That morning, a faint mist lingered over a small village nestled at the foot of Mount Kumotori, part of the Okutama mountain range. The chill of the summer highlands still clung to the air, giving the quiet village an ethereal calm.

After a journey that had taken over ten days, Tachibana Kyūjō finally arrived at the place he had been searching for.

But instead of heading straight up the mountain, he wandered through the sleepy streets of the village, quietly observing the rows of humble stalls lining the roadside. Occasionally, he stopped to pick up small gifts—modest, respectful souvenirs suitable for a visit.

He now stood before a stand selling delicate hair ornaments for young girls. He picked one up and turned toward the elderly woman tending the stall—a wrinkled grandmother with silver hair, seated calmly behind her wooden table.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Kyūjō said with a polite smile. "Would you mind if I asked you something?"

The old woman gave him a brief once-over. Though Kyūjō looked young and somewhat out of place, there was no malice in his aura.

Thankfully, before entering the village, Kyūjō had taken care to conceal his Nichirin Blade, wrapping it in dark cloth and slinging it across his back like a toolbag.

"Go ahead," the woman replied, her voice raspy but kind.

"I'm looking for a family by the name of Kamado," Kyūjō said, lowering his voice. "They live up on Mount Kumotori. I heard they make charcoal?"

The woman's eyes narrowed slightly, gauging his words.

"And what business do you have with the Kamado family?" she asked, cautious.

Kyūjō scratched the back of his head awkwardly. She was understandably wary. In a world where demons still roamed the night, suspicion was a survival instinct.

So he decided to tell a half-truth.

"My family runs a charcoal business," he said with a faint smile. "I heard the Kamado family's charcoal is high-quality... so I thought I'd come place an early order before winter."

The old woman watched him for a few moments in silence. Then she nodded slowly.

"Wait here a while," she said. "I'll have my son guide you up the mountain."

"Thank you so much," Kyūjō replied, bowing deeply.

Before long, a sturdy middle-aged man approached. His face was rugged, but his eyes held a quiet warmth.

This was Watanabe Yūta, the old woman's son.

— — —

Half a day passed as the two made their way up the mountainside.

When the sun finally reached its peak in the midday sky, Kyūjō and Yūta arrived at a modest wooden home tucked deep within the forest. The house stood quietly, surrounded by thick trees and the scent of damp earth.

Yūta stepped forward and called out.

"Tanjūrō! You home?"

A faint cough answered from inside.

A man emerged slowly from the doorway—a tall figure with long, reddish-brown hair, thin from malnutrition, and skin tinged with a faint sickly yellow.

There was a faint scar on the left side of his forehead. Despite his frail appearance, his demeanor was calm and kind.

He looked at Yūta and the unfamiliar youth beside him, who held a small gift box.

"Ah, Yūta-san," the man said gently. "And this young guest... Please, come in."

Kyūjō followed them into the wooden house. He didn't let his eyes wander but simply bowed respectfully and handed the gift box to the lady of the house—Kamado Kie.

"Sorry to trouble you," Kyūjō said softly.

Kie received the box with a warm smile. "Thank you for coming all this way."

Yūta explained the reason for their visit.

"This young man's interested in buying charcoal from your family. I figured I'd bring him up."

The Kamado family nodded in understanding. It wasn't unusual for villagers to visit now and then, though strangers from outside the region were rare.

Yūta rubbed the back of his neck.

"I should head back down before the afternoon's over. Still got work to do."

He turned to Kyūjō.

"You'll be okay heading down alone later?"

"Of course. Thank you for your help, Yūta-san."

As his old friend turned to leave, Kamado Tanjūrō called out.

"Yūta-san, won't you stay for lunch?"

But Yūta only waved without turning around and continued down the path.

He knew the Kamado family didn't have much. They had several children to care for, and Tanjūrō had been sick for years. Making charcoal wasn't exactly a thriving business.

Especially in the summer, when demand dropped to almost nothing.

As a longtime friend, Yūta understood better than anyone the hardships they endured. He couldn't bring himself to burden them further—not even for a simple meal.

Tanjūrō watched his friend's back disappear into the forest with a quiet look that spoke volumes. No words were needed.

Kyūjō, too, remained silent as he watched the man go.

That man… is a truly good person.

— — —

Inside the house, Kyūjō now sat across from Tanjūrō.

In the kitchen, Kie was preparing a simple lunch, while the children—Tanjiro and Nezuko—kept the younger siblings entertained in the side room.

They knew better than to interrupt the adults.

Kyūjō studied Tanjūrō for a while. Despite the man's weak body, his presence felt calm, almost serene. There was something about him that faintly reminded Kyūjō of Ubuyashiki Kagaya.

Eventually, Kyūjō spoke up.

"Kamado-san… I need to apologize. I didn't come here to buy charcoal."

Tanjūrō only nodded slightly, completely unbothered.

"You already knew, didn't you?" Kyūjō asked, frowning.

Tanjūrō smiled faintly.

"Your inner robes… I've seen them before. And that cloth bag on your back—inside it is a blade used to slay demons, isn't it?"

Kyūjō fell silent, then nodded slowly.

"So you've met a Demon Slayer before?"

Tanjūrō shook his head.

"Ah… So that's the name of your group. 'Demon Slayer Corps,' huh…"

He looked out the window as if recalling something from long ago.

"Three years ago, a man-eating demon appeared on this mountain. I sensed it and went to investigate. But before I could act, someone wearing robes like yours beheaded it in a single strike."

"That person never noticed me… I was watching from the trees."

Kyūjō took a slow breath.

"Does that mean… demons show up here often?"

Tanjūrō thought for a moment.

"Not really. When I was a child, my mother used to tell me stories about man-eating demons. But in my whole life, I've only seen four."

Kyūjō nodded. He didn't ask what happened to those demons.

He already knew.

Tanjūrō had dealt with them himself.

Even without ever joining the Corps, without ever holding a Nichirin Blade, Tanjūrō had inherited the Hinokami Kagura—the Sun Breathing form—and even more impressively...

He had achieved the Transparent World.

Within that state, only demons from the Twelve Kizuki would pose any real threat to him.

And the faint mark on his forehead...

Kyūjō observed it carefully. It wasn't a Demon Slayer Mark like the ones worn by the Hashira. Most likely, it was just a birthmark.

But still...

The question that had been weighing on Kyūjō's mind since the beginning returned.

Why did Tanjūrō Kamado die so young in the original timeline, leaving behind a large, impoverished family?

Now, Kyūjō felt like he was starting to understand.

And that realization left him somewhere between admiration... and sorrow.

A man with a fragile body, working a physically exhausting job like charcoal burning, barely getting by...

Why have so many children?

Using Sun Breathing techniques regularly would wear down even a healthy body. Add malnutrition, fatigue, and the daily stress of supporting a large family...

It wasn't hard to guess what had happened.

If only Tanjūrō and Kie had made different choices...

If only they hadn't had so many children so quickly...

If only they had enough food—enough rest...

Maybe he wouldn't have died so early.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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