New Year's festival.
After bidding Master Urokodaki farewell, Roy set off for home.
His basket bulged to the brim: medicine for Father, new clothes for Mother Aoi and sister Nezuko, sweets for Takeo and Shigeru, a bamboo dragonfly for baby Hanako—and the reluctant gazes of Sabito, Makomo, and all his senior brothers and sisters…
"I'm not not coming back," the boy always said with a smile.
He knew that without him as the bridge, this reunion with Master would end again in separation—a cruelty to the others. Even though they were sensible enough not to ask him to stay, he could feel their emotions and hopes, strong as a tide.
"Don't worry. Even when I'm not here, you'll still be able to see Master." That was the promise he made before leaving.
To keep that promise he needed the prerequisite—Shu.
Shu: the advanced application of Ten—wrap your aura, via Ten, around an object you touch to enhance it. Even released, it can persist briefly…the duration depends on the user's aura strength…
Sabito clapped his shoulder. "Of course we believe you."
Master tucked a New Year's gift into his chest… they all thought the boy was just offering comfort…
They watched him go, waving silently.
Roy didn't explain more—he tightened the basket straps, gave them a small smile, and turned into the forest, leaving two lines of prints that the wind and snow soon erased…
On the way past Mt. Sagiri he felled a boar, sold it in town for coin, finished the New Year shopping, then took the familiar mountain path. He quickened his pace, and just before sunset caught a faint, familiar scent.
Smiling, he slipped into Zetsu, lowered his presence, followed the smell—and in an open snowfield, found a red-haired boy stabbing a dead tree again and again.
He looked a little like Roy; a flame-shaped mark spread across his brow—an omen of good fortune in this era…
Chak… chak… chak…
"One thousand one hundred fifty-one… one thousand four hundred fifty-two… one thousand seven hundred seventy-nine… two thousand!"
Tanjiro grunted. His ax flashed with a "The Snake Awakens" and pierced the dead trunk. Crack—
The tree, robbed of support, toppled and became neat logs in his basket.
Axe in hand, sweat wiped away, the boy straightened and stared toward Mt. Sagiri, lost in thought…
More than three months since Nii-san left. He'd wanted to go find him there more times than he could count, but the weight of kindling and little siblings always held him back. At least—even absent—Nii-san sent coin by crow every week. Tanjiro knew that bird—Master's courier.
Mother said as long as the crow came, there was hope—proof Nii-san was well. Then she could be at ease.
As for the money, she hadn't spent a single coin—locked it in a wooden box "for Nii-san to marry on" someday.
What's "marry"? Probably like Father and Mother, he thought. He breathed out; white mist fell to the ground. He bent to shoulder the basket—his nostrils flared—when he noticed a pair of feet before him.
He followed them up past shins, chest—clang—the ax slipped from his hand.
"Nii-san!"
He leapt into Roy's arms. The kindling in his basket couldn't take the shake—spilling everywhere.
"You've grown taller, Tanjiro." Roy ruffled his hair. The red-haired boy choked on a sob, bit it back.
Like a koala, he clung. Roy let him, listening to the stream of chatter while picking up the scattered wood.
"Nii-san, you didn't send a letter… Mother just asked the other day if you're coming home for New Year…"
"I wanted to surprise you."
"We don't need surprises. Just come home more often… otherwise… Hanako won't even remember you…"
"My fault."
"No, it's not. Father says this is your time to roam—you can't let coming home for New Year cut into the real work…"
"It won't. How's Father?"
"We had a doctor in. It's… stable."
"Good."
The sun leaned west. The big kid and the little kid crunched through the woods.
At dusk he stopped, eyes lifting to the twist of smoke from the east-facing cabin. Tanjiro slipped down, embarrassed to keep clinging, and stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at home.
Faintly… children's laughter, an adult's cough, a few blurred figures—an entire warm picture.
Roy drew a long breath. "Let's go."
They stepped to the gate.
Cre-eak. The gate swung; the wind and snow seemed to pause. Heads popped from the main room, the kitchen, the yard—then silence—then a burst of cheers!
"Rōichirō—!"
"Rōichirō-nii!"
"Grandma, come quick—Rōichirō's back—!"
"Who?"
"It's Onii-chan!"
Takeo and Shigeru crashed out, one on each leg. Mother Aoi, headscarf on, lifted the kitchen curtain, a fresh tray of tempura in her hands—eyes wet. Nezuko steadied Grandma, who held Hanako… Father Tanjuro sat up by the brazier…
Roy's mouth softened into a smile. "I'm home."
"Good… good… let Grandma see you…" She passed Hanako to Nezuko, pulled his head into her arms.
Tanjiro unshouldered the basket.
The little ones, Takeo and Shigeru, chirped "Onii-chan" and dug for candy, faces lighting up.
Aoi wiped her tears, dropped the curtain, and returned to the oil—child home means he mustn't go hungry.
Roy patted Grandma's back and met his father's eyes. Tanjuro smiled—the cough seemed lighter.
That night, firecrackers bloomed in the town below—prayers for safety, to drive away demons.
Roy had bought small sparklers at market. He sat beside Tanjuro with hot tea in hand and watched Tanjiro lead Nezuko, Takeo, and Shigeru in a chorus of whoops and sparks.
"Rōichirō, welcome home." Tanjuro raised his cup and clinked it to Roy's. The year was whole.
~~~
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