When Tomioka Giyu arrived at the Kamado household, the morning mist had just lifted. Sunlight filtered through the pine branches, scattering mottled patches of light across the yard.
Kamado Tanjuro sat by the doorway, splitting firewood. With each rise and fall of the axe, the logs split cleanly in half—his movements were slow but remarkably steady.
Hearing footsteps, he looked up and smiled with familiar warmth. "Tomioka-san, what brings you here today?"
Giyu walked over, his eyes briefly sweeping over the charcoal drying in the yard. The pieces were evenly sized and smooth—proof of the Kamado family's skilled craftsmanship, their means of survival.
"I came to check on things."
He hesitated, then finally spoke his true purpose.
"Kamado-san, I came to ask if you would consider moving down the mountain."
Tanjuro's movements paused for a moment, then resumed as calmly as before. "Move down the mountain? Why?"
"It's too dangerous up here."
Giyu's tone was serious. "Even though demons are rare in the Echigo region, the deeper mountains still hold unknown threats. And Tanjiro and the others are still young. Winters up here are harsh, snow makes travel difficult—if anything happens…"
He didn't finish that sentence—he couldn't.
Two years later, this family would be slaughtered in one night.
He wanted to prevent that. Even if he couldn't change fate entirely, at least he could make them leave this mountain—away from the demon that would appear on that snowy night.
"I can cover all the expenses," Giyu added. "There's a house in the town below. I've already asked my subordinates to make arrangements. You won't need to burn charcoal anymore. I'll help you find work—it'll be enough to live comfortably."
Tanjuro set down the axe and looked at him with a gentle, knowing expression—and a quiet but unshakable resolve.
"Tomioka-san, I appreciate your concern. But our Kamado family has lived on this mountain for over a hundred years."
He pointed toward the small wooden house behind him, then at the forests stretching beyond. "My grandfather built this home. We know every grove and every stream on this mountain. Charcoal burning has been passed down for generations—if we leave this mountain, we stop being the Kamado family."
"But—"
Before Giyu could finish, Tanjuro interrupted with that same calm tone.
"I know you're worried about us."
His smile stayed warm, but his words carried the weight of quiet strength.
"But we Kamados aren't that fragile. When the snow gets heavy, we have special wooden sandals to keep our footing. When wild animals come close, we have old tricks to ward them off. As for demons…"
He paused, his gaze falling on the Nichirin Sword at Giyu's waist.
"With someone like you watching over us, we'll sleep peacefully."
Giyu looked at him in silence. He knew it was useless to argue further.
The Kamados' bond with this mountain was too deep—mere words of "danger" could never shake it.
A reckless thought crossed his mind: if it came to it, he'd just take them away by force.
If he had to, he would drag them down the mountain, hide them at the nearest base—even if Tanjuro grew furious with him, at least they would live.
It was a wild thought, but it became the one line he refused to cross.
"…I understand."
Giyu finally gave in and said quietly, "If anything happens, have Tanjiro come find me right away. My base isn't far from here—the Kasugai crow can reach me anytime."
Tanjuro nodded. "All right. Tanjiro! Bring tea for Tomioka-san!"
A cheerful voice answered from inside, and moments later, a red-haired boy ran out with a tea tray. His eyes lit up at the sight of Giyu. "Tomioka-san! Are you here to teach me breathing techniques again?"
Giyu accepted the teacup—the temperature was just right. "Not today. I just came to check in. How's your training going?"
"I practice every day!"
Tanjiro nodded hard and demonstrated the opening form of the Hinokami Kagura. "Dad says I'm improving fast!"
Watching the boy's bright energy, Giyu felt some of the heaviness in his chest lift.
He chatted with Tanjuro and Tanjiro for a while, offering a few reminders about breathing rhythm, then stood to leave.
By the time he returned to the base, he found Tomioka To crouched in the courtyard, polishing his blade.
The boy wore a uniform so faded it had turned pale, its cuffs frayed and pant legs too short, showing his ankles.
He'd grown quickly lately—his clothes no longer fit.
"Shishou."
To stood immediately, cloth still in hand.
Giyu's gaze fell on his clothes, his brow tightening slightly. "No training today. We're going to town."
"To town?" To blinked in surprise. "For what?"
"To buy clothes."
Giyu turned and stepped inside, returning with a small pouch of coins.
"Your uniform's too small. You need new ones."
To's face flushed red. He looked down, clutching the cloth nervously. "That's not necessary, Shishou. This one still works fine…"
He knew Giyu didn't have much money. Most of it went to mission supplies and maintaining the base. He didn't want to be a burden.
"It's necessary."
Giyu's tone left no room for argument. "If your clothes don't fit, it'll affect your sword movements."
He placed a hand on To's shoulder. "Come on."
The boy hesitated, then nodded quietly. "Okay."
They followed the path down the mountain. To trailed behind his master, his steps light and eager.
"Shishou, do they sell dorayaki in town? Suzuki-san brought one last time—it was really good."
He asked the question carefully, a hopeful spark in his eyes.
Giyu remembered that day—Suzuki Jiro had brought back sweets, and To had taken only one bite before saving the rest "for later," only to let it spoil. He'd been upset for days.
"Yes," Giyu replied with a small nod. "We'll get some after we buy your clothes."
To's eyes lit up instantly, and his steps grew quicker.
When they reached the town, Giyu first took him to a fabric shop.
The owner, a middle-aged woman, noticed the sword at Giyu's waist and immediately recognized him as a Demon Slayer. She hurried forward with a bright smile. "Honored customer, what kind of fabric are you looking for? We just got some new cotton—warm and durable, perfect for a young man."
Giyu picked up a piece of deep-blue cotton. The texture was thick and solid. "How about this one?"
He remembered To mentioning that he liked darker colors, and deep blue wouldn't show dirt easily—good for sword training.
To leaned over to look, then pointed at another fabric nearby. "Shishou, that one's nice too…"
It was a lighter gray, softer in tone. He hesitated, not wanting Giyu to think he was being picky.
"Both."
Giyu turned to the shopkeeper. "Make two sets of casual wear—one loose for training, one fitted for daily wear."
The shopkeeper blinked in surprise, then smiled wide. "Of course! They'll be ready by tomorrow. You can come pick them up then."
After leaving a deposit, Giyu brought To to a ready-made clothing shop to get him something to wear right away.
To tried on a light-gray jacket. The collar was a bit tight, and the sleeves hung too long.
Giyu asked the tailor to loosen the collar and shorten the sleeves. Then he crouched down to adjust the hem of To's trousers. "Too tight?"
To shook his head quickly, his cheeks flushed pink. "No, it's fine. Feels really comfortable."
When Giyu's cool fingers brushed against his ankle, it reminded To of his mother—how she used to kneel down to fix his clothes when he was little.
While the tailor made adjustments, Giyu took him to a confectionery on the corner.
"Two dorayaki," he said, handing over some coins.
He took the wrapped pastries and passed one to To. "Here. Eat."
To accepted it but didn't eat right away. Instead, he offered the other one back. "Shishou, you should have one too."
"I don't like sweets."
Giyu pushed it back gently. "You eat. If it's not enough, I'll buy more."
To looked down at the dorayaki, then took a small bite. The sweet red bean filling spread across his tongue, and he thought it was the best thing he had ever tasted.
He ate slowly, savoring every bite, glancing now and then at Giyu—who was quietly watching the children spinning tops by the street. His eyes, usually cold as stone, now held a faint softness.
When To finished, Giyu led him to a toy shop and bought him a wooden spinning top. "For when you're tired of training. Use it to relax."
To held the top tightly, his face glowing with delight. "Thank you, Shishou!"
On the way back, To played with the top as they walked. It spun along the ground, humming softly as it circled their feet.
Giyu slowed his pace, watching him with quiet contentment. The faintest curve touched his lips.
He had never imagined he'd one day walk through town buying clothes, sweets, and toys for a child.
But seeing To smile like that, he thought… maybe this kind of life wasn't so bad.
By the time they returned to the base, the sky had darkened.
Giyu told To to bathe first and waited for him in the courtyard.
After To went to bed, Giyu returned to his room and took out a small bamboo tube from his robe—it had been delivered earlier by his Kasugai crow. Inside was a letter from Kocho Shinobu.
The paper carried a faint floral scent, and the handwriting was neat and graceful:
"Tomioka-san, may this letter find you well.
Kanao has been improving quickly. She can now dress other slayers' wounds on her own—still trembling sometimes, but she's much braver than before.
I've been teaching her how to use poison powder. She's diligent and says she wants to help me make poisons to protect everyone, for her sister and for the Corps.
The last batch of poison powder I sent you has been tested. It's effective against Lower Moon-level demons—it can paralyze them for at least fifteen minutes. You can rely on it during missions.
If you need more, let me know, and I'll send another batch.
Have your missions been going well lately? How is To's training?
He's still young, so don't push him too hard. Make sure he eats and rests properly.
We recently harvested some fresh perilla leaves here at the Butterfly Mansion. Boiling them in water helps prevent colds. I enclosed a small packet in the envelope—remember to drink some when you can.
The weather's getting colder. Please take care of yourself.
Being a Hashira carries great weight, but don't keep pushing yourself so hard.
Kocho Shinobu."
Giyu's gaze lingered on one line—"How is To's training?"—and his chest warmed.
Shinobu always wrote about missions and poisons, yet she still mentioned To in her letters, even sending herbs to keep them healthy.
He poured out the small packet from the envelope. The dried perilla leaves still carried their faint, clean scent.
He folded the letter neatly, placed it with the others, and tucked the perilla away in a drawer.
Tomorrow morning, he'd brew perilla tea—and pour a cup for To as well.
That was what he decided.
Moonlight streamed through the window, glinting faintly on the Nichirin Sword resting on his desk.
Giyu stood and walked to the window, glancing toward To's room—dark and quiet. The boy was already asleep.
There was still much to do: continue training with Hinokami Kagura, refine Raging Surge, track the movements of Upper Moon Two, and—above all—protect the Kamado family and Kocho Kanae.
But in that moment, as he stood in the peaceful courtyard, the warmth of Shinobu's letter still lingering at his fingertips, Giyu realized that even within all his heavy burdens, there were gentle moments like this.
He picked up his Nichirin Sword and stepped outside.
Under the moonlight, his deep-blue haori fluttered softly as the blade sliced through the air, flowing like water.
Training never ended. The path to strength was still long.
But now, he was no longer alone.