Morning sunlight had only just begun to pierce through the mist that clung to the mountains. Filtered through layers of dense forest, what reached the ground was no more than a dim, gentle warmth, pale and fragile as if it might fade at any moment.
Kanao opened her soft pink-violet eyes early.
The campfire that had been burning the night before had gone out at some point, leaving behind only cold ashes. The chill in the air made her shrink slightly. She stared at the extinguished fire, momentarily lost in thought. It had never gone out before—not once. Tilting her head, she turned her gaze toward the depths of the cave.
"Grr—!"
A demon with crimson eyes stared back at her, its expression twisted and feral. It lunged instinctively, driven by hunger, but the iron chains binding it held firm, leaving it to struggle uselessly in place.
Clatter, clatter...
The chains rattled against the ground with sharp, hollow echoes.
Kanao pressed her lips together, tightening her grip on the Nichirin Sword as she stepped closer.
"Come closer… just a little closer… let me…"
The demon lowered its head slightly, as though waiting—waiting for her to step within reach, to seize the moment and tear into her flesh.
Kanao stopped just short of danger, her gaze steady.
"Uncle… I'm going to make breakfast. Do you want some?"
"I want your flesh," the demon rasped. "Give me a bite… I'm hungry… so hungry…"
The light in her eyes dimmed for a moment.
She stood there, small and still.
But then, as though gathering herself, she clenched her fists, a faint spark of determination returning.
She turned away.
Clumsily, she began to rebuild the fire.
Clumsily, she prepared the meal.
Clumsily, she combed through her hair.
Clumsily… she did everything alone.
…
Yet despite it all, she managed. Even without him, she did well—better than one might expect.
Each time she finished a task, Kanao would pause, tilting her head as she looked toward the demon whose expression grew more twisted and savage by the moment.
After a while, she lowered her gaze, picked up the flower basket resting in the cave, and hooked it over her arm. She cast one more glance behind her before heading toward the entrance.
At the threshold, she turned back.
"I'm going to pick flowers now, Uncle."
"Grr…"
Only a low, hoarse growl answered her.
No gentle reply.
She hesitated.
It felt… unfamiliar.
So she turned back again, stepping inside the cave. Setting down her basket, she sat cross-legged, placing a hand lightly against the blade of the Nichirin sword.
"…Mm."
In a low voice, she mimicked the sound—his sound. It wasn't quite the same, not as deep or steady, but she had learned enough to resemble it.
Then, as if satisfied, she stood again, lifting her basket with a bright, almost cheerful motion.
At the entrance, she glanced once more at the demon… and then at the place where she had just been sitting.
"I'll be back soon~"
There was no answer.
But to her, it was as though one had already been given.
With that, she skipped lightly into the forest.
Her figure moved with growing grace now, nimble and swift. Even steep cliffs no longer posed a challenge; flowers that had once been far beyond her reach could now be gathered with ease.
Whenever she encountered unfamiliar flowers, her eyes would light up with quiet excitement. She would lift them toward the sun, watching carefully as their shadows fell, her pink-violet gaze tracing the shape of each petal in the light.
When she returned, her basket full, she would pick out the strange and unfamiliar flowers and hold them up to the demon's mouth.
"Pah—!"
"Get lost! Give me meat—I want your flesh—!"
"Be good, okay?" she said softly, standing just out of reach. Leaning forward slightly, she extended the flower toward him, her eyes calm and gentle. "If you behave, I'll give you some of my flesh."
The demon snapped forward—
—but caught only the flower.
"Ptah!"
It spat it out immediately.
It had already been tricked too many times.
"I won't eat flowers," it snarled hoarsely. "Give me your flesh… just one bite… I'm starving… I'm so hungry…"
"I'm going to starve to death…"
Kanao watched as the flower fell to the ground.
Then, without a word, she bent down, picked it up again—
and repeated the same motion, just as before.
It failed—just as it always did.
"Let me have a bite… just one bite of your flesh…"
The demon's crimson eyes locked onto Kanao Tsuyuri, its hunger laid bare, raw and unhidden.
Kanao stood there, holding the flower, staring at it in silence.
The presence that once belonged to her uncle was fading.
Little by little, she could feel him slipping away—
becoming something distant…
something unfamiliar.
She tried again, lifting the flower to his mouth.
It was spat out, just as before.
This time, she did not try again.
She knew—it would not work anymore.
Slowly, she raised the Nichirin Sword.
The demon's eyes widened instantly. Its body convulsed as it struggled violently against the chains, iron clashing and rattling as it tried to break free. But the restraints held firm; they had been chosen precisely for this purpose, and no matter how fiercely it thrashed, it could not escape.
"You wouldn't do it," the demon sneered, though something uneasy flickered beneath its voice. "You wouldn't cut me down. How could you? I'm your uncle, Kanao… you wouldn't do that, would you?"
"Would you?"
Kanao's grip on the sword tightened.
"You're not Uncle."
Her delicate face was set, her voice firm in a way it had never been before.
"Eat the flower. Or I'll cut off your head."
For a moment, the demon faltered.
Seeing the unwavering resolve in her eyes, the blade already raised without hesitation, something instinctive stirred within it—fear.
"…I'll eat it."
The tension broke.
Kanao lowered the sword at once, and the cold, unyielding expression on her face softened, melting into something gentle once more. Carefully, she brought the flower back to his lips.
"Be good, okay?"
She watched closely as he swallowed it this time.
Only after a long moment did she step away, returning to her basket and taking out more flowers.
She sat down quietly and began to weave.
It was clumsy work—her fingers inexperienced, her movements slow—but she persisted with quiet patience, studying each step, trying again and again until it began to take shape.
The pale warmth of morning light gradually deepened into the crimson glow of dusk.
At last, she finished a flower crown she found acceptable. Placing it upon her head, she stood, hands tucked behind her back, and walked over to the subdued demon.
"Does it look nice?" she asked softly.
"…It does."
The demon lifted its head.
For a fleeting moment, its expression softened—almost gentle.
Kanao froze.
Her pink-violet eyes flickered as she gazed at him in silence.
"Kanao… I think I'm better now," Soma said quietly. "The flowers you gave me earlier must have worked."
She did not respond.
She only stood there, watching.
"These chains… they're uncomfortable," he continued, lowering his voice into something familiar, something warm. "Can you untie me?"
Still, she did not move.
Her gaze lingered on him before slowly lowering.
"You're not Uncle."
"What do you mean I'm not? I am," he insisted, struggling slightly, making the chains tremble. "I'm your uncle. I'm fine now. Why won't you let me go?"
Kanao lifted her eyes again, studying him—studying those crimson eyes that, at first glance, seemed no different from before.
But they were different.
She could not fully explain how.
Yet beneath that carefully feigned gentleness, there was nothing but hunger—violent, insatiable, devouring. The warmth she once knew was gone.
So was the quiet calm that had always rested in his gaze.
"This is the flower crown I made," she said softly.
She removed it from her head and placed it gently upon his.
The demon immediately shook its head, trying to throw it off—but the moment Kanao raised her blade again, it stilled, forced into reluctant compliance.
Only then did she smile, faint but genuine.
"Be careful, demon," she said quietly. "I will cut you."
…
Time seemed to stretch endlessly.
It slowed, dragging its feet as though unwilling to move forward, as though spring itself had come to a standstill.
Again and again, Kanao would step out of the cave, lifting her gaze to the sky. Sometimes it was a clear expanse of blue; sometimes a dark canvas scattered with stars.
Each day, aside from gathering flowers, watching over the demon, and eating her meals, she spent the rest of her time training.
From the first light of dawn to the deepening shadows of dusk, she practiced before the cave.
The graves that stood nearby watched in silence—
as the figure of a young girl swung her blade, over and over again.
The girl's blade—
grew faster.
…
That morning unfolded much like any other.
After finishing her daily tasks, Kanao Tsuyuri stepped out of the cave, Nichirin sword in hand, ready to begin her training.
But the moment she crossed the threshold, she stopped.
Her pink-violet eyes fixed on something in the distance.
Far away, a figure was approaching—a man clad in a black uniform, a sword hanging at his waist. In his hands, he carried incense and paper offerings.
Kanao moved her hands behind her back, pressing the blade flat against her spine, concealing it. She stood quietly in the shadowed mouth of the cave, watching as he drew closer.
Having traveled alongside her uncle for so long, she recognized him immediately.
A swordsman of the Demon Slayer Corps.
Before long, the man reached the graves near the cave. With a heavy heart, he knelt and began lighting incense, burning the paper offerings. His lips moved faintly, murmuring words meant only for the dead.
Kanao remained still in the darkness, her gaze unwavering as she watched him.
"Grr…"
From within the cave, the chained demon stirred, letting out a low, eager growl at the presence of a stranger.
The swordsman froze.
He turned sharply, eyes narrowing as he looked toward the cave. In the dimness, he could just make out the outline of a figure standing within.
"There's still a demon hiding here?" he muttered. "How cunning…"
He rose to his feet, gripping the hilt of his Nichirin blade, hesitating between investigating further or sending word for backup.
But before he could decide—
the figure in the darkness began to move.
Step by step, it emerged into the light.
At first, only a silhouette.
Then, gradually, clarity.
A girl.
Delicate. Beautiful.
"…So even someone like you has become a demon," he sighed softly. "What a pity."
Yet in the next moment, she stepped fully into the sunlight.
"…Huh?"
The swordsman blinked, then let out a small, self-conscious laugh, releasing his grip on his sword. "Just a human child… you scared me."
After all, demons could not stand beneath the sun.
Still, as he watched her approach, he couldn't help but frown slightly.
"This is deep in the mountains," he said gently. "It's dangerous for a child to be here alone. Where are your parents? How could they let you wander like this?"
Kanao said nothing.
She walked toward him slowly, her hands still hidden behind her back, the blade pressed flat against her spine.
The swordsman studied her, unease flickering faintly in his instincts—something about her felt… off. And yet, the thought seemed absurd. She was only a human child, not a demon. What danger could she possibly pose?
"Where are you from? Did you get lost?" he continued, offering a reassuring smile. "Do you need help—"
By then, she had reached him.
Only now did he see her clearly.
Her features were refined, almost delicate to the point of fragility, and her pink-violet eyes were strikingly beautiful.
A girl like this, alone in the mountains…
What courage—or perhaps, what recklessness.
But before the thought could settle—
she moved.
Suddenly.
Too fast.
So fast that his mind barely had time to register it.
Her hands came forward from behind her back, and in that instant, he saw it—
a Nichirin Sword.
Why does she have one? flashed through his mind. Was it lost? I should retrieve it—
The thought never finished.
She leapt.
The blade flashed.
"Fast… too fast…"
The realization came with a surge of pure, incomprehensible terror.
Because the blade was coming for him.
Why… is she trying to kill me?
His body tried to react, instinct urging him to dodge—
but there was no time.
The edge swept cleanly across his throat.
A burst of crimson sprayed across her delicate face.
And in that same instant—
death followed.
"—!"
The swordsman clutched at his neck, eyes wide with disbelief, before collapsing heavily to the ground, his body striking the earth with a dull, final thud.
Kanao Tsuyuri sheathed her blade and stood quietly to the side, her pink-violet eyes resting on the fallen swordsman.
He was not yet fully dead—but with his throat cut open, death was inevitable.
"Wh… why…?"
He could not understand. He refused to understand. His eyes clung desperately to the girl before him—the one who looked so delicate, almost adorable, yet carried something so terrifying within her.
Kanao gave no answer.
She simply watched.
Watched as he clutched at his throat, as pain and despair swallowed him whole, as his final breath slipped away into silence.
Only when his body lay still did she lower her gaze, glancing at the Nichirin Sword in her hand, still stained with blood. Then, without hesitation, she turned and began digging into the earth nearby.
The soil was stubborn, the task slow.
But she worked steadily.
Dragging the swordsman's heavy body into the pit she had dug, she covered him, handful by handful, until nothing remained but a fresh mound of earth.
Another grave.
There were already several here.
Before, those graves had been made by her uncle.
This one—
was hers.
For a fleeting moment, she recalled the warmth that had clung to the man when he was alive. It was a warmth she recognized—something akin to what she had felt the first time she met her uncle.
It was a warmth she had liked.
And yet, she had extinguished it without hesitation, turning it cold with her own hands.
Kanao's heart was small—so small it could hold only a single warmth. And that place had long since been filled, its imprint carved too deeply to ever be replaced.
There was no room for anything else.
Still…
something felt off.
A faint discomfort stirred within her.
A trace of sadness.
She could not explain it.
If her uncle were here, perhaps he would have told her why.
But he wasn't.
There was only herself now.
And so, she chose not to think about it at all.
…
After burying the swordsman, Kanao's days returned to their quiet routine, unchanged. Each day, she would stand at the cave's entrance, gazing outward, waiting for tomorrow to come.
Time did not hasten for her longing.
Nor did it slow.
It flowed forward, steady and indifferent.
As the rains of spring faded and the air gradually grew warmer, the coming of summer became inevitable.
Kanao remembered clearly what Tanjuro Kamado had once said.
When spring passed, and summer arrived—
that flower would bloom.
…
The first rain of summer fell without warning.
Alone, Kanao stood before the cluster of graves behind the mountain.
Rain soaked through her clothes, clung to her hair, ran down her face—but she did not move. Her pink-violet eyes remained fixed on the graves before her.
She kept staring.
Every flower in this place had already been picked, examined, searched through countless times.
And still—
not a single trace of that legendary bloom her uncle needed.
The rain grew heavier.
Her fingers tightened unconsciously around her sleeve, gripping it harder and harder.
For the first time, the calm that always filled her eyes fractured, giving way to something fragile—fear, unease, like a small animal left without shelter.
Before, as long as she stood beside her uncle, all her unease would fade away.
But now—
there was only her.
No one to stand in front of her.
No one to protect her.
Only herself, alone, facing the vast weight of uncertainty.
…
The sun set.
Then rose again.
The rain fell for an entire day and night—and through it all, Kanao remained where she was, unmoving.
Her eyes grew more restless.
Her heart more unsettled.
Her body grew colder with each passing moment—
and her heart sank with it, as though plunging into an icy abyss.
What if… that blue spider lily does not exist at all…?
"No… it has to exist."
Her voice trembled, but she shook her head, rejecting the thought outright.
"Of course it does."
Biting her lip, Kanao Tsuyuri scanned her surroundings with growing unease, forcing her eyes to search every inch of the rain-soaked ground. Flowers lay scattered and broken beneath the relentless downpour, their petals crushed into the mud—but none of them were what she sought.
"Is there really… nothing?" she whispered.
Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade as a dreadful thought surfaced—if she could not find that flower, then she would have to…
Her entire body trembled.
How could she possibly—
bring herself to cut off her uncle's head?
…
At some point, the rain ceased.
After standing beneath it for a full day and night, without food, without rest, the girl's strength had nearly drained away. Her breathing grew faint, her legs finally giving out as she collapsed onto the ground. Yet even then, she refused to stop, propping herself up with trembling arms as her eyes continued to search the world around her.
Then, without her noticing—
sunlight broke through.
After the storm, warm rays filtered down from the sky, and across the lingering mist, a rainbow spread its colors like a quiet miracle.
Kanao's consciousness began to blur.
Her vision swayed, fading in and out—
and within that haze,
she saw it.
The arc of the rainbow.
And beneath it—
a slender green vine.
Upon that vine bloomed a single, unremarkable flower, one that had opened at some unknown moment, unnoticed by the world.
It was not particularly beautiful.
And yet, in Kanao's eyes—
it became the most beautiful flower in existence.
She had never known what the Blue Spider Lily truly looked like. Neither had her uncle.
But in that instant, something deep within her whispered with absolute certainty—
This is it.
This—
was the Blue Spider Lily.
It bloomed at the fleeting boundary between spring's end and summer's arrival, and by nightfall, it would quietly wither away once more.
Its life was brief—
only a single day.
And now, at this very moment, it stood in silent bloom before her.
One glance—
was enough to steal her entire soul.
There was no room left in her world for anything else.
Her small, fragile body swayed as she rose, unsteady yet driven, her heart surging with a fragile, overwhelming joy. Step by step, she approached it.
Kanao lifted her head, gazing at the sky.
The rain had long since passed. Sunlight broke through the clouds, scattering radiant colors across the heavens.
Then she lowered her gaze—
to the tiny flower before her.
Gently, almost reverently, she plucked it.
And held it close against her chest,
as though she had just obtained the most precious treasure in all the world.