Days bled into weeks at the Butterfly Estate.
Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke—three wounded swordsmen—slowly returned from the edge of death. Bruised ribs, cracked skulls, battered bodies… but none of them gave up. Especially not when she entered the room.
"Good morning! Time for your stretches!" Aoi Kanzaki announced cheerfully, holding a bucket in one hand and a bamboo stick in the other.
Tanjiro smiled weakly. "Let's give it our best, everyone."
Inosuke snarled from his futon, wrapped in bandages from neck to toe. "Tch… don't you dare go ahead without me."
Zenitsu, of course, wailed. "Why is this happening to me?! I just wanted to hold a girl's hand!"
What followed were days of relentless rehabilitation training.
At first, their bodies resisted. Stretching tore at wounds that hadn't fully closed. Reflex drills pushed them to the brink. But behind each sting was a purpose—to rise stronger, to be worthy of the battlefield again.
Tanjiro pushed through the pain, focusing with quiet determination.
Inosuke roared through it, declaring he'd become "the King of Muscle!"
Zenitsu… mostly cried. But even he began to grit his teeth and move.
Kanao Tsuyuri joined them in training—a silent, graceful shadow who never faltered. Tanjiro noticed how she never spoke, and always flipped a coin to decide her actions. He watched her with quiet curiosity, wondering what kind of pain hid behind her smile.
As their strength returned, so did their laughter.
They sparred, stumbled, laughed—and healed.
Elsewhere… far from the light-hearted air of the estate—
The Hashira gathered once more in the mansion of Kagaya Ubuyashiki.
Moonlight seeped through the wooden lattice. Silent, serene.
The Hashira knelt in a circle before the pale figure of their leader, whose voice floated like wind through reeds.
"I've gathered you all," Kagaya began gently, "to speak of a matter most grave… and yet one with hope buried inside it."
The Hashira listened, still and attentive.
"Tanjiro Kamado," Kagaya continued, "has not only demonstrated courage, but he has come face-to-face with Muzan Kibutsuji himself."
The room stirred.
Obanai's eyes sharpened. Sanemi's teeth clenched. Mitsuri gasped.
"Muzan…" Tengen muttered, leaning back. "That's not something most people live to talk about."
Muichiro's expression didn't change, but his fingers twitched slightly.
"Muzan approached him under the veil of the city," Kagaya said. "He did not attack. He blended with the humans. The Demon King walks freely."
Kagaya's fingers trembled slightly as he folded them.
"This boy—this child—has seen the face of the very evil we've hunted for centuries. That alone makes him a vessel of knowledge."
"And you still trust him?" Sanemi growled.
"I trust in what I see," Kagaya replied. "And I see in him… the wind that precedes the dawn."
The Hashira said nothing.
"Let us prepare," Kagaya finished. "A storm brews. And the boy with the scar may be the spark that lights the fire."
As the Hashira bowed and began to leave, the wind outside whispered through the trees.
Back at the Butterfly Estate, Tanjiro's blade was already swinging through the evening air.
Step by step, breath by breath—
He was rising.