Haruto sank into gloom

When Haruto slowly regained consciousness, he could not even tell whether he was dreaming or awake, or whether time had turned back at all.

Then two young men appeared before his eyes.

Sabito: ◕‿◕

Giyu: ⊙_⊙

Haruto closed his eyes and opened them again. Once he was certain he was not dreaming, he let out a long sigh.

Good news: Nure-onna and Ox Demon were dealt with, and I hadn't kicked the bucket.

But...

"Why are you here?"

The moment he spoke, a sharp pain stabbed through his chest. Even breathing and talking hurt terribly.

His question was directed at Sabito, who had appeared out of nowhere. He remembered that the last person he had seen before passing out had been Murata.

Sabito noticed his pained expression and hurriedly motioned for him to stop talking. "You broke four ribs. You'll probably need two weeks to recover. As for me... my assignment was in Ueno, only half a day's journey from here. I came to find Giyu, but I didn't expect to find you here too."

"Where am I?"

His injuries came as no surprise to Haruto. He looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Judging by the decorative wisteria patterns painted on the walls, though, this had to be a Wisteria House.

Sure enough, Sabito replied, "This is a Wisteria House in Chiba. It's very close to where you fought, so they put you here for the time being. We're getting our injuries treated here too."

Only then did Haruto notice that, aside from himself lying in bed, both Sabito and Giyu were injured to varying degrees.

Sabito had a bandage wrapped around his arm, while Giyu had a few light scratches on both arms.

"I think I saw Murata earlier too?"

"Oh, that guy didn't get a scratch. He's already gone home."

Not a scratch...

We both took the demon-slaying assignment in Hirano, but I'm the only one stuck in bed for two weeks...

So I really am just that bad...

The two boys noticed that the patient in bed had suddenly wilted.

"Huh?"

The fellow disciples exchanged bewildered looks, unsure what had happened.

A Hand Demon, a pair of male and female demons-even two nameless demons could kill me with ease.

Never mind what would happen if I ran into the Twelve Kizuki. Even the weakest Lower Rank could probably give me a beating.

Haruto stared at the wooden ceiling and sank into gloom.

Am I just going to die like this in this life?

The Hashira who visited the Swordsmith Village slaughtered Lower Ranks like dogs. Me? A Lower Rank would slaughter me like some stupid mutt...

Watching Haruto fall silent, Sabito sighed inwardly.

In a world where demons ate people, despondency often stemmed from a lack of strength.

He nudged the worried Giyu and motioned for him to come outside, leaving Haruto alone for a while.

On the fourth day after Haruto woke up, Giyu and Sabito received assignments one after the other and left the Wisteria House.

Demons were still wreaking havoc everywhere, and the Demon Slayer Corps could not afford to stop.

A body trained in a Breathing Style really did heal quickly. After a week, his injuries were no longer a serious concern.

After bidding farewell to the owner of the Wisteria House, Haruto took a carriage to Tokyo, then caught a train from Tokyo back to the Swordsmith Village.

He had been away for two weeks, and little had changed in the Swordsmith Village.

Godogawa, who had learned of Haruto's injuries from Cang Kong, looked much more at ease once he saw him return safely. The next day, he bought a large pile of marrow bones to make soup for him.

Though he was back in his familiar home, Haruto still felt uneasy.

His mood grew even worse after Godogawa told him some news.

Ruka Rengoku, the wife of the Flame Hashira, Shinjuro Rengoku, had passed away.

It had happened a week earlier, when Haruto had just left to slay demons.

"What I mean is, you learned your Breathing Style from him. Whatever the circumstances, you ought to pay him a visit."

"Of course." Haruto's expression was somber.

Shinjuro Rengoku and his wife, Ruka, had been deeply in love. They had two sons, Kyojuro and Senjuro.

It was nearly dusk when Haruto arrived at the Rengoku Family Estate. White mourning cloth hung at the entrance, where a boy who resembled Shinjuro Rengoku was sweeping the ground.

"Excuse me..."

Kyojuro Rengoku looked up. A white-haired boy stood before him, dressed in a brand-new, snow-white outer robe, with a familiar-looking Nichirin Blade at his waist.

The boy seemed to have trouble moving, as though he was injured.

Haruto swallowed his question. The boy before him was the spitting image of Mr. Shinjuro, with the same red-and-yellow hair and large, owl-like eyes.

"I'm Haruto Takanashi of the Demon Slayer Corps. I suppose you could call me a part-time student of Mr. Shinjuro's. I've come to pay my respects."

"Please come in. I'm Kyojuro Rengoku."

The wide-eyed boy set down his broom and led him inside. "My late mother has already been buried, but we've set up a mourning altar."

An even smaller "Shinjuro" was kneeling before the mourning altar in the hall. He turned toward them with tear-filled eyes and hurriedly wiped them when he saw a stranger.

"This is my younger brother, Senjuro."

Haruto knelt and bowed solemnly before Ruka Rengoku's memorial tablet.

Although he had never met her, he could tell from Mr. Shinjuro's words that Mrs. Ruka had been a gentle woman with great inner strength.

He heard wooden sandals striking the floor. "Who's here?" Shinjuro Rengoku reached the doorway and paused in surprise. "Haruto?"

Haruto bowed. "Mr. Shinjuro."

Shinjuro Rengoku's gaze swept over the Nichirin Blade at his waist, then dropped. "Have you paid your respects? If you have, you can leave."

"Father..." Kyojuro began hesitantly.

Haruto frowned slightly.

Mr. Shinjuro... why would he say something like that?

The Shinjuro Rengoku before him seemed like a different man. Unshaven, bloodshot-eyed, and dispirited, he bore little resemblance to the warm, cheerful Flame Hashira Haruto had known.

His wife's passing had truly been a terrible blow to him.

"All right. I'll leave now."

Though he still had many questions he wanted to ask, Haruto knew how to read the room.

A pall hung over the household, and he had no reason to stay any longer.

As he stood, he must have moved too abruptly and strained the unhealed injury in his chest. Haruto let out a muffled groan, and cold sweat immediately broke out across his forehead.

"Mr. Haruto!"

Kyojuro's expression changed, and he came over to support him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

Shinjuro watched Haruto's face turn frighteningly pale with pain, conflicting emotions flickering in his eyes.

"What happened?" he asked.

"It's nothing. I just injured my ribs on an assignment. It's nothing serious anymore."

Haruto shook his head. Mr. Shinjuro had been both a teacher and a friend to him, so he did not want to make him worry.

Yet Shinjuro Rengoku remained silent for a long while before forcing a few words through clenched teeth in a low voice. "A useless man..."

Haruto's head snapped up, and he looked straight into Shinjuro Rengoku's eyes.

That was an extremely harsh... rebuke!

How could Mr. Shinjuro say something like that-and direct it at Haruto?

Meeting his eyes, Shinjuro gave a desolate smile. "You and I are both... useless men..."