“That does not fix anything!”
“It fixes your current chances of survival.”
Enjuro groaned loudly before stepping directly between them.
“Alright. Everyone stop talking.”
Nobody listened.
“You cannot just force us to leave!”
“Yes I can.”
“Everyone, please stop!” Enjuro snapped suddenly.
“You were being difficult.”
“That is not an excuse!”
“Worked effectively, though.”
“Stop arguing like this is normal!”
Michikatsu and both sons continued talking over one another while Enjuro desperately tried to calm the situation before it became worse.
None of them noticed Haru quietly slipping away from the courtyard.
The little girl clutched her small bag tightly against her chest as she hurried through the estate halls.
Going to find her mother.
⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧
The argument only continued getting worse.
Voices overlapped one another loudly in the middle of the courtyard while lantern light flickered against tense faces.
“You cannot force us to abandon everything overnight!”
“I can and I will.”
“You disappeared for decades!”
“And yet you are still alive, which means I clearly did something correctly.”
“That is not how parenting works!”
“It worked enough.”
“It absolutely did not!”
Enjuro groaned loudly as he physically held Michikatsu’s eldest son back by the shoulders before the man could fully lunge forward again.
“Please,” Enjuro said through gritted teeth, “for the love of everything holy, stop arguing for five seconds.”
Neither listened.
Michikatsu’s eldest son strained against Enjuro’s grip.
“You do not get to walk back in here and order us around like nothing happened!”
“And you do not get to ignore obvious danger because you inherited your grandfather’s stubbornness.”
“My what?!”
“Oh, good, you also yell exactly like him.”
“I AM NOTHING LIKE THAT MAN!”
“Volume alone says otherwise.”
Enjuro internally felt his soul leaving his body.
Why were they exactly alike?
Same posture.
Same glare.
Same awful habit of talking over everyone else.
It was like watching two versions of the same person argue across different ages.
The youngest son had completely given up trying to mediate and now simply looked horrified while Haru clung nervously to the edge of the engawa.
Then—
Soft footsteps approached the courtyard.
Nobody noticed at first.
Not until a familiar voice finally cut through the shouting.
“Michikatsu?”
Everything stopped.
Completely.
Michikatsu froze mid sentence.
His body went rigid so suddenly that even Enjuro noticed immediately.
That voice—
His chest tightened painfully.
For one horrible moment he couldn’t breathe.
Slowly, almost fearfully, Michikatsu turned his head toward the entrance of the courtyard.
Haru stood there beside two women.
One older.
One—
His breath caught sharply in his throat.
Aiko..
The world around him seemed to blur.
The arguing vanished into muffled silence as guilt crashed into him with enough force to make him feel sick.
He wanted to run.
The instinct hit immediately and violently.
Run.
Hide.
Disappear before she looked at him too closely.
Before she saw what he had become.
The eyes he had ripped out earlier suddenly regenerated beneath his skin with sickening speed. Flesh twisted painfully as new eyes forced themselves back into existence across his face.
Michikatsu jerked back instinctively, immediately covering his face with one hand as he turned away from her.
No.
No, no—
He couldn’t let her see him like this.
Not her.
Anyone but her.
He heard movement behind him.
Soft footsteps approaching slowly.
Then a gentle hand rested against his shoulder.
Michikatsu flinched hard enough that Enjuro almost stepped forward again.
But Aiko didn’t pull away.
Her touch was careful.
Warm.
Trembling.
“Michikatsu…”
Her voice cracked around his name.
He squeezed his eyes shut tighter beneath his hand.
“I know it’s you.”
The guilt twisting inside him became unbearable.
He felt filthy standing near her.
Wrong.
Aiko gently urged him to turn toward her.
At first he resisted.
But she persisted softly, carefully, as though afraid he might disappear if she moved too quickly.
Finally, Michikatsu lowered his hand.
Aiko gasped softly.
Then she began to cry.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just silent tears spilling endlessly down her face as she looked at him.
At all six eyes.
At the familiar face that had not changed in thirty years.
Michikatsu stared back at her in silence.
And suddenly, all he could notice was how much she had aged.
Her beautiful black hair now carried strands of gray throughout it.
Fine lines rested near her eyes.
Her shoulders looked tired.
Everything about her looked tired.
Time had touched her gently, but it had touched her nonetheless.
And he hated it.
Because he had stayed exactly the same.
A thing untouched by age, while everyone else continued moving forward without him.
“What has happened to you, my love?”
The words nearly destroyed him.
His throat tightened painfully.
He couldn’t answer.
Because he didn’t deserve that look in her eyes.
Didn’t deserve the longing written so openly across her face.
Didn’t deserve her tears.
And worst of all, he didn’t deserve her love.
Because despite everything, despite knowing she was precious.
Despite understanding that she had been loyal to him all these years.
Despite the ache in his chest at seeing her cry, he did not love her the way a husband should love his wife.
Not the way she loved him. There had always been something missing inside him. Something hollow. And he had carried guilt for it long before becoming a demon.
He cared for her. Respected her. Wanted her safe.
But that deep consuming devotion she offered him so naturally, he had never been able to return it fully. And somehow that failure hurt more now than ever before.
His vision blurred again.Tears slipped from all six eyes silently. Aiko’s expression crumpled further at the sight. Slowly. Carefully.
Michikatsu wrapped his arms around her.
She immediately clung to him tightly, hands gripping the fabric of his robes as though terrified he might vanish again if she loosened her hold. Michikatsu held her back. But the only thing filling his chest was guilt.
Heavy.
Endless.
Crushing.
It settled across his shoulders like a punishment he could never escape.
Still, he held her anyway.
And for the first time since arriving at the estate, Michikatsu stopped feeling the urge to run.
⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧
The courtyard had gone strangely quiet after Aiko embraced him.
Even his sons had stopped arguing.
The only sounds left were the soft night insects in the distance and Aiko’s uneven breathing as she held tightly onto him, as though afraid he would disappear if she let go.
Then Haru suddenly spoke.
“Mama,” the little girl sniffled, rubbing tears from her cheeks, “who’s that man?”
Everyone’s attention shifted toward the younger woman standing nearby.
She looked between Michikatsu and Aiko uncertainly before softly answering,
“I don’t know.”
The words struck strangely hard.
Michikatsu didn’t know why.
But before the silence could stretch any further, Aiko finally stepped away from him. Her hands lingered against his sleeves for a moment before she turned toward Haru and gently crouched down beside her granddaughter.
Her expression softened despite the tears still clinging to her lashes.
“This is your grandfather, my dear.”
Haru blinked.
Then slowly looked back toward Michikatsu.
The child stared at him so directly it made his stomach twist painfully again.
Too observant.
Too sharp.
It reminded him of…
The thought vanished instantly.
His temples throbbed sharply.
Haru tilted her head.
“…Did you kill papa’s koi fish?”
Michikatsu paused.
Slowly, he looked toward the pond again.
The water had darkened further.
The purple color spread unnaturally through it like spilled ink, thick and wrong beneath the lantern light. The koi floated motionlessly across the surface now, their pale bellies reflecting against the water.
Michikatsu stared at them blankly.
Then answered honestly.
“I suppose I did by accident.”
Haru’s face crumpled instantly.
“You killed them!”
The little girl burst into tears again before suddenly charging toward him.
Tiny fists hit against his legs and stomach repeatedly while she kicked at him furiously.
“You killed them! You killed them!”
Michikatsu barely felt the blows.
He simply stared down at her with a tired expression while she cried and struck him with all the force her tiny body could manage.
Her mother quickly rushed forward, grabbing Haru under the arms.
“Haru! Stop that! That’s rude!”
“But he killed them!”
“I know, but you cannot kick your grandfather!”
“He killed papa’s fish!”
The child continued sobbing loudly into her mother’s shoulder.
Michikatsu looked away.
Then noticed Enjuro staring at the pond.
Not casually.
Not thoughtfully.
Terrified.
A cold feeling settled into Michikatsu’s stomach as Enjuro slowly turned toward him.
The swordsman approached carefully before placing both hands firmly onto Michikatsu’s shoulders.
“Michi,” Enjuro said quietly, “I need you to be honest with me.”
Michikatsu frowned immediately.
“…What?”
“How many rivers have you been at?”
Michikatsu blinked.
Confusion crossed his face.
“What are you on about?”
“Michi, just tell me.”
“No, I…” Michikatsu frowned harder. “I don’t know. Why?”
“You just need to tell me.”
“Enjuro, what is this about?”
Enjuro’s grip tightened slightly.
“Are you sure you don’t remember?”
“No! Stop grabbing onto me!”
Michikatsu shoved him backward hard enough to force Enjuro to stumble away.
Frustration began clawing rapidly through him now.
Something was wrong.
Something was deeply, horribly wrong.
He could feel it lurking at the edges of his thoughts.
Then the shadow appeared again.
Standing directly beside him.
Taller than before.
Darker.
"All of them,”
It whispered softly.
“You went to all of them, remember?”
Michikatsu shook his head violently.
“No!”
“You’re acting like I did something wrong!”
His voice rose sharply as he glared toward Enjuro, though part of him wasn’t even sure who he was yelling at anymore.
Seeing his agitation worsen, Enjuro immediately raised his hands slowly, carefully.
Like calming a wounded animal.
“Let’s go somewhere private, okay?”
Enjuro stepped closer again and gently took Michikatsu’s wrist.
“Come on. We’ll talk somewhere else.”
Michikatsu immediately jerked away from him.
“Why!? Why are you acting like I did something?!”
“Because you did!” Enjuro finally snapped.
The courtyard fell silent again.
Enjuro stared directly at him, panic bleeding into his expression now.
“Michikatsu, I am trying to figure out if it was you! And it seems like it was!” His voice lowered shakily. “Did you go to the rivers? What did you do to the pond right here!? Listen, I don’t want to scare your family… but I need to know.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“You did! You know you did! What did you do?”
“I…”
Michikatsu’s head suddenly felt like it might split open.
Pain surged violently behind his eyes.
The shadow grew larger around him.
Wider.
Stretching until it surrounded nearly his entire vision.
Its faceless head lowered toward him slowly.
“I…”
text: “You bled.”
Michikatsu’s lips parted weakly.
“I bled.”
"In the water."
“In the water.”
The shadow vanished instantly.
His vision cleared.
Michikatsu stared at Enjuro.
And Enjuro’s face told him everything before the man even spoke.
Horror.
Absolute horror.
“You bled into the water?” Enjuro whispered.
Michikatsu felt cold.
Very cold.
“M-Michikatsu…” Enjuro’s voice shook now. “Do you not know what you’ve done?”
“I…”
He genuinely didn’t.
Not fully.
Fragments flickered weakly through his mind.
Walking.
Pain.
The smell of burning flesh.
Someone beside him.
Someone talking to him, his thoughts violently stopped again.
Aiko suddenly stepped forward, positioning herself protectively between Michikatsu and Enjuro.
“Sir,” she said carefully despite her fear, “please explain what’s going on.”
Enjuro looked devastated.
He rubbed a hand across his face before answering.
“Your husband is a demon.”
The words hit the courtyard like a blade.
“His blood…” Enjuro swallowed hard. “His blood mixed into the rivers of Japan. The government believes it was a terrorist attack. But…” He looked toward Michikatsu painfully. “It was your husband.”
Silence.
Nobody moved.
Enjuro continued quietly,
“His blood affected the water. People are dying.” His expression darkened further. “Or turning into demons.”
Aiko’s eyes widened in horror.
The younger son staggered back slightly.
Haru clung tighter to her mother.
Michikatsu shook his head immediately.
“I…I didn’t know.” His voice cracked harshly. “It wasn’t my fault!”
“I know,” Enjuro answered instantly.
The gentleness in his voice only made Michikatsu feel worse.
“I know, Michikatsu. I know you weren’t in control.” Enjuro’s eyes lowered briefly. “I know he had control over you.”
A shiver crawled down Michikatsu’s spine.
“And the fact your blood affected the water shouldn’t even be possible,” Enjuro continued quietly. “Especially in sunlight.”
Michikatsu froze.
The sun.
His blood should have burned away beneath it.
But it didn’t.
Because he hadn’t burned either.
Slowly, dread settled into his stomach.
Now Muzan didn’t either.
The realization made him feel sick.
“I came here to warn your family not to drink river water,” Enjuro said softly. “Because the master told me to.”
“The master?” Aiko asked quietly.
Enjuro nodded.
“Yes. In his last words, he—”
“Last words?” Michikatsu interrupted sharply. “I didn’t kill him.”
Enjuro’s expression softened immediately.
“The master was already terribly ill. He had outlived so many before him.” His eyes lowered sadly. “We thought perhaps the curse had finally lifted. But it didn’t.”
The courtyard became painfully quiet.
“He died in my arms,” Enjuro continued softly. “Before he passed, he spoke of his final foresight.” He looked toward the family. “He said the waters of Japan had been poisoned. That I needed to come to your family’s estate and bring you somewhere safe.”
His gaze returned to Michikatsu.
“And that I would need to reunite the Corps until his son was old enough to bear the burden.”
Michikatsu said nothing.
His chest felt painfully tight now.
He hadn’t meant to do this.
He could barely even remember doing it.
Only flashes remained.
Walking beside someone.
The smell of burning flesh.
Pain.
So much pain.
Enjuro finally relaxed his posture slightly before addressing the family as a whole.
“As you heard,” he said quietly, “I need to take all of you somewhere safe.” He glanced toward the darkened pond. “Only underground water is safe right now. Until we can figure out how to cleanse the rivers… or stop whatever this has become.”
He paused.
Then bowed his head slightly.
“So please.”
His voice softened.
“Comply.”
⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧
Silence lingered heavily over the courtyard after Enjuro’s explanation.
Nobody seemed to know what to say anymore.
Haru had stopped crying, though she still clung tightly to her mother’s kimono, peeking nervously toward Michikatsu every few seconds. His eldest son looked furious and overwhelmed all at once, while the younger stood pale with shock.
Only Aiko continued looking at Michikatsu with quiet concern.
Not fear.
Concern.
That somehow made everything worse.
Michikatsu lowered his gaze briefly before reaching into his robes. His fingers brushed against the folded paper hidden in his side pocket.
The map.
Slowly, he pulled it free and held it out toward Enjuro.
“There’s a place,” Michikatsu said quietly. “The countryside where my aunt and mother were born.”
Enjuro carefully took the fragile paper.
“It should still be isolated enough,” Michikatsu continued. “Most people avoided it even before…” His voice trailed slightly before continuing. “There’s underground water there. Springs. Wells.”
Enjuro unfolded the map carefully, eyes scanning it.
“It should be safe,” Michikatsu finished.
Then his expression darkened.
“I’ll go find Muzan.”
The air immediately tensed again.
Michikatsu turned away as if the decision was already final.
“And I’ll put an end to this.”
“No.”
Michikatsu paused.
Slowly, he looked back toward Enjuro.
The Flame Hashira’s expression had hardened completely.
“You are not going alone.”
Michikatsu stared at him blankly for a moment.
Then laughed once.
A tired, humorless sound.
“You think I need permission?”
“I think you’ll die.”
The words came sharply.
Bluntly.
Michikatsu’s eyes narrowed immediately.
“You seem awfully confident in that.”
“Muzan nearly controlled you enough to poison the entire country,” Enjuro snapped back. “And you can barely remember what happened!”
That made Michikatsu visibly stiffen.
Enjuro stepped closer.
“You are unstable right now.”
“I am perfectly fine.”
“You ripped your own eyes out an hour ago.”
“That was cosmetic.”
“No sane person says that sentence!”
Michikatsu clicked his tongue in irritation, turning away again.
“I do not have time for this.”
“And we do not have time for you to get yourself killed!”
Michikatsu whipped around sharply now, frustration finally boiling over.
“What exactly do you want me to do then?! Sit around while people die because of me?!”
Enjuro didn’t flinch.
“Yes.”
Michikatsu blinked.
“What?”
“I want you alive long enough to actually fix this.”
The courtyard fell quiet again.
Enjuro exhaled slowly before continuing in a calmer voice.
“Come with us first.”
Michikatsu immediately frowned.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“We go to the old Corps headquarters together,” Enjuro continued firmly, ignoring him completely. “Then we figure out how to handle this properly.”
“There is nothing to figure out. I kill Muzan.”
“And then what?”
Michikatsu paused.
Enjuro pointed directly at him.
“You think this ends with Muzan dead?” His voice lowered. “The rivers are poisoned, Michikatsu. Demons are appearing across the country. The Corps barely exists anymore.”
Michikatsu’s expression darkened slightly.
Enjuro continued carefully.
“The manuals are gone.”
That made Michikatsu freeze.
“…What?”
“The breathing style manuals.”
“No.”
“Most were lost.”
Michikatsu’s face twisted immediately.
“No. I told them to finish them.”
“I know.”
“I specifically told them.”
“I know!”
Michikatsu’s voice suddenly rose.
“They had one job! Write the damn techniques down!”
His sons startled slightly at the sudden outburst.
Enjuro rubbed tiredly at his face.
“Some of them were incomplete. Others were destroyed over the years.” His gaze lowered briefly. “The Corps was shrinking even before this happened.”
Michikatsu looked furious now.
“What about yours?”
“Flame Breathing survived.”
Michikatsu visibly relaxed slightly.
Then Enjuro added,
“And Moon Breathing.”
Michikatsu froze again.
“The only complete manuals left…” Enjuro looked directly at him now. “Are yours.”
The courtyard became deathly still.
Enjuro stepped closer.
“Michi… you’re the only one left who actually knows all the styles.”
Michikatsu’s stomach twisted.
No.
“No.”
“You trained beside them.”
“No.”
“You helped create them.”
“Stop.”
“You remember every form.”
“Stop talking.”
“You can rewrite them.”
Michikatsu took a sharp step backward.
“No.”
“You have to.”
“I said stop!”
His voice cracked violently.
The shadow appeared again briefly at the edge of his vision.
Tall.
Watching.
Waiting.
Michikatsu pressed a hand against his head immediately.
The ringing returned faintly.
Enjuro softened instantly.
“Michi…”
“No.”
Enjuro suddenly dropped to his knees.
Everyone stared in shock.
The Flame Hashira bowed deeply until his forehead touched the wooden floor beneath him.
And begged.
“Please.”
Michikatsu’s eyes widened.
“Enjuro—”
“Please help me.”
His voice trembled.
“I can’t rebuild this alone.”
Michikatsu stood frozen.
“We barely have swordsmen anymore,” Enjuro continued quietly. “The manuals are incomplete. The younger generation barely knows the forms properly.” His hands clenched tightly against the ground. “I need you.”
The words sounded almost painful for him to admit.
“You’re the only person alive who remembers everything.”
Michikatsu stared down at him silently.
Then immediately grabbed Enjuro harshly by the shoulders and yanked him back upright.
“Stop doing that.”
Enjuro blinked.
“I said stop kneeling.”
Michikatsu looked genuinely disturbed by the sight.
“You look ridiculous.”
Enjuro let out a tired laugh despite himself.
“Michi—”
“Fine.”
The word came out sharply.
Annoyed.
Exhausted.
“I said fine.”
Enjuro stared at him.
Michikatsu refused to meet his eyes.
“Just…” he muttered bitterly, “get my family ready to leave.”
Relief visibly crossed Enjuro’s face.
But Michikatsu was already turning away.
“And stop arguing with my sons before I kill both of you myself.”
“Threatening murder is not reassuring!”
“It was not meant to reassure you.”
Without waiting for another response, Michikatsu walked away from the courtyard.
The others watched silently as he disappeared back into the dark halls of the estate.
His footsteps felt heavier now.
Slower.
The moment he reached his aunt’s abandoned room again, he slipped inside and shut the door behind him.
The room was still dark.
Still dusty.
Still quiet.
Michikatsu moved toward the farthest corner before finally letting himself collapse against the wall.
His body slid downward slowly until he sat curled against the floorboards.
And for the first time since arriving, the exhaustion fully hit him. His hands trembled violently. The silence around him felt suffocating. Fragments of the night replayed endlessly through his mind. Purple water. Dead fish. Haru crying. Aiko is holding him. Enjuro’s terrified expression. His blood in the rivers. People dying. People are becoming demons. Because of him.
Michikatsu suddenly pressed both hands against his face as a broken sound escaped his throat. Then another. And another. Before he realized he was crying again. Not quite tears this time.
His shoulders shook violently as he bent forward, six eyes spilling tears endlessly through trembling fingers.
“What have I done…?”
The words came out barely above a whisper.
Broken.
Lost.
The shadow slowly appeared beside him again.
It sat quietly at his side.
And for once, It said nothing at all.
⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧
It took hours to convince the family to leave.
Hours of arguing.
Hours of fear.
Hours of confusion and disbelief.
By the time everyone finally agreed, the sky outside had begun fading from black into pale blue. The first hints of sunrise stretched weakly across the horizon, dim morning light slipping through the paper windows of the estate.
Emotionally exhausted, Enjuro sat among piles of hastily packed belongings while helping tie bags shut.
Nobody had slept.
The atmosphere felt heavy and strange.
Haru sat close beside him now, no longer terrified of Michikatsu but still deeply suspicious of him for the koi incident. Every few minutes she would ask if they could come back later to bury the fish properly.
Her mother had stopped trying to calm her after the fourth time.
Meanwhile, Michikatsu’s eldest and youngest sons remained tense around their father, though neither argued anymore after Enjuro’s explanation. The reality of the situation had settled over the household too heavily for pointless fighting now.
Still—
The silence felt uncomfortable.
So Enjuro talked.
Mostly for Haru’s sake.
“What’s a demon?” she had asked earlier while sitting beside a pile of blankets.
Enjuro had paused briefly before answering carefully.
“A monster that used to be human.”
Haru blinked up at him.
“They eat people?”
“…Yes.”
“That’s scary.”
“It is.”
Enjuro’s voice softened as he continued packing supplies.
“Demons are stronger and faster than humans. Some have powers no person could ever imagine.” He glanced briefly toward another room where Michikatsu remained hidden. “And most cannot walk in sunlight. The sun burns them away completely.”
Haru listened intently.
“How do you kill them?”
“With a Nichirin blade,” Enjuro answered automatically. “Special swords made from ore gathered from the tallest mountains. The sun touches the metal all year long.” A faint smile crossed his face. “The blades carry sunlight within them.”
Haru looked amazed.
“That sounds cool.”
“It was cooler before I started paying for sword repairs.”
Her mother sighed tiredly nearby.
“Please stop encouraging her.”
Enjuro laughed softly.
Eventually the conversation drifted elsewhere.
Toward stories.
Toward Michikatsu.
Haru had asked first.
“What was grandfather like?”
Enjuro blinked once before smiling faintly.
“…Mean.”
The family stared at him.
Then he laughed quietly at their expressions.
“I’m serious. He was terrifying when I first met him.”
Haru giggled.
Enjuro leaned back slightly as he spoke.
“The first time I saw him, he had just survived a demon attack.” His gaze softened with memory. “His brother arrived first to save him, but by the time I got there both of them were exhausted. We had to carry Michikatsu to a doctor because he passed out halfway there.”
At the mention of his brother—
Something stirred uneasily in the air.
Michikatsu, hidden in the next room, suddenly went still.
Enjuro didn’t notice.
“He became my teacher later,” Enjuro continued. “Though technically, both brothers taught us.”
His expression turned distant now.
“Yoriichi was…” He paused, searching for the words. “Impossible.”
The family listened quietly.
“He was naturally gifted in a way none of us could understand. When he tried teaching us how to fight demons, there was always this disconnect.” Enjuro shook his head with a soft laugh. “None of us could even imitate his movements properly. He was too fast. Too strong.”
He glanced toward the doorway.
“Even Michikatsu struggled to follow him sometimes.”
The room fell quieter at that.
“But Michikatsu…” Enjuro smiled faintly. “Michikatsu connected us to him.”
His tone softened considerably now.
“He understood how normal people learned.” Enjuro looked down at his hands. “He taught us how to breathe properly. How to strengthen our bodies. How to endure pain.” He laughed once under his breath. “He even taught me how to use a bow properly after insulting my aim for three straight weeks.”
Haru giggled loudly.
Enjuro continued fondly,
“He was harsh. Extremely stubborn. Honestly, kind of awful at encouragement.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But he taught us things Yoriichi never could.”
The eldest son listened silently nearby.
“So strict,” Enjuro muttered fondly. “If your stance was wrong, he’d hit you with the wooden sword before correcting you.”
“That sounds horrible,” Haru said immediately.
“It built character.”
“It built injuries.”
Enjuro laughed again.
Then his expression softened unexpectedly.
“I met him when I was sixteen,” he said quietly. “Only three years younger than him.”
His hands stilled briefly.
“My family had already been killed by demons by then.”
The room quieted.
“I didn’t know how to be a man,” Enjuro admitted softly. “Didn’t know how to act. How to lead. How to survive properly.”
His gaze lowered slightly.
“But Michikatsu taught me.”
The words settled heavily into the room.
“He acted more like a father to me than anything else.”
Silence followed.
And Enjuro failed to notice the expressions on Michikatsu’s sons’ faces.
The eldest son’s jaw tightened subtly.
The youngest looked down at the floor.
Envy lingered quietly in both expressions.
Their father had abandoned them.
Yet somehow, he had been there for someone else.
Someone unrelated.
Someone who got the guidance and attention they never received.
The silence stretched.
Then footsteps approached.
Everyone looked up.
Michikatsu stepped out from the hallway holding a thick book beneath one arm.
His expression remained exhausted, though slightly more focused than before.
“I finished one.”
Enjuro blinked.
“…Already?”
Michikatsu handed him the book.
“The Water Breathing manual.”
Enjuro immediately opened it.
The pages were filled with meticulous writing and detailed explanations of breathing patterns, stances, sword forms, muscle control, and movement techniques.
Enjuro stared in disbelief.
“You wrote all this tonight?”
"Demons don't sleep.”
Enjuro continued flipping through the pages slowly.
“I didn't know that.”
Michikatsu looked away slightly.
“It’s incomplete without illustrations.”
Enjuro paused.
Then nodded slowly.
“Actually…that might be a problem.”
Michikatsu frowned.
“What?”
“Well…” Enjuro looked awkward suddenly. “You can’t exactly teach students directly.”
Michikatsu stared at him blankly.
“You’re a demon.”
“…Right.”
“So maybe drawing the forms would help.”
Michikatsu looked deeply offended by the suggestion.
“You want me to become an artist now?”
“I want future swordsmen not to die.”
“…Fine. But you find someone to draw them."
Enjuro smiled immediately.
“I will, thank you."
The first rays of sunlight finally crept across the estate grounds.
Warm golden light spilled through the open engawa.
Enjuro’s eyes widened instantly.
“Michi—!”
Michikatsu looked up in confusion just as sunlight brushed against his arm.
At first—
Nothing happened.
Everyone froze.
Enjuro stared.
Haru gasped loudly.
Michikatsu blinked slowly at his untouched skin.
Then pain hit.
Not the familiar burning.
Something worse.
Much worse.
Michikatsu suddenly doubled over with a choked gasp as cracks spread violently across his skin. Flames burst from beneath the fractures, orange light spilling through splitting flesh.
It felt like boiling alive from the inside out.
His scream caught in his throat as he stumbled backward violently into the shade.
The moment darkness covered him, the flames disappeared.
Michikatsu breathed heavily, staring at his blistered arms in horror.
Then the shadow appeared again.
Beside him.
Quiet.
“I fixed the problem.”
Michikatsu’s breathing stuttered.
“…What problem?”
"Everything
The shadow tilted its head slightly.
“Muzan won’t be able to walk in the sun anymore.”
Michikatsu froze.
“And the water will not poison anyone else.”
His mind raced desperately trying to understand.
“What are you talking about?”
“The damage is stopped.”
The shadow’s voice softened strangely.
“The only consequence is that you can’t walk beneath the sun anymore.”
Michikatsu stared at it.
“I’m sorry.”
Then it vanished.
Pain surged through him again briefly, making him grit his teeth hard enough to crack one fang.
Enjuro immediately rushed forward, grabbing his arm to steady him—
Then hissed sharply.
The contact burned him.
Enjuro jerked his hand back instantly.
“…You’re hot.”
Michikatsu glared weakly.
“I gathered that.”
Enjuro immediately started thinking aloud.
“We’ll need shade… maybe covered wagons—”
Haru suddenly ran forward.
“I have an idea!”
Everyone blinked.
The little girl returned seconds later, carrying several rolls of bandages.
She proudly held them up toward Michikatsu.
“Wrap yourself!”
Michikatsu stared at her silently.
Then slowly accepted them.
“…Thank you.”
Haru beamed proudly.
Michikatsu carefully wrapped the bandages around his arms first before cautiously extending them into sunlight again.
This time—
Only a mild burning sensation spread across his skin.
Manageable.
“…Huh.”
Encouraged, he continued wrapping the rest of himself carefully.
His eldest son quietly approached afterward, holding a wide straw hat.
“…Here.”
Michikatsu looked at him briefly before accepting it.
The awkwardness between them still lingered heavily.
But for the first time—
There was less anger in his son’s expression.
“…Thank you.”
The eldest son nodded stiffly.
Soon enough, preparations finally ended.
Bags were loaded.
Supplies gathered.
The estate gates opened slowly beneath the pale morning light.
And together—
Michikatsu.
His family.
And Enjuro.