Kokushibo did not answer immediately. His six eyes remained half-lidded, his expression unreadable as he stood in the stillness of the training grounds. In truth, the question did not trouble him whether Muzan Kibutsuji knew or not was of little consequence. If anything, Muzan's inquiry had been nothing more than a test, and Kokushibo had passed it effortlessly by offering the truth without hesitation. That, in itself, was the safest lie.
Upon returning to his residence, Kokushibo made his way directly to the courtyard. As expected, Kanae Kocho was already there, her blade cutting through the air in fluid, disciplined arcs. Even after becoming a demon, she retained the elegance of her Flower Breathing yet now, every motion carried an undercurrent of strain.
Her reason was simple.
The hunger.
Unlike ordinary demons who quickly surrendered to instinct, Kanae resisted. The craving for human flesh gnawed endlessly at her senses, relentless and suffocating. Only through constant movement through the repetition of forms, the discipline of swordsmanship could she suppress it, even if only barely.
Kokushibo observed her silently, and for a fleeting moment, an old memory surfaced of a distant descendant yet to rise, Muichiro Tokito. A prodigy born into tragedy, one whose fate had already begun to diverge under the subtle influence of Kokushibo's interference. The boy's parents still lived; the path that would have led him to despair had not yet been carved.
Perhaps… the future was no longer fixed.
Kanae noticed his presence and lowered her blade, exhaling softly before approaching him. "You're back," she said, studying his expression. "What is it? You look like you're thinking about something unpleasant."
Kokushibo regarded her with mild curiosity. "I assumed you came because you were unable to endure the hunger."
Kanae shook her head. "No… I wanted to ask you something." Her gaze hardened slightly, though uncertainty lingered beneath it. "Why did you turn me into a demon? What is it that you want from me?"
Before he could respond, she added quickly, "I won't fight the Demon Slayer Corps for you."
The firmness in her voice carried both resolve and fear fear of losing herself completely.
For a brief moment, Kokushibo had no answer. He had not turned her for a specific purpose; at the time, it had simply felt… necessary. Yet now, hearing her question, a thought surfaced one that curled into something darker.
Kanae possessed knowledge. The location of the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters, the internal structure, the habits of the Hashira… information that could prove invaluable.
A slow, distorted smile spread across Kokushibo's face.
Kanae stiffened, instinctively stepping back as unease crept into her chest. For a moment, she truly wondered if he intended to devour her.
But just as suddenly, the expression vanished.
"No," he said at last, voice calm once more. "There is nothing I require from you."
That was the truth for now.
Interfering too early would only invite suspicion from Muzan. Whatever Kokushibo intended to do, it would have to be executed with precision. Until then, patience remained his greatest weapon.
After a brief silence, he turned away. "Come with me tonight."
Kanae blinked. "Where?"
"You will see."
Night fell swiftly.
Under the cover of darkness, Kokushibo led Kanae to a familiar estate the residence of Makijuro Rengoku.
The moment they arrived, Makijuro stepped into the courtyard, his expression calm… until his eyes fell upon Kanae.
Shock shattered his composure.
"The Flower Hashira…?" he murmured, disbelief etched across his face. "What is the meaning of this?"
He had long since severed ties with the Corps and had not attended recent gatherings. The truth of Kanae's transformation had never reached him.
Kokushibo only smiled faintly. "Surprised?"
Before Makijuro could press further, a familiar voice rang out.
"Father!"
Kyojuro Rengoku rushed into the courtyard, his usual bright energy undiminished. His eyes lit up immediately upon seeing them. "You've come! And Kanae as well this is wonderful!"
His enthusiasm, untainted by suspicion, created a strange contrast against the tension in the air.
Kokushibo rested a hand on Kyojuro's head, the gesture almost natural now. "Rengoku," he said, his tone shifting, "teach me Flame Breathing."
Makijuro's brows furrowed slightly, but he did not object. Kyojuro, on the other hand, nodded without hesitation, leading Kokushibo toward the training grounds with unwavering sincerity.
Kanae remained behind.
She stood quietly in the courtyard, the scent of human life lingering faintly in the air a constant reminder of what she had become. When Ruka Rengoku stepped outside and invited her in, Kanae hesitated before offering a polite refusal.
"I'll stay here," she said softly. "I won't be long."
Ruka sensed something unusual but chose not to press further, her kindness as gentle as ever.
Meanwhile, within the training grounds, Kyojuro's voice rang with clarity as he demonstrated the principles of Flame Breathing.
"Flame Breathing originates from Sun Breathing," he explained, his stance firm and unwavering. "Alongside Water, Wind, Stone, and Thunder Breathing, it is one of the primary derivatives."
Each movement he performed carried both precision and intensity, embodying the spirit of the technique itself.
"The defining trait of Flame Breathing is overwhelming power," he continued. "Explosive speed, fierce offense, and unrestrained strikes these are its essence."
Kokushibo watched carefully, absorbing every detail. Unlike Moon Breathing, which emphasized distortion and unpredictability, Flame Breathing was direct its strength lay in its honesty.
Makijuro observed from the side, offering occasional corrections, his sharp gaze never leaving Kokushibo. Though he said nothing, a question lingered in his mind.
Why would a demon… seek to learn a Breathing Style?
Far away, within the quiet halls of the Butterfly Mansion, a different scene unfolded.
Shinobu Kocho sat alone, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as tears silently traced down her cheeks. The absence of her sister weighed heavily on her heart, leaving behind an emptiness she could not yet understand.
A knock echoed through the hall.
Reluctantly, she rose and opened the door only to find Giyu Tomioka standing awkwardly outside, his hand still raised mid-knock.
The moment she opened the door, his hand accidentally tapped her forehead.
Both froze.
"…Are you alright?" Giyu asked, completely serious.
Shinobu stared at him, momentarily speechless before stepping aside to let him in.
Recalling Kagaya's instructions, Giyu spoke with rigid sincerity. "I was told to comfort you."
A terrible opening.
Shinobu blinked, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
Yet before she could respond, Giyu reached out and awkwardly, but gently wiped away the tears from her face.
Her entire expression froze.
A faint flush crept across her cheeks as she instinctively stepped back.
"…You really are something else, Tomioka-san," she said, forcing a strained smile, though a vein pulsed visibly at her temple. "Touching a girl's face like that… do you have no sense of boundaries?"
Giyu tilted his head slightly.
"…Was that wrong?"
The silence that followed was heavy.
Moments later, Shinobu slammed the door shut, leaving Giyu standing alone outside.
Inside, she leaned against the door, her hand resting lightly against her cheek, her expression conflicted grief, embarrassment, and something else she could not quite name all tangled together.
And for the first time that night…
She stopped crying.