After saying goodbye to the warm and cheerful Mitsuri Kanroji, Tanjiro rallied his spirits and began searching the village for his troublesome swordsmith, Hotaru Haganezuka.
As he walked, he looked around the unusual village with curiosity.
The villagers all wore Hyottoko Masks, hiding their expressions, but the scents they gave off were kind and honest, without the slightest trace of malice. In the air, the sulfurous smell of the hot springs mingled with the scent of steel forged through countless hammer blows, creating a reassuring atmosphere unique to this place.
Just as Tanjiro rounded a corner, he saw a figure standing motionless in the middle of the road a short distance ahead.
The boy was not tall, and his loose Demon Slayer Corps uniform looked somewhat ill-fitting. His long black hair hung straight down to his waist, its tips a pale mint green.
He had his head tilted back, watching the clouds in the sky.
His eyes had no focus at all, as though his soul had drifted far beyond the heavens, indifferent to everything around him.
It was the Mist Hashira, Muichiro Tokito.
Tanjiro's heart tightened, and he hurried forward, bowing respectfully in greeting.
"Hello, Mr. Tokito! You're here too!"
Yet Muichiro Tokito seemed not to have heard him. He did not spare Tanjiro so much as a glance out of the corner of his eye. He continued watching the clouds, murmuring softly:
"That cloud... what shape was it again... what was it called...?"
Tanjiro froze, at something of a loss.
He could smell no anger or dislike coming from Mr. Tokito, only a sort of... pure emptiness and bewilderment, like the thin morning mist.
Did he not hear me?
Tanjiro was about to speak again when Muichiro Tokito started walking without warning, passing straight by him as though