Soma did not leave. After lifting the curtain and offering a gentle smile to Kamado Kie and Nezuko, he simply found a small wooden stool by the doorway and sat down as though he had every intention of staying.
His presence cast a quiet tension over the yard, and the children, who had been lively moments before, now seemed stiff and restrained, their movements careful and subdued.
With a casual motion, Soma beckoned to Takeo.
The boy approached hesitantly, his face slightly pale, as though every step required effort.
Soma's gaze swept over him. The child bore a striking resemblance to Tanjiro—so much so that they could be mistaken for one another at a glance. The most obvious difference, however, was the absence of that distinct mark on his forehead, the one that set his older brother apart.
"S–sir…" Takeo managed, fear evident in his voice, though he did his best to remain polite.
"Go buy some sake for me."
Soma smiled faintly as he drew out some coins and placed them into the boy's trembling hand.
Takeo blinked in surprise, but quickly came to his senses. Bowing deeply, he hurried off without another word.
Not far away, Hanako stood clutching little Shigeru's hand, both of them stealing glances in Soma's direction, their small faces filled with unease. Yet Soma paid them no mind. He simply closed his eyes and sat quietly, letting the warm sunlight fall across him as though it were something to be savored.
After a while, seeing that he did nothing more than bask in the sun, the children gradually relaxed. Their fear ebbed, replaced by curiosity, until at last they dared to resume their games, laughter returning in soft, tentative bursts.
Inside the house, Nezuko followed closely behind her mother as they stepped into the room, only to find Tanjiro sitting there, motionless, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
It was obvious—the demon must have told him everything.
Kamado Kie reached the same conclusion. Whatever had been said, it must have concerned Nezuko, and judging by Tanjiro's expression, he had likely agreed. Faced with such a powerful being, refusal had never truly been an option. Yet that very thought filled her with quiet dread.
Demons were, by nature, cruel and unpredictable. If one day his temper were to turn… how could someone as gentle and fragile as Nezuko endure it?
The mere possibility made her heart ache.
"Brother… what did he say to you?" Nezuko asked softly, unable to hold back any longer as she looked at Tanjiro's distant expression.
"Mm."
Before she could finish, Tanjiro seemed to have already reached a decision. His gaze, once clouded, gradually sharpened, resolving into something firm and unyielding.
"He told me everything."
"Then, brother…" Nezuko's small hands tightened around the fabric of her clothes, her head lowering slightly. At her age, she had already begun to imagine her future—what kind of husband she might one day have, what her life might be like after marriage.
Never—not even in her wildest thoughts—had she imagined that future might involve a demon.
"I agreed."
Tanjiro clenched his fists, his voice steady with determination.
Nezuko pressed her lips together. Though she had prepared herself for sacrifice, she had not expected her brother to accept so quickly.
An inexplicable sense of grievance welled up inside her.
Lowering her head, she struggled to hold back her tears, but they spilled over despite her efforts. Without another word, she turned and ran from the room, her steps hurried and unsteady.
Watching his sister leave in sudden sorrow, Tanjiro's expression dimmed.
Was she… worried about him?
Worried about the dangerous path he was about to walk—the path of hunting demons?
But this was precisely what he, as the eldest son, was meant to bear.
How could he entrust the safety of his family—their very happiness—to the whims of demons that might one night invade their home?
No. Those things… those were responsibilities he had to seize with his own hands.
So, Nezuko—there is no need to worry for me.
This is what I must do.
Please… don't be sad because of me.
Though countless words rose within his heart, yearning to comfort her, Tanjiro spoke none of them aloud. They remained unvoiced, lingering only in the silence of his thoughts.
"Tanjiro… you agreed to it."
Kamado Kie looked at her son, her expression complicated, as though a thousand unspoken thoughts weighed upon her heart.
"…Yes."
Tanjiro's hand tightened slightly into a fist, his gaze growing ever more resolute.
Kie parted her lips, wanting to say something—anything—but in the end, no words came. She lowered her head and let out a quiet sigh. Perhaps… perhaps that demon was not as cruel as she feared. Perhaps, in time, he might even treat Nezuko kindly. From what she had seen, he did not seem entirely monstrous.
In that moment, she could only console herself with such fragile hopes, repeating them silently as though they might become truth if she believed hard enough.
Meanwhile, Tanjiro misunderstood her silence. To him, it seemed like worry—worry for his safety—and that only strengthened his resolve to walk the path of a demon slayer, no matter how perilous it might be.
…
The moment Nezuko stepped out of the room, the tears she had been holding back finally spilled over.
She had long prepared herself—prepared to sacrifice for her family, willing even—but when the moment truly came, when she became the one to be given up, the ache in her heart was impossible to ignore.
She could not bring herself to resent her brother. Nor could she resent her mother, or her younger siblings.
Then… who was she supposed to blame?
Almost unconsciously, her gaze drifted toward the demon sitting at the doorway, basking lazily in the sunlight.
At that very moment, he lifted his head and looked at her, a faint trace of curiosity flickering in his eyes.
Nezuko instinctively lowered her head, her fingers tightening in the fabric of her sleeve.
Should I… blame him?
But… weren't all demons like this?
And compared to those cruel monsters that devoured humans without restraint, this one… this one was already far, far better.
Could she really resent him just because he was less terrible than the rest?
Clutching her sleeve, the gentle-hearted girl found herself utterly lost. She did not know whom to blame, nor where to place the weight of her sorrow. For the first time, she felt completely adrift.
"Nezuko, come here."
His voice reached her ears, and her heart tightened instinctively. Fear still lingered—an almost instinctual response to his nature—but just as quickly, she forced herself to steady.
If she was to follow him from now on, what use was fear?
Was she meant to live in terror forever?
Lifting her head with a trace of stubborn resolve, she walked toward him.
Wasn't this what he wanted—to bully her, to take advantage of her?
It wouldn't be anything new.
All her life, she had been the one to endure grievances in silence.
If this was how it would be from now on, then so be it. She would simply endure it as she always had—treat it as though she had been… bitten.
"Have you been crying?"
Soma looked up at her as she stopped in front of him.
"I have not!"
She hurriedly wiped her face with her sleeve, though the attempt only smeared the tears further, leaving her looking like a little kitten with a dirty face.
There was something about beautiful girls—even when they cried in grievance—that made their vulnerability seem all the more endearing, as though the very air carried that fragile charm, enough to stir in others a strange urge to tease them further.
"Well, as long as you're not crying," Soma said with a faint smile. "Try to think more positively. Think about happier things."
Nezuko shot him a glance, then quickly turned her head away, puffing out her cheeks in quiet indignation.
The one being wronged was her. The one acting tyrannically was him. The one who would benefit in the end… was also him.
And yet here he was, telling her to "think positively."
How utterly domineering.
"Such a crybaby. All you do is cry."
From the side, Kanao—who had been standing quietly beside her uncle—lifted her pink-violet eyes and cast Nezuko a dismissive glance.
Nezuko's eyes immediately reddened further. She glared back, a soft but fierce indignation rising within her. She might fear a demon—but she did not fear another girl.
She wasn't made of clay, to be pushed around by anyone.
"Crybaby," Kanao repeated lightly.
The girl with the high ponytail crossed her arms, her expression tinged with disdain. She had always disliked people like this—her uncle was clearly so kind, and yet in their eyes, he was treated as something terrifying.
They were all incredibly stupid.
Especially this girl—she had been crying the first time they met, and now she was crying again.
Truly… she cried far too much.
Nezuko flushed with anger under that scornful gaze. She puffed up her cheeks, nearly placing her hands on her hips as if ready to argue back—but then Kanao's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and in that instant, she resembled the demon beside her so closely that Nezuko's resolve faltered.
Her anger deflated as quickly as it had risen.
With a huff of frustration, she turned her head away, refusing to look at this small woman who borrowed the tiger's might to flaunt her own arrogance.
Wasn't she only acting so bold because she had a demon backing her?
If only her brother…
But the thought faltered. Remembering how powerless Tanjiro had seemed in front of that demon, her confidence shrank, leaving her with nothing but quiet resentment and a sinking sense of helplessness.