Red and White!

Just after Dr. Shirakawa Sumie left, an older female attendant came in carrying something and quietly set it on the low cabinet beside Giyu's bed.

"Lord Giyu, this is your haori. Dr. Sumie said she did her best to wash and mend it."

After speaking softly, the attendant respectfully withdrew.

The ward fell quiet again. All he could hear was the faint sound of birds outside the window and the rustling of the wind through the Wisteria trellis.

Giyu's gaze settled on the dark blue bundle. He stared at it for a long time before slowly reaching out.

He undid the fastenings bit by bit and unfolded the cotton cloth.

The familiar red fabric appeared, but it was no longer as he remembered it.

The fabric itself had become extraordinarily soft and fragile; it felt as though a little pressure from his finger could poke a hole through it.

It was covered in tears and holes of all shapes and sizes...

The worst was in the center of the back, where a hole the size of a bowl went straight through. The fabric around it had split as if it had exploded, and the haori had nearly been torn in two.

The usual icy coldness vanished from Giyu's ice-blue eyes, replaced by a faint, faint tenderness and longing, delicate as mist.

It was as if he could see his older sister sitting by the window in the afternoon, sunlight falling on her profile as she bent over her needlework, a gentle smile on her lips.

He seemed to hear her softly humming an off-key tune.

He could almost feel the new fabric against his shoulders when he first put on the haori, and the warmth her palms had left on it.

That red fabric had been with him through his day-and-night training on Mount Sagiri, his desperate struggle to survive on Mount Fujikasane, and his endurance against the poison mist and raging fire on Defiled Wood Mountain.

Finally, in that rain of cherry blossoms and blood in Blue Stone Town, it had stayed with him to the very last moment of his fight to the death with the Lower Rank demon.

Giyu looked at it for a long, long time, until the patches of light outside the window had crept from the foot of his bed to its head.

Then he let out a sigh, so soft it was almost inaudible.

He wrapped the tattered red haori back up.

Then, bracing his still somewhat weak body, he got out of bed, walked to the ordinary wooden wardrobe in the corner of the ward, and pulled open the bottom drawer.

It was empty, save for a faint scent of camphorwood.

He placed the bundle in the drawer, pushed it all the way to the back, and looked at it once more before slowly closing the drawer.

Closing the drawer was like sealing away a memory.

His ice-blue eyes returned to their usual state, though something heavier seemed to lie beneath their calm.

He went back to sit on the bed, watching the shadows of Wisteria swaying outside the window without saying a word.

A few days passed.

In the courtyard behind the medical department.

The Wisteria trees grew thick and lush, clusters of pale purple flowers hanging down like waterfalls and giving off a faintly bitter, tranquil fragrance in the afternoon breeze.

Giyu Tomioka sat directly on the ground, his back against a rough trunk.

He wore a plain, unlined robe provided by the medical department, his long hair hanging loosely over his shoulders.

His face was still a little pale, but his eyes were bright and his breathing was steady.

He wasn't doing any strenuous exercise. He simply sat quietly, tilted his head back slightly against the trunk, and closed his eyes.

The distinctive scent of Wisteria filled his nostrils, while the wind carried the smells of grass, trees, and earth.

His ears automatically filtered out the faint voices and birdsong in the distance, leaving only the sounds within his own body... blood flowing, his heart beating, and each breath he took, sounds that were extremely faint yet perfectly clear.

He was recuperating, allowing his overtaxed mind to recover in the quiet.

At the same time, he was trying to understand and master that thing—the realm called the "Transparent World," which seemed to have opened a crack to him after that battle.

Scenes from his fight with Tetsusai involuntarily replayed in his mind.

When Tetsusai's fists came at him, swift as shadows and packed with force, their trajectories seemed to stretch out and slow down in his perception, becoming clear enough to see.

More importantly, he seemed to have seen something on Tetsusai's absurdly powerful demon body.

They were some... some points.

At the time, he'd relied largely on his combat instincts and the intuition granted by Heaven-Defying Comprehension to strike those most suitable points with his broken blade.

Striking a point where power gathered could interrupt Tetsusai's attacks, striking a weak point could deal more damage, and striking an opening as he switched between moves could throw him into disarray...

Thinking back on it now, it wasn't as simple as seeing openings. It was more like seeing a map and rhythm of his opponent's power in motion.

Swinging his blade along those points was like a master butcher carving an ox: nothing obstructed the blade, making every stroke naturally effortless and exceptionally effective.

What looked like casual dodges and counterattacks had actually all been built on that extraordinary insight.

"Is this a glimpse of the Transparent World?"

Giyu slowly adjusted his breathing.

Total Concentration: Constant had long since become instinctive. Now he tried to draw himself inward on a deeper level.

He drew back his outwardly projected aura, his fighting spirit, and even the active fluctuations of life itself, sinking and concealing them bit by bit.

The courtyard was quiet.

A few sparrows landed on the flower trellis nearby and cocked their heads curiously at the person sitting under the tree. They soon lost interest and hopped about before flying away.

Occasionally, an attendant or a lightly injured patient passed along the corridor and glanced over, only to see a young patient resting. None gave him a second look.

His presence was diminishing rapidly.

Before, even when Giyu stood perfectly still, he had been like a blade in its sheath; its sharpness could still be felt.

But now his entire aura had become utterly ordinary, almost blending into the surrounding plants, trees, light, and shadow.

Even someone very familiar with him would likely overlook him unless they deliberately looked or tried to sense him.

This was another ability that came from beginning to reach the threshold of the Transparent World—Breath Concealment.

It meant perfect control over oneself, putting away all unnecessary expenditure and outward aura to reach a state of oneness with nature.

Whether lying in wait, scouting, or concealing killing intent in a fight to launch a surprise attack, its value was immeasurable.

Giyu didn't know how much of it he had mastered. He simply followed that feeling, putting it into practice and experiencing it.

He didn't know how much time had passed before a somewhat urgent flapping of wings broke the courtyard's silence.

Flap, flap—

A Kasugai Crow with a conspicuous purple braided scarf tied around its neck landed steadily on the ground in front of Giyu.

It cocked its head and studied Giyu, who seemed to have no aura at all. It appeared a little confused, but quickly confirmed it had the right person.

It puffed out its chest, cleared its throat, and spoke in a deep, clear, official tone that even sounded somewhat authoritative:

"Caw! Caw, caw! Mizunoto Rank swordsman, Giyu Tomioka!"

Giyu slowly opened his eyes and looked at the crow before him, his ice-blue gaze completely unruffled.

"An order from Oyakata-sama! Report to Oyakata-sama's residence by noon tomorrow to attend the Hashira Meeting! Do not be late!"

The Hashira Meeting?

Giyu's eyebrows moved almost imperceptibly.

The Hashira Meeting was the highest-level meeting in the Demon Slayer Corps, one that only Hashira-ranked swordsmen and Oyakata-sama were qualified to attend.

They discussed the most urgent intelligence, the most important decisions, and the movements of the most dangerous demons.

He was only a Mizunoto Rank member. Even if he had killed Lower Rank One, by all rights...

"Yes,"

The purple-scarfed crow seemed to have noticed the question in his silence. It added in a flat tone, though what it said was explosive:

"Master has decided to appoint you as the new [Water Hashira]."

"Your formal appointment will be announced in front of everyone after tomorrow's Hashira Meeting. That is all!"

Water Hashira?

Giyu froze.

A Hashira? Me?

Those words were like two small pebbles tossed into a deep pool, sending small but distinct ripples through his tranquil heart.

Deep in his ice-blue eyes, a rare trace of genuine confusion and self-doubt flashed.

A Hashira... a swordsman standing at the pinnacle of the Demon Slayer Corps, a pillar carrying countless expectations and responsibilities.

Teacher Urokodaki was one, and so were those other legendary masters...

I... killed Lower Rank One, but there was so much luck involved, the comprehension and physique from that inexplicable system, and that burst of power at the brink of death... But a Hashira...?

Am I really... worthy of that title? Can I bear everything a Hashira represents?

Protecting more people, facing more terrifying enemies...

A jumble of thoughts flashed through his mind, but his face remained largely expressionless, only his gaze drifting slightly.

The purple-scarfed crow seemed completely uninterested in what was going through the mind of the person receiving its message. Its job was to deliver it.

When Giyu didn't answer immediately, it flapped its wings and took off on its own, quickly disappearing above the courtyard.

Sunlight filtered through gaps in the Wisteria blossoms, leaving shifting patches of light on him.

The wind brought more of the flowers' fragrance, but it couldn't blow away the weight that had suddenly settled on his heart.

Water Hashira...

He lowered his head and looked at his open hands.

These hands had held the wooden spoon his sister had prepared, a wooden training sword on Mount Sagiri, that sky-blue Nichirin Blade, and its broken blade. Now... they were empty.

Tomorrow, would he enter, as a Hashira, that realm he had once only been able to look up to?

Giyu sat quietly for a long while before slowly curling his fingers into a fist that could hardly be called firm.

The confusion in his eyes slowly sank away, turning into a deeper calm, one that was almost resignation.

Since Oyakata-sama has decided, since fate has pushed me this far...

Then I'll keep going.

Early the next morning, just as the sky began to brighten.

Giyu was already up.

After a night of rest and recovery, the pallor in his face had faded somewhat, and he was in much better spirits.

He had little trouble moving now, but his serious injuries had only just healed, and his strength hadn't fully returned, so his movements were a tiny bit slower than usual.

He stood before the wardrobe in the ward.

Several sets of clothes hung inside, prepared in his size by the medical department so that injured patients could change into clean clothes.

Giyu's gaze swept over them.

There was a dark green haori, a subdued color, embroidered with a bamboo-leaf pattern.

There was a sea-blue outer robe, nearly the same color as his eyes, plain and without a pattern.

There was also a pure white unlined robe made of very soft fabric.

And a pale purple casual robe that seemed to have Wisteria embroidery on it...

His gaze finally settled on a pure white haori.

Along the edges of its front panels, cuffs, and hem, silver-gray thread had been used to embroider a landscape design in clean, flowing lines.

The faint outlines of distant mountains and winding streams were drawn in just a few strokes, evoking a sense of great distance without being at all showy.

After only a short hesitation, he reached out and took down the white haori with the landscape design.

He took off the medical department's plain robe, changed into a clean black uniform underlayer, and draped the white haori over his shoulders.

The haori fit perfectly. The white made his skin look even more coldly pale, while the landscape embroidery added a touch of cool aloofness to his bearing.

He raised a hand to straighten the front, his fingers brushing over the pattern embroidered in cool silk thread.

Then he walked over to the somewhat blurry bronze mirror in the corner of the room.

The mirror reflected a tall, handsome boy with little expression on his face, his white haori like snow and his black hair like a waterfall.

He glanced at himself in the mirror, gathered his loose long hair behind his head, and casually tied it into a low ponytail with a simple dark blue hair tie, leaving a few loose strands hanging over his forehead and beside his face.

It wasn't deliberately combed perfectly neat, giving him a look that was both casual and tidy.

Once ready, he turned around and instinctively glanced at his waist—it was empty.

The sky-blue Nichirin Blade that had accompanied him through the beginning of his journey had broken in Blue Stone Town.

A new blade... supposedly, Oyakata-sama had already ordered one forged, but it wasn't finished yet.

The emptiness at his waist felt a little unfamiliar, and a little... unsettling.

It was as if he'd lost something important to rely on.

He frowned slightly, his fingers unconsciously closing around empty air, as though he could still feel the hilt.

"Kanzaburo."

He called softly toward the open window.

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, a black shadow swooshed in through the window and landed steadily on the frame. It was his Kasugai Crow, Kanzaburo.

Compared with a few days ago, Kanzaburo looked much more spirited. His little black-bead eyes fixed on Giyu, lingering for an extra second on his white haori, as though he wasn't quite used to it.

"Caw! Giyu! Ready?"

Kanzaburo's voice was as hoarse as ever, but the earlier urgency was gone.

"Mm."

Giyu nodded. "Lead the way. To Oyakata-sama's residence."

"Understood! Follow me!"

Kanzaburo flapped his wings and took off, circled once outside the window, then flew off in a direction deeper into headquarters.

Giyu took one last look at the white figure in the mirror, drew a deep breath, and pushed down the indescribable emptiness in his heart, along with the slight sense of heaviness he felt about the unknown meeting, then stepped out of the ward.